Page 126 of Sisters Under The Rising Sun
‘What are they doing?’ John asks.
The voices of the Dutch nuns, escorting the truck, escorting Norah, paying homage to the role she has played in their survival, soar in the familiar sound of ‘Bolero’, the much-loved – and even much-hated, due to its complexity – vocal rendition of Ravel’s masterpiece. Unashamedly, Norah sobs.
‘Is that what you taught them, Norah?’ John asks, his voice trembling as the magnitude of what he is hearing hits him, the realisation that the woman who he holds in his arms is the recipient of this amazing tribute. ‘It’s Ravel … Ravel’s “Bolero”,’ he stammers.
The truck slowly moves off again, and the final notes of ‘Bolero’ follow them away from captivity towards freedom.
‘Oh, my darling, I have never loved you more than I do in this moment,’ John whispers.
Epilogue
Final Performance
For two days, the nurses have sailed down the Australian coastline, seeing for the first time in almost four years the country they left behind. They stand on deck as they enter the port of Fremantle, Perth. It has been quite a journey to get here. From Lahat, they were flown to Singapore as the sun set in a blaze of red light. Nesta had looked from the window as they flew low over the Banka Strait. She saw familiar beaches, palm trees and the lush foliage that once welcomed them, then became their prison. All the nurses had paused in their excited chatter when they saw the harbour now filled with Allied warships. When they reached Singapore, they were whisked away to hospital for full medical check-ups and from there they boarded this ship, for home.
Nesta moves amongst them now.
‘Are you all right?’ she asks each nurse in turn.
‘No,’ comes the answer, time and again.
‘I’m here if you need me.’
Finding a quiet spot on the other side of the ship, Nesta watches the suburbs of Perth go by. Looking down at the waves, she remembers the last time she sailed into this port with Olive Paschke, later Matron Paschke. They were both excited, both eager to have this stopover in Perth.
‘You should be here with me, Olive, here by my side as we sail home,’ she screams into the wind, at the seagulls hovering around the ship. ‘And you’re not, and I don’t think I can go home without you.’ So many people lost to her. But not all, not her dearest friends who have made this long journey with her. Nesta pictures Dr Rick’s face, smiling at her on those long night shifts. She wonders if she will ever see him again.
‘Nesta, Nesta, we’re docking. We’re here!’ Jean calls.
‘Coming.’ Nesta breaks out of her reverie. She takes a moment to dry her eyes, centre herself and paste a smile on her face. She hears the cheers from the wharf as the ship ties off.
Joining the others, seeing the thousands of people waving flags and flowers, they wait impatiently for the gangplank to be lowered. For the second time in a few weeks, the first person to greet them is Matron-in-Chief Colonel Sage.
‘Welcome home, nurses. You left Australia to do your duty, you return, having achieved far beyond what could ever be reasonably expected of you, as heroes. I want to tell you what has happened here today. Earlier this morning, the local ABC radio station announced that you would be returning home and asked that if any locals had any spare flowers in their gardens, they might like to drop them off at the hospital you’re about to be taken to.’ Colonel Sage pauses, composing herself. ‘There is not a flower left in any garden in the city of Perth. The line of men and women wanting to drop them off at the hospital extends for miles, every ward is full. I’m told they are even hanging flowers from the ceilings. It is a small gesture by so many who join us all in saying thank you for your service. Thank you for your duty to your friends and colleagues who have not come home with you. They will never be forgotten.’
Somebody says, ‘Hear, hear.’
The nurses turn to see the premier of the state of Western Australia standing with the biggest bouquet of flowers.
‘Mr Premier, may I introduce you to Sister Nesta James?’
The premier thrusts the flowers at Nesta.
‘Welcome home,’ he beams.
Back in Singapore, Norah, John, Ena and June are inseparable. The sisters are dozing one afternoon in deck chairs in the gardens of their hotel, while John watches a man approaching their small party. He is assisting an elderly woman with a stick.
‘Oh, my God! Norah, Ena, wake up.’
‘What is it?’ Norah says, slowly opening her eyes. June, asleep in Ena’s arms, awakes when her aunty sits bolt upright.
‘No!’ Ena shouts.
Walking slowly towards them is Ken, Ena’s husband, with Margaret, the sisters’ mother.
‘Mama!’ Norah shouts, as Ena jumps up to help Norah out of her chair.
Ken holds on tight to Margaret, who stumbles towards her daughters. He wants to run to Ena, but he can’t let her go. The four collide, Norah gently sitting her mother in the grass, so they can embrace. They look into each other’s tear-filled eyes. Ken and Ena are hugging, sobbing, laughing.
