The Forgotten Pearl (10 page)

In the evening, the Trehearnes were to meet the Shana
hans at the Hotel Darwin for cocktails at six o'clock, followed by dinner and dancing. At four o'clock, Maude arrived at Poppy's house, freshly showered, hair damp and carrying a big bag. She found Poppy feeding a bottle to Christabel on the kitchen step, Honey eagerly licking up any stray drips that were spilled.

‘Come on, it's time to get ready,' Maude suggested.

‘Ready for what?' asked Poppy, checking her watch.

‘Ready for the party, silly,' Maude said, dragging Poppy to her feet.

‘It's only four o'clock – we've got ages,' argued Poppy, making sure Christabel finished the last drops of the bottle. ‘Plus, it's not a party; it's just dinner with the Shanahans.'

The milk finished, Christabel hopped away to browse for some fresh green grass. Poppy wiped her sticky fingers on her shorts.

‘Yes, but it's at the Hotel Darwin, which is supposed to be very ritzy, and I've never been. There'll be music and dancing and fun! So we should get dressed up.'

Maude skipped along up to the verandah, Poppy following reluctantly.

‘So, what do you have in your bag?' asked Poppy.

‘Dresses and rollers and bobby pins and brushes and make-up and all sorts of goodies,' Maude said, counting on her fingers. ‘Now, have a bath and wash the salt off, while I start getting ready. I'll meet you in your room in a few minutes.'

Poppy obediently went to have a bath and wash her hair. When she returned to her room, a towel wrapped around her head, she found Bryony and Maude deep in
conversation, poring over nail polishes and lipsticks. Both girls had their hair curled up in rollers and were wearing slips.

‘No,' said Poppy, ‘you're not doing that to me.'

‘Stop making a fuss, Poppy,' chided Bryony with a grin. ‘Sit down here at my dressing table. Maude and I have a lot of work to do.'

Maude giggled and started pulling all the beauty paraphernalia out of her bag. Bryony pushed Poppy down onto the frilled stool in front of the dressing table.

‘What do you think, Maude?' asked Bryony. ‘Up or down?'

Maude looked critically at Poppy in the mirror. ‘Half up, half down,' she decided, pulling the towel turban from Poppy's head. Bryony nodded, filing her nails.

Poppy thought she looked like a drowned rat with limp, wet hair and a grubby, stained bathrobe on over her underwear. Maude set to work, combing the tangles out of Poppy's hair. Poppy winced as the comb snagged a big knot at the back of her head.

‘Sorry about that,' Maude apologised, working quickly and efficiently. First, she parted Poppy's hair over her left eyebrow, then she sectioned off segments of hair, which she carefully curled onto a fat roller and pinned into place. Within fifteen minutes, Poppy looked a bit like a hedgehog, with rollers and pins all over her scalp.

‘Gorgeous!' Poppy said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. ‘This is ridiculous.'

‘Give me your hand,' ordered Bryony. She examined Poppy's hands – the chapped fingers covered in cuts and scratches, fingernails torn and broken. ‘Awful . . . I think
clear polish?' Maude nodded.

Bryony rubbed cream into Poppy's hands, then she used an emery board to file her nails until they were short but even. Lastly, she painted them with clear nail polish. Maude did her own nails at the same time, painting them pale pink.

‘Now, close your eyes, Poppy, and turn this way,' ordered Maude with a giggle. Poppy could feel Maude powdering her face and brushing make-up about her eyes, cheeks and lips. Poppy relaxed and let herself enjoy the sensation of being fussed over.

‘No peeking,' warned Bryony as Poppy's eyelids fluttered open. ‘Now, stand up and put your arms in the air.'

Poppy felt the old, damp bathrobe being tugged away and a silky fabric being slipped over her head and tweaked into place. Then the girls began unrolling the curlers and fluffing out her hair, pulling back segments and pinning them. She was enveloped in a cloud of sticky hairspray, which made her cough, then a puff of sweet-smelling perfume.

‘Just be patient a moment,' Maude instructed. ‘We're nearly ready.'

