The Forgotten Pearl (15 page)

Cecilia and Poppy worked hard to fill in the trench with soil from the surrounding embankment. Poppy's mind was filled with visions of Daisy laughing, telling stories of her life on Never-Never Downs; Charlie giggling and holding up his arms for a cuddle; Daisy cooking and baking her favourite lemon cake; Charlie cuddling Coco the cat or chasing Christabel. They were both far too young to die like this.

When the trench was filled with soil, Poppy went over
to the sprawling frangipani tree and gathered a pile of creamy blossoms, which she laid carefully on the grave. Cecilia and Poppy stood together for a moment and said the Lord's Prayer.

‘Peace be with them,' Cecilia concluded, drying her eyes on her handkerchief. ‘Now, Poppy, it's time for us to go. I promised your father we'd go south as soon as we could. We'll load up the car and drive into town to see what's the best way for us to leave. It'll be sunset soon, so we need to hurry. We need food, water, blankets, toiletries and some essential clothes.'

Poppy trudged to her room in a daze, Honey following at her heels. She felt like a limp rag doll, all feeling and grief wrung out of her.
How could such a terrible thing happen? Why did Daisy and Charlie have to die in such a horrific way?
What if the raid had happened half an hour earlier? I would have been at home with Daisy and Charlie, and I would have been sheltering in that trench. I would be dead now, too . . .

Honey licked her hand and whined mournfully, gazing up at her with sad brown eyes. Poppy hugged Honey, then pulled herself together and set to work.

Her bag had been packed for days. All she needed to grab were her pyjamas and toiletries. She took one last, slow look around her room: the two beds neatly made, the books stacked away on the shelf, the knick-knacks on top of the chest of drawers and Bryony's left-behind cosmetics laid out on the dressing table. She breathed deeply and closed the door.

She knew they were in a hurry but she couldn't help but run into each room to say goodbye, trying to memorise her home.

‘Goodbye, Hippocrates,' she whispered to the skeleton in her father's study. ‘Goodbye, two-headed calf.'

‘
Poppy
,' her mother called from the back of the house. ‘What are you doing?'

With shaking hands, Cecilia carefully locked the back door after them.

‘Goodbye, Basil,' Poppy whispered to the golden-green coil of snake in the rafters. ‘Go and take shelter in the garden. It might be safer.'

Poppy loaded the two bags and blankets into the car boot with her father's rifle, while Cecilia went to the kitchen to pack food and water. Poppy made a nest for Honey on the floor of the back seat.

‘Come on, girl,' she urged. ‘In you hop.' Poppy covered Honey with a blanket. ‘Stay there, girl, and don't make a peep. It's better if no one knows you're there.' Honey thumped her tail and curled up in a ball to sleep.

Poppy prowled around the house, calling out to Christabel and Coco. There was no sign of them. At last, Poppy gave up, guessing they might have been frightened away by the explosions.

In the kitchen, there were signs of interrupted preparations. A cup of cold, half-drunk tea sat on the kitchen table, beside a bowl full of flour and shredded coconut. A saucepan was knocked over onto the floor, its contents of sticky golden syrup spilled in a puddle. Ants swarmed around the puddle, feasting.

The two tortoises, Tabitha and Tobias, swam around the fish tank on the sideboard. Poppy lifted the tank and carried it down to the end of the garden where the ground was low and boggy.

‘Goodbye, Tabitha. Goodbye, Tobias. Enjoy your freedom.'

Next were the two possums in the fruit box in the storeroom. Poppy carried them out to the mango tree and climbed, setting them carefully on a broad branch. The two possums blinked, round-eyed in the evening light, then scampered away.

‘Goodbye, Jessica. Goodbye, Clarissa. Stay away from Basil, or he might eat you.'

‘
Poppy!
'

Cecilia had collected a pile of food supplies – tins of ham and baked beans, a tin-opener, two water bottles, a canister of tea, a loaf of bread and some biscuits, which were packed in a wooden box.

‘It's time to go, darling,' Cecilia reminded her.

Poppy reached around her neck to twist the pearl that always hung there. But it was gone.

