Barbed Wire and Cherry Blossoms (19 page)

There's a knock at the door and Mary panics. The book is secure, but it looks a little bulky.

The grocery delivery boy Raymond is standing at the door when she opens it. ‘Hello, Mary,' he says, grinning from ear to ear. ‘You look a little flushed, are you okay?' He walks in with the box of food.

‘Yes, I'm fine thanks, just about to leave for the day, so I'll unpack these before I go,' she says, gesturing for him to get out of the kitchen. ‘I'll tell Mrs Smith you were here, of course.'

‘Has Mrs Smith been baking, Mary? She usually gives me a biscuit.' Raymond looks hopefully around the kitchen.

‘No, not this week,' she says abruptly.

‘Oh, I really like her biscuits, Mary. That's one of the reasons I like dropping off the Smiths' groceries.'

‘Okay, well, you better get going, Raymond. I'm sure you've got other deliveries.'

Raymond doesn't move. ‘No, this is my last delivery for the day. I can stay and talk if you like.'

‘I need to get Catherine and Carmichael from school,' Mary says, walking to the front door. ‘Thank you for the groceries, see you next week.'

‘Oh, okay, I'll see you next week,' Raymond says.

Mary thinks he's got a weird look on his face, but she's just relieved the book hasn't fallen to the floor while he was standing there.

After their stolen moment sharing the moon, Mary feels even more brave about taking Hiroshi out late at night, even though she's still not sure whether her Uncle Kevin saw them or not. She wants Hiroshi to have more to his hidden days and nights than her brief visits. He can be protected, but he also needs to experience some of the land here, the country she loves so much.

‘Come,' she says again.

‘Okay,' Hiroshi says, without hesitation this time. ‘The moon?'

‘No, the river,' she says. ‘Would you like to swim?'

‘Yes!'

They climb out quietly and run, hunched over, to the river, Mary leading the way along the well-worn path the kids use every day. It takes only a few minutes before they hit the riverbank.

‘We're here,' she whispers. ‘This is the Lachlan River.'

Hiroshi doesn't hesitate to take his shirt and pants off. ‘This will be the first bath in years,' he says, while Mary stares at the ground, blushing. She hears a splash and looks up to see her love in the water. He is laughing.

‘Shh,' she says. ‘Don't make too much noise, the mirris will come down.'

‘Oh,' Hiroshi replies softly.

As he swims around and washes his body with only his hands and the fresh water, Mary sits on the bank, looking around to make sure no one sees them.

‘Are you coming in?' he asks.

‘No, it's safer if I stay here.' Mary knows that if she bumps into her Uncle again, being outside at night will be a lot easier to explain if she is not dripping wet. She is happy that Hiroshi is experiencing the river and the life just being in it could bring.

‘It's time to go,' she says ten minutes later. ‘We should get back.'

Hiroshi is on the bank and dressed quickly, revitalised by such a simple yet risky act.

‘Do you feel better?' Mary asks.

‘I feel like I have just been born again,' he says. ‘Thank you!'

Mrs Smith tells Mary she can finish as soon as the laundry is done because the family is going to Bathurst to do some Christmas shopping. Mrs Smith says she'd rather live in Bathurst because it is nearly twice the size of Cowra and has more things to do – and obviously better shopping. Mary wishes the Smiths lived in Bathurst too, but today she's just grateful they are there for the afternoon. She has already decided she will spend some time with Hiroshi. Seeing him
more often and not telling her parents has become normal for her; she doesn't see it as deceit, rather, she tells herself she is saving them from worrying.

As she descends the ladder, Hiroshi is surprised by the early visit but stands immediately, holding a piece of paper with both hands. He presents it to her as if it is an official document.

Mary is consumed by emotion before she has even read the words, then she whispers to herself:

Mary my angel

Nourishes my heart and soul

Gives me hope to live

As she pores over the Haiku she is overwhelmed, flooded with warmth and love for the man in front of her. She starts to cry. Hiroshi moves slowly closer to her and holds out his right hand. She takes it, holding the paper in the other. It's the first time they have been so intimate. Their eyes lock, the powerful emotion of the moment so new and exciting for both of them.

Mary is not sure what to do. She does not know how to behave with a man when she has feelings like she's never experienced before. She has never kissed a man.

Hiroshi doesn't know this but guesses she is pure. Either way, she is an angel to him. The angel who gives him hope for the future.

The silence seems like an eternity, but neither can find the appropriate words to fit the moment they are caught in. They
move towards each other. Hiroshi is only a little taller than Mary, and he places the softest kiss on her forehead, his heart beating like a taiko drum, though not for war.
She smells like spring
, he thinks, like the flowers he misses seeing and whose scent he misses breathing in. He places his arms around her, feeling how frail and thin she is; a waif hidden under the clothes that conceal his food each day.