Poppy sat fidgeting, impatient to peek after all this time. She could hear the other girls getting dressed.

‘Now, pucker up for the final touch,' ordered Bryony, colouring in her lips with lipstick.

‘
Tada!
' squealed Maude. ‘Open your eyes.'

Poppy opened her eyes and stared. In the mirror were three faces: two with dark hair, one with fair. Each girl had her hair elaborately coiffed on top of her head, twisted into rolls, then falling in soft waves over her shoulders, a flower
pinned in a different spot. Their faces were flawless with pale powder. Dark eyeliner and mascara rimmed their eyes, and their lips pouted with bright-red lipstick.

‘We . . . we look beautiful,' stammered Poppy.

Bryony and Maude grinned at each other.

‘We do, don't we?' crowed Maude.

‘I don't think Dad is going to like the lipstick,' Poppy muttered.

‘We'll see,' Bryony said. ‘It
is
a special occasion.'

Maude twirled around the room, the soft drapes of her skirt swirling out. Bryony wore a long pale-green dress with sheer, capped sleeves, gathered at the waist with a narrow belt of the same material. The colour made her green eyes gleam like a cat's. She posed in the mirror, tucking a stray curl behind her ear and pinning a red hibiscus firmly into place.

The younger girls wore Maude's knee-length dresses of soft chiffon – Maude's blue and Poppy's cream, sprigged with tiny flowers. Poppy had a cream frangipani pinned above her right ear, which glowed against her dark hair.

Bryony tossed Poppy some sheer stockings. ‘Put these on – roll them up gently and please don't put a hole in them. Then you can try on some of my shoes – I don't think your flat Mary Janes are quite the right look for tonight.'

Bryony handed her a pair of black velvet evening shoes with silver straps around the ankle and across the top of her foot, like the rays of a setting sun. The heel was mid-height but sturdy for dancing.

Poppy felt glamorous and grown-up – something she had never felt before. She sashayed across the floor in Bryony's shoes. Maude tweaked her skirt, ensuring it
draped perfectly.

‘Ready to go, girls?' Cecilia called from the hall, before sticking her head around the doorway. ‘Oh, my goodness,' she exclaimed. ‘Don't you all look so
gorgeous
. Poppy, I would never have recognised you.'

The girls followed Cecilia out to the hall and into the sitting room. Mark was there, listening to the radio, wearing a white dinner jacket and shirt with a black bow tie and trousers. He switched it off when the girls came in and started in surprise. ‘Poppy, Bryony, you look –'

‘Gorgeous,' Cecilia finished firmly.

Mark nodded. ‘Just what I was going to say.'

The Hotel Darwin was only a little more than a mile away on the Esplanade, so the family strolled together. It was a lovely walk in the relative cool of the evening air, straight down Mitchell Street, past the new hospital, the Larrakeyah Barracks, the old hospital and the parkland along the foreshore. Maude, Bryony and Poppy were conscious of a group of young soldiers elbowing each other, whispering and admiring the girls as they walked past.

The opulent Hotel Darwin was considered to be the Raffles of the north. It was a two-storey white building surrounded by lush, tropical gardens of palms and poinsettias overlooking the oval to the harbour. Mark and Cecilia led the way through the garden courtyard towards the terrace.

A waiter showed them to where the Shanahans were sitting, enjoying the view and evening sea breezes. Jack stood up with his brothers, Danny and Harry, all wearing the formal attire of the tropics: white dinner jackets and shirts, black bow ties and trousers. Everyone stood up to
shake hands and exchange greetings.

Jack took Poppy's hand, his eyes twinkling. ‘Hello, Miss Trehearne, I don't think we've had the pleasure of meeting before. I hope you're enjoying your visit to Darwin.'

Poppy blushed and held her head high. ‘Lovely to see you again, Jack.'

The adults had gin and tonics with lemon and bitters, or beer, while the young people had lemonades. Mrs Shanahan was determined to be bright and cheerful, encouraging everyone to have fun. Jack's brother Danny flirted with Bryony. She blushed and lowered her eyes.

