Page 125 of Sisters Under The Rising Sun
‘I don’t want to leave without you,’ Norah tells Sister Catherina.
‘It’s all right, our turn will come shortly. Eventually, we will all leave this place,’ Sister Catherina reassures her. ‘What you have done to save the souls of so many will never be forgotten, I will make sure of that. You and Miss Dryburgh gave us hope when none existed, the two of you repaired our tortured minds, and gave our bodies the soulful nourishment we needed to wake up the next day.’
‘Hmm? You repaired tortured minds?’ John asks Norah, perplexed by the presence of the nun, dressed in her heavy habit.
‘You must be John; I’ve heard a lot about you. I can’t tell you how happy I am to meet you, even in this place.’
‘You mean this godforsaken place, don’t you, Sister?’
‘Not words I would use; in fact, I would say God’s presence was here in the form of your wife.’
‘Please, Sister, we all did our bit,’ says Norah. ‘How can I ever forget the night we spent holding down the roof of our hut as a storm threatened to blow us all away? Seeing you up there, your habit flying in the wind, I thought you were a witch.’
‘And yet you climbed up with me. What I remember is you laughing hysterically at the absurdity of our actions.’
‘And I remember the language you used – words I never expected to hear from a nun.’
‘Well, Norah, when pushed like we were that night, colourful language somehow seemed appropriate.’
‘Will you tell me what it was my wife did, other than risk her life climbing onto a roof in a storm?’ John persists.
Sister Catherina laughs. ‘It was her gift of music, freely given, in our darkest moments that will be remembered by us all. I do not have the words, colourful or otherwise, to tell you the difference your wife made.’
‘She’s right, John,’ says Ena. ‘What Norah and Margaret did in creating choirs and orchestras was beyond what any of us could have imagined. I will never hear music again without thinking of this place and the people here, including you, dear sister. You will never be forgotten.’
‘The trucks have arrived, it’s time to go,’ says the nun softly.
Norah, Ena and Catherina embrace. John gathers his strength, and gently picks up his wife in his arms. It isn’t too difficult; she weighs practically nothing. Ena lifts June, who wraps her arms around her neck, snuggling into her chest, and together they board.
Mrs Hinch walks along the line of women, some hugging, some sharing brief memories of their time together. When she reaches Norah and Ena, she seems lost for words, perhaps for the first time.
‘Why aren’t you coming with us?’ Ena asks.
‘I leave when the last of us leaves, not before,’ her friend tells her.
‘I don’t know what to say to you,’ Norah says.
‘Well, I have plenty I want to say to the two of you, but nothing that will truly reflect how I feel. We have laughed and cried, loved and lost, but we go on carrying the memories of those who don’t journey with us. I will never forget you for as long as I live, and given I’ve managed to survive this, I’m planning on that being a long time.’
‘You are truly one of a kind, Mrs Hinch,’ Norah says.
‘As are you and your sister. I don’t think I mentioned it before, but my name is Gertrude. I was quite happy to be called Mrs Hinch, as pretentious as it sounded, because I’ve never liked my name, and I’m not a Gertie.’ Mrs Hinch hugs Norah in John’s arms as best she can, and then Ena, whose arms are full of June. ‘Godspeed,’ she says.
And then it’s time to say goodbye to Audrey, who the sisters will meet again in England. Norah and Audrey silently embrace, each remembering their sessions over a firepit, carving the names of the dead into wooden crosses.
An open vehicle idles nearby and the remaining English men and women help each other into the truck bed. As they are hoisted on board, all the women turn to look at the camp, one last time, trying to understand how they survived, how they would recall their time. Or do they just want to forget? One thing they all know; they have been changed forever. Over three and a half years have passed. They have been tested, they have failed, they have succeeded.
Slowly, the truck moves off.
They have barely begun their journey when they hear the music.
‘Help me sit up, John, help me,’ Norah begs.
‘Oh, my goodness! Norah, look!’ Ena cries.
The truck driver brakes as the singing grows louder. It is Norah’s music.
John and Ena gently position Norah so she can look out the back of the truck. John lifts her onto his lap for extra height as together they look at the row of nuns outside.
