The Penance Room Page 7
There are several photos of the women on the dressing table and I pick them up, one at a time, and stare at their faces which change and look more fearful as the years advance. There is only one photo where they look happy. It is the photo that Rita made fun of. The sisters look to be about five and seven and behind them stands a large woman wearing a black servant’s dress and starched white apron. There are big trees in the background and the girls seem to be standing in a large green field. In the far left-hand corner I can see the faint outline of cattle grazing. As Penelope is older I decide she must be the taller of the two. She is wearing a white dress and there is an awkward-looking ribbon tied around her bobbed fair hair. Two of her front teeth are missing and she is smiling happily into the camera. Victoria is the cuter of the two and has long blonde ringlets and a confident dimpled smile. She has a frilly dress and what looks like ballerina shoes on her feet. What strikes me most is how different the girls looked from one another back then and how it is sometimes hard to tell them apart now.
I pick up the second photo in which the sisters are in their late teens or maybe early twenties. Gone are the ringlets and both sisters, dressed in tight corseted dresses, stare sombrely into the camera. I can see the outline of their white knuckles as they tightly hold each other’s hands but their eyes give nothing away. It looks like a studio photo with no background and it is impossible to tell if they are happy or sad. I look closer into their faces and notice that their eyes look lifeless as if they were both gazing away to a far-off place of their dreams. I put the photo down and look at the next one. In this photo both women have become thin and gaunt. They are now much older and are standing outside a large building under a heavy grey sky. They have large dark circles under their pale eyes and only the third woman in the photo is smiling. I look closer at her and see that she is the nanny from the photo of the girls when they were small. I realise that I would love to know the stories behind these photos and hope that the women can remember all of these places. The other two photos are similar in that the women look sadder and much older, possibly taken shortly before they came here. There are no photos of their brother or their father, which I think is odd. I lie back on Victoria’s bed and imagine their life. I used to think that it must have been exciting living on army bases all over the world and having so much money that you could afford nannies and house servants, but the sisters were not happy despite all that they had and I realise that money doesn’t make anyone happy, that kind people make other people happy and Penelope and Victoria’s father was not kind. I sigh and drag myself off Victoria’s bed and cross the hall to my room. It is getting very hot and I decide to lie down for a while. As I pull down my blind, I look out onto the train line and see that it is clear.
As I drift off to sleep I imagine Stéphane Laver walking towards me. I don’t know what he looks like but imagine him as having bright blue eyes and blond hair which is shining under the sun as he makes his way down what seems to be a never-ending road to our house. He keeps on walking though and doesn’t seem to tire of the journey. Occasionally I say to him “Keep walking, you’re almost there,” and he smiles straight at me.
When I awake I look at my watch which is working again and find that it is almost five thirty in the afternoon. I feel the vibration of the fly-screen door slamming and jump out of bed, falling over a box of supplies that are in my way. I run downstairs and find my mother standing in the hallway with a blond man and I am amazed that Stéphane Laver looks just as I imagined him. He is carrying a large back-pack and looks more like a traveller than a university researcher. He has curly blond hair that reaches his collar and even from this distance I see can that he has the brightest blue eyes I have ever seen. There is something special about him and I find I cannot look away. He steps further into the hallway. He looks in my direction and smiles as if he knows me, as if he knows this house and all its worries and my heart quickens. I don’t get much attention.
He introduces himself to my mother and apologises for being late. He tells her he had car trouble.
“You drove from Sydney?”
“Nah, I’m travelling from town to town. I flew to Bourke where I had some people to interview. Hired a car from there. Sorry I’m late. Left myself a bit short of time.”
“No problem,” said my mother and she laughs, “I thought you were going to be French!”
“Yeah. My parents are French. Guess they wanted me to have a French name.”
“Oh. Were you born in France, Stéphane?”
“Call me Steve. Nah, right here in Australia. Sydney.”
