Barbed Wire and Cherry Blossoms (23 page)

Mary is at the Smiths' when the march is on because it's also Carmichael's birthday and she is helping Mrs Smith bake a cake and some Anzac biscuits. Mrs Smith doesn't know it's Mary's birthday too. Mary isn't concerned about whether anyone knows, or even about a cake for herself, but she would really like to take a biscuit to Hiroshi if she can. And she'd rather not have to steal it.

‘It's my birthday today too,' Mary says as she mixes the ingredients just as Mrs Smith has shown her many times.

The woman looks surprised, almost suspicious. ‘How old are you?'

‘I'm eighteen,' Mary says with pride. ‘I'm nearly an adult.'

‘Actually, you won't be an adult until you turn twenty-one, Mary, and that's a few years off but I think you are a very mature young lady,' Mrs Smith says as she places the tray in the oven.

Mary is grateful for Mrs Smith's words. She thinks she's a mature young lady too and is ready to make decisions about her own life, especially about Hiroshi.

There's a knock on the door and Mary moves swiftly to open it, flour still on her hands and a little on her face. ‘Hello,' she says to Raymond, who is standing there with a grin. He starts to chuckle.

‘What?' Mary asks.

‘You have flour on your nose.' He rubs his own nose.

‘Oh, we're making Anzac biscuits.'

‘I thought you might be and I'll bet they're delicious. I reckon you'd be a great cook,' he says walking in. ‘Hi, Mrs Smith,' he says. ‘Dad says hello.' He breathes deeply. ‘Gee, Mary's biscuits smell good.'

‘I'll have some for you next week when you come with the delivery, all right?' Mrs Smith says, turning him back towards the door.

‘Gee, thanks, Mrs Smith, I'll be off then. See you next week, Mary.' Raymond lingers a few seconds then sees himself out.

As Mary prepares to leave later that day, after the Smiths have had their dinner and Carmichael has had his cake, Mrs Smith gives Mary three biscuits in some cloth. ‘Bring the cloth back,' is all she says gently. Mary knows that if Mrs Smith weren't married to John Smith she'd probably be a really nice woman.

Mary walks so fast towards the shelter she almost trips. She's being less cautious than usual about checking if anyone is watching. She slides the corrugated iron sheet across as she has done dozens of times before and rushes to get in and down the ladder. Hiroshi is her pot of gold waiting at the end of the rainbow.

She hands him some damper as a smile grows on her face, then she hands him the three biscuits. She hasn't eaten any herself.

‘I helped make them,' she says proudly. ‘Sometimes I bake with Mrs Smith.' She urges him to take a bite of the sweet biscuit. ‘We made them for Carmichael's birthday, and Mrs Smith gave them to me because –' She hesitates, not wanting to make a big deal of it, because birthdays have never been a big deal for her family because they are so poor. ‘It's my birthday too.'

‘Tanjoubi omedetou,' Hiroshi says, handing the biscuits back. ‘Happy birthday, but these are for you.'

Mary sits down, and Hiroshi follows. ‘Let's eat them together,' she says with a level of excitement and birthday joy she has never experienced before. It was a romantic suggestion too, but she doesn't consider the forwardness of it as they indulge in the treat. The kerosene lamp fades and it is just the two of them in the dark, hearts beating so fast and loud they can hear the other's.

Hiroshi does not want to break the bond of trust he knows has been placed on him by those who send Mary down each evening, but what he feels in his heart and his body cannot be ignored. His mouth is dry from nerves and the biscuit, but nothing would be sweeter than her lips and he fumbles in the dark to find her face to kiss her. She has crumbs around her mouth.

Mary is thrilled, her heart racing and her body heating up. And her mouth, her mouth is glued to Hiroshi's and she never wants it to come unstuck.

‘H
appy birthday to you, happy birthday to you . . .' James is singing the loudest even though it's his own birthday.

Mary is happy to see her baby brother enjoying his birthday. He is too young to understand that his is the only one that is ever celebrated this much. He's the baby of the family and all his sisters spoil him with hugs and kisses. Joan has given the girls some coloured pencils from the church and a sheet of paper and they have made a pretty card with a picture of a little boy that's supposed to be James on the front.

‘Sticky men, sticky men,' James squeals as his father hands him two carved figures made from wooden rods. The sticky men are traditional toys at Erambie. ‘Sticky men, sticky men go to war,' he says again as he makes the toy men fight each other. It's clear to Banjo and Joan that their son has not
missed what has been going on around him, or that all little boys seem to like to fight like men.

Kevin has been away droving cattle to market, and he comes home laden up with meat from the trip. This time he has sausages too, which are a treat especially for James, who doesn't remember eating sausages before. Because Kevin has been working a lot and has some extra money, he takes the kids into town and buys them an ice block each. It's a real treat that only happens once or twice a year and only when their Uncle has been away working.

