فصل 17

17

Among the 300 different items the Red Cross has put aboard for the use of brides are bed linen, towels, stationery, medical and beauty preparations, and tons of tinned fruit, cream, biscuits, meat and boxes of chocolates. It has also provided 500 canvas folding deckchairs and a special book on midwifery.

Sydney Morning Herald, 3 July 1946

Twentysix days

A major port, especially one that had formed an important stagingpost for most of the war years, can safely be assumed to have seen most things pass through its gates. Guns, armoury, foodstuffs, silks, spices, troops, traders, holy texts and foul waste had all passed through, eliciting little comment.

Old hands could remember the nightmare roaring of the six white tigers confined to crates en route to the home of an American movie mogul others the glowing gold dome of a temple for some vainglorious European head of state. More recently, for several weeks the harbour had hummed with a rare fragrance after a crane carrying five thousand bottles of sickly perfume had dropped its cargo on to the dockside.

But the sight of some six hundred women waiting to go ashore at Bombay brought the traffic at Alexandra Lock to a standstill. The women, lining the decks in their brightly coloured summer dresses, waved down with hats and handbags, their voices filled with the energy of three and a half weeks spent at sea. Hundreds of children ran along either side of the dock, their arms stretched upwards, calling to the women to toss down more coins, more coins. Small tugboats, hovering beneath the great bow like satellites, noisily dragged Victoria round, pulling her into position alongside the quay. As the ship glided gracefully into place, many of the women exclaimed loudly at how such a huge ship could fit through the lock others exclaimed rather more vigorously at the smell, pressing white handkerchiefs to their glowing faces. And all along the quay eyes lifted to the great aircraftcarrier that no longer carried aircraft. Men and women stood in brightly coloured robes and saris, troops, dockyard workers, traders, all paused to watch the Ship of Brides manoeuvre her way in.

You must stick together and stay in the main thoroughfares. The WSO was struggling to be heard over the clamour of those desperate to disembark. And you must return by twentytwo hundred hours at the latest. Captain Highfield has made it clear he will not tolerate lateness. Do you all understand?

It was only a matter of months since the Indian sailors mutiny at the harbour they had gone on strike in protest against their living conditions. How this had escalated was still a matter of some debate, but it was indisputable that it had erupted into a fierce gun battle between English troops and the mutineers that had lasted several days. There had been several heated discussions about the wisdom of letting the women ashore but given that they had remained aboard at Colombo and Cochin, it did not seem fair to keep them any longer. The officer held up a clipboard, wiping her face with her free hand. The duty officer will be taking names as each woman returns aboard. Make sure yours is among them.

The heat was fierce and Margaret clung to the side of the ship, wishing, as the crowd pressed and writhed around her, that she could find somewhere to sit down. Avice, beside her, kept standing on tiptoe, shouting back what she could see, one hand shielding her eyes against the bright sunlight.

We must do the Gateway of India. Apparently everyone does the Gateway of India. And the Willingdon Club is meant to be lovely, but its a few miles out of the city. Theyve got tennis courts and a swimmingpool. Do you think we should get a taxi?

I want to find a nice hotel, and put my feet up for half an hour, said Margaret. They had stood watching for almost the two hours it had taken Victoria to drop anchor, and the oppressive temperature had caused Margarets ankles to swell.

Plenty of time for that, Margaret. Us ladies in the family way must do our best to keep active. Ooh, look! Theyre about to let us off.

There was a queue for the gharries, the little horsedrawn carriages that would take the women to the Red Gate at the entrance to the dock. Those who had already made it down the gangplank were clustered around them, chattering away, checking and rechecking handbags and sunhats, pointing out the distant views of the city.

Through the gate, Margaret could see wide, treelined avenues, flanked by large hotels, houses and shops, the pavements and roads thick with movement. The solidity and space made her feel almost giddy after so long at sea, and several times she had found herself swaying, unsure whether it was due to heat or sealegs.

Two women walked past, balancing oversized baskets of fruit on their heads with the same nonchalant ease as the brides wore their hats. They whispered to each other, covering their mouths and giggling through bejewelled fingers. As Margaret watched, one spied something on the ground. Her back ramrod straight, she stretched out a bare foot, picked up the object with her toes, took it in her hand and pocketed it.