My mother smiles. “Right, well, how do you want to do this? I think it might be a bit late to start today. I’ve got consent from most of the residents. Some are not interested of course but I think you’ll get some of the information you are looking for.” She is looking through copies of the consent forms and laughs as she glances at Mina Jensen’s form. She wants her pseudonym to be Marlene Dietrich. “Perhaps you should start with Mina. She seems most enthusiastic!”
Steve looks at his watch.
“Okay. Well, how ’bout ten tomorrow morning. That suit?”
“That’s fine, Steve.”
“Em – do you know if there’s a good hotel in town? I didn’t get around to making all my bookings.”
“Well, yes, there are quite a few. I’ll get Aishling to show you.”
My mother calls Aishling who is up from her day-time sleep.
When she comes to the front of the house, she stares at Steve and he stares back at her. He is looking at Aishling the same way that he looked at me, as if he can see right through her. She blushes and I am embarrassed for her. I know how that feels. I follow them out of the house and watch as Aishling drives in front of Steve, leading him towards the nearest hotel. The sky has turned red with the descending sun and the last of the rays are shining on the gum trees, making them look as though they are on fire. I feel a sudden surge of energy. Tomorrow all my hopes of salvation will begin to unfold, freeing me and the people who live here.
Chapter 11
When Steve arrives on time the following morning, my mother takes him into the Penance Room and introduces him to Mina. I notice that Mina is dressed in her Sunday dress and she is wearing too much make-up. She seems anxious and I watch her throat move up and down quickly as though she is trying to swallow something hard.
“Mina, do you mind the others remaining in the room? There is nowhere else for them to go. But if you prefer, Steve could interview you in your room?”
Mina shakes her head. “No. It’s fine.”
Even though Mina wants to tell her story, she is nervous and prefers the security and company of the others in the lounge room.
Steve sits down and takes out a tape recorder. He is staring at the pews from my grandfather’s church. My mother follows his eyes and laughs.
“My father was a minister. His church burned and, well, I like having the pews here. Feels like he’s always near me.”
Steve smiles. There is a calmness about him that I have not seen in any other person. Mina looks around the room and takes stock of her surroundings. She looks at Jimmy and Martin who are looking coldly back at her. Wilfred is sitting on the farthest pew, reading or at least pretending to read. Iren is sedated and is smiling vacantly into space. Father Hayes is snoozing on the pew in the bay window. He is hunched over, his large nose creating a long awkward shape across his face and making him look like a sleeping koala. Penelope and Victoria are sitting upright as though a sermon is about to begin. Greta, our new nurse, is sitting beside them. She has taken a special interest in the sisters and already she has gained their trust which is very hard to do. Li is sitting by the door. She got through her work as quickly as she could and has asked my mother if it would be all right to listen to Mina’s story. Even Aishling, tired from her night’s work, is here.
Kora stands and whispers something to Mina who is wringing her hands. Small beads of sweat have formed on her forehead.
My mother nods to Steve to start.
He has a list of questions he wants to ask her but Mina doesn’t want to follow a set interview. She leans towards the tape recorder and clears her throat to speak.
“My name is Mina Jensen and I was born in Rotterdam in 1903. I was Mina Van Buren then and I had a very happy childhood.”
Everybody in the room is engrossed in Mina’s words and nobody moves. She looks so happy telling this part of her life. Her blue eyes are shining and her smile seems to fill out the heavy lines in her thin face. My mother says that Mina speaks with a heavy Dutch accent. I have no idea what this sounds like but I can see that Steve is finding it hard to understand her as he leans closer and turns his ear towards her.
