The Forgotten Promise, page 8
Omar gave a gentle cough to clear his throat, then said, ‘I agree that we must get rid of the British stranglehold on us. But allying ourselves with the Japanese isn’t necessarily the answer. I think the wiser course is to do exactly what we’re doing – the MCP and the communists join forces with each other and the British. The British forces don’t have the expertise to navigate through the jungle and fight the Japanese the way the guerrillas can. It’s in this way that we can defeat the Japanese and then the British will owe us and respect us, and in due course they will give us more power.’
‘Do you really believe that?’ Farid glared at them both.
‘Come on, Farid.’ Noor had finished serving and picked up her own spoon to eat. ‘I don’t know what to think,’ she said. ‘The Japanese don’t have a good record, do they? Remember what happened in Manchuria, how they murdered all those poor people who trusted them?’ She thought about the huge numbers of women who’d been raped and shuddered at the memory of similar outrages when the Japanese had invaded China. ‘The Chinese thought the Japanese could help them shake off the American sanctions, but look what happened. You can’t trust them, Farid. Once they’re here, it doesn’t bear thinking what might happen next. Surely Omar’s way is better?’
Farid’s face flushed pink. ‘But they’ll never do it, don’t you see? The British don’t care about anyone but themselves.’
Noor pursed her lips. She could understand both arguments. ‘I don’t think it’s the right course of action,’ she said, turning to Farid, ‘to remove the British at any cost – think what could happen to Mr and Mrs McCain and their family if the Japanese invaded. It’s too risky to ally ourselves with them.’
‘It might be too late to avoid it,’ Farid snapped at her. ‘Everyone says there are Japanese ships off the coast. When you take that into account and the sighting of planes close to Singapore, my guess is that any day now, something significant is going to happen.’
‘How do you know all this?’ Noor tried to catch his eye. A sense of unease crept over her.
‘I don’t think it will come to that,’ Omar put in. ‘The Japanese really don’t have a chance of landing here with the British army on full alert. It’s monsoon season, too,’ he added. ‘They’d be fools to invade now.’
‘But what if they do, Omar? What should I do then?’ Noor asked.
‘Well,’ he placed both elbows on the table, ‘if they do, Noor, you must leave this place at once and hide up in the hills for safety. There will be plenty of people up there with you – the jungle hides everything – and there are many caves that MCP members know about and no one else does.’
‘What about you, Farid? What will you do?’
But he didn’t answer. Instead, he dug his spoon into his rice, staring at something only he could see on the table, and she wondered if he would ally himself with the Japanese; if he was capable of being a traitor.
Silence fell between them, and she listened to the rain pounding against the window. Then a flash of lightning cut across it, making her jump. For the first time, a Japanese invasion seemed a distinct possibility and she wished, yet again, that Mrs McCain would hurry up and come back for Grace.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ella woke early. The monsoon seemed imminent and there was a restless charge to the air, making her skin prickle with heat. She got up and poured herself a glass of water, then went out to the verandah where she sat in the darkness, listening to the nightjars singing and waves crashing on the shore.
Around seven, a semi-circular disc of orange appeared across the horizon, then the sky filled with red as the sun’s rays spread into the void above the sea. In the distance, she noticed fishermen pushing their boats away from the shore; six small and brightly-coloured vessels with their bows curving upwards like the trunk of an elephant.
The sunrise was always so swift and sudden. She remembered Johnnie once telling her how Malayan sunsets were very different from British ones: those were slow, he’d said, and lingering, and sometimes you didn’t see them at all. She found it hard to picture a place where the sun didn’t rise and set like it did in Malaya, or those long winter months he described with snow and cold along with biting rain. No wonder her father had settled in the tropics, although before he had died he’d started to get homesick for Europe and had promised to take her to see the temples and theatres of Athens, Delphi and Olympia; the Colosseum, Uffizi Gallery, St Mark’s Square, Paris in the springtime – a promise he had not been able to fulfil. As she’d never been to Europe, she wondered if she’d ever see those sights now.
