The Plantation - Di Morrissey [117]
‘That’s enough! The woman can’t get up!’ shouted Bette.
There was an involuntary gasp at her daring, if incautious, remark.
Defying the soldier, Bette leaned down and tried to help Evelyn to her feet but Evelyn’s legs wouldn’t hold her up and she looked as though she was about to pass out.
‘This woman needs medical attention,’ said Bette. ‘We must take her to the sick bay.’
There was no movement from anyone. Bette took a deep breath and, leaving the lines, walked to where Major Sakura was standing. ‘You must see that this woman needs medical treatment. Surely the Emperor of Japan would not want this woman to die while you are in charge of her.’
Major Sakura glared at Bette, and then said, ‘You take.’
With the help of one of the others, Bette half carried, half dragged Evelyn to the camp hospital. The room contained several beds made from bamboo. There was no doctor, it was run by the redoubtable former matron from Penang. There were very few medical supplies, although it was thought that the Japanese had plenty. The two women left Evelyn there and returned to the parade ground. One of the guards who spoke English told Bette that she was to go to the major’s office at once.
‘You break rules,’ he said ominously.
‘Yes, Corporal Hashimoto, I know.’
Bette knocked nervously on Major Sakura’s office door. When she entered, he stood glaring at her, his arms behind his back.
‘You, name?’
Bette gave an exaggerated low slow bow, every inch of her body radiating scorn. She straightened up and looked him in the eye. ‘Bette Oldham. I’m from Australia.’
He stabbed a finger towards her. ‘You bad. Disobey rule. You speak to me in front of other women. You are not prisoner representative.’ He exploded into an outburst of Japanese that left Bette in no doubt that she was in trouble.
‘You must learn, white women are not important. Only Japanese forces of his Imperial Majesty important. Japanese women know that they must obey. White women must also learn this. You will be punished. Solitary confinement, many days, maybe two, three weeks.’
Bette caught her breath. Solitary confinement. It had been threatened but the women hadn’t believed it would ever be inflicted upon them. ‘No. Wait. I must see Philip. Little boy. He can’t be left alone. I must explain to him.’
But the major ignored her and, calling to one of the soldiers, ordered him to lead her away. The soldier shook his head and grabbed Bette’s arm, afraid she was going to dash away from him. As she was marched across the ground to the building that held the solitary confinement cell, she shouted towards Marjorie, ‘You must look out for Philip for me. I’m being put away in solitary, I don’t know for how long. Please tell him, I’ll be back soon. Make sure he gets food …’
‘Yes, of course. Please don’t worry, Bette, I’ll take care of him.’
‘Just tell him I have a special job to do … anything …’
It was the darkness that distressed her most, and the separation from Philip. Bette lost all sense of time, day and night. The room had no windows and was lit for only a brief time each day when a daily bowl of thin rice gruel or boiled rice was pushed through the door to her. She had no idea how long her punishment would last, so she tried to keep her mind active as well as her body. Sleep was difficult as she had only the dirt floor to lie on. Noises, deliberately made, she felt, banged and crashed at all hours to prevent any decent interval of rest. A hole in the ground in a corner served as her latrine and from this hole cockroaches and rats made their way into the cell to keep her company. In the dimness her senses were strengthened. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she could make out the corners of the small space she inhabited. Her hearing became acute and she strained for every noise from the tiny movement of a gecko on her wall to the sound of rain or distant voices, and she learned to recognise the differing footsteps of her guards.
With nothing to occupy her minute after minute, hour after hour, day after day, she worked