After an hour or so of chatting and admiring the view, they moved inside to the dining room, a decadent room with starched white tablecloths, gleaming silver and glassware, and potted palms. Despite the war restrictions, the Hotel Darwin still managed to serve a fine feast: steamed mud crab, roast chicken with gravy, boiled potatoes with sour cream, and roast beef and mustard, all with minted carrots and peas. These courses were followed by creamy, whipped mango parfaits that melted on the tongue.

For the final stage of the evening, everyone moved into the Green Room, the famous Hotel Darwin ballroom decorated with palms in brass pots, comfortable cane chairs, round tables and a polished timber floor. A brass jazz band was playing in the corner around the piano. Ceiling fans whirred overhead. The gay lights spilled out through the French doors into the gardens beyond.

A stirring swing tune played. The oldies chatted about the war and traded opinions on how Prime Minister Curtin was dealing with the problems of the wharfies' union. The younger set tapped their feet, humming and smiling, until
Danny asked Bryony to dance – they were soon joined by Maude and Harry. Outside, the sun had set and stars blazed in the deep night sky.

‘Would you like to dance too, Poppy?' asked Jack. ‘I'm not much of a dancer but it seems like a good night to try.'

The band played a jazzy swing tune popularised by Glenn Miller called ‘In the Mood', which soon filled the dance floor with motion and laughter. Saxophones, trumpets and trombones duelled and harmonised to keep the dancers swinging in and out, round and round, accompanied by the piano, double bass and drums.

For a moment, Poppy felt awkward as Jack led her onto the floor, but then her borrowed dress and Bryony's silver shoes seemed to make her skim above the dance floor. She smiled at Bryony and Danny, then Maude and Harry, then Cecilia and Mark as they floated past, then she smiled at Jack. She smiled until her cheeks were aching.

Jack laughed and swung her out and around, then pulled her back in close.

‘I love this tune,' Poppy said. ‘It makes me feel like the whole world is happy.'

It was a feeling she never wanted to end.

9

The Warning

Two days later, Poppy was asleep in her room when she was woken by a dreadful wailing. It took her a few moments to realise that the piercing sound was real and not just part of her dream.

Poppy's heart pounded; her mouth was dry with fear. Her cotton nightdress and sheets stuck to her sweaty skin.

‘Bryony? Bryony? Are you awake? What's that?'

‘Wha –?' Bryony raised herself on her elbow and pulled aside her mosquito netting.

Honey whined from her basket at the foot of Poppy's bed. She crept over and licked Poppy's hand reassuringly.

‘Girls,' Cecilia hissed from the doorway, ‘get up quickly. It's the air-raid alarm.'

‘Air raid?' asked Poppy. The alarm wailed on, rising and falling urgently.

‘Grab your pillow and a blanket and meet me at the
back door,' urged Cecilia. ‘Hurry. And be careful not to put on any lights! Don't go outside without me.'

Only that morning the girls had helped their mother and Daisy tack black fabric over all the windows to block out any chinks of light that might guide enemy planes towards their house.

Poppy jumped out of bed obediently, grabbed her bedding and ran to the back door in bare feet, following Bryony. Cecilia met them a moment later, also carrying an armful of bedding.

‘Where's Dad?' asked Bryony fearfully.

‘He's gone to help Daisy carry Charlie to the air-raid slit trench and get some water,' explained Cecilia. ‘He'll meet us there. Now, when I open the door,
walk
as fast as you can to the trench – don't run – and stay down low.'

Cecilia opened the door and ushered the girls out onto the verandah. ‘Go. Go,' she shouted.

There was no moon, so the garden was pitch black. Poppy and Bryony hurried down the steps and across the lawn. Poppy stubbed her bare toes on the edge of the stone path. It was impossible to see the trench in the darkness, and Poppy tumbled down into it, twisting her ankle. Bryony dropped down behind her, followed by Honey and Cecilia.

‘The animals!' exclaimed Poppy, scrambling to her feet. ‘I've got to get Christabel and the possums.'

