He realised now that, even if he were to make it out of the camp alive, he wouldn’t go back to London. The city held nothing for him anymore. He had once been content there. But now the city just represented boredom and frustration.
What he pined for was Penang. He longed to have back his life on the rubber plantation. His daily routine of strolling amongst the rubber trees and inspecting the tappers at their work had provided him with just the right amount of exercise, had kept him lithe and tanned then and full of energy. He looked down at his pitiful body now, bony and skinny from hard labour and malnourishment, his sallow skin covered in insect bites and cuts and bruises.
He slipped off his bunk. His father’s watch showed that it was ten o’ clock. He’d finally made up his mind about what to do.
Tom tiptoed out of the hut and across the dark compound to the latrines. If he didn’t already know the way, his nose would have guided him there. The wooden benjos were set over putrid stinking pits, heaving with maggots, despite the best efforts of the officers to ensure that they were constantly dug over.
Harry and Ian were already there, lingering beside the end hut, casting nervous glances in the direction of the guards on night watch, who were busy playing a noisy game of cards outside the guardhouse.
‘Well?’ asked Ian in a whisper as Tom approached. ‘Have you made up your mind?’
‘Yes, I have.’
‘And?’
Tom hesitated. His friends were waiting for his answer, their anxious eyes fixed on his face.
‘Look, I’m sorry, but I can’t come with you,’ Tom finally managed to say. ‘I’ve thought it over and it always comes back to the same thing – I just can’t leave Archie alone. He would be destroyed without us here. He’s in a bloody awful way as it is and I just couldn’t let him down … If you could just wait until he’s better?’
‘You know that’s impossible,’ Ian said, sighing.
‘I know. I know. I understand. So when are you going to go for it?’
‘Tomorrow evening, when we get back from work. We’ll just slip away after the meal.’
‘What about the map?’
‘Sonchai’s bringing it tomorrow when we go for the delivery. He’s getting us some hunting knives too, for cutting through the undergrowth.’
‘Well, then …’
There was nothing left to say. Except for goodbye. Tom felt a surge of emotion.
‘Shall we say our goodbyes now?’ he asked. ‘We might not have a proper chance tomorrow.’
He held out his hand. What an inadequate gesture shaking hands was, Tom thought. If only he could forget his Englishness and give them both a hearty hug. But he knew that Ian and Harry would recoil from such a display of affection.
A lump rose in his throat as they both shook his hand.
‘Good luck,’ Tom said. ‘And for God’s sake be careful.’
‘Shhh,’ Ian suddenly whispered. There was a movement from the other end of the latrines; someone slipped out and crossed the dark compound.
‘Who the hell was that? I thought you’d checked, Harry?’
‘I did. When we first got here, but someone must have slid in while we were talking.’
‘I hope to God he didn’t hear anything.’
‘Of course not,’ said Harry. ‘We were whispering.’
‘Well, let’s split now, before anyone else turns up,’ said Ian, nerves giving his voice a hard edge.
As Tom crossed the compound to his hut, the pain of parting with his mates struck him like a physical blow. Ian and Harry and their friendship had got him through this far. How was he going to cope without them? Archie would be no help to him. The support would be all one way. He would be the one helping and cajoling the other along, finding extra rations, trying to sustain the fragile morale. Tom already felt the heavy weight of responsibility pressing down on him.
6
The next day the men were forced out at dawn to work on the cutting as usual. This time it was Harry’s turn to hammer first while Tom held the spike. His friend looked pale under his sunburn and for the first time since Tom had met him, he wasn’t talking.
A couple of times, Tom tried to make conversation, but Harry hardly responded. At last, when the guard who’d been hovering around them was out of earshot, Tom asked him in a low voice, ‘Thinking about tomorrow, mate?’
‘’Course I am. Can’t think about anything else,’ Harry muttered, straightening up.
‘Worried?’
‘A bit.’ Harry glanced over his shoulder.
‘Just think. This time tomorrow you’ll be at the village.’
‘No stop!’ The guard was returning, yelling at them.
Harry lifted the hammer and smashed it down on the spike, avoiding Tom’s gaze. Tom didn’t try to speak to him again, and Harry was silent for the rest of the shift. Tom saw the faraway look in his eyes. In his mind, Harry was probably halfway down the jungle trail already, cutting through the forest, making for freedom.
When they got back to the camp at the end of the day, Harry turned to Tom.
‘I’ve got something for you. A keepsake,’ he said, rummaging in the pocket of his shorts. He handed Tom a battered military badge. Tom peered at it in the darkness. It was hard to make out the inscription on it.
‘It’s the badge of the Northumberland Fusiliers. That’s St. George killing the dragon. It’s a bit dirty though. I’ve kept it under the bed.’
‘Thank you, Harry,’ Tom said, touched. He slipped the badge into his pocket.
‘Oh, and there’s something from Ian too.’
He passed Tom a ring. Tom had often seen it dangling on a string around Ian’s neck.
‘It’s got his initials on it. In case you need some extra cash, you could trade it.’
‘Thank you. I’ll try not to.’
Then on a whim he took the watch his father had given