‘Mum, I've lost my pearl!' Poppy cried. She dropped to her hands and knees and searched the floor frantically.

‘Poppy, we have to go,' Cecilia reiterated. Poppy raced to the storeroom where she had just been to fetch the possums. There was no sign of the pendant.

Cecilia hugged Poppy to her chest. ‘Darling, it could be anywhere. You might have dropped it in a million places at the hospital, on the beach, under the cliffs. When did you last have it?'

‘I can't remember,' Poppy confessed. ‘Maybe . . . I definitely had it at breakfast on the verandah.'

‘Poppy, we have to go.'

15

Escape

Poppy stared out the window as they drove through Darwin. The town was shattered and eerily quiet. Rubble, masonry and twisted iron roofing littered the streets. Cecilia drove down the Esplanade, past the Hotel Darwin to Government House. Every building seemed to be damaged.

An army truck was parked outside the Administrator's residence. Two men carried boxes out of the house, past the armed guards, and loaded them carefully onto the back of the truck.

‘Mum, that's Bryony's friend, George,' Poppy called. ‘He might be able to tell us the best thing to do.'

Cecilia pulled over and Poppy jumped out of the car. George looked nervous.

‘Hello, George,' greeted Poppy.

‘Oh, um, Poppy, Mrs Trehearne,' George stammered uncomfortably, taking off his hat. ‘What are you still doing here? The last women and children were meant to leave by
train this afternoon.'

‘We've been working at the hospital with Dad, dealing with the wounded,' Poppy replied. ‘There're lots of nurses still there. What are you doing here?'

George shifted and glanced over his shoulder to where his companion had gone back inside the residence.

‘We are evacuating the Administrator's wine cellar,' George confessed.

‘His
wine cellar
?' demanded Poppy. A wave of anger surged through her belly and threatened to erupt. Poppy thought of Daisy and Charlie, of Iris and her parents, of all the hundreds of people who were injured and dying or already dead – and the head of the administration was worrying about his wine cellar.

‘Yes – plus all the glassware and silver . . .' George continued.

Poppy glared into the back of the truck. There were dozens of boxes of wine and liquor, plus crates stuffed with crockery, glasses and silverware. Poppy could identify the regal crest on some of the teacups.

‘But we have hundreds of wounded men at the hospital who need treatment and help. Surely you should be evacuating
them
before the teacups?' Poppy insisted, her face flushing in her weariness and anger.

‘I'm under orders from the Administrator himself,' George said defensively. ‘He's pulled several of the police officers off duty to make sure it's done as soon as possible. He's concerned about looting – apparently some of the soldiers helped themselves to food from the Administrator's kitchen this afternoon.'

‘Well, shouldn't the policemen be on duty stopping
the looting, not acting as removalists?' demanded Poppy, tossing her head. She stamped her foot in frustration.

Cecilia opened the car door, wincing as she climbed out, and shuffled to join them. Cecilia put her hand on her daughter's shoulder to calm her. Poppy bit her lip.

‘George, we need to leave Darwin as soon as possible,' Cecilia confided. ‘Do you know when the next train leaves or where we can get petrol?'

George scratched his head. ‘There's another train due to leave at nine o'clock tonight, but there have been riots down at the railway station. The provosts have been firing over people's heads, trying to deter able-bodied men from stealing places on the train. The advice has been completely contradictory, so who knows what's going on? There's no petrol to be had for civilians without written permission from the Administrator – and he isn't giving that to anyone.

‘People have been fleeing south by bicycle, car, foot, horseback – even the sanitary truck,' George continued. ‘If I were you, I'd try to fight my way onto that train, though I did hear there was an unexploded bomb on the train line, or just head south however you can.'

Cecilia grimaced in pain, holding her hand over her broken ribs. ‘Thank you, George. We appreciate your help. Come on, Poppy.'

Cecilia drove south-east to the railway station at Parap. Crowds of men were huddling around the station, pushing and shoving, begging for a place on the train. A military policeman screamed at Cecilia, pointing his gun at the car.

