BREAKFAST WITH AN ORANG UTAN - Part Five
"That strange feeling we had in the war. Have you found anything in your lives since to equal it in strength? A sort of splendid carelessness it was, holding us together." - Noel Coward
The first person I showed the ring to was Phillipa when we picked her and Audrey up at their hotel to take them to Changi. Phillipa said she thought it was lovely Audrey said it reminded her of Princess Diana's engagement ring.
The ring was beautiful. A square dark sapphire surrounded by diamonds. I had passed it by thinking it was too expensive and chose a smaller solitaire diamond which was left to be resized for me. Greg kissed me as he slid the ring onto my finger and when I finally looked down. I saw the magnificent sapphire.
"That was the one you wanted?"
"Yes ... But ... Darling."
"No mention of money. You agreed"
"Does this mean we are engaged?"
"Only if you will marry me. Otherwise all it is, is a ring."
"I'll marry you. There is nothing else I want so much."
I kissed him and clung to him and I kept looking at him. He looked golden, absolutely golden. He seemed so complete here in the tropics, so happy, so at ease.
Looking up from the ring Phillipa smiled at us
"You are a golden couple" Phillipa seemed to be reading my mind. "I want you both to be so happy" but there was a sadness in her voice. We were pulling up at Changi where Phillipa young husband had died over half a century ago.
We all went though the new Changi museum to the replica of a tiny chapel which had been part of Changi Prison Camp. Greg and I hung back standing near the entrance of the open-air chapel as the two old women went forward to the first pew. Greg put his arm around me as Phillipa and Audrey knelt and prayed. Phillipa had difficulty rising and Greg stepped foreward to support her. I noticed tears in her eyes.
Greg nodded to Audrey signalling that he would stay with Phillipa to the car.
It was the first time her illness was obvious to me. Greg was concerned.
"I think we should get you back to the hotel."
"No" she was determined "No we need to go to Changi Beach."
"Not today. Maybe tomorrow." said Greg.
"It has to be today. Today is Thursday. I can't come here on a Friday. They hang people here on Fridays" She was determined and closed to tears
"What?" I said.
"Changi Beach ... the memorial plaque" Greg instructed the driver. His arm remained around Phillipa and she sat where I had been sitting while I moved in beside Audrey.
"They have the death penalty in Singapore." said Greg sourly, answering my question.
"It's barbaric. You would think there had been enough death on this island and enough death in Changi" said Phillipa.
"Sorry" said Audrey, "I know you have the death penalty in The United States."
"And it's just as barbaric." said Greg.
"Yes" Greg knew I shared his feelings. There have been no executions in New Jersey since 1976 but having the law on the statutes was bad enough.
Changi Beach was an idyllic stretch of white sand it was beautiful and young, healthy people played in the azure water or sort shade under the trees and the beach pergolas.
I was surprised when Audrey elected to remain in the airconditioned car when we stopped. I kept her company and together we watched as Greg escourted Phillipa to the plaque. They were a while we could see Phillipa talking while Greg nodded and listened.
"You wouldn't believe this was a killing field in 1942 would you?" said Audrey. "This is where they carried out operation Sook Ching the massacre of the Singaporean Chinese. Many people who had been like family to Phillipa died here."
"I don't suppose any of those people having such a good time know the history of this place?" said Audrey turning her attention to those frolicking on the beach.
We saw Phillipa break down into tears and Greg gently take her in his arms holding her tenderly as he had often held me. I knew how comforting it would have been to Phillipa feeling his strong arms, resting against his hard chest and hearing the steady beat of his heart. I smiled, loving him more at that moment than ever before, seeing his kindness and compassion enfold this dear, brave old lady.
I realised that Audrey was weeping almost silently beside me. Our driver handed a box of tissues to me and I nodded my thanks as I handed them to Audrey. She quickly dried her eyes.
"I'm sorry" she said.
"It's alright."
