Page 101 of Sisters Under The Rising Sun
Betty sobs when she reads her name on the battered envelope. It is her mother’s handwriting, and the letter is two years old. Carrying it back to her hut, she holds the unopened message from home. Looking into the faces of her fellow nurses and friends, each of them desperate for news from their families, is too much for Betty to bear. She heads outside, to the furthest corner of the yard, and hides behind a tree to read the longed-for letter. It is dark before she returns inside. She tells everyone that she has no news of the war. Clearly her mother had been instructed as to what she could and couldn’t write.
In Norah and Ena’s hut, the sisters watch a few of their housemates reading and rereading their letters from home.
‘They look so happy, don’t they?’ Ena whispers to Norah.
‘They do,’ Norah agrees, trying to hide her own disappointment for her sister’s sake.
‘I wasn’t expecting to hear from anyone. Ken and Mother and Father are probably imprisoned like us,’ Ena says, unable to take her eyes off the women poring over their messages.
‘True. But there’s Barbara.’ Norah’s voice catches. She’d do anything to hear news of Sally. ‘I wonder if she’s tried to write to us.’
‘Oh, Norah, Sally is safe with her, we just don’t know where they are and we don’t know what she’s been told about our whereabouts.’
‘You’re right, of course. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, and I’m really happy news is getting through at all.’
The rations are late, and the women grow anxious, gathering in small groups by the fence. Several local traders have been allowed to visit the camp again, offering fresh food for anyone who can pay.
Norah wanders over to Betty, who is pacing nearby.
‘Do you think it’s coming?’ she asks.
‘Well, we haven’t heard that it’s not,’ sighs Betty. ‘But if you think about it, we had rations yesterday, but not the day before, so maybe they’re only going to feed us every other day.’
‘It’s like they starve us to the point of death, then give us enough to get some of our strength back, then withhold it again. Do you think this could be part of some evil plan?’
‘I don’t want to think like that, but you could be right. How’s June? Is she getting enough?’
‘Define “enough”,’ says Norah, grimly. ‘She’s no worse off than any of the other children, better than most adults. Several of the Dutch mothers give her a bit of the food they buy from the locals.’
‘Oh, to have money, or jewels, or anything at all to trade. We had to have the bad luck of ending up on a bombed ship.’
‘We may have lost everything, but we hung on to our lives, though, didn’t we? So many were lost.’ Norah reflects for a moment on that terrible day and the horrors of floating around in the sea without any sense that help might come. ‘I’m sorry, Betty,’ she adds hastily. ‘I didn’t mean to sound insensitive, and I didn’t mean to remind you of the lost nurses. I know there are so many who sailed with you and are not here today.’
‘We think of them every day,’ Betty says softly, her mind drifting to old friends who she may never see again.
‘You never know,’ Norah says, rubbing the young nurse’s shoulder. ‘They might have been found and imprisoned somewhere just like us.’
‘I guess,’ replies Betty, reluctantly.
As Betty wanders off dejectedly, Norah regrets the entire exchange. Their lives are hard enough in the day-to-day, without being reminded of who they have lost.
Jean and Vivian wander over to the far corner of the fence, where locals are trading with the prisoners. They have nothing to offer in exchange, but are riveted by the deals being made. They are rewarded for their proximity when a Dutch woman hands them two sweet potatoes.
‘Mother Laurentia, you wanted to see me?’ Nesta says, taking her hand. She has been asked to stop by the nuns’ hut and now carefully takes in the Mother Superior’s appearance for any signs of illness.
‘I’m quite well, Sister James. You don’t have to look at me like that,’ the nun says with a smile before pulling out an envelope from an unseen pocket in her habit. ‘I would like to give you this, for you and your nurses.’
Nesta looks at the proffered envelope. ‘What is it?’
‘Money, my dear. Why shouldn’t you, who do so much for this desperate community, buy a little food now and then?’
‘I can’t take your money, Mother. Surely you need it?’ Nesta counters, looking longingly at the envelope.
‘It’s not mine, if that makes it any easier to accept. Captain Seki gave it to me yesterday; it is from the Dutch Red Cross, and while, yes, it is meant for my fellow countrywomen, I do not see them going without like you women.’
Nesta is still reluctant to take the envelope. ‘I really don’t think my friends would be able to accept it, knowing it belongs to others in need. It was given to you by your government.’
‘What can I say to persuade you?’ The nun is still holding out the envelope, just as stubborn as Nesta.