Instinctively, her fingers reached for the space next to her where she could imagine Johnnie sitting. An ache formed in the pit of her stomach; just a week and then she could hold him, hear his voice and his comforting words. She would show him her paintings and imagined his pleasure as she laid them out on the table for him to admire. And then, at last, he’d play for her. She would stand by the piano as he played Liszt’s Liebesträume for her, watching his fingers dance across the keys while she rested her hand on his shoulder, feeling the softness of his breathing and the rise and fall of his chest.
The sun climbed higher and birdsong filled the air – she listened: pigeons kept company with a cuckoo, while gulls screeched out at sea. A troop of monkeys crept along the boundary where the jungle met the sand. One of them turned and looked at an oystercatcher before scurrying away to join its family.
And now, with her newly awakened painter’s eye, she longed to capture this moment. She saw for the first time a spectrum of colours she had never noticed before: the bands of red and orange at the horizon; prisms of pink and yellow that the sun threw across the sky; light reflected by the water in tones of blue, grey, green, silver. A curlew flew across the waves, dipping its beak momentarily in the water before heading back to land.
After a time, she could hear stirring in the beach hut, followed by Lian’s voice as she spoke gently to Toby, who was cooing. She went inside. Lian was sitting on a chair with the baby on her lap, giving him his morning milk.
‘Good morning, madam.’
‘Good morning, Lian.’ Ella raised her arms towards her son and Lian stood up and let her sit in her chair, with Toby on her lap.
‘Would you like to have breakfast on the beach this morning?’ Ella jiggled Toby, who ignored her, focusing on his bottle of milk instead. ‘What about it, Lian? A picnic perhaps? Can you pack some roti and sambal? We could have papaya, too. Why don’t you go and get everything ready while I get dressed?’
She placed Toby on her bed while she pulled on her bathing-suit and dragged a sundress over the top, then undressed her baby and rubbed Nivea everywhere that she thought the sun might burn. She scribbled a note to Melody explaining that she had headed off to the beach. As an afterthought, she threw a sketch pad and some pencils into the rucksack where she kept Toby’s toys: a bucket and spade, and a rubber-ring that she’d need to blow up.
Thirty minutes later, they had set up camp in the small cove they liked to frequent. She sat down, noting that their footprints were the only ones on the fresh sand. This was what she liked the most about the coast; the freshness of a morning beach that was a clean slate. No one else had as yet passed over it, the day’s history had still to be written. By the end of today, the sand would be marked with the comings and goings of all those who had crossed it; moments in time that would soon be washed away by the incoming tide so that the whole process could start anew the next morning.
She placed Toby on a blanket in a patch of shade and pulled out his toys while Lian unpacked her bags and spread out their picnic. Then she gathered pieces of driftwood to make a fire. Ella helped her place a circle of stones in the sand, then Lian made a pyramid of sticks before striking a match and blowing gently on the flame to encourage the wood to kindle.
Once the flames caught, Lian placed a small pan on the fire. After a time, she was able to heat the roti. When they had warmed through, the women sat on the rug with Toby, eating the roti or dipping their fingers into a bowl of dhal, before nibbling slices of papaya that Lian had brought in a bag, and drinking warm coffee from a flask.
When they had finished, Ella leant with her back against a coconut tree and watched the fishermen she had seen earlier. They were way out on the water and she could only just see them casting nets or hauling them in. She knew that they’d be out all day but wondered how far they would travel and what they would capture in their nets.
‘Perhaps we should see if they catch any crab – what do you think, Lian?’
The nursemaid nodded as she tidied away their breakfast. Ella gazed out towards the boats once more.
‘It’s hard not to like the sea, isn’t it, Lian?’
‘Yes, madam.’
‘But you don’t swim?’
‘No, madam.’
Ella noticed the flush of pink on Lian’s face.
‘Do you ever want to try?’
