almost collapsed with laughter and relief as we dashed back to join the others. Kathleen gave me a questioning glance, to which I did not respond. Throughout the rest of the day, I could not help thinking of that almost kiss and how young, handsome and charming Stephen is. Ernest seems so far away, and in my memory so dour and preoccupied. Sometimes I wonder if he loves me at all. We drove back to Cape Town and visited a busy market full of exotic bolts of material in vivid colours and patterns, unusual dried roots, herbs and heaps of brilliant yellow, red and golden spices. I bought some white handmade sandals and several yards of silky material in an orange, green and brown pattern to make a dress. I also bought a colourful bead necklace, which I will probably never wear, but which will always remind me of this beautiful and troubling day. After that we visited some Western-style shops where we could stock up on lipstick, powder and accessories, such as handbags. Everybody was so warm and friendly, but they all stared at Kathleen, with her blonde hair, long legs and statuesque figure. She is over six feet tall. After the shopping, Julian took us for a special dinner at the home of one of the important government officials, and we ate so much food that we could hardly dance. There was lobster and langoustines and meats that I had never heard of, such as springbok and kudu, all delicious. After dinner we had a concert of local music, the men in colourful native costumes beating drums and chanting in a most exotic and charming way, and the ladies dancing, and then the orchestra played in the ballroom, and we danced until late. I danced with Stephen towards the end of the evening, and he apologised for the incident on the rocks. I forgave him. It is wartime. People do impulsive things. It made me realise how careful I must be, that not even I am immune to the romance of the sea, the war, or a handsome young man. Now, as I lie here writing this, with Brenda snoring away gently across the cabin, I still remember the strength and warmth of Stephen’s arms around me, and I wonder if I will dream of him tonight. When I remember our stolen moment, I let myself believe I may be falling in love with him, but it is a love that can never be. I am starting to behave like a silly schoolgirl, though I remind myself I have done nothing wrong.
Saturday, 24th August, 1940 Now we are sailing on the Indian Ocean, and at times the water is so still and clear I can see the bright coloured fish in its depths. Porpoises and dolphins follow in our wake and play for us, twisting and turning through the air, slipping back into the water without a splash. The days are hot and humid, and a sort of languid spell seems to have fallen over everyone. Brenda hardly moves from her bed unless she has to work a shift in the sick bay. She just lies there completely still with the electric fan pointing at her until evening, when the sun has gone down. Even then, it is not much cooler, though it is a blessing to be away from the heat of the sun. There seems to be no respite. I have not seen much of Stephen lately, though I think of him often, especially when I see the couples hand in hand walking around the deck under the light of a huge golden moon. Everyone seems to have fallen in love. It must be the magic of the East, the ocean, the stars and moonlight and the sultry nights. I would like to fall in love, too, perhaps with Stephen, but I cannot allow myself to do so. The voyage will soon be over, and the veil of secrecy has finally been lifted. We have discovered where we are headed. Five sisters, including Kathleen and Doris, are to land in Hong Kong, the lucky beggars, and the rest of us, equally lucky, I think, are bound for Singapore, where we are to help start up the brand-new Alexandra Hospital!
November 2010
‘I don’t know how much Uncle Rolly told your friend,’ Louise said, ‘so if I’m going over familiar ground just stop me.’
‘Uncle Rolly?’
‘Don’t you know him? Roland Everett. He was Dad’s solicitor in Northallerton, and they became close friends. I just called him Uncle Rolly. He isn’t really my uncle. I’ve known him ever since I was a little girl.’
Uncle Rolly must have been Heather’s source, I realised, or one of them. I poked the fire and the logs split. Flames and smoke spiralled up the chimney. ‘Go on,’ I said. ‘What was your childhood like?’
