Barbed Wire and Cherry Blossoms (29 page)

‘I went to university. I studied English. And Mary has helped me practise a lot.'

When Mary wakes she is out of bed before her eyes open, excited about the day ahead, about the planned celebration and about the newspaper coming to interview Hiroshi. She hopes everyone will try to be kind, even though she knows that most people think like her Uncle Kevin and hate the Japanese. But she's not prepared for what she sees when she emerges onto the verandah: her father and the man she loves
drinking tea and smoking cigarettes. She didn't know Hiroshi smoked and she doesn't care, because it is something that has connected him with her father. This is a good thing, she thinks as she gets ready for work.

Banjo and Hiroshi sit near the spot where Banjo first found him in the cold of an August morning, sniffed out by the red cattle dog. KB sits by Banjo again this morning, only slightly suspicious of the new character.

One by one, the Williams children come out and introduce themselves to Hiroshi. He stands and bows to them. The girls bow back, giggle, and return to Joan in the kitchen. James climbs onto his father's lap and within minutes has managed to shift onto Hiroshi's, just as he would've if his Uncle Kevin had been there. The young fella notices only one thing: that there is another man in the house, which is often overrun with women.

Nervously, Mary walks to the door of the verandah to leave. ‘Good morning, I have to go to the Smiths' now,' she says to her father, only half looking at Hiroshi. ‘I'll see you afterwards.' She is worried that she is behaving unusually and her father will notice – or worse, that Hiroshi will think she is strange now that he is out in the daylight. But she is already late and hasn't got time to waste wondering about things like that. She stumbles as she leaves their hut, embarrassed and blushing as she makes her way to the Smiths'.

John Smith is in an unusually good mood today. He doesn't even yell at Mary for being late, but he doesn't speak to her either. She goes straight to the kitchen and prepares breakfast for Catherine and Carmichael and listens to Mr Smith whistling all the way into the lounge room.

‘I'm going to be in the paper, probably the front page,' he yells out to the children. ‘I'm going to be known as a humanitarian,' he says walking back to the kitchen. ‘Do you know what that is?'

Neither of the children responds, they are not used to their father being in such a good mood, or talking to them over breakfast.

‘It means I do good deeds.' He nods. ‘And I do! I could've just handed the Jap over to the military but, no, I didn't. I've fed him up and given him clothes and we're giving him a farewell. Because I'm a good human being.' Smith uncharacteristically cuddles his wife. ‘And the good press might get us out of this place. I know you'd love to live somewhere bigger, somewhere like Bathurst.'

‘King Billie's in his element, isn't he?' Banjo says to Fred and Sid.

Fred is frowning as he looks at Smith, who has his arm over Hiroshi's shoulder. ‘If he really does hate all Japs, then he's hiding it well – they look like best mates over there.'

‘Hiroshi looks like he's trying to get out from King Billie's grip, but he's playing the part. He's a bit of an actor,' Sid says. ‘And the newspaper loves it.'

Smith is talking non-stop about how peace begins in Cowra and he is happy to feed Hiroshi back to good health. ‘Of course, we had no idea he was here until a couple of days ago, he hid in a bunker, of all places.'

‘Genius idea, Banjo, just genius!' Fred says to his friend.

Banjo takes the moment in and draws on his cigarette. ‘We actually beat them again,' he says proudly.

Mary walks from the Smiths' and stands next to her father, saying nothing.

All the mission kids have gathered around, noticing how different Hiroshi looks. Someone calls out, ‘Samurai!'

‘Wait!' Hiroshi says and walks away from John Smith. Everyone follows him with their eyes and the kids start to follow with their feet.

‘What are you looking for, mister?' one asks.

‘A stick, so I can make a sword,' he says.

Soon every kid and most of the teenagers are picking up sticks and branches and showing them to Hiroshi, hoping theirs is the one he will want. He finds a small branch and starts to make a mock sword by pulling all the twigs and leaves from it until it is almost completely smooth. He sits on the ground and the kids sit around him. The newspaper journalist has walked over and so has John Smith, not happy that the spotlight has been taken away from him.

‘In ancient times,' Hiroshi says, and everyone is surprised at how good his English is, ‘Japanese warriors were chosen for being good leaders.' Someone hands Hiroshi some long reeds and Hiroshi uses them to tie a short stick to the long one for a small handle. ‘And if you were chosen you received a sword from the Emperor.' There is not a word spoken as the locals become mesmerised by the skill of the stranger as well as the story. ‘The modern soldier also wears a sword as a symbol of justice and peace.' Hiroshi stands up and
hands the sword to John Smith. ‘I give this to you as a sign of peace.'

The Manager is basking in the glow of his own ego. Everyone knows it, but no one cares. As long as he is happy they can have their day of fun, including music by the Williams men, who have started playing already.

‘Harry is really talented too,' Joan says, looking proudly at Kevin's cousin who's also a musician.

‘The whole family is talented, and I reckon they got it from their Uncle Major Murray,' Marj says, proud to have married into the Murray family.

Banjo brings his own banjo out to play.

‘Can I?' Hiroshi asks, and Banjo hands it over.

‘How can a Japanese soldier play the banjo?' Marj asks. ‘Surely it doesn't come from Japan!'

