August 1945

The midsummer sun was burning the back of his neck, the breeze whipped the dust around him, sticking it to his sweat-drenched forehead. He mopped his brow on his sleeve, slicking back his dark hair as he did so. Private McKinley, tall and burly, and his colleagues, strode cautiously through Changi, searching for survivors. War, at last was over, this was their final task. The final task before heading home.

"Home" he thought dreamily, "home to Suffolk, the farm, his wife and little girl, to his silly old Collie. Home to safety, home to freedom. Two and a half years in the Far East was more than enough for any man."

Breaking away from the rest of his unit, he headed towards a tumble-down building. Sat on the ground, leaning against the rough mud-brick wall, was a young girl. Noticing his approach she recoiled into the wall. He stopped a few paces away from her and lowered his rifle to the ground.

"What's your name?" he asked kindly.

The girl did not react immediately. Cowering slightly at the man's formidable presence, she then slowly turned her clear blue eyes towards his brown, meeting them for a fraction of a second, before darting them away again.

Private McKinley stepped back a pace, then crouched down on the dirt floor beside the pitiful looking child. Her flame red hair was greasy and matted, clinging to her cheeks and neck in places, her face and arms mottled with dirt, rags hung loosely around her spindly frame, her bare feet, cut and bruised, at the ends of sore-ridden shins.

"You can trust me," he whispered, "its all over now, the Japs are done for."

"Patience" the girl whispered back after a moment, "Patience Mount."

"That's a nice name," Private McKinley replied kindly, reaching out his hand as he did, but rapidly pulled it away as Patience recoiled. The girl's breathing was shallow, her eyes, mistrusting. Private McKinley shuffled further back, watching Patience with intrigue.

Patience turned to look at the tall, dark stranger stood beside her. Something about him struck a chord of familiarity. He reminded her of someone she knew. Not in his looks, his height, his build, his hair, no, they were all wrong. But the tunic, the boots, the gun. That was how he looked, just like that, the last time she saw him.

"Do you know my father?" Patience asked.

Private McKinley's brown eyes widened in alarm, and stammered and stuttered for a moment, unable to form anything resembling coherent speech. After a moment, he swallowed, and replied.

"What's your father's name?"

"Gerard Mount," Patience replied, "though his friends call him Gerry," she added.

Private McKinley's mind was blank, the name meant nothing to him, but, as he seemed to be gaining this young girl's trust, he asked gently.

"Is your father a soldier?"

"He had a shirt like yours," Patience replied, reaching out to run her fingers across Private McKinley's cuff, "his felt the same."

"I don't know your father," Private McKinley began, "but," he continued as she saw Patience's face fall, "my friends might know where he is, shall we go and ask them?"

Patience looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded. Private McKinley helped her to her feet, and the two of them walked hand in hand towards the gate which led into the prison. There they were met by another soldier, short and round, carrying a small book.

"Name!" he barked, staring menacingly at Patience.

Private McKinley felt Patience's hand tremble in his own. When she didn't answer, he said.

"This is Patience Mount, sir."

"How old are you?" the other soldier asked.

"You can tell him," Private McKinley said quietly to Patience, "Captain Coleman's my, ur, friend."

Captain Coleman scoffed and snorted disapprovingly, but, Patience plucked up the courage to respond.

"I'm twelve years old, and I was here with my mother and my sister, but," her voice faltered slightly, "they are dead now."

"And your father?" Captain Coleman continued slightly less brusquely.

"Do you know him?" Patience asked hopefully, her eyes widening and sparkling.

"Think he was serving with us out here," Private McKinley interjected before Captain Coleman could scoff further disapproval, "Gerry Mount?"

"Never heard of him," Captain Coleman barked, "right, put her on the Jeep with the others ready for the boat."

"Boat, sir?"

"Can't leave orphaned British citizens behind, so we've been told to take home them with us, the church will shelter them until proper homes and schools are found, best thing, apparently," he added with a disgruntled snort.

"But what about her father?" Private McKinley protested.

Captain Coleman pulled Private McKinley away from Patience, rotating him so that they had their backs to her. He then whispered,

"If her whole family were here, they must have been living out here when Singapore fell. Her father won't be alive now. It's a miracle she's still here. Now, leave her with me, do another sweep."

"But," Private McKinley began.

"That's an order Private!" Captain Coleman barked menacingly, and with a last fleeting look towards his red-haired companion, Private McKinley strode off back into the prison.

Turning back towards Patience, Captain Coleman said, "go and get on the back of that Jeep, we're all going on a journey, won't that be fun," he added with a hint of sarcasm.

Patience nodded, and, without a word, clambered aboard the Jeep and settled herself onto a crate of supplies between two soldiers. The engine chugged and spluttered into life and the Jeep's passengers were soon buffeted and bounced around as they made their way along the pockmarked road towards the harbour. Whilst the soldiers around her laughed, joked and shared stories, Patience remained silent, yet thoughtful.

"What is to happen to me?"