‘Turn off those danged lights before I shoot 'em out.
Don't youse know the bleedin' Japs are comin' back?'

Cecilia hurriedly extinguished the headlights and pulled over to assess the situation, leaving the engine running.

‘Git back all youse bleedin' low-lives before I lose my dang patience!' shouted the provost, firing his gun over the heads of the shoving crowd. They immediately stopped and retreated, before surging forward again. ‘'Ow many times do I 'ave to tell youse? The dang train's full!'

‘Let us on, sah,' begged a Chinese cook. ‘We are civilians – we must get out before the Japanese land. They'll massacre us all.'

‘Well, walk, ya yellow-livered scumbags. Youse're not getting on this train!'

The provost let off another round of gunshots. The crowd scattered, with several men running towards the Trehearnes' car, pointing and shouting, demanding a lift.

‘Lock your door, Poppy,' called Cecilia, accelerating rapidly and grinding through the gears. The car lurched forward and Cecilia drove back towards town, leaving the unruly crowd behind.

‘What shall we do?' asked Cecilia, her voice rising in panic. ‘We don't have enough petrol to drive to Adelaide River. That provost is drunk and I don't fancy trying to fight our way onto the train through that crowd.'

Poppy thought carefully, considering their options.
We could wait until morning and try to get on our planned flight, but that might be too late, and for all we know our plane was destroyed today like most of the others. We could head back to the hospital and see what arrangements are being made for the patients – but then when Singapore fell, injured soldiers were left behind to be captured and killed by the Japanese because
the civilians had refused to evacuate in time. No – we have to get out of Darwin ourselves.

‘We could harness up Angel and drive down in the cart?' suggested Poppy. ‘We could drive for an hour or two, then camp in the bush. We'd be in Adelaide River by tomorrow afternoon.'

Cecilia closed her eyes, then accelerated, smiling at Poppy. ‘All right, let's go home and start again.'

Back at Myilly Point, Angel was harnessed to the cart and all the luggage was transferred, as well as Honey and a couple of camping swags. They headed around the outskirts of town and onto the main road going south, bypassing the gun-toting provosts and the noisy crowd at Parap. Cecilia drove, drooping with exhaustion and pain.

Two hours later, they pulled off into the bush.

‘We'll just sleep for a few hours and be off before dawn,' Cecilia promised. Angel was tied up to a tree on a long rein so she could crop the wispy grass. Cecilia and Poppy wrapped themselves in their swags and a blanket, side by side, to make a rough bed on the hard, packed earth. Honey crawled in to sleep with Poppy, giving her immense comfort after this unbelievably impossible day.

Poppy had no sooner closed her eyes when she was awoken by Cecilia in the grey half-light before dawn. Cecilia glanced nervously towards the north. Memories of yesterday flooded back: the bombs, the operations, the deaths. Poppy shut them out – she didn't want to think about Daisy or Charlie or Iris or anyone else. She just wanted to focus on surviving.

‘We should get going,' Cecilia hissed. ‘I don't think it's safe to light a fire or cook breakfast. Let's just get going
and we can eat on the way.'

It only took a few moments to roll up the swags and blankets and throw them onto the cart. Poppy felt disgusting in the dirty clothes she had worn since yesterday morning.

Angel was untied and they were on their way.

The dirt road south was strewn with detritus, relics of a panicked populace in full flight: a bicycle with two flat tyres, a truck run out of fuel, a bag fallen from a roof, a pile of outhouse pans that had fallen off the sanitary truck on a sharp corner, a camp of soldiers sleeping on the side of the road.

This teeth-juddering, bone-shuddering corrugated road was the only overland access to Darwin, meandering for over three thousand kilometres south. During the wet season, much of it was impassable, boggy mud, while in the dry season it was composed of vast drifts of bulldust, potholes and wickedly sharp rocks. The train line was not much better and finished in the middle of nowhere, just over five hundred kilometres south.

After another hour of plodding along, Cecilia handed the reins to Poppy.

