of his eye-patch. ‘You resigned even before he’s made up his mind? Rather irresponsible isn’t it? Didn’t you like prosecuting?’
‘I did, at first. But in the last few months I’ve started to feel hollow... I felt I was wasting my time.’ I paused. ‘And I was furious when the Japan Peace Treaty was signed.’
Magnus cocked his head at me; his black silk eye-patch had the texture of a cat’s ear.
‘What’s that got to do with the price of eggs?’
‘One of the articles in the treaty states that the Allied Powers recognise that Japan should pay reparations for the damage and suffering caused during the war. However, because Japan could not afford to pay, the Allied Powers would waive all reparation claims of the Allied Powers and their nationals. And their nationals .’ I realised that I was near to ranting, but I was unable to stop myself. It was a relief to uncork myself and let my frustrations spill out. ‘So you see, Magnus, the British made certain that no one – not a single man or woman or child who had been tortured and imprisoned or massacred by the Japs – none of them or their families can demand any form of financial reparation from the Japanese. Our government betrayed us!’
‘You sound surprised.’ He snorted. ‘Well, now you know what the fokken Engelse are capable of. Excuse me,’ he added.
‘I lost interest in my work. I insulted my superiors. I quarrelled with my colleagues. I made disparaging remarks about the government to anyone who would listen. One of them who heard me was a reporter for the Straits Times .’ Thinking about it brought back a flood of bitterness. ‘I didn’t resign, Magnus. I was sacked.’
‘That must have upset your father,’ he said. Was there a mischievous – even malicious – glint in his eye?
‘He called me an ungrateful daughter. He had pulled so many strings to get me that job, and I had made him lose face.’
Magnus clasped his hands behind his back. ‘Well, whatever Aritomo decides, I hope you’ll stay with us for a while. A week’s too short. And it’s your first time here. There are plenty of nice places to see. Come to the sitting room later, say in an hour’s time. We have drinks before dinner,’ he said, before returning into the house through the kitchen.
The air became colder, but I remained out there. The mountains swallowed up the sun, and night seeped into the valleys. Bats squeaked, hunting invisible insects. A group of prisoners in my camp once caught a bat; the ravenous men had stretched its wings over a meagre fire, the glow showing up the thin bones beneath its skin.
On the edge of Nakamura Aritomo’s property, the failing light transformed the firs into pagodas, sentinels protecting the garden behind them.
Chapter Four
I left Majuba House at half past six the next morning. Even after more than five years the routine of the camp had never left me, and I had been awake for the past two hours. I had slept fitfully, worried by how I would be received by the Japanese gardener. In the end I decided I would not wait until half past nine to see him, but go as soon as there was enough light in the sky.
Tucking a roll of papers under my arm, I shut the front door quietly and walked to the gate. The air stung my cheeks and the clouds from my mouth seemed to make my breathing sound louder than usual. The Gurkha outside was sharpening his kukri and he slid the curved blade into its sheath before unlocking the gate for me.
It was Sunday, and the tea fields were deserted. In the valleys, the points of light from the farmhouses were as faint as stars behind a weave of clouds. The smells of the nearby jungle transported me back to the prison camp; I had not expected that. I stopped and looked around me. The moon was retreating behind the mountains, the same moon I had seen at almost every dawn in the camp, and yet it seemed altered to me. So long after my imprisonment, there were still moments when I found it difficult to
‘I did, at first. But in the last few months I’ve started to feel hollow... I felt I was wasting my time.’ I paused. ‘And I was furious when the Japan Peace Treaty was signed.’
Magnus cocked his head at me; his black silk eye-patch had the texture of a cat’s ear.
‘What’s that got to do with the price of eggs?’
‘One of the articles in the treaty states that the Allied Powers recognise that Japan should pay reparations for the damage and suffering caused during the war. However, because Japan could not afford to pay, the Allied Powers would waive all reparation claims of the Allied Powers and their nationals. And their nationals .’ I realised that I was near to ranting, but I was unable to stop myself. It was a relief to uncork myself and let my frustrations spill out. ‘So you see, Magnus, the British made certain that no one – not a single man or woman or child who had been tortured and imprisoned or massacred by the Japs – none of them or their families can demand any form of financial reparation from the Japanese. Our government betrayed us!’
‘You sound surprised.’ He snorted. ‘Well, now you know what the fokken Engelse are capable of. Excuse me,’ he added.
‘I lost interest in my work. I insulted my superiors. I quarrelled with my colleagues. I made disparaging remarks about the government to anyone who would listen. One of them who heard me was a reporter for the Straits Times .’ Thinking about it brought back a flood of bitterness. ‘I didn’t resign, Magnus. I was sacked.’
‘That must have upset your father,’ he said. Was there a mischievous – even malicious – glint in his eye?
‘He called me an ungrateful daughter. He had pulled so many strings to get me that job, and I had made him lose face.’
Magnus clasped his hands behind his back. ‘Well, whatever Aritomo decides, I hope you’ll stay with us for a while. A week’s too short. And it’s your first time here. There are plenty of nice places to see. Come to the sitting room later, say in an hour’s time. We have drinks before dinner,’ he said, before returning into the house through the kitchen.
The air became colder, but I remained out there. The mountains swallowed up the sun, and night seeped into the valleys. Bats squeaked, hunting invisible insects. A group of prisoners in my camp once caught a bat; the ravenous men had stretched its wings over a meagre fire, the glow showing up the thin bones beneath its skin.
On the edge of Nakamura Aritomo’s property, the failing light transformed the firs into pagodas, sentinels protecting the garden behind them.
Chapter Four
I left Majuba House at half past six the next morning. Even after more than five years the routine of the camp had never left me, and I had been awake for the past two hours. I had slept fitfully, worried by how I would be received by the Japanese gardener. In the end I decided I would not wait until half past nine to see him, but go as soon as there was enough light in the sky.
Tucking a roll of papers under my arm, I shut the front door quietly and walked to the gate. The air stung my cheeks and the clouds from my mouth seemed to make my breathing sound louder than usual. The Gurkha outside was sharpening his kukri and he slid the curved blade into its sheath before unlocking the gate for me.
It was Sunday, and the tea fields were deserted. In the valleys, the points of light from the farmhouses were as faint as stars behind a weave of clouds. The smells of the nearby jungle transported me back to the prison camp; I had not expected that. I stopped and looked around me. The moon was retreating behind the mountains, the same moon I had seen at almost every dawn in the camp, and yet it seemed altered to me. So long after my imprisonment, there were still moments when I found it difficult to
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