‘You will do no such thing, Poppy Trehearne,' ordered her mother in a tone that Poppy had never heard before. ‘You will stay in this trench until the all clear sounds. Honey's here and the others will just have to fend for themselves.'

Cecilia set to work making the air-raid shelter as comfortable as possible, spreading out the blankets and pillows, and draping a mosquito net over them to keep away the vicious mosquitoes and sandflies. A couple of minutes later Mark arrived carrying a grizzling Charlie, while Daisy brought two bottles of water and a jar of biscuits.

‘Are you all right, Daisy?' asked Cecilia. ‘Is Charlie okay?'

‘He's scared. He doesn't like the noise.'

‘I think we all are,' Cecilia agreed, spreading out a blanket for Daisy.

‘Well, we're lucky we spent all day yesterday digging this funk-hole,' joked Mark, handing Charlie down to his mother. ‘I didn't think we'd need it quite so soon. If I'd known I'd have made it a little more comfortable.'

The girls smiled wanly at Mark's feeble attempts at humour. Daisy squatted down on a blanket, cradling Charlie in her arms and crooning softly. His sobs gradually quietened. Poppy sat with Honey cuddled on her lap, her round eyes straining up into the darkness to see if she could see any planes.

‘Now that you're all safe out here, I need to go to the hospital to make sure the patients are evacuated,' said Mark.

‘No, Mark,' Cecilia said, her voice rising in fear. ‘It's too dangerous. Everyone is supposed to stay undercover until the all clear sounds.'

‘There are wounded men at the hospital who can't walk,' he explained. ‘It's a huge job for the nurses and orderlies to get them all down to the beach. They'll need help. You stay here and look after the girls.'

Mark kissed her, then both of the girls.

‘Stay safe, my darlings. I'll see you afterwards.' He clambered out of the trench and disappeared into the darkness. Cecilia put an arm around each of the girls and hugged them to her.

They could hear sounds of panic on the still night air. An air-raid warden shouted, ‘Turn off those bleedin' lights.' Glass smashed. A woman screamed.

For nearly two hours, the family crouched in the bottom of the slit trench under the mosquito net, ears straining for the sound of planes or gunfire, legs cramping in agony. Poppy thought it seemed like an eternity. Charlie fell asleep on a pillow.

‘Would you like some biscuits?' asked Daisy, offering around a jar. ‘I baked them this morning.'

Poppy felt sick, her stomach knotted with anxiety. ‘No thanks, Daisy. I couldn't eat a thing.'

At last the all-clear siren sounded.

‘It's over,' murmured Cecilia, folding up the mosquito net. ‘We can go back to bed.'

‘Did anything happen? Did any planes come?' asked Bryony, stretching.

Poppy struggled to her feet, stretching out her numb legs, and lifted Honey out of the hole.

‘I don't know,' Cecilia said. ‘I didn't hear any. I guess we'll find out in the morning.'

They slowly folded up the blankets and pillows and went back to bed.

Poppy couldn't sleep; her ears strained for sirens or planes or bombs. At last, she dropped off to sleep as dawn's faint grey light shone through the black-out curtains.

‘Wake up, sleepyhead,' called Maude's voice from the hallway. ‘You've slept half the morning away.' Maude walked in and perched on the end of Poppy's bed.

Poppy yawned and stretched. ‘What a night! Wasn't it scary? What did you do?'

‘Dad hasn't finished our trench, so we had to go down to the beach,' explained Maude. ‘We were absolutely gobbled by mosquitoes and sandflies. It was horrible.' Maude stretched out her pale legs to show the dozens of nasty red bites. She scratched one irritably.

‘We huddled in the bottom of our trench, but at least we had a mozzie net. Is there any news on the raid? Has anyone been hurt?'

‘Apparently, according to Berlin radio, Darwin was wiped off the map,' explained Maude, bouncing up and down on the bed.

Poppy sat up, her eyes wide with horror.

‘It hasn't been,' Maude assured her. ‘That was just the usual Nazi propaganda. There weren't any bombs dropped at all – maybe it was just a reconnaissance flight – but the air-raid wardens smashed a few windows to put out any lights that were left on.