Strewth, said Margaret, who had not seen her own feet for several weeks now.

Theres a dinnerdance at Greens Hotel, apparently, Avice was checking notes in her pocket book. Some of the girls from 8D are heading there later. I said we might meet them for tea. But Im desperate to go shopping. I feel Ive bought everything its possible to buy from the PX.

I just want a bloody seat, Margaret muttered. I dont care about sightseeing or shopping. I just want dry land and a bloody seat.

Do you really think you should use so much bad language? Avice murmured. Its really not becoming to hear it from someone in . . . your . . .

It was then, as Avices voice tailed away, that Margaret became aware of a shushing. She wondered what had caused it. Following the others gaze, she turned to see Frances walking down the gangplank behind them. She was dressed in a pale blue blouse, buttoned to the neck, and khaki trousers. She wore her widebrimmed sunhat and glasses, but her redgold hair and long limbs confirmed her identity.

She hesitated at the bottom, conscious perhaps of the quiet. Then, seeing Margarets hand held aloft, she made her way through the women to where Margaret and Avice stood. As she moved, girls stepped back from her like parting seas.

Changed your mind, then? Margaret was conscious of her voice booming into the silence.

Yes, said Frances.

Itd drive you nuts to stay aboard too long, eh? Margaret looked at Avice. Especially in heat like this.

Frances stood very still, her eyes fixed on Margaret. It is pretty close, she said.

Well, I vote we find some bar or hotel where we can—

Shes not walking around with us.

Avice!

People will talk. And goodness knows what might happen – for all we know her former customers are walking the streets. They might think were one of those . . .

Dont be so bloody ridiculous. Frances is perfectly welcome to walk with us.

Margaret was aware that all the women around them were listening. Bunch of chattering harpies, that was what her dad would have called them. Surely nothing Frances had done, whatever her past, warranted such treatment?

You, perhaps, said Avice. Ill find someone else to walk with.

Frances, Margaret said, daring any of the women to speak again, youre welcome to walk with me. Id be glad of the company.

It was hard to tell from behind her sunglasses, but Frances appeared to glance sideways at the sea of closed faces.

You can help me find somewhere nice to sit down.

Just watch out she doesnt find somewhere to lie down.

Francess head shot round and her fingers tightened on her handbag.

Come on, Margaret said, holding out her hand. Lets hit the old Gateway of India.

Actually, Ive changed my mind.

Ah, come on! You might never get another chance to see India.

No. Thank you. I – Ill see you later. Before Margaret had a chance to say any more she had disappeared back through the crowd.

The women closed ranks, murmuring in righteous indignation. Margaret watched the distant gangplank, just able to make out the tall thin figure walking slowly up it. She waited until it had vanished inside. That was mean, Avice.

Im not horrid, Margaret, so you neednt look at me like that. Im just honest. Im not having my one trip ashore ruined by that girl. She straightened her hair, then placed a sunhat carefully on her head. Besides, in our condition, I think its best if we keep our worries to a minimum. It cant be good for us.

The queue had moved on. Avice linked her arm with Margarets and walked her swiftly towards a gharry.

Margaret knew she should go to Frances by even participating in this outing she had condoned Francess treatment. But she was desperate to feel land under her feet. And it was so difficult to know what to say.

With only a handful of brides left aboard, the ship had become a maelstrom of focused activity teams of ratings prowled decks normally closed to men, scrubbing, painting and polishing. Several were on their knees on the flight deck, fighting with foam and wooden brushes to rid the grey concrete of its lingering rainbow puddles of aviation fuel. Small tugs unloaded huge crates of fresh fruit and vegetables, feeding them through hatches into the hold, while on the other side the tankers began to refuel the ship.

In other circumstances, Frances might have enjoyed the sight of the ship at work, fully engaged in its normal course of duties. Now she took in the smirk of the duty officer at the top of the gangplank, the knowing glance he exchanged with his mate as she reembarked, showing him her station card. She saw the lingering glances of the painting parties, the lowered eyes and muttered greeting of the officer who had previously wished her a cheerful good morning.

Over the last few days she had wondered at how it was possible to feel so lonely in a ship so full of people.

She was a few steps away from the little dormitory when she saw him. She had told herself that her previous outings around the ship had been to give herself some fresh air to make herself leave the sweaty confines of the cabin. Now, as she recognised the man walking towards her, she knew she had not been honest with herself.

