Harry took it reluctantly. ‘Are you sure, lad? This must be worth a packet!’
‘Your need will be greater than mine.’
Tom held out his hand once again.
‘Good bye, Harry.’
Harry took his hand. Tom could feel the nervous sweat on his friend’s palm.
After he’d eaten his evening rations, Tom went back to his hut to lie down. He didn’t want to see Harry and Ian slip behind the cookhouse and out into the jungle. It all seemed so final. He tried not to think about what they were doing, but his mind returned to them constantly. It could have been him, hacking through the undergrowth, following the little-used path along the river bank, making for the native village, leaving the camp and all its horrors behind him. Eventually he drifted off into an uneasy sleep, but kept jolting awake, sweating and breathing hard. Could he be going down with malaria like Archie? Towards morning he realised it was simply his nerves.
The next day was Sunday, an official rest-day for the prisoners. Nevertheless, roll call was still held at dawn, and everyone was forced to come out of their huts and line up on the parade ground. Tom dragged himself up and out, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground in front of him, trying to appear normal.
The men were counted and at the end the Japanese commanding officer, nicknamed ‘The Ripper’ by the prisoners, turned angrily to Colonel Scott.
‘Two men short,’ he barked.
The colonel gave a relaxed smile.
‘Oh, yes,’ he said, almost too nonchalantly, scratching his head. ‘That will be the two men taken into the hospital yesterday evening. Malaria again, I’m afraid.’
The Ripper looked at him suspiciously, then gabbled something in Japanese and pushed Scott backwards with his cane. He strutted up and down the lines a few more times, peering at each man with narrowed, suspicious eyes. Unable to find anything else wrong, he dismissed them.
As they walked back to the hut, a man next to Tom nudged him in the ribs with a sharp elbow.
‘Oi, where are your two mates?’
‘Mates?’ Tom frowned.
‘Yes. You know who I mean. You’re always with ‘em.’
Tom shrugged, feigning ignorance. He wished the man would pipe down; a group of guards was watching them.
‘I’ve no idea,’ he said. ‘Probably on the other side of the ground. They’ll be about somewhere.’
The man eyed him sceptically then moved away to talk to another group. Tom clenched his fists when he heard the man saying, ‘Have you seen those two fusiliers? You know, the tall, skinny one and his little mate?’
Tom spent the rest of the morning lying uneasily on his bunk, trying to read an old copy of War and Peace, one of the few books circulating in the camp. This version had been passed from man to man, was thumbed and filthy, its pages soft with use. Normally he would have spent the time with Harry and Ian, playing cards or chess, or just sitting around chatting. He could not help wondering how they were getting along, how far they had gone down the trail, whether they were safe.
Later in the morning, parade was called again. This was unusual. Tom watched as the Ripper held an animated conversation in Japanese with Scott. Both men were speaking in raised voices. Other British officers gathered around anxiously. Once, when Scott turned away from the Ripper, Tom caught sight of his face and saw the look of naked fear on it.
The men were kept standing to attention in the baking sun for over an hour. At last they were released, but as they walked away, Tom saw Scott being pushed into the guardhouse by a group of Japanese soldiers.
‘Dear God.’ Tom looked away.
He went to the hospital hut to visit Archie. Archie was still lying on the same bunk at the very end of the hut. As Tom went down the line of sick men, he caught sight of Leech tending to one of the patients. Leech looked up and stared hard at Tom as he walked past. Tom stared back.
Archie was awake now. His breathing was uneven and quick. Droplets of sweat stood on his forehead, and his pale face was a mass of bruises and cuts. His eyes were sunken and sallow. He fixed Tom with a fevered look, and reached up and grabbed Tom’s shirt, pulling him close. ‘They’ve gone, haven’t they?’ he asked.
Tom was so close he got a mouthful of Archie’s hot breath, rotten with fever. He looked around anxiously then put a finger to his lips.
‘How do you know?’ he asked in a whisper.
‘The men have been talking about it. Two missing from today’s parade. I guessed it was them.’
Tom nodded. ‘They went yesterday.’
‘But why?’ asked Archie. ‘Why did they go without us?’
‘They couldn’t wait. The monsoon will be here any day. Then it will be impossible to get through.’
‘They could have waited. I’ll be better soon.’
‘Well, they had to go, Archie.’
‘Bastards!’ said Archie, lifting his head and putting all his energy into the word.
Other patients turned to look at him.
‘Keep your voice down, for God’s sake. You don’t want to drop us in it,’ Tom admonished the boy.
When parade was called again at dawn the next day, Tom could tell straightaway that something was very wrong. He saw that there were far more Japanese soldiers standing outside the guardhouse than usual. With a chill, he noticed that some of them wore the uniform and white armbands of the Kempeitai, the Japanese Military Police. Tom kept his eyes to the ground, but his heart was pounding beneath his ribs. He could hardly keep his knees from shaking.
The Ripper addressed the parade in pidgin English. ‘Prisoners, something very serious happen here. Two men missing from camp. Two of your comrade violate the Emperor name by daring to escape. But nobody can escape Imperial