‘I'm sorry, darling,' Cecilia said. ‘Do you think you can drive for a while? This rutted road is jarring my ribs and my elbow – I'm in agony. I might feel better if I lie down for a while.'

Poppy took over and Cecilia burrowed in her medical kit, searching for aspirin. She lay down on her uninjured side on top of the swags and bags, breathing deeply, trying to still the pain. She eventually dropped into an uneasy sleep. Honey snuggled into Poppy's side on the
driver's seat, snuffling about at all the unknown smells and sights.

The endless grey-green brush stretched out on either side of the track for hundreds of kilometres, relentless in its sameness. Angel plodded on, hour after hour. The sun rose higher and higher in the sky, beating down on their necks and heads. Honey lay down and slept, snoring softly in the heat.

The kilometres juddered by, one after the other. Poppy could feel her skin burning and her head aching under her straw hat. She swigged water from the water bottle and offered some to Honey in the palm of her hand. Cecilia woke and made them a meal of cold baked beans on stale bread. The day passed in a blur, but Poppy felt safer the further they drove from Darwin. Sometimes they were passed by army trucks or cars or bicycles – even a garbage truck – all heading south, billowing up a cloud of dust on the unsealed road.

It was evening when they finally pulled into Adelaide River. The tiny township was chaotic, with not enough food or water for all the evacuees who had arrived over the last day. The soldiers had little direction and were trying to decide what to do with all these people. Cecilia and Poppy at least had food and could make a welcome cup of tea over a campfire, but there was no water for washing. They camped another night, sleeping on the ground. The next morning they tethered Angel and the cart out the front of the railway station and went inside to enquire about trains going south.

Two soldiers were letting on the wounded and older men, but turning back a horde of young, fit men, who
could be enlisted in the army.

‘Let the ladies through,' an old Greek man called out when he saw Cecilia, Poppy and Honey. ‘Ladies coming through.'

The men stepped aside to let them pass, tipping their hats.

‘There's a train leaving in an hour,' explained the soldier. ‘You can get on it, but you won't be able to take your dog, I'm afraid. Our orders are clear: no domestic pets are to be evacuated. You should have destroyed her before you left Darwin.'

‘Please,' begged Poppy, her throat closing over in panic. ‘Please – I can't leave her behind.'

‘Please let her on, sir,' added Cecilia, her hand on Poppy's shoulder. ‘The dog won't be any trouble. My daughter's been through so much.'

Honey seemed to sense that her life was in the balance, and she looked up at the soldiers with liquid, golden eyes. Honey leapt up on her back legs and twirled around, performing a perfect pirouette. The two soldiers laughed.

‘Isn't she a treat?' asked the other soldier.

‘I can't let dogs on the train,' reiterated the first soldier firmly. Then he winked. ‘But what I don't know won't hurt me, will it?'

Poppy smiled and bent to pat Honey and hide her tears.

‘We'll go and get our bags,' said Cecilia, ‘and thank you, sir. You're very kind. By the way, we have a horse and cart. Have you any ideas what we can do with her?'

The soldier pointed across the road to a paddock. ‘We
have a good collection already across the road,' he explained. ‘Put her in there with the other horses and we'll look after her. Park the cart over there and leave the harness in the back. We'll find a use for it. Take care, ladies, and have a good trip.'

Angel was unharnessed and set free in the paddock. Poppy rubbed her nose affectionately and hugged her neck. ‘Goodbye, Angel. Thank you for bringing us here safely.' Angel harrumphed, then gladly wandered off to graze with the other horses.

Poppy unpacked most of her bag to make room for Honey, then closed her safely inside, leaving a small gap for air. ‘Good girl, Honey. Now stay quiet.' She wrapped the remaining clothes in a blanket.

Cecilia and Poppy made their way onto the train, carrying their belongings. Until yesterday, the trucks had been used to carry cattle to the meatworks in Darwin and, despite being roughly swept out, they still stank of urine and cow manure. They found a corner of the truck to spread out a blanket and make a camp on the filthy floor, where they huddled together. Poppy was too frightened to let Honey out of the bag until the train clanked its way out of the station and they were safely heading south.