“Both of my parents were teachers and it was expected that my brother and I should go to university. We had a very happy home. But I never got to university although everybody said this was a shame because I was a bright girl who learnt easily, even easier than my brother Pieter who had finished his degree and who went to work in Indonesia as an engineer. His friend, Dirk Halse, went to college with him and often Dirk would come to our house for the weekend or perhaps for holidays. He didn’t have parents alive and had an uncle who paid for his education. When Pieter went away, of course, my parents were broken-hearted. Dirk still came to visit and after a while we fell in love. One year later, he wanted to go to Indonesia where Pieter said he could get him a good job with a good salary. It was called the Dutch East Indies at that time. Dirk didn’t want to go without me but I didn’t want to leave my parents alone. My parents said it was better if we were all together in one place and they would come too. So in 1922 I married Dirk and took the long ship journey to Java. I was nineteen years old. My parents followed us one year later after they sold their house. I had to say goodbye to my grandmother and I never saw her again. She was too old to come with us and she didn’t wish for a new life.
“In Java, life was good but I missed my home. This got better when my parents came to stay. We lived just outside Jakarta and it was the most beautiful place I ever saw. It was hot and always I hate the European winter. Always I hate snow. The people were friendly and nice to us. Mother and Father lived with us and Pieter lived in the town but stayed with us on weekends. Dirk had a good job and we could afford servants. I didn’t speak any English then and could not speak Javanese. But I knew a lot of people there who were Dutch or who could speak Dutch so it was not too bad. After a few years I could speak the local language and also a little English. By then I had become used to the rich lifestyle and depended on the servants to do everything around the home. I could not cook then so it was better.
“My mother said one day, ‘Mina, you are becoming useless and God has no use for idle people.’”
Mina stops talking and I can see that she is reflecting on this.
She shakes her head and takes a deep breath in, blowing it out with force and licking her dry lips.
“My mother was right.”
She looks around and moves her hand across her body, as if she is turning the page of a book, a new chapter in her life.
“Dirk and I were very happy but sometimes he wanted to return to Holland. His uncle wrote often, begging him to return. But how could I go to Holland and leave my parents once again? We often argued about it. Pieter had not married and my mother was feeble with arthritis. She needed a woman’s help and I stopped being useless and spent all my time looking after my mother. No matter what choice I made, I would have let somebody down.”
Mina’s eyes fill with tears. Steve asks if she wants to stop but she shakes her head.
“There was another problem also. I could not keep a child inside and lots of times I lost pregnancies and Dirk was angry with me. He would say, ‘You are working too hard. You should not let your mother lean on you. Let the servants take care of her.’ But my mother didn’t want the servants to help her bathe or dress. My mother knew something that we in our ignorance and selfishness didn’t. She often said to me ‘Mina, one day there will be trouble.’ The trouble that my mother spoke of came when I was thirty-nine years of age and five months pregnant – it was the longest I had ever held onto a pregnancy and Dirk and I hoped that we would finally have a family. The Japanese invaded Indonesia in 1942 and we, the Dutch, were enraged at their insolence. We didn’t think that we were also invaders.
“My mother had died and my father spent most of his time at Pieter’s house. He said there were too many memories at my house, that he could see my mother in every corner of every room. I missed him greatly but I was looking forward to being a mother and took very great care of myself. When I think of those times I think that we lived in a bubble. My husband and I had a life of luxury that we thought would never change.
“One day, we heard news that the Japanese were taking men to camps. Our servant, Ramalan, told me that he saw my father and brother in a truck driven by Japanese soldiers. I didn’t believe it so I drove to Pieter’s house but there was no one there. I ran to his friend Albert’s house but his wife, who was an Indonesian lady, said that they had taken all the men away. She was crying and was holding her baby son in her arms. He was only a few weeks old. She said that they were taking them to a camp so I went there to look for them. At the gates, trucks were coming in and out and there were wounded European men lying on the ground inside the gate. I shouted to them. I asked for my brother and father but no one knew them so I thought that everything would be all right, that they were hiding somewhere, possibly even at my house. So I returned home. Dirk had come home as soon as he heard the news. He was worried for me and shook me when I arrived, saying I had put myself and our baby in danger.