Mary falls comfortably into his embrace. ‘You're safe,' she whispers in his ear. But she means she is safe too. There is a comfort in being held so close to another person who is not a family member, a different comfort that brings a new dimension to her life. She pulls back and looks slightly up into his eyes, and a single, dignified tear falls down the left side of her face.

Their first kiss is full of everything the war lacks: love, compassion, respect. It lasts only seconds but will linger with them both for a long time after.

The December sun is scorching. It's stifling hot in Cowra, days are hitting one hundred degrees and everyone wants to spend the time lying around like the mirris, who find any shade under any tree or hut where they can collapse. Mrs Smith is too hot to do anything with her children so Mary is charged with taking them to the pictures or to the river to swim.

There are dances at Jubilee and Lyric Halls and Mary wonders what it might be like to go one day. When the war
is over and Hiroshi is one of the community and they can live there together, will they both be able to go to the dances? She knows it's a daydream, even if she dreams it in the night time. Mary now devotes the time she used to spend plaiting her younger sisters hair on herself instead; brushing her own hair one hundred times a night and wearing it out when she visits Hiroshi, removing the band from it as she walks down the yard.

Most nights now, Mary is happy to be in bed as early as possible after her visits. She pretends to be asleep and spends hours thinking about the kiss and about a future with Hiroshi. She desperately wants the war to be over so he can live above the ground like a human being and not some caged animal.

O
ver the next few days, Joan notices something is different about her daughter aside from Mary's increased attention to her appearance. She is not as attentive at meal times, and eats barely anything of the meagre helpings she receives. She's caught daydreaming and is forgetful about doing small chores: boiling water to bathe James; brushing Jessie's hair; making sure the bedroom floor is swept spotless in case the Manager happens to come and check. Joan knows something is going on but says nothing until Mary drops an egg.

‘You silly girl,' she says, bending down to tidy up the mess from the floor she had already scrubbed clean that morning.

‘I'm so sorry,' Mary says sincerely, getting on her knees to help, picking up fine pieces of eggshell as her mother mops up the egg yolk with a rag.

‘Sorry is not good enough.' Joan raises her voice. She can't remember the last time she was this angry with her daughter, with anyone. ‘We don't have food to waste because you're daydreaming, Mary. What's going on?'

‘Nothing's going on. Accidents happen, Mum,' Mary says. She has never answered her mother back before.

‘Don't take a tone with me; I know it's that man you're spending time with. You've changed, and I don't like it.'

‘It's not Hiroshi!' Mary cries. ‘He hasn't changed me. He's very nice and smart and never raises his voice, and when the war is over and he can live up here and get to know everyone, you will see he is just like Dad and Uncle Kevin.' Mary stops suddenly, knowing she has said too much.

‘Like Kevin! Dear Lord,' Joan says, looking towards the heavens. Not only does she not want her daughter to be romantically interested in a Japanese soldier but she also doesn't want Mary to fall for a womaniser like Kevin. ‘Mary, when the war is over, Hiroshi will go back to Japan. You know that, don't you?' She clutches her daughter by both arms. ‘He's only here until it's safe for him to leave. He won't be staying here forever.'

Mary breaks free from her mother's grip and runs out the door.

‘You're not thinking clearly,' Joan yells after her, distressed about their argument, concerned about her daughter's welfare, and wondering how far her meetings with Hiroshi have gone.

When Mary returns, Joan has the food and a jar of water packaged up as usual. ‘Go into the bedroom, kids,' she says
grumpily. ‘Get out from under my legs, James, and go with your sisters.' She pulls him away from her. ‘Now!'

‘What's going on?' Mary asks, glancing at her father.

Banjo looks up at his first born, his most trusted daughter, and feels pain at the knowledge she is growing up, but also that something untoward might have happened with Hiroshi.

Joan wishes both she and Banjo had gone down to Hiroshi earlier, but they hadn't wanted to risk a trail of different people back forth; keeping it simple, one routine, one person, was the safest thing to do. Perhaps they have been too trusting of their daughter. And obviously had been too trusting of the man. Joan is angrier with herself and Banjo than with Mary. All the negatives about the Japanese are floating around in her mind and she feels sick at the thought that maybe the man they are protecting is as bad as Kevin had said. There is no proof of anything, only Joan's hunch that something has happened between Mary and Hiroshi, but she is certain that her daughter has feelings, however naïve, for the man they are hiding. What had she and Banjo been thinking?

‘Mum?' Mary asks. ‘What's going on?'

‘I'll take the food down to him tonight. I want to meet him and see why you've become so silly lately. All you were ever supposed to do was deliver the food. Keep him alive. We were just doing what good Christians would do. And now look.'

Mary looks at her father. ‘Dad?'

‘Do as your mother says, Mary, we've been waiting for you to come home so you can sit with the kids while I watch your
mother. Now go into the children and keep them in there until she comes back.'