"Thank you both for being here now, today. I couldn't give her the right support."
"Audrey you would have been fine." I said reassuringly but Audrey was digging in the bag they had brought with them and wasn't listening to me. She pulled out an ancient photo album opening it with ease at the exact page she wanted there against the yellowed grey of the page were six, 4x3 white bordered, black and white photos held in place by black paper corner stickers. They were photographs of Phillipa's wedding in 1941. Even in the tiny photographs I could see how her long dead husband looked like a younger innocent version of Greg House.
"His name was Andrew. They were married here in Singapore. Andrew, the handsome Army officer and Phillipa the beautiful planters daughter. In 1941 they were known here as the golden couple."
The first photograph showed the young Army officer with the planters daughter leaving the church under an archway of crossed swords held aloft by members of his regiment. The next was the bridal party standing on the steps of the church. Then the arrival for the wedding reception at Raffles Hotel. Phillipa and Andrew both holding the hilt of the sword as they cut the wedding cake. The bride and groom dancing together in the Raffles Ballroom. And finally a photograph of a huge tree, the couple in their going away clothes hardly visible as they stood together against the broad trunk.
"That was the famous Changi Tree. It was over 250 feet high and it's trunk was more than 11 foot six inches in diameter." I remembered fragments from the book in our suite "The Fall of Singapore". I recalled the line "When the tree fell Singapore fell..." and then "On the 15th February 1942 an eerie silence descended over Singapore. The fighting had stopped, the British commander in Singapore had surrendered. For 50,000 allied soldiers the war was over, and they became prisoners of the Japanese."
"Why didn't they try to get away? They must have known." I asked Audrey.
"Winston Churchill said it would be bad for morale to evacuate British Nationals and empty ships were allowed to leave Singapore Harbour" She said with disgust.
"We never hear about that sort of thing."
"Well the men who make the wars happen. The men who give the big orders are out of harms way in their safe offices and bunkers so far away from the warzone. They don't even have to admit their mistakes and they can lock away or embargo the evidence for thirty years or fifty years or as long as they like?" there was a quiet anger in Audrey's voice. For the first time I could see why Phillipa welcomed her friendship.
"On the 13th of February 1942, two days before the fall of Singapore, the British Government finally conceded to the evacuation of civilians. Phillipa's husband was one of those who organised the evacuation somehow in one day they loaded thirty-three ships with women and children. I can't imagine what it was like for Phillipa or what it was like for Andrew having to say goodbye to his wife and child."
"Child? They had a baby?"
"A son named Andrew after his father. Don't mention him unless Phillipa talks about him."
I looked at her I think I knew what was coming.
"The Japanese were waiting and the flotilla came under fierce naval bombardment immediately by the next morning huge numbers of the women and children were dead. Phillipa was on one of the ships that sunk. She was in the water for hours surrounded by the dead and dying and during that time little Andrew was hit by scrapnel and killed." said Audrey.
"Oh my God." It was all I could say. I was so glad Greg was with Phillipa, holding her, caring for those untended wounds of war.
"Phillipa survived and spend the rest of the war incarcerated as a prisoner of war. Phillipa never saw her husband again although at the time he died they were both in Changi prison camp. They couldn't have been more than about 200 yards away from each other and the women could often hear the cries of the men being tortured"
"Phillipa thought she heard Andrew screaming her name just before dawn one morning." Greg told me later his eyes filling with tears and the thought of that scream chilled my blood.
I could not know then that I would so soon hear Greg screaming in pain, or see him writhe with each wave of agony. I couldn't understand why he refused amputation. I watched in terror as he prepared himself for death. While Greg fought the pain of the infarction I wondered what Phillipa would have done if she had been in my place. I wished I could telephone her and get her advice but of course I couldn't.
Phillipa had died that night in Singapore. Just a few hours after she had said her last goodbyes at Changi. Greg was holding her hand as she left us forever.