‘Dad says that the Administrator is pushing forward with plans to evacuate two thousand women and children. Mother is packing up, getting ready to go. Dad says the orders will come through at any time and there won't be much notice.'

Poppy nodded. ‘Mum says she won't leave. She wants to stay here and work at the hospital as a nurse. We're all going to stay.'

‘But you can't – you have to go,' Maude insisted with a frown. ‘It's crazy to stay here.'

Poppy put on her mutinous face and crossed her arms.

‘I was hoping we'd go together,' coaxed Maude. ‘You could come to Sydney with us. You could come and stay with us in Manly. I could show you everything in Sydney – it's a beautiful place.'

Poppy took Maude's hand. ‘
This
is my home, Maude. Everything I love is here. I don't want to run away.'

‘It's nice in Manly, too.' Maude pouted and crossed her arms. ‘And there're no crocs or sandflies.'

‘So you keep telling me,' Poppy snapped, her stomach twisting in fear and irritation. ‘I'm sick of hearing how nice Manly is. I don't want to go there.'

‘I beg your pardon,' retorted Maude, her face revealing her hurt. ‘Sorry for caring.'

Maude stood up and stormed out. Poppy lay back in bed and pulled a pillow over her eyes.
Why is everything going wrong? Why is everything falling apart? It isn't fair!

Rumours abounded of the town's imminent evacuation; however, the details were still unclear, like whether it would be by road, sea or air.

On Tuesday, Cecilia and Poppy walked into town to collect the mail and gather some news. Near the courthouse, they bumped into Iris, who was on her way back
to work.

‘Have you seen the newspaper?' asked Iris, brandishing a copy of the
Northern Standard
. ‘They've announced details of the evacuation. All women and children will be compulsorily evacuated, with the first party leaving within forty-eight hours.'

‘Can they do this?' asked Poppy. ‘Can they make us go?'

‘They say they can – only women in essential services are to stay,' replied Iris.

‘We won't be going,' Cecilia said staunchly. ‘They can say what they like, but I won't be forced out of my home town by the Administrator. I'll wait till the Japanese do that.'

Iris nodded fervently in agreement.

‘What about you, Iris? Are you and your mother going?' asked Poppy. ‘Will you go back to Adelaide?'

Iris shook her head. ‘My boss told me I should get out as soon as I can,' she admitted. ‘The post office has also given mum and the other female telephonists the opportunity to leave, but we've all decided to stay. The communications at the post office are absolutely vital, so we think we'd be letting everyone down if we evacuated just because the Japanese are threatening to bomb us. Think about the English – they've been braving German bombs and aeroplanes for months.'

Cecilia squeezed Iris's hand.

‘That's how we feel,' confessed Cecilia. ‘I just can't walk away from everything here. I feel like that's inviting the Japanese to take it away from us. What hope would we have then?'

‘They wouldn't dare,' cried Iris. ‘I'd rather die than let
that happen.'

Poppy gazed over Darwin Harbour, which was crowded with troop carriers, warships and barges. Dozens of men scurried along the long L-shaped wharf, unloading and moving supplies. The scene was so different to what it had been just a few short weeks before.

‘Do you know, I was just talking to my friend Audrey at the State Shipping Company,' said Iris. ‘She's having a nightmare trying to organise who's going, where and when. She's been inundated with men, begging, bribing, bullying her to get them on a ship out of Darwin.

‘One threw a wad of money on the counter and ordered her to get him a place. She asked him if he didn't think that place should be given to a child or a mother. He said no, so she threw the money back at him.'

‘Fear does strange things to people,' Cecilia admitted. ‘It brings out the very best and the very worst.'

The first spits of an afternoon tropical storm began to hit. In moments, the rain was pouring down in torrents. The road turned to thick, churned mud. Pedestrians scattered for cover. Poppy could feel warm rivulets of water on her forehead, running down her cheeks and dripping off her chin. She stood still, letting the water drench her hair, hoping the rain could wash away the sick, cold feeling in the pit of her stomach.