‘You spoil the goothas,' Joan whispers to Kevin when they are all back later in the day.

Kevin looks at his nieces and nephew sitting in the shade of the kurrajong tree in the middle of the mission and feels a pang of loneliness. ‘They're like my own,' he says. ‘I love them like my own.'

Mary has missed the celebrations as she's been at the Smiths', but she walks over to the little children playing under the tree, picks up James and gives him a big kiss. She gives him a biscuit that she's made that day and that Mrs Smith let her take.

‘It's my birthday,' he says, taking the biscuit and looking at it critically. ‘I want to put this under my pillow and keep it for tomorrow,' he says, trying to wriggle down. ‘I'm taking it home.'

‘You should share it, James,' Mary urges.

‘But it is too small to share with the other kids. They'll just get a crumb each,' he replies, racing back to their hut.

As she heads home slowly behind her brother, Mary's mind is preoccupied with her future. She has become increasingly edgy about what will happen when the war is over. Her head is filled with questions, with ideas and plans that may never work out, but she doesn't stop dreaming – the dreams keep her happy. The dreams give her hope. She keeps the dreams to herself, however, for she is not sure that Hiroshi is dreaming as well.

C
HURCHILL TO
B
ROADCAST
T
ONIGHT

Mary begins shaking when she reads the front page of the
Guardian.
Today the Williams' hut is full with her Uncles, Aunties, friends and as many goothas that can fit under the kitchen table and on the laps of the older people.

‘“Winston Churchill will broadcast the official announcement that the war is over in Europe at eleven pm tonight, Sydney time. The King will broadcast at five am tomorrow, Sydney time. The delay in announcing the news after the signing of the peace terms is due to the disorganisation of German facilities. Time had to be allowed for all German troops to be contacted and ordered to lay down their arms. German commanders are making every effort to get the order to troops to cease fire.”'

The room erupts with cheers before Mary has the chance to finish the article. The war in Europe coming to an end is worth cheering for.

Mary scans the paper for anything that mentions the Japanese, but she finds nothing. She doesn't know if this is a good thing or a bad thing, but she hopes it means the end of the war in the Pacific too, and the beginning of her and Hiroshi being together.

Joan takes the paper from her daughter and starts to read quickly. ‘There's a church service tomorrow at St Raphael's. I'm going to go to that.' She passes the paper to Ivy.

‘I'll come,' Ivy says.

‘Me too,' Marj adds.

‘There's flags and streamers in the shops in town and on some houses,' Kevin says. ‘Apparently there's going to be a Red Cross ball as well, do you think maybe one day we can go to those kinds of things?' He sits down, and James climbs onto his lap.

‘There's no more war, Uncle Kevin,' James says.

‘Ah, well.' Kevin looks at the adults. ‘The war in Europe is over, but our fellas are still in the Pacific, so we need to wait for that to end too!'

‘Come to our place, early in the morning,' Marj says, ‘we can listen to the King's speech there.'

Marj ushers her neighbours into the hut through the back door; Joan and the kids are all half asleep but no one wants to miss out. They like listening to the wireless whenever they can but hearing the King speak, and about the war, well, that's
something very important, and they know it. Fred is sitting and Marj makes tea as everyone takes a seat where they can. James sits uncomfortably on Joan's lap. Banjo arrives just as the broadcast begins. He doesn't want to listen to an Englishman who is supposed to be
his
King, but he needs to know what's going on with the war, and this is the best way to find out. He stands near the doorway, just close enough to hear.

‘Shh,' Marj orders as the broadcaster introduces King George V. Then the King begins to speak:

‘Today we give thanks to Almighty God for a great deliverance. Speaking from our Empire's oldest capital city, war-battered but never for one moment daunted or dismayed – speaking from London, I ask you to join with me in that act of thanksgiving.

‘Germany, the enemy who drove all Europe into war, has been finally overcome. In the Far East we have yet to deal with the Japanese, a determined and cruel foe. To this we shall turn with the utmost resolve and with all our resources.'

Mary is struck by the words ‘determined and cruel foe'. And she thinks that is no way to describe Hiroshi: he is warm and kind and thoughtful and a man who misses his family. Cruel people aren't like that. They don't care about anyone but themselves. Mary doesn't like the King at all and wonders why she bothered to get out of bed to listen to his lies. She looks around the table to see the reactions of the older people. No one is looking at her, they are all straining towards the wireless to hear the broadcast through the crackling.

‘Let us remember those who will not come back: their constancy and courage in battle, their sacrifice and
endurance in the face of a merciless enemy; let us remember the men in all the services, and the women in all the services, who have laid down their lives. We have come to the end of our tribulation and they are not with us at the moment of our rejoicing.'

Joan makes the sign of the cross in memory of Bibby and Dooley Newton, at least one lost in the war, but she is thinking of all the local men who sacrificed themselves to fight for their Australia too.