She glanced down at her clothes, unconsciously checking herself as she had once done while on duty, feeling her skin prickle with a mixture of anxiety and anticipation. She was unsure of what she could possibly say to him. She knew he would have to say something now they were too close for him not to.

They stopped. Looked at each other for just the briefest moment, then stared at their feet.

Going ashore? He indicated the harbour.

She could see nothing on his face, no clue. Should I be grateful for the mere fact that he has spoken to me at all? she wondered. No . . . I – I decided to stay here.

Enjoy the peace and quiet.

Something like that.

Perhaps he hadnt wanted to talk to her but was too gentlemanly to hurt her feelings.

Well . . . as much peace as you can find with . . . with this . . . He gestured to where a party of engineers were repairing some piece of equipment high up, joking noisily with each other as they worked.

Yes, she said. She could think of nothing else to say.

You should make the most of it, he said. Its . . . hard to find a bit of space to yourself on board. I mean real space . . .

Perhaps he might understand more than he was saying, she thought. Yes, she said. Yes, it is.

I—

Hey, Marine.

The rating walked towards them, holding out a note, his cap pulled at a jaunty angle over one eye. They want you in the control room before your watch. Briefing for the governors visit. As he came closer she could see he had recognised her. The look the younger man gave her as he handed over the note made her wince. Excuse me, she said, cheeks reddening.

As she turned away, she half hoped he might ask her to wait a moment. That he might say something, that told her he didnt see her as the rest of them did. Say something, she willed him. Anything.

Moments later she wrenched open the door to the dormitory and let it shut heavily behind her. She leant against it, her back sticking through her blouse to its unforgiving surface. Her jaw was clenched so tightly that it ached. She had never thought until now about lifes fairness, at least not in relation to herself. Her patients had suffered, and she had occasionally questioned why God could take one or leave another in such pain. She had never wondered about the fairness of her own experiences she had long ago discovered that it was better not to think about those years. But now, with all the other emotions swirling around inside her in some infernal cocktail, she felt the pendulum swing from bleak despair to blind fury at the way her life had turned out. Had she not suffered enough? Was this, and not what she had seen in the war, the real test of her resolve? How much more was she expected to pay for?

Maude Gonne, perhaps understanding that Margaret had gone ashore, scratched restlessly at the door. Frances stooped, picked her up and sat down with her on her lap.

The dog took no comfort from this. In fact she paid Frances no attention. Frances sat there stroking, gazing at the milky, unseeing eyes, the quivering body desperate for only one person.

Frances held the dog close to her, pitying her plight. I know, she whispered, laying her cheek against the soft head. Believe me, I know.

Accustomed to the intense heat of Bombay, and oblivious to the huge fans that whirred overhead, the waiters in the cocktail bar of Greens Hotel were visibly perspiring. The sweat glistened on their burnished faces and seeped into the collars of their immaculate white uniforms. But their discomfort was less to do with the heat – it was a relatively mild evening – than the endless demands of the hundred or so brides who had chosen that bar to end their days shore leave.

If I have to wait one more minute for my drink I swear Ill have words with that man, said Avice, wafting the fan she had bought that afternoon and eyeing the unfortunate waiter as he ducked through the crowd, tray held aloft. Im wilting, she said, to his departing back.

Hes doing his best, said Margaret. She had been careful to sip her drink slowly, having guessed from the packed bar that service was likely to be slow. She was feeling restored she had been able to elevate her feet for half an hour, and now let her head rest on the back of the chair, enjoying the light breeze created by the overhead fan.

It was the same everywhere in Greens, the Bristol Grill, the grand Taj Mahal hotel a combination of the Victoria and several troopships landing at once had swamped the harbour area with wouldbe revellers, men made gay and reckless by the end of the war and their increasing proximity to home. They had looked in at several places before deciding that at Greens they might get a seat. Now, from their vantagepoint on the veranda, they could look back through the archway at the dance area, which was now populated by men and women casting hopeful – and sometimes covetous – looks in the direction of the tables. Some of the brides had begun drinking John Collins and rum punches at lunchtime and were now feeling the effects of their encroaching hangovers. They seemed listless and vaguely discontented, their makeup sliding down their faces and their hair limp.

