‘He beat! He rape too!’ Her voice rose to a scream full of tears. ‘He rape like animal.’ The pitch of her voice fell almost to a whisper as she added, ‘Worse than animal. I hate ... ’
Blanche closed her eyes momentarily, letting a prayer of thankfulness swamp her mind. George! She urged the message across the green jungles to Pudu Gaol. George, you’re free!
On opening them again she saw Sturgess patting Chemor on the back. My God! she thought. It was all a put-up job between the two. Play-acting!
George had always said Robbo was his best friend.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Blanche did not dare presume to take either Lee’s or Ch’ing’s arm or hand as they stood by Josef’s grave. She had told of the encounter and the shooting and led the two of them outside. She felt poised on the knife edge of their judgement.
Ch’ing stood and looked for a long time, then she made a small gesture towards Neville’s grave. ‘He did not deserve,’ she said quietly.
Blanche was not sure whether she meant Neville had not deserved his fate, or that Josef had not deserved her retribution. She relived the moments of their encounter and wondered yet again whether she had murdered Josef, or whether if she had not shot it would have been her grave alongside Neville’s.
She started as Ch’ing linked an arm through hers and the two women went to sit on the seat overlooking the two graves.
‘Better he died at Rinsey,’ Lee said, ‘We had happy times.’ The girl’s eyes softened while her head shook at the memory of the boy and the double-dealing terrorist he had become.
Liz came with Anna, as always practical, bringing iced tea. ‘A bad boy,’ Anna commented, looking down at the new grave, ‘but in no more trouble now.’
‘No,’ his mother said, ‘is blessing.’
‘Oh, Ch’ing, I’m so sorry.’ Blanche grieved for the truth of the mother’s remark.
‘It’s strange,’ Liz murmured, ‘but already I seem to see him better as the boy he was.’
Lee came to her and linked arms. ‘We’ll bring flowers and gifts,’ she said, and her mother nodded.
‘We have lost so much.’ Ch’ing included Blanche in the remark. ‘Husbands ... ’
‘Much time,’ Blanche contributed, holding and patting the old lady’s hand, though bringing herself up with a start as she remembered Ch’ing could only be her own age.
‘Many years for us in the jungle,’ Ch’ing added. ‘Now we have to find work and place to live.’
‘You’ll stay here,’ Blanche reassured her, ‘for as long as ever you wish to.’
‘If there is workman’s house I would like,’ Ch’ing said. As Blanche looked as if she would protest, she added, ‘It’s what I want.’
‘Of course ... ’
‘And work tapping,’ Ch’ing added. ‘Please.’
The politeness of the woman so fallen in her fortunes tore Blanche’s heart. ‘Whatever you want.’
‘We can both tap.’ Lee linked arms with her mother. ‘This is freedom for us here at Rinsey — to earn dollars! Wow!’ Lee raised her eyes to the sky at the thought, then, seeing Blanche still looking doubtful, she added, ‘We need time to open wings gradually — perhaps fly later.’
‘And we have a lot of shopping to do,’ Liz reminded her.
‘But first sleep to catch up,’ Blanche said. ‘Now the tension is over, I’m totally exhausted.’
‘G and T in bed?’ Liz asked. The offer seemed to tie another thread.
‘Darling, when everyone’s settled, marvellous!’
Later that night, Liz came and sat on Blanche’s bed. ‘Like old times,’ she began, then shook her head. ‘No, not really. Everything’s changed, hasn’t it? You do like Alan?’
‘I do,’ her mother answered honestly. ‘I think he has the right kind of practicality you need.’
‘Really?’ Liz was totally surprised. ‘I never thought of him in that way.’
‘Of course not, you’re largely impractical,’ Blanche said with a smile lest her daughter should take it as criticism.
‘You can always surprise me, Mother.’
Blanche laughed and held out her arms. Liz hugged and held her tight, closing her eyes.
‘Alan is being sent to the rest camp on Penang island,’ Liz said as they released each other. ‘I thought I might go up to stay in George Town so we could see something of each other.’ She drew in her breath slowly through her mouth, preparing for a sigh, then added, ‘He may be sent back to England quite soon.’
‘His health is not in question, is it?’ Blanche asked, anxious there should be no more heartache.
‘The scar is very sensitive still. John Sturgess thinks he might be sent home with an earlier demob number than his own.’
‘Then you must spend as much time as you can together,’ Blanche said. ‘You have a lot to decide.’
Liz nodded soberly.
Once Blanche was alone, her thoughts moved from her daughter’s future to wondering if George yet knew his prospects had so radically altered. Robbo had promised to consult his colonel, Edwin Neillands, as soon as he was back at base. He and Inspector Aba had promised everything would be done to speed George’s release. But what about his job? And where would he live? She’d fit him in at Rinsey, however many seams she bulged was the decision which stilled the questions and allowed her to fall into sleep.
The next morning Anna took a call while Blanche was supervising the improving of the quarters for Ch’ing and Lee. She came running out to them. ‘Major Sturgess, he say Mr George Harfield to be released at two o’clock. Can you pick up?’
Blanche felt the colour rising in her cheeks and in the instant of relief at the news she realised she hadn’t blushed for years — couldn’t remember the last time.
‘Mother?’ Liz queried. ‘You knew he would be released.’
‘Yes ... it was just unexpected at that moment.’ She put down the brush she had been using. ‘I’ll probably leave you to organise the evening meal with Anna — for all of us. That OK?’
She turned away and left them, aware of the silence behind her. Not until she reached her room did she remember that they had been in the middle of a discussion about bedroom furnishings to be taken from the bungalow for Ch’ing and Lee. She grimaced at the realisation but hurried to pull a favourite green cotton dress from her wardrobe. She was behaving like a love-lorn creature. No! She stopped in the act of opening her underwear drawer. No, she was behaving exactly like her daughter — rushing off after her man.
She chose her fresh clothes feeling as if a mature woman was critically observing a young one as she flew about changing. Before she was quite ready, she broke off to go and find Chemor and tell him the news, and ask him once again to be her driver. She came back glowing. Chemor had wrung her hand heartily and imparted the information that it had been George who had taught him to drive.
She had not brushed her hair so vigorously since she was a teenager, thinking it added the imperative shine to make her a social success. Then, dissatisfied with her appearance, she rushed back to her wardrobe, held a pink check dress up over the green, discarded it and just left, regardless of time.
Inevitably, they were outside the prison early, and it was only as they arrived that she realised it was also one of the times visitors were allowed in. She recognised several of the people who had become familiar to her over the many visits she had made. They looked at her curiously when instead of joining the queue she went to stand on the far side of the prison gates.
Eventually a clock chimed two and a wicket gate set in the larger gates opened. She immediately saw George, carrying his small case, turning to shake hands with the warder who had unlocked the gate. Her heart went out to him; she felt both rejoicing and sorrow. ‘Through the mill’ were the words that came to her mind as he stepped over the prison portals into the public gaze.