‘Oh, no! So cold! I much prefer walking on the edge. Finding shells. When I was small, my grandmother used to walk along beside the sea with me. She looked for anything the water washed up – fish sometimes. Once we found shark’s teeth, other times small pieces of glass or shoes, but I always prefer to search for shells. One day, my grandmother made me a bracelet from mollusc shells. They’re very small. Tiny.’ Lian held up her hand, crooking her index finger and thumb a quarter of an inch apart. ‘It was my favourite thing.’
‘That’s a lovely memory.’ Ella dug her fingers into the sand. ‘Why don’t you go down and search for shells now? I’ll sit here with Toby. Here, take his bucket.’
Lian smiled, and Ella watched her making her way to the surfline then bending down to pick up shells and examine them. Some she tossed away, others she placed in the toy bucket.
Toby lay on his back on the blanket. Ella took out her sketch book and, with quick movements, traced out what lay ahead of her: the line of the ocean, the curve of Lian’s back as she sifted through shells, a cormorant striding through the waves. When she’d finished, she chose a selection of coloured pencils, matching the hues of the waves and the sand as best she could.
Time slipped away. Toby fell asleep and Lian edged along the waterline, the breeze tugging gently at her skirt. Ella pressed her lips together as she focused on her work, then in the distance saw a figure moving towards them. It was Melody, waving her arms at Ella.
Ella smiled and waved back. She glanced at her watch: ten o’clock – Melody certainly had the ability to sleep. She packed away her pencils and sketch book, made sure Toby was still covered by shade then leant back against the coconut tree as she waited for her friend to arrive.
But as Melody drew closer her pace quickened, and Ella could see lines of worry etched across her face. She stood. Could there have been a message from Johnnie? Was it Grace?
‘What is it?’ she called. ‘What’s happened?’
‘Oh, Ella!’ Melody shouted. ‘The most awful thing. You’ll never believe it.’
The hairs on the back of Ella’s neck prickled and fear struck a chill down her spine as she tried to make sense of the words Melody was uttering.
‘I’ve just been listening to the wireless. Last night, Japanese soldiers landed on the beach close to Kota Bharu. There’s been horrendous fighting – bloody awful casualties on both sides.’
‘Jesus Christ!’
‘I know. But that’s not all. Around the same time, Japanese warships bombed the American navy’s ships and base in Pearl Harbor. Hundreds, if not thousands, of people have lost their lives.’
Ella listened, trying to compute the information.
‘I’m not sure I fully understand.’
‘Oh, Ella, it’s dreadful. America has declared war against the Japanese.’
‘Bloody hell! Really?’
Melody nodded. ‘I can’t believe it, can you?’
Ella shook her head. ‘No. It’s not possible, surely?’
‘Come on. Let’s go back to the bungalow and listen to the wireless to find out what’s what.’
Ella beckoned to the nursemaid, who was still collecting shells. ‘Lian,’ she called, ‘come here.’
She raised her head and returned to them as Ella and Melody gathered up belongings from the beach.
‘Lian,’ Ella said when she was close. ‘There’s some dreadful news – the Japanese have invaded at Kota Bharu. We’re going back to the bungalow to find out exactly what’s happening now.’
Lian’s hands flew to her face.
‘I know.’ Ella placed a hand on her arm. ‘It’s unbelievable. They’ve also attacked America, bombing Hawaii.’
‘America?’
‘Yes.’ Ella lifted Toby from the blanket and settled him on her hip. ‘Come on. We’ll find out more from the wireless.’
They walked back, their feet heavy as they trudged across the sand. When they approached the hut, Malik appeared by the front door, frowning.
‘You heard, madam?’
‘Indeed. It’s very, very bad news.’
Outside, they discarded their belongings, then gathered in the house as Melody tuned the wireless. Ella settled on a rattan sofa, Lian on the floor with Toby, and Malik stood behind them, leaning against the door jamb. Ella drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around her knees as she listened to the wireless crackling into life and, finally, the newsreader’s voice.
