The Plantation (35 page)

‘Bette made me this birthday card. The drawing is of Philip and me. I don’t know how she got the paper. That sort of thing was impossible to get. In a way, it was a dangerous sort of present too, because the Japanese didn’t like the prisoners keeping any sort of record of camp life. People couldn’t have diaries or make drawings or any anything like that. After Bette gave me the card, it was sewn into a little pillow that I had, to keep it safe. The Japanese never found it, so here it is.’

Julie looked at the card. She looked at the drawing and although she realised that the children were thin, she also saw that they were both full of vitality.

‘It’s hard to believe that I’m holding something drawn by my great aunt and that the picture is of my uncle. It was all such a long time ago. Have you any idea why they ended up in the camp in Sarawak?’

‘No, I never heard the reason. Bette seemed so much older than me, even though she was only nine years older, so I didn’t talk to her as an intimate. Anyway, people didn’t often talk about their lives before the camp, it was usually too painful.’

‘I’m sorry to bring back bad memories,’ said Julie quickly.

‘That’s all right. It’s just a part of my life I’ve put behind me and rarely think about. But occasionally, when I think about those days as a POW, I try to think about the good things, and the good people. Those women were quite amazing, how they held us all together, how we helped each other, shared what little we had. Of course, there were occasions when someone had something they just didn’t want to share and it was often Bette who came to the rescue with some suggestion to solve matters.’

‘You were a young girl growing up in a POW camp, that must have been hard,’ said Julie.

‘It was,’ sighed Marjorie. ‘And your aunt helped me there too. She was very clever. Quick witted. It’s a shame we didn’t keep in touch after the war. But we were all anxious to get back to our lives, catch up on what we had missed. I kept in contact with Philip and he came to stay with my family in the UK when he was at school, but by the time I finally made it back to Malaysia to stay with Philip and Stephanie at their place on Langkawi, Bette was long gone. I enjoyed myself on Langkawi so much, that I kept coming back to Malaysia regularly and I eventually bought my own place in Penang after Philip and Stephanie were killed. I’ve always felt a bond with their boys and when I stay out here they take me under their wing.’

‘So other than Philip you’ve had no contact with anyone else from the camp?’

Marjorie paused. ‘I know it must seem strange to you, especially after we went through so much. But I was a teenager and I wanted to be reunited with my family and pick up my life back home and my mother felt the same way. We just wanted to start over.’

‘No, it doesn’t seem odd. My grandmother, Philip’s mother, did much the same thing. She never told my mother or me anything about this whole episode. The rift between my great aunt and my grandmother must have been very deep.’

Marjorie nodded. ‘Sad when sisters fall out. Everyone around them suffers too. I just hope Bette had a happy life.’

‘I wish I’d known her,’ said Julie sadly.

‘Yes, a very special person.’ Marjorie paused as if deciding something, then said, ‘Would you like to know more about life in the camp? What it was like for us all and how Bette had to fight so ferociously for Philip?’

‘I would like that, very much,’ said Julie softly.

‘For years I thought that one shouldn’t talk about what was past. Move on, get on with your life was my motto. But now, as I am getting older, I don’t want the actions of these women, or those of the Japanese, forgotten either. I think that their story should be told.’

Marjorie settled back into her chair and passed her coffee cup to Julie. ‘Top us both up, and I’ll start from when I first met Bette and Philip.’

9

Sarawak, 1942

M
ARJORIE AND HER MOTHER
, Evelyn, were silent as they followed the other women who shuffled, single file, towards the camp, knowing their world was to shrink to this wire-enclosed hot and dusty prison.

‘Looks like a damned chicken coop. All that wire,’ commented one of the women in a low voice.

‘I just want to sit down, my feet are raw,’ said another.

‘It’s barbed wire! Look at the guards up there.’

The group of women suddenly saw the tower where an armed soldier stood watching them approaching the main gates, where other soldiers waited. The women fell silent again as their internment became a reality. What shocked some of them were the pained and sad faces of the women already inside the camp, who had come to the fence to watch them.

One of them pointed at the new arrivals. ‘Bags! They have suitcases. Belongings. Have you got any food?’ she called out.

‘And medicine?’ cried another.

‘Oh my Lord. What’s going to happen? I haven’t got enough to share around. My baby needs it,’ said one of the new arrivals fearfully, clutching her bag, which was weighed down by precious tins of powdered milk.

In the new group, Evelyn walked slowly, bent over with pain and fever. Behind her, Marjorie, gangly legs and arms, her hair in a long plait, dragged her mother’s suitcase as well as her own bag behind her. Across her chest was slung a cotton bag. She looked bewildered. Her mother had tried to explain what might happen to them, but Marjorie really couldn’t imagine what being locked away might be like.

‘But why, Mummy? What did we do wrong? Where’s Daddy going?’

‘We haven’t done anything wrong, Marjorie. Don’t you forget that. I’m sure your father will be all right. It’s hard when grownups fight each other, when people make war on others because they want their country, innocent people get in the way. I’m afraid that’s us. We’ve got in the way of Japanese ambition. But we won’t be forgotten. We will be rescued and then life will go on as it always has. You’ll just have to be brave until we get out of here,’ said her mother in a tired voice.

As she stood in front of the gates, Marjorie looked at the strange fenced-off area. It didn’t look like the prison she’d imagined. There were no big cement buildings or high solid walls. ‘How long will we have to wait?’ she asked as the line of women came to a stop.

