In the darkness of early morn, Peter lay awake, thinking of the day ahead. Yes, his sisters had told him they had arranged helicopter transport to take them up country. Yes, he was prepared and yes, he was with his wife.
Looking at the clock he realized it was almost time to leave. He nudged Jennifer until she groaned, "Let me sleep, I'm so tired, just let me sleep."
"Sweetheart, I've been a demanding arrogant husband - bossing you around - buying your clothes - being a real male chauvinistic pig. Please bear with me today and I promise you that after today you'll choose what we're to do.
"However, I'm claiming today as mine, and it will be the last time I boss you. We're equals in this marriage, although right now you are probably thinking otherwise. Today we're flying by chopper to visit my father's grave, my mother's grave and then the Malay aborigines who gave me a life."
"Our day will finish in Penang - the island where my horror began. We'll be staying at one of the great Hotels of the East.
"The 'Peninsular and Orient', the old P&O as it's lovingly called. I'll take you to my old school. Then we'll go to where I lived.
"The ghosts will finally be laid to rest. Just put up with my emotions today. It's really going to be most difficult for me, but with you beside me I'll gain the strength I need."
Within the hour, Jennifer sat between the pilot and Peter in the bubble cockpit with seemingly nothing between her and the soft green below. Clinging tightly to Peter's hand, Jennifer felt the chopper swivel and swoop. She listened to Peter's reassuring voice in her headphones as he calmly navigated their route.
Then, with a stomach-lurching drop, the chopper landed on a wide expanse of green where a road swung around in a big loop. As soon as the blades hissed to a standstill, Peter helped Jennifer to the ground, and hand in hand, they walked across the road to the jungle's edge.
She felt the tension building up in him as his hand tightened in hers. They approached the solitary white cross almost disappearing into the foliage around it. She found it hard to read the brass plaque. 'Squadron Leader... shot... No trace of his wife or son...' was as far as she got before tears began streaming from her eyes.
Peter sank to his knees.
With her hand on his shoulder, Jennifer wondered how she, who was overcome by the heat, the silence, the tranquility and the words on the plaque, could possibly be of any comfort to her husband.
Neither moved until the distant sound of a truck painfully crawling its way up the mountainside broke the silence.
Only then did Peter stand, and with his arm around Jennifer said, "Dad, this is your daughter-in-law whom I love most deeply."
A sudden puff of air plucked at Jennifer's hair and in spite of the intense heat, she shivered.
"Thank you Dad. I'm glad you're pleased."
Mutely they stood until the noise of the truck faded into the distance.
Jennifer jumped as Peter's voice broke across the jungle. "Guide me o Thou Great Jehovah..." and the words seemed to come from his heart with such intensity that Jennifer could only put her arm around his waist hugging him to her.
Slowly and pensively, they walked back to board the tiny chopper again.
Spiralling into the clouds before dashing northwards, the chopper eventually swooped low over the jungle rooftop once more. Soft, lush green seemed to stretch forever until Peter leant across to tap the pilot's leg, pointing down.
Jennifer couldn't see any break in the trees - any clearing - but still the chopper began to float carefully and gently downwards until, with a slight bump, they landed, and the oppressive heat and peacefulness replaced the noise of the engine.
The pilot hastily left the cockpit to stand beside the chopper with a rifle.
"Tiger country, Mem," he commented.
Realizing the danger, Jennifer shuddered at the words.
Peter - a different Peter - dropped to the ground. Crouching low and ignoring Jennifer, he ran towards the derelict huts virtually covered in undergrowth. He didn't stop running until he reached a spot that would once have been in the center of the group of buildings. There he dropped to his knees, ignoring the mud.
Jennifer could hear the wail of his agony as he looked at four wooden faded white pegs still hammered into the ground and showing signs of loving care.
Not wanting to intrude in his sorrow, yet knowing, as his wife, she was now part of his experiences, she slowly walked to join him.
The oppressive heat, the cruel humidity, the absence of any sound and the absolute dearth of any breeze made Jennifer wonder how he had managed for all those years. The air seemed to be pushing down on her and very quickly, she was perspiring freely. Her clothes clung to her skin like wet rags and her hair hung lankly to her shoulders.
The jungle distressed her, but this day was not about her. She had to stand by her husband and comfort him in his misery.
"Mum! Why, why, why? Why didn't I save you? Why, why, why?" He threw his head up and screamed his agony to the heavens as tears streamed from his eyes.
A quick puff of air seemed to be tugging at Jennifer's skirt and didn't die until she was standing with Peter's head pulled against her legs, holding him tightly and allowing him to weep in the security of her presence.
The only noise was the soft sound of Peter's sobbing.
The light filtering into the clearing was almost eerie. Shadows and light seemed to be vying with each other and Jennifer felt a strange presence in the air. Still holding Peter against her body, she strained to see past the far hut. In that unnatural light, she was positive there were two people carefully studying her.
One was a blonde female, the other a man in an Australian Air Force uniform and they were smiling at her. To clear her mind she shook her head and looked again. Only the eerie shadows returned her gaze. She was sure that two hands, one male and one female, patted her shoulder.
Realizing she had been hallucinating in the overpowering humidity, she looked again but was startled to find a wizened old man - brown and weather-beaten - kneeling in front of them.
Gently the old man lifted Peter's head and to Jennifer's amazement, he motioned for her to step back. Although he said nothing, Jennifer knew she must obey. He peeled Peter's sweat-soaked shirt from his body as he seemed to order him to stand.
Following his directions, Peter stood and turned.
The old man, seeing Peter's heavily scarred back, let out a joyous whoop and the clearing was suddenly full of sarong-clad men.
The old man, obviously the leader, extended an arm towards Jennifer, and with his palm facing downwards, waved his fingers from his wrist outwards in a gesture of dismissal. He watched her walk backwards, her eyes on him the whole time until his hand went up to stop her.