“I waited for news all evening but no one came. I sent messages to people whom I thought Pieter and my father might go to but no one had seen them so we could do nothing but remain in the house with the servants all weekend. On Monday, Dirk went to work as normal. His employer, Mr Costar, said they were only collecting up some foreigners but that people working for him would be okay. Dirk never came home and a servant of Mr Costar’s came to the house in the darkness and said that his boss and Dirk had been taken to the camp with the other employees. I never saw my husband again and I . . .”
Mina’s lips begin to quiver and tears fall quickly and silently down her cheeks.
Steve takes a deep breath and looks around the room. He is amazed that he got so much history from one old lady but he feels he has put her through enough and stops the tape recorder.
“I’m not finished, young man,” she says.
“Thought you might want a break, Mina.”
“No, thank you. The rest is burning up inside my throat. I never told anyone this story, not even my second husband. Of course I met him there in that awful camp so what was there to talk about? He knew what I knew.”
Steve turns his tape recorder back on and Mina continues.
“Every day I went to that camp looking for my father, my brother and my husband. Each day I would stand at the camp gates asking for them. One day a man, Lars Jensen, saw me and took pity on me. My pregnancy was visible and standing in the heat all day waiting for news was having its effect on my health. Lars was a baker in town and I had known him a little beforehand. He was overweight and not at all handsome. He called me over and asked if I had a cigarette. I snapped at him and asked if that was all he was worried about. He looked upset and I felt bad. He was locked up and I was free although I had heard that women were beginning to be taken to camps. I didn’t believe this was true. What would they want to put women and children in camps for? Lars told me that Dirk was inside but that Pieter and my father had been taken to another camp. He said that Dirk was injured, that a Japanese soldier had beaten him on the head and stuck a knife in his leg. He said the wound was infected and that Dirk could not walk. He agreed to give him a message and I left that day with my heart soaring. I was still worried for my brother and
father but my husband was alive and he could help me find them when he got out. I began to realise how useless I had become and that my mother had seen all this coming while I was enjoying parties and becoming more useless as each year of my life passed. I made a promise to myself that I would never be useless again, that I would always be strong – and here I am with two shattered hips and no courage to live in my home any more. I didn’t even keep my promise to myself.” She pauses and adds, “I think that if I had left Indonesia when my husband asked me to, he might have lived.”
Mina falls silent and this time agrees to a break. Li brings cake and coffee in and everybody eats in silence. I watch as she moves towards Mina as if she is going to hug her but Mina looks up at her and as usual glares at her, an expression of suspicion spreading across her face. Li returns to the kitchen and I know I am the only one who sees her wipe a tear for Mina Jensen.
When everyone finishes eating, Steve turns his microphone on again and Mina sits up straight to continue her story.
“For weeks that was all I did – stand at those gates and speak with Lars and other people I knew. It was overcrowded and the men looked filthy. They were all losing weight, even Lars who had been a fat man. Sometimes Lars would have a note from Dirk and my heart would beat fast with joy. Some of the Japanese soldiers were nice but still they would not let me in to see him. At night I would sleep with Dirk’s notes under my pillow. I would keep saying, ‘You will get out of this and we will return to Holland together with our baby.’ But of course, this never happened. I never saw a doctor during this time because the Dutch doctor we used to visit had disappeared and no one knew where he was gone. One day, I got to the gates and Lars looked upset when he saw me but he didn’t tell me what he knew. He was afraid for my baby. For two more weeks I went there and each day I realised a little more what was wrong. My husband had died and Lars would not tell me. A red angry infection had crawled up his leg from his wound and poisoned his blood. Even now I think of my – my lovely man lying dying on a filthy bed only needing a doctor but no one helped him. The Japanese didn’t care if he lived or died. Every day, I think it was my fault. But then I think that Holland was occupied by the Germans so perhaps we would have escaped Jakarta and died in Holland anyway.”