Margaret felt no guilt at hogging her seat. Heedless of the heat and dust, and of her own oftstated delicate condition, Avice had dragged her everywhere that afternoon. They had walked around all the European shops, spent at least an hour in the Army and Navy Stores and another bartering with the men and small boys who besieged them with apparently unmissable bargains. Margaret had swiftly grown tired of haggling it felt wrong to hold out for the odd rupee faced with the abject poverty of the salesmen. Avice, however, had leapt into it with astonishing enthusiasm, and spent much of the evening holding aloft her various purchases and exclaiming at the prices.

Margaret had been overwhelmed by the little they had seen of Bombay. She had been shocked at the sight of Indians bedding down in the street, at their seeming indifference to their conditions. At their thin limbs next to her own milkfed plumpness, at their physical disabilities and barely dressed children. It made her feel ashamed for the nights she had moaned about the discomfort of her bunk.

Her drink appeared, and she made a point of tipping the waiter in front of Avice. Then, as he departed, she stared out at Victoria, floating serenely in the harbour, and wondered guiltily if Frances was asleep. All its lights were on, giving it a festive appearance, but without either aircraft or people the flight deck looked empty, like a vast, unpopulated plain.

Ah! A seat! Mind if we join you? Margaret looked round to see Irene Carter, flanked by one of her friends, pulling out the chair opposite. She gave a wide, lipsticked smile that did not stretch to her eyes. Despite the heat she looked cool and brought with her a vague scent of lilies.

Irene, said Avice, her own smile something of a snarl. How lovely.

Were exhausted, said Irene, throwing her bags under the table and lifting a hand to summon a waiter. He arrived at her side immediately. All those natives following you around. I had to get one of the officers to tell them to leave me alone. I dont think they know how upsetting they can be.

We saw a man without legs, confided her companion, a plump girl with a mournful air.

Just sitting out on a rug! Can you imagine?

I think he might have been stuck there, the girl said. Perhaps someone put him down and left him.

Weve hardly noticed. Weve been so busy shopping, havent we, Margaret? Avice gestured at her own bags.

We have, said Margaret.

Bought anything nice? said Irene. Margaret fancied there was a steely glint in her eye.

Oh, nothing youd be interested in, said Avice, her own smile glued in place.

Really? I heard youd bought something for the Queen of the Victoria final.

Natty Johnson saw you in the Army and Navy, said the plump girl.

That? I dont suppose Ill wear it. To be honest, I havent given a thought to what Ill wear.

Margaret snorted quietly into her drink. Avice had spent the best part of an hour parading in front of the mirror in a variety of outfits. I wish I knew what Irene Carter was wearing, she had muttered. Im going to make sure I knock her into a cocked hat. She had spent on three new dresses more money than Margarets father would spend on cattle feed in a year.

Oh, I dare say Ill dig something out of my trunk, said Irene. Its only a bit of fun after all, isnt it?

It certainly is.

Bloody hell, thought Margaret, gazing at Avices butterwouldntmelt smile.

Couldnt agree more, said Irene. You know what, Avice? I shall tell all those girls whove been whispering that youre taking it too seriously that theyre quite wrong. There. She paused. And that Ive heard that direct from the horses mouth. She lifted her drink as if in a toast.

Margaret had to bite her lip hard to stop herself laughing at Avices face.

The four women, forced together through lack of spare tables rather than camaraderie, spent the best part of an hour and a half seated together. They ordered a fish curry Margaret found it delicious but regretted it when indigestion struck. The other brides, however, made a show of fanning their mouths and pronouncing it inedible.

I hope it hasnt done any harm to the baby, said Avice, laying a hand on her nonexistent bump.

I heard your news. Congratulations, said Irene. Does your husband know? Im assuming it is your husbands, she added, then laughed, a tinkling sound, to show she was joking.

I believe were getting post tomorrow, said Avice, whose own graceful smile had gone a little rigid. I imagine hell have told everyone by now. Were having a party when we get to London, she said. We felt we rather missed out, with the war, so were going to have a do. Probably at the Savoy. And now, of course, it will be a double celebration.

The Savoy was a good one, Margaret thought. Irene had looked briefly furious.