Three armed soldiers came towards them. There were raised voices, but Marjorie’s attention was diverted. It was as though everything around her had dissipated into soft focus while a bright spotlight shone on the scene further along the fence. A young boy, about three, was at the wire on his knees, trying to retrieve a soft toy he’d poked through the fence. Marjorie put down her bag and went over to him. She picked up the toy, which was a small blue elephant, and pushed it back through the wire. The little boy grabbed it from her and clutched it, regarding Marjorie with solemn blue eyes.

‘How did your elephant get out here?’ she asked him.

‘Run away,’ he said and then turned away as a woman called to him.

‘Philip! Come over here, please.’

One of the Japanese soldiers ran towards Marjorie and shouted at her. Frightened by this violent reaction, she returned to the other women who were being pushed through the gates. Marjorie picked up the two bags. She could see that Evelyn was at the end of her tether.

In the central dusty yard the women, several babies and children of various ages, were being marshalled into straggling lines by the shouting Japanese soldiers. They had been told to put their bags to one side, but now a soldier had begun to tear them open, scattering their contents. Some of the women began to weep, and when one of them raised an objection she was hit with the butt of a rifle. The woman slumped to the ground, clutching her bleeding head. As other women near her leaned down to help, they were swiftly stopped by angry soldiers.

The women stood paralysed, shocked at this treatment. They watched as their few possessions were examined. Some soldiers picked up food items and other things they considered valuable, they kicked the rest of the luggage around in the dust.

‘Damn them, what bastards,’ muttered one women. ‘They said we’d be well treated.’

Marjorie looked around her. The perimeter of this main square consisted of small huts roofed with attap and bamboo walls. They looked flimsy and obviously had few amenities. There were women and children inside them, watching through the holes cut in the walls. A Japanese soldier began shouting at them furiously.

‘What’s he saying?’ whispered the woman next to Marjorie, who only managed to shake her head in reply.

Then, as if in exasperation at their stupidity for not understanding him, the soldier suddenly began to shout at them in English, as if to small children.

‘You are now prisoners of Emperor of Japan. Emperor look after women and children. You obey rules, and you not get into trouble. You not obey, you will be punished.’ He began shouting a list of instructions and rules that were barely understood by the exhausted and frightened women. A few small children whimpered. A baby cried in hunger. After what seemed an age, standing in the hot sun, they were finally dismissed and the women began to scoop up their belongings. Marjorie knelt down and stuffed her mother’s clothes into her suitcase, tugging back a dress that another woman was trying to pick up.

‘That’s my mother’s.’

But the other woman was too distraught to notice or care.

An older woman appeared from one of the huts and introduced herself to the group. ‘I’m June Humphries. I’ve been elected as the camp representative. I act as the go-between with the Japs and the prisoners. Welcome to you all.’ She began to explain the camp routine as she assigned the women to the various huts.

Marjorie and her mother, clutching their belongings, walked to one of them and blinked in the dimness of its two dormitory rooms. The woman with the little boy that Marjorie had seen at the fence came forward.

‘Welcome to what we have, although it’s not much.’

‘My mother is sick. Can she lie down?’ said Marjorie.

‘We were told that more women were coming. We’ll have to sort out some better sleeping arrangements, but for now your mother can sleep on my bed. I see that you were able to bring a few things. Do you have any medicines?’ she asked.

‘I have some quinine and aspirin in my cotton bag. The guards took so many of our things,’ said Marjorie. ‘That’s not right.’

‘No, it’s not. There are many things not right here so we have to make the best of it. When Philip and I arrived, we had very little, except of course Philip’s elephant. By the way, I’m Bette Oldham. What’s your name?’

‘Marjorie Potts.’

‘And I’m Evelyn Potts. I’m so sorry to be a nuisance to you,’ said Marjorie’s mother, faintly from the direction of the bed.

Bette brushed the apology aside. ‘I understand, this must be a terrible shock for you, but you must get well as soon as you can. There is no doctor or proper hospital here, but we do what we can. There’s a sick bay, run by an English woman and a couple of nuns. They’re wonderful, but there’s only so much you can do in these conditions.’

‘What are the conditions like here?’ asked Evelyn.

‘Terrible, just look at these beds. They’re only bamboo slats and very uncomfortable, unless you have money to buy a thin mattress – then I guess they’re a bit better. To eat we get a cupful of rice a day, occasionally some terrible meat and greens that are slimy and inedible, although we eat them. Drinking water is precious. We catch as much as we can when it rains. The latrines are a nightmare. They are just a hole in the ground, over there behind that shack, and someone has to empty them out every day.’

‘How long have you been here?’ asked Evelyn. ‘Oh, you’re right. This bed is very uncomfortable.’

‘About three months now. I suppose we should be grateful that at least the bed is off the ground. Do you have a blanket or cover?’

‘Yes,’ said Marjorie quickly, opening one of their suitcases. ‘Mother made it.’

Bette fingered the embroidered silk coverlet Marjorie had taken from the suitcase. ‘That’s wonderful. Philip and I sleep under my sarong and a skirt. Where are you from?’

Marjorie leaned over her mother. ‘Could we have a drink of water please? We’ve had nothing for hours. We were living in Sarawak.’

‘My husband was the DO, up-country,’ sighed Evelyn. ‘When the war broke out we thought that we could stay hidden in the jungle, but eventually my husband realised that by staying there, we were putting the Dayaks at risk, so we gave ourselves up to the Japanese authorities. The Japs put us into a house in Kuching for a few weeks with some Chinese and other people, mainly foreigners who seemed to have come from all over. The house just got more and more crowded. Eventually the Japs decided that we should move. Marjorie and I were separated from my husband and we were loaded onto the back of a truck like cattle and driven about two miles from the camp. Then we were told to get out and walk the rest of the way carrying all our things in the heat. I don’t understand why they did that. They could just have easily driven us all the way.’ She looked tearful.