Hiroshi tries to pluck the six-stringed instrument and all other noises dissipate. He attempts a traditional Japanese song, which is difficult with more strings than he is used to, but Mary is impressed. The kids all gather around and look more interested in banjo playing than ever before. One little kid tries to dance to the song and the old people cheer.

‘How?' Mary asks, proud of the man she is in love with.

‘At home, I play something similar, it is called a shamisen but it only has three strings. I think this one might be easier to play.' As people approach slowly to introduce themselves, Hiroshi shakes hands and bows. Each time he does, some of the kids mimic him and the adults tell them to stop. Everyone laughs, though – it's a day of happiness.

Hiroshi can feel the rays of the sun penetrating his skin. He had almost forgotten what it was like to feel natural warmth. His lips are stretched to their limit with a smile that spans his face. Mary's heart is singing as she stands back and watches from a distance, nodding to herself in a reassuring kind of way. She is overjoyed to see Hiroshi in the open, no longer a secret or conspiracy, no longer one of the enemy. Her mind is working overtime now that she can see that he fits in, that people like him. If people like him then it will be easier to convince them that he should stay. That they can be together.

‘Here, mister, here,' one of the young fellas sings out, holding a boomerang. ‘Come.'

Hiroshi walks to the paddock behind the mission. The boys show him how to throw a boomerang, with varying degrees of success. When he finally throws it and it comes flying back close to them all, there is a huge cheer.

‘He's a natural,' Banjo says to Mary, putting his arm around his daughter. ‘I think he is a good man.'

‘He is, Dad, he is.'

T
he day has come for Hiroshi to leave. He will travel in an Australian Army truck to Sydney, where he will go by sea to Japan with the few remaining soldiers from the Cowra Camp. John Smith claims to have kept his end of the bargain, promising that he would pressure the authorities to let Hiroshi stay in town longer; more time meant more potential press. But no matter how many names he dropped or how friendly he was with the Mayor, the army said they weren't going to let a former POW stay anywhere other than under their watch. There was going to be an investigation into how Hiroshi had been missed in the head counts and someone was going to wear the blame for embarrassing the Australian military that way. Banjo hopes that nothing about Hiroshi's time at Erambie is ever traced back to him and the others.

Banjo and Joan would not let Mary stay with Hiroshi in the front room on his final night at Erambie, but they agreed
they could sit on the verandah as long as they liked. Mary and Hiroshi don't speak much, knowing there is little left to say. The thought of running away together plays in each of their minds, but where would they run? Mary lives under the Aborigines Protection Act and the White Australia Policy will prevent Hiroshi from any real life in Australia. Besides, after being a soldier at war, a prisoner and finally an escapee in hiding, Hiroshi doesn't want to run any more; he wants to be at home, he wants to be the son, the brother and the poet he has always dreamed of being. If Mary can't be with him now, he will work to make it happen as soon as possible – as soon as his family understands why he is alive and how he came to fall in love with an Aboriginal girl and her family in Australia.

The sun is rising too fast and neither has slept. Mary wants it to be dark for longer, because the moment the sun is completely up, the end will arrive. Her heart is already heavy with sadness. They hear movement in the kitchen – Banjo has lit the fire to make a cuppa.

Banjo coughs loudly to let them know he is nearby, though he knows there will be nothing sexual going on, his Mary is a good girl. A good Catholic girl, like her mother at the same age. Banjo doesn't want his little girl to grow up. He doesn't want her to be in love with anyone, let alone a former Japanese POW who is going back to his own country today and who will tear his daughter's heart apart. No one knows how difficult today is going to be for Banjo when his baby girl gets her heart broken for the first time.

Mary and Hiroshi sit to attention as they hear Banjo approaching, letting go of the embrace they had found themselves in.
Thankfully the morning glory vines had provided protection from the rest of the community while they enjoyed their final moments together.

‘Cuppa?' Banjo holds two tin mugs of black tea.

Hiroshi stands, bows his head and says, ‘Arigat-o, thank you,' and takes both mugs, handing one to his love.

‘What time is it, Dad?' Mary asks.

‘Six thirty.'

‘There's scones in the kitchen from Mrs Smith too, if you're hungry,' Banjo adds. Mary cannot believe how supportive and wonderful everyone is being.

Banjo brings out his banjo and starts singing ‘Waltzing Matilda' and Hiroshi joins in softly, singing off-key but remembering the words from Mrs Smith's poetry book. Joan and the kids have appeared with the sound of the music so early in the morning and when Banjo is finished, Hiroshi gestures for the instrument, getting used to more strings, and tries to play a traditional Japanese tune. Everyone listens to every chord.

‘It is a thank-you song,' he says over the music, looking at Mary, who cannot see anything for the tears flooding her eyes and cheeks. Her mother and father stand on either side, arms around their daughter, ready to catch her wounded heart at any minute.

The music stops when Jim arrives with another soldier from the POW camp. They will be Hiroshi's escorts out of Cowra and out of Mary's life.

At that moment, Mary hates Jim for being the one to do the job. She starts screaming. ‘NO! He can't go anywhere. He's
staying here with us, with me. Hiroshi, tell them. Tell them you want to stay.'

Hiroshi is standing beside her, not wanting to say or do the wrong thing. He loves Mary, he wants to be with her, but he must go home. He must see his family, they're the reason he stayed strong all those months. They're the reason he escaped the camp. He has tears in his eyes too. He can't bear to see Mary so distressed.