In fact, Irene, perhaps youd like to come. Mummy and Daddy will be flying from Australia – the new Qantas service? – and Im sure theyd love to see you. What with you being so new in London, Im sure youll be glad of all the friends you can get. Avice leant forward conspiratorially. Always makes you feel better to have at least one date in the social diary, doesnt it?

Kapow! thought Margaret, who was enjoying herself now. This was far dirtier than anything her brothers had ever done to each other.

I shall be delighted to come to your little gathering, if I can, said Irene, wiping the corners of her mouth. Ill have to check what our plans are, of course.

Of course. Avice sipped her iced water, a little smile dancing on her lips.

But I do think its lovely that youll have something to take your mind off things.

Avice raised an eyebrow.

Oh, this horrid business with you having befriended a prostitute. I mean, who on earth could have known? And so soon after your other little friend was caught fraternising with those grubby engineers.

With her knickers down, said the plump girl.

Well, yes, thats one way of putting it, said Irene.

I hardly— Avice began.

Irenes voice was concerned It must have been so worrying for you, not knowing if you were going to be tarred with the same brush . . . you know, with what everyones been saying about your dormitory and what goes on there. Weve all so admired your stoicism. No, your little social do is a very good idea. It will quite take your mind off things.

The afternoon had stretched into evening, and with the fading of the light her thoughts had grown darker. Unable to face the confines of the cabin any longer, she had toyed with the idea of leaving the ship. But she had no one to accompany her, and Bombay seemed to require a certain robustness of spirit that she did not own. She had stepped out and headed for the boat deck, close to where she had sat with Maude Gonne just a week earlier.

Now she stood, while the harbour lights glinted steadily on the inky water, interrupted occasionally by the noisy passage of tugs and barges. A strange conjunction of scents, spices, fuel oil, perfume, rotten meat, expanded in the stilled air so that she was both entranced and repelled by the mere act of breathing. Her thoughts had calmed a little now she would do what she had always done, she told herself. She would get through. It was only a couple more weeks until she reached England and she had learnt long ago that anything could be endured if you tried hard enough. She would not think of what might have been. The men who had best survived the war, she had long ago observed, had been those able to live one day at a time, those able to count even the smallest of blessings. She had bought herself a packet of cigarettes at the PX. Now she lit one, conscious that it was a selfdestructive gesture but savouring the acrid taste. Across the water, voices called to each other and from somewhere further distant Indian music drifted, one long, mournful filigree note.

You want to watch out. Youre not meant to be here.

She jumped. Oh, she said. Its you.

Its me, he said, stubbing out his own cigarette. Maggie not with you?

Shes ashore.

With all the others.

She wondered if there was a polite way of asking him to leave her.

He was wearing his engineers overalls it was too dark to see the oil on them but she could smell it under the scent of the smoke. She hated the smell of oil she had treated too many burned men who had been saturated with it, could still feel the tacky density of the fabric she had had to peel off their flesh.

I shall start nursing again in England, she told herself. Audrey Marshall had sent her off with a personal letter of recommendation. With her service record there would be no shortage of opportunities.

Ever been to India before?

She was annoyed at the interruption of her thoughts. No.

Seen a lot of countries, have you?

A few, she said. Mainly bases.

Youre a welltravelled woman, then.

Its because Margaret isnt here, she thought. Hes one of those men who needs an audience. She did her best to smile. No more than anyone else whos seen service, I imagine.

He lit himself another cigarette and blew the smoke meditatively into the sky. But I bet you could answer me a question, he said.

She looked at him.

Is there a difference?

She frowned. On the shore, two vehicles were locked in an impasse, horns blaring. The sound echoed across the dockyard, drowning the music.

Im sorry? She had to lean forward temporarily to hear him.

In the men. He smiled, revealing white teeth in the darkness. I mean, is there a nationality you prefer?

From his expression she knew she had heard what she suspected. Excuse me, she said. She moved past him, her cheeks burning, but as she reached for the handle of the hatch, he stepped in front of her.

No need to have an attack of modesty on my account, he said.

Will you excuse me?

We all know what you are. No need to skirt round it. He spoke in a singsong voice so that it was a second before she had gauged the menace in what he was saying.

Please would you let me pass?

