Sara MacDonald - The Hour Before Dawn

Mohammed started the car. Ah Heng stood like a statue, hands clasped to her cheeks, when suddenly the rear door of the car was thrown open and the twins leapt out screaming like small banshees. They rushed at Ah Heng, threw themselves at her, clutching her black baggy trousers, hanging on to her legs.

‘No…Heng…Heng…No…Heng…You come too…You come…’

Ah Heng folded to the ground in a fluid movement, holding them to her, and her tears spurted, cascaded down her face, soaking the heads of the children.

‘Shit.’ Fergus leapt out of the car, followed by Mohammed. ‘We should have left five minutes ago.’

They tried to tear the twins from Ah Heng but they kicked and screamed hysterically. In the car Fleur sat immobile, staring straight ahead. She could not take any more.

‘You…’ Mohammed suddenly commanded the amah. ‘You come airport with English babies…You calm…You tell babies must be good for English Missie or their dada not pleased. Come! You come, please, or I not get to airport in time.’

‘It’s a good idea,’ Fergus said quickly. ‘Would you mind, Ah Heng? We’ll see you home again…We must leave now.’

Ah Heng glanced in the car at Fleur’s blank white face. ‘I come. I lock up quick.’

In the car Ah Heng wiped the twins’ faces. They had stopped crying and she put her arms around them and whispered to them in Cantonese, admonishing them softly. ‘ You’re big girls. No more crying. Look at Mama. She’s very brave, yes? Well, twins too must be brave, take care of Mama for Ah Heng. Who takes care of Mama, if you do not?

‘ Ah Heng wants letters to say you are being good girls, then Heng will know you are very grown-up children and Heng will be very happy you are no trouble for Mama. This is what your dada would want…and who knows? Ah Heng’s brother might come to England, and bring Ah Heng to work in cousin’s Cantonese restaurant…Who knows, twins might come back to Singapore one day to see Heng. Heng is always here. Ah Heng will send Mama her new address. No more now. No more crying or Heng will get cross. England is a very good place. You will be very, very happy with your grandparents in the big English house…You’ll see. You listening to Ah Heng? ’

‘Yes,’ Nikki said.

‘Yes,’ Saffie said, putting her thumb in her mouth.

Ah Heng took it out again. ‘You too big girl for that. You no do. I tell you…crooked teeth…’ And she held them close and rocked them to her as the car purred along.

In the mirror Fergus saw that Fleur was still looking blankly out of the window. She was leaving all the comforting to her amah. She did not look, touch or reassure the twins. She did not feign cheerfulness or bravery. Fergus felt unease. Those little girls had just lost a father who idolised them. The life they were leaving was all they had ever known. Had Fleur even acknowledged her children’s loss? Or was she only capable of feeling her own?

If I long to comfort my godchildren, how is it Fleur can bear not to?

The coffin was waiting. The RAF plane to Brize Norton had already loaded its normal passengers. A small contingent of top brass and David’s squadron were waiting to march David to the plane, on his last journey home.

Ah Heng handed the twins out of the car to Fleur, who took their hands like a robot. The twins turned once to blow Ah Heng a kiss with their hands, their lower lips wobbling, and then they turned back and walked towards the coffin, which was being slow-marched to a Scottish lament to the rear of the plane.

Fleur, Saffie and Nikki all shivered in the heat. Like a sleepwalker, Fleur shook hands and accepted the words of condolence and comfort said all over again. Fergus hugged her briefly and painfully and for a moment Fleur clung to him.

‘I wish you could come to the funeral.’

‘So do I, Fleur. But we’ll all give David a wonderful memorial service when you come back.’ There was a big exercise coming up in Malaya and it was impossible for Fergus to leave now. He was doing David’s job as well as his own and one of the squadron pilots was still in hospital. ‘Take care. I’ll see you in two or three weeks.’ He shook her gently. ‘The twins need you…You’ll have help keeping them occupied on the plane. I’ll ring Laura and Peter when I get back to the mess to say the flight has just left.’

‘Thank you,’ Fleur said dully.

Fergus suddenly wanted to shake her, wanted to say, This is me. For God’s sake, Fleur. React. The man we both loved is dead and he was a huge part of my life as well as yours. Don’t shut your children out…or me .’

As the coffin disappeared into the bowels of the plane Fergus felt like weeping. ‘Keep an eye on her,’ he said to one of the air stewards, as Fleur and the children climbed the steps into the plane. ‘She’s still in shock and I’m not sure if she is capable of looking after her little girls.’

‘Don’t worry, Sir,’ the corporal said. ‘We’ve got army wives on board. We’ve also made arrangements for the stops at Gan and Cyprus. The colonel’s wife is going to be with her.’

Fergus walked back to the car and stood to watch the huge plane prepare for takeoff. The heat beat down and drenched his uniform, shimmered over the tarmac in the lee of the plane revving up and moving noisily along the runway, gathering itself for flight.

Last week he and David had played tennis. They’d swum together at the club…But that had been before the barbecue…the barbecue where Fleur had worn the shimmery red dress to shock. And it had shocked the older officers’ wives, and caused admiration and envy in almost everybody else.

At first, David had been highly amused at her entrance, had let out a whistle of pride. Fergus had felt startled, almost dismayed. Fleur was making a sudden statement. Her beauty hit him between the eyes, but this wasn’t the Fleur he knew. She was glittery and hard and…hurting. It had been disturbing. As if that night she had to prove to David, and perhaps to him, the power she had to attract. It had been awful watching them hurt each other and using him to do it. He loved them both.

He watched the plane carrying his friend’s body take off in a roar over the paddy fields, signalling an ending: to everything.

Ah Heng, in the back of the cool, air-conditioned car, watched her babies fly away in a plane like a heavy, pregnant bird. The sun radiated in waves over the ground where it had been standing. She watched the glint of silver in the sky until it was a speck and wondered if she would ever fill the hole that was opening making each and every breath painful.

Every time a British baby left it hurt, but this time it tore out her heart. There were no babies in her next job, back in the city with the British High Commission. No babies at all.

As the plane started to descend for Changi airport, Fleur looked down, but the paddy fields had gone. No black-clad figures, knee-deep in water, bent to the rice in their wide-brimmed hats.

Yet, excitement gripped her. If she closed her eyes she could almost be a child, a young wife again, with a safe, happy life and children before her.

The smells as the doors were thrown open were as she remembered. Shimmering wet heat, petrol, and spices. No frangipani this time; the vague, pervading scent of blossom was missing.

Fleur sat in an airport bus as the rain sprayed out from the wheels, splashing cyclists. The luggage, balanced precariously at the front, wobbled and swung behind the driver. The heat was swallowed behind cloud and air-conditioning. The other passengers were as dazed and tired as Fleur, and the bus was oddly silent.

Fleur, looking out at a changed landscape, still felt she knew the basic geography of it. She had driven so often on this Changi Road, to the sailing club, to the military hospital, to see friends. She supposed all the buildings must still be there in a different guise. Was the prison still standing; the atmosphere around it heavy with despair and death; full of the ghosts of captured servicemen imprisoned there by the Japanese in the Second World War.