‘Just after midnight last night, Japanese naval ships landed off the coast of Kota Bharu, leading to a ferocious battle with the British Indian Army. Heavy losses have been reported on both sides. Simultaneously, a vicious attack was launched against the American naval bases in Pearl Harbor. President Roosevelt has responded to this unprovoked attack by saying:
‘“Yesterday, a date which will live in infamy, the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan … No matter how long it may take us to overcome this premeditated invasion, the American people in their righteous might will win through to absolute victory – so help us God.”’
No one spoke for a moment, but then a dog barked in the distance, breaking the silence.
‘So, what now?’
‘I don’t know.’ Melody switched off the wireless. ‘But it sounds like they damn well mean business.’
‘Surely it’s not so bad here. The army should be able to repel them without much effort.’
‘True. But America—’
‘The goalposts have certainly shifted. But I’m sure we don’t need to panic yet.’
‘What do you say to going into the kampong to see if we can get some more information and supplies?’ Melody nibbled her thumb nail. ‘We could go to the hotel and telephone Eddie and Johnnie at the same time.’
Ella nodded. ‘Yes. Good idea.’
‘Right.’ Melody stood up. ‘I’ll get ready, then we can set off.’
The newsreader’s words kept playing over in Ella’s mind as she waited. It was unbelievable. The war that was ravaging Europe seemed very much closer to them now, and it terrified her.
No one spoke as the car wound through the jungle tracks, but as they passed women walking along to market, men cycling or leaning against the walls of houses chatting, it seemed impossible to believe that on the other side of the peninsula the enemy had landed. It was far away, Ella reasoned, and the army so well prepared that there was no doubt in her mind that this was a simple skirmish and the Japanese would be defeated before the day was out.
‘Malik?’ Melody leant forward and pointed to a stand selling newspapers. ‘Can you pull over here?’
He nodded and parked the car. Ella followed Melody, who was already picking up a copy of the Malay Tribune from a stand.
IT’S WAR! the headlines screamed.
Ella’s stomach turned as Melody dropped a few cents into the hawker’s hand then spread the paper over the Lagonda’s bonnet so she could share the news with the rest of them.
As she stood next to her friend, Ella’s eyes scanned the page.
‘“Just after midnight,”’ Melody read aloud so that everyone could hear, ‘“Japanese ships had been spotted by fishermen off the coast of Kota Bharu. Indian and British soldiers fought them, but despite their resistance, a bloody battle ensued with heavy losses on both sides. It has been impossible to maintain the airport runway at Kota Bharu, which has now been evacuated. A working runway, along with recently stocked stores of petrol and bombs, is simply waiting for the Japanese, who it is believed are heading that way.”’
‘Bloody hell.’ Melody lifted her head, the shock visible on her face. ‘And if that does happen, then there is a chance Malaya will fall.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘Look, there’s no need to panic,’ Johnnie said as Ella clutched the receiver. The air in the telephone cubicle was stale: it smelt of cigarette smoke mingled with sweat, and there was no fan to cool the perspiration that slithered down her spine.
‘But don’t you think we should come home?’
‘There’s no point. It will be over before it’s even started. And what about Melody? She’s not going to want to come back all this way if she’s planning on getting to Singapore.’
‘There’s always the train.’ Ella twisted the telephone cable around her index finger. ‘We could take her to the station.’
‘Like I said, I don’t think there’s any need. Stay put for now. Carry on with your holiday. I honestly believe this will blow over in a couple of days and then you’ll have cut short your trip for nothing.’
His words didn’t convince her. ‘What if it doesn’t, though? Melody thinks the Japanese are heading for the airports. That if they capture them, they’ll bring their planes right in. What then?’
‘They won’t do it.’ Johnnie’s voice was firm. ‘We have three times as many soldiers as they do, to start with.’
‘But isn’t it a possibility?’ Now she held the receiver with both hands, as though it would bring him closer to her. ‘If the truth be told, I’m frightened.’