You know, I had you all wrong. Dennis Tims shook his head. We called you Miss Frigidaire in the mess. Miss Frigidaire. We couldnt believe youd even married. Had you down as wedded to one of those Biblebashers, a virgin for life. How wrong we were, eh?

Her heart was racing as she tried to assess whether she would be able to push past him for the door. One of his hands rested lightly on the handle. She could feel the confidence behind his strength, the sureness of a man who always, physically, got his own way.

So prim and proper, with your blouses buttoned up to your neck. And really youre just some whore who no doubt persuaded some fool pollywog sailor to stick a ring on your finger. Howd you do it, eh? Promise him youd save it all for him, did you? Tell him he was the only one who meant anything?

He put out a hand towards her breast and she batted it away.

Let me out, she said.

Whats the matter, Miss Priss? Not like anyones around to know. He gripped her arms then, pushed her backwards towards the guard rail. She stumbled as his weight met her like a solid wall. In the distance, from the hotel near the harbour, she could hear laughter.

Ive seen girls like you in a million ports. Shouldnt allow your sort on board, he muttered wetly into her ear.

Get off me!

Oh, come on! You cant expect me to believe youre not making a bit on the side while youre here—

Please—

Step away, Tims.

The voice came from her right. Timss head lifted, and she glanced across his shoulder. He was standing there, his eyes burning black in the dim light.

Step away, Tims. His tone was icy.

Tims checked the other mans identity, smiled and abandoned it, as if unsure how chummy he should be. A little dispute over payment, he said, backing away from her and ostentatiously checking his trousers. Nothing you need to concern yourself about. You know what these girls are like.

She closed her eyes, not wanting to see the marines face. She was shaking violently.

Get inside. The marine spoke slowly.

Tims seemed remarkably cool. Like I said, Marine, just a disagreement about price. She wants to charge twice the going rate. Considers us sailors a captive market, know what I mean?

Get inside, said Nicol.

She stepped closer to the wall, unwilling even to be in Timss line of vision.

Well keep this to ourselves, eh? Dont suppose you want the captain to know hes carrying a brass. Or who her friends are.

If I see you so much as look in Mrs Mackenzies direction for the remainder of the voyage, Ill have you.

You?

It might not be on board. It might not even be on this voyage. But Ill have you.

You dont want to make an enemy of me, Marine. Tims was at the hatch. His eyes glittered in the darkness.

You arent listening to me.

There was a moment of exquisite stillness. Then, with a final, hard look at the two of them, Tims backed through the hatch. She was about to breathe out when his huge, shorn head reappeared. Offered you half price, has she? He laughed. Ill tell your missus . . .

They listened as Timss footsteps faded in the direction of the stokers mess.

Are you all right? he said, quietly.

She smoothed her hair off her face and swallowed hard. Im fine.

Im sorry, he said. You shouldnt have to . . . His voice tailed off, as if he were unsure of what he wanted to say.

She was unable to determine if she was brave enough to look at him. Finally, Thank you, she whispered, and fled.

When he returned there was only one other marine in the mess the young bugler, Emmett, was fast asleep, arms stretched behind his head with the relaxed abandon of a small child. The little room smelt stale the heat was heavy in the air, on the discarded ashtrays and unfilled shoes. Nicol removed his uniform, washed, and then, his towel round his neck and the water already evaporating from his skin, pulled his writingpaper from his locker and took a seat.

He was not a letterwriter. Many years ago, when he had tried, he had found that his pen stumbled over the words, that the sentiments on the page rarely mirrored what he felt inside. Now, however, the words came easily. He was letting her go. There is a passenger on board, he wrote, a girl with a bad past. Seeing what she has suffered has made me realise that everyone deserves a second chance, especially if someone out there is willing to give them one, in spite of what they carry with them.

Here he lit a cigarette, his gaze fixed ahead on nothing. He stayed like that for some time, oblivious to the men arguing down the corridor, the sound of the trumpet practice going on in the bathroom, the men who were now climbing into their hammocks around him.

Finally he put the nib of his pen back onto the paper. He would take it ashore tomorrow and wire it. No matter the cost. I suppose what I am trying to say is that Im sorry. And that Im glad youve found someone to love you, despite everything. I hope he will be good to you, Fay. That you have the chance of the happiness you deserve.

He reread it twice before he saw that he had written Francess name.