Page 36 of Sisters Under The Rising Sun
‘You have the misfortune of looking too bloody beautiful no matter how hard you try not to be,’ Jean tells her.
‘I do not. I’m just as ugly as the rest of you.’
‘Nah, you’re not,’ Nesta says.
‘Well, give me a minute.’
Pat grabs a handful of dirt and smears it into her shoulder-length hair. ‘There.’
‘Nope – if anything, that’s made you look even more gorgeous,’ Vivian says.
‘Sorry, Pat,’ Nesta laughs. ‘It looks like there’s nothing you can do to hide your beauty. I want you to stay behind.’
‘And miss out on all the fun?’ Pat complains.
‘We’ll tell you about it, don’t worry. And I’ll leave a few others behind to keep you company. Right, who hasn’t managed to look revolting enough?’
Several others reluctantly agree to stay behind with Pat. And, once more, the nurses begin to scrutinise their friends, adding an extra dab of mud here, some twigs in the hair there. When they’re all satisfied with their appearance, they march proudly down the street; several women, including Norah, Ena and Margaret, come out from their houses to cheer them on. Curious eyes peer from windows; word has spread.
Standing outside their former home, now an officers’ club, the nurses exchange glances.
‘Ready?’ Nesta asks.
‘Ready, ready, ready!’ they shout.
The Japanese officer who opens the door of the club looks stunned at the sight of the grinning, grubby nurses. Before he can respond, Nesta pushes past him into the house, the other nurses on her heels. Inside, they stand in a tight group. The officers present watch them, open-mouthed. Finally, in broken English, a Japanese officer stutters, ‘W-Would you like something to drink?’
‘No, thank you,’ reply the nurses, as one.
‘What do Australian women like to drink on a Saturday night?’ he presses.
‘Milk,’ Jean responds.
He translates this remark to his fellow officers.
Before anything more can be said, Mr Stephenson appears holding a tray with glasses of soft drinks. He hands them around. ‘Keep it up, girls. You look disgusting.’
After a period of chatter amongst the Japanese, the English-speaking officer speaks up again. ‘Why are you so dirty? You must wear powder on your faces, lipstick on your lips. If you don’t have any, we will take you into Palembang to buy some.’
‘No, thank you,’ Nesta tells him with a smile. ‘Nurses don’t need to wear makeup.’
A long silence follows. Mr Stephenson returns with a tray of biscuits and peanuts. The nurses’ resistance folds as they grab the food and stuff it into their mouths. The Japanese men continue to ogle them in silence.
The food relaxes the women and they talk amongst themselves, openly ignoring their hosts. After a while, the men too begin to talk amongst themselves.
It is not long before both the nurses and the Japanese soldiers are exhausted.
The English-speaking officer turns to the women.
‘All of you will go now. Only five of you are to stay.’
‘We all go, or we all stay,’ Nesta says firmly.
The officer raises his voice, no longer bothering to hide his displeasure, and repeats his statement.
The nurses huddle in a tight circle; their fear can no longer be disguised.
‘Hurry up!’ an officer shouts.
