‘Officer, this is all too sudden. The children have not had time to prepare themselves. At the very least, they need to have a wash and put on their choir robes. And I need time too, to explain to them what is going to happen and to reassure them there is no need to be afraid. You’re the enemy to them. They’ll be terrified at the idea of going away with enemy soldiers. In extreme cases, some of them may try to harm or even kill themselves, with terrible consequences.’
Here Father Engelmann gave full rein to his famous eloquence.
‘Do you really think these animals want to listen to hymns?’ Fabio said to him.
‘Father, how long do you think the girls need to get ready?’ the officer asked through the interpreter.
‘Three hours should be enough.’
‘No, no, I can only allow them one hour.’
‘Two, at least!’
‘No!’
‘Two hours is the absolute minimum. You don’t want to take a bunch of half-starved, bedraggled, terrified girls with you, do you? Don’t you want them to be clean and neat, and willing? I need time to persuade them that you will not harm them.’
His earnestness made the officer pause for a few seconds. ‘You can have one hour twenty minutes,’ he said finally.
‘One hour forty minutes,’ pronounced the priest in tones so magisterial they left no room for doubt.
He had won this round.
‘Now I want you to take your soldiers out of the church grounds. If the girls were to see you, I could not calm them down and settle their fears. Imagine the sheltered lives they have led. Their school is not much different from a convent. It’s been a cradle for their whole lives, they’ve never left it. So they’re exceptionally sensitive, shy and fearful. The sight of occupying forces armed to the teeth before I have properly reassured them might undermine all my efforts.’
The officer barked out a single sentence, which was translated as: ‘I cannot agree to that.’
Father Engelmann gave a thin smile. ‘Are you really afraid that a small group of young girls will escape your clutches? You have enough troops here to lay siege to a castle.’
This was obviously true and, after a moment’s pause, the officer reluctantly gave the order to withdraw from the church compound.
‘Father, I can’t believe you’ve been taken in by such nonsense,’ said Fabio indignantly.
‘I haven’t been taken in by a single word of it.’
‘Then why didn’t you turn down their invitation?’
‘Because even if I did, they’d still find the girls.’
‘They might not! We could at least try our luck.’
‘That’s what we’re doing. We’ve gained one hour forty minutes, and we’ve got to use every minute to think of a way out of this.’
‘Think of a way to save your own skin, you mean?’ said Fabio rebelliously.
Father Engelmann, far from reacting angrily, appeared not to have heard him. Fabio’s English deserted him when he became agitated; his accent and grammar became so hard to understand that Father Engelmann could easily choose not to understand what he was saying.
‘We’ve got a small amount of time. That’s better than nothing,’ he repeated.
‘I’d rather die than hand over those children…’
‘So would I.’
‘Then why didn’t you turn them down flat?’
‘Well, we can always play for time and then turn them down flat … Now, leave me to think.’
Fabio walked towards the library. He looked round and saw the old priest go into the church and sink slowly to his knees before the crucified Christ. While Fabio and the officer were arguing, an idea had flitted across Father Engelmann’s mind. Now it was time to pursue that idea, examine it carefully, subject it to dispassionate analysis.
Seventeen
Shujuan and the other girls had overheard Father Engelmann telling the Japanese officer that they needed time to prepare themselves to leave the compound. Their eyes were like saucers. Had the Father lost his mind? They knew that terrible things were happening to women and girls outside the walls of the compound, and so did he. Did he want the Japanese to do the same terrible things to them? The vagueness of their ideas about what these terrible things might be only served to sharpen their terror.
‘Maybe the Japanese really will bring us back again,’ said one girl.
No one paid any attention to her. The fool was in the year below Shujuan and had come from the countryside near Anqing.
‘Didn’t you hear? There’ll be good food and flowers –’ the girl persisted.
‘Then
The girl launched herself at Sophie in the gloom and punched her. It did not hurt. In fact, Sophie was grateful for the excuse to lash out at her victim with fists, nails and feet. The girl burst into tears. Then Sophie burst into tears. The other girls sobbed too, as they tried to pull the pair apart.
‘You bitch! You smelly bitch!’ Sophie shouted, punching and kicking. She did not care now whom she hit. Her need to vent her feelings was overwhelming, and that included her resentment against Xiaoyu. Xiaoyu had gone back on her word and played a cruel trick on her infatuated friend, at a moment when it was a matter of life and death. ‘Stinking bitch!’ The Anqing girl was a convenient punchbag, and blows and insults rained down on her.
‘Who are you swearing at?’ The curtain was pulled back and Hongling appeared, followed by Nani and Jade.
‘Let’s have no more calling people “bitches”,’ said Hongling. ‘A bitch is still a human being.’
‘You were such well-spoken girls. Where did you learn such dreadful language?’ asked Jade.
‘Did you learn it from us?’ asked Nani. ‘You shouldn’t go learning things from people like us!’
The scuffling stopped and the girls quieted down, wiped away their tears and smoothed their clothes and hair.
Only the little girl from Anqing still sobbed.
The curtain parted again and Yumo came out and stood, looking formidable, her arms akimbo.
‘What’s up with you then?’ she enquired in a rich Nanking street slang. ‘You can cry all you like, your mum and dad won’t hear, but the Japs will.’ She jerked a thumb at Hongling, Nani and Jade. ‘And less chat from you too.’
After a stern stare, she returned to the women’s side, wrenching the curtain back into place behind her.
The girls were startled into silence. Yumo’s words sounded so ordinary, like a young mother whose children were getting on her nerves, or a class monitor overseeing a bunch of mouthy younger girls who were supposed to be tidying their rooms. It was just what the girls needed, a casual, rough-tongued scolding, which returned everything to normal.
Before the crucifix, Father Engelmann got to his feet. Suddenly all thoughts and feelings faded from his mind and he was overwhelmed with exhaustion. Fatigue, hunger and despair had sapped his energy to such an extent that he might not have the reserves of strength to say and do what he had to. He was going to have to be cruel and sacrifice some lives in order to preserve others. They had to be sacrificed because they were not pure enough, because they were second-rate lives, because they were not worthy of his protection, of the church’s protection or