She seemed surprised by the question, as if anybody should be interested. ‘Very happy,’ she said. ‘At least, the first eight or nine years were. We had a nice house by the sea, Dad was making a good living, and Mum co- owned a catering business. Then it all went wrong. I suppose it must have crept up on them very slowly, but it hit me like an express train. I mean, I remember late-night arguments, tears, hushed conversations, consultations with my grandparents – the Middletons, I mean – but really, the first time I knew there was something serious in the wind was when Mum told me to pack a bag and go with her.’
‘Why?’
‘I had no idea. I think I managed to piece it together a bit later. You see, Dad suffered from depression – fits, bouts, whatever you call them. He managed to function, go to work and all, and the doctor gave him pills, which seemed to help, but Mum was more outgoing, a social butterfly, and it just dragged her down, like he was sick all the time but there was nothing physically wrong. You know what some people are like. They can’t stand being around illness of any kind, they think everyone should stop malingering and just get on with life? Mum was like that, and she just couldn’t take it any more. Don’t get me wrong, she had a good heart. But she didn’t want to be a nursemaid, a carer. She wanted to go to dances and parties and meet people. She was always laughing and she loved gossip. She didn’t want to be stuck with an invalid for the rest of her life, so she bolted. And she took me with her.’ Here, Louise paused and stared back into the fire. She had been right, I could have done with another drink, but I restrained myself.
‘You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want,’ I said. ‘I mean, the details. Heather – Rolly’s friend – told me some of it. I know what happened.’
‘Now I’ve come this far… Anyway, the next thing I knew we were in Brisbane. Suburbs, really.’
‘It must have been a wrench for you.’
‘Oh, Brissie’s all right. Plenty to do, nice weather and lots of beaches near by, even better than Brighton. The weather, anyway.’
‘But no father.’
‘No. That hurt. I missed Dad a lot, and I worried about him. He wrote, of course, phoned, and I visited him for holidays and stuff. But it’s not the same.’
‘And your mother?’
‘Mum started hanging out with the party crowd, mostly divorced. She drank a bit too much, talked a bit too loudly, wore short skirts, embarrassed me in front of my school friends once or twice. She was becoming a bit of a burden, but she was my mum. You couldn’t help but love her. There was no harm in her, do anything for anyone, except take care of the sick.’
‘So you stuck with her?’
‘Yes. What else could I do? Pretty soon I was entering my teens, and she was seeing Gray regularly. He seemed OK at first. Not the fullest bottle in the row, you know, but OK. It was only after they got married that he really started to show his true colours. I remember the first time clear as day. I was there, sitting at the table doing my homework. Mum was fixing dinner, and he came home late from an afternoon in the pub with his mates, pissed as usual. Mum said something, made some sarcastic comment, and he just punched her in the face, quick as lightning. No warning, nothing. Just turned, and smack. Not a slap, but a real punch. Meaty. Mum swayed then she just stood there, horrified, blood running down her chin, dripping on her white cotton blouse, then she put her hands to her face and ran to the bedroom, crying. I felt my skin crawling, my heart in my throat. I thought it was going to be me next.’
‘But it wasn’t?’
‘Not that time. He just held my chin in his hands tight, so it hurt, breathed alcohol fumes all over me and said, “Let that be a warning, young lady.” Then he laughed and went back to the pub.’
She was starting to fidget with her hands, and once or twice she put her fingers to her mouth to chew on. ‘Are you OK?’ I asked. ‘Because you don’t have to go on.’
‘I wouldn’t mind a smoke.’
I’d given up years ago, and smoking is practically illegal in California, but I just nodded. ‘Go ahead.’
‘Thanks.’ Louise lit a Marlboro Light and blew out the smoke with a sigh. ‘There’s not much more to tell, really. A couple of nights later the midnight visits to my room started. There was nothing I could do. He was much too strong. Believe me, more than once I thought of killing him myself.’
‘Did you tell your mother?’
‘No. There wouldn’t have been much point. She wouldn’t have wanted to believe it, and it would have only added to her burden. He kept on hitting her, and in the end it was all she could do to gather what little strength and dignity she had left and move us out of there.’
‘Where did you go?’
