The Boy & The Monkey

By Janet Roberts

10-year old Lawrence is a prisoner of the Japanese during the Second World War. His only ambition is to have a pet monkey - what fun they could have, and he could train it like a dog! But he ends up putting everyone's life at risk after he makes a startling discover.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Janet Roberts
• Release date: Nov 22, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466182189

Janet Roberts

In Janet Roberts' books, you’ll often find someone spending a bit of time by a lake, river or ocean somewhere in the world. Born and raised in Erie, Pennsylvania, on the Great Lakes, she loves an endless view of water for as far as the eye can see. Janet graduated from Temple University with a degree in journalism. After working as a journalist and later as a paralegal, she obtained her masters in communications from Edinboro University of Pennsylvania. Janet began writing fiction and poetry as a child and never let go of her dream of publishing a novel.  Although her current job as a security awareness program lead has meant moving to a variety of cities, she often returns to her Western Pennsylvania roots in her writing.  

Book preview

The Boy

and the

Monkey

Janet Roberts

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2010 Janet Roberts

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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***

In 1941 the Japanese swept down the Malay peninsular, capturing everything before them. They sent the European men to Prisoner of War camps. The women and children were taken to Banka Island where, with no destination in mind, they were simply marched, often for years.

80% of the women died, but so did their disheartened guards.

This is the situation for 10 year old Lawrence.

***

Chapter 1

He’s dead, she said. There would have been a time when the young boy would have been shocked, maybe even sad. Now it was so commonplace he didn’t feel anything. In fact he didn’t react at all and just turned and began to look round for somewhere to dig the grave. His only thought was that at least he’d had the decency to die early, before it got too hot, and he was grateful for that.

Digging the grave was always such a task, but they insisted on a ‘respectable burial’

What about here? called out Mi Ling. She was standing where there was a great pile of leaf mould – a perfect spot, as they had no tools and would have to use either their bare hands or bits of wood. Of course the boy would have found it had he been looking in that direction.

Mrs. Slater was already stripping the leaves off some vine, ending up with a long length of stalk. She would use it to bind two sticks together. She always made a cross for all the graves.

They had the usual bog standard funeral, ending with everyone muttering the Lord’s Prayer. The boy wondered if he’d been Christian, and decided he probably wasn’t, but it was too late to ask him now.

Afterwards, as it began to get really hot, Phyllis Smythe, who seemed to have taken over as Leader since Judy Chatham had died a couple of weeks ago, said

Of course, everything’s changed now.

The boy wanted to scream No it hasn’t! we’re still prisoners of war, even if our last Japanese guard had just died. He wanted it to be like it used to be, back in Singapore with Mummy, Daddy and Simon. Then they lived in a large house painted white, with Mi Ling’s family waiting on them hand and foot. And in the afternoon he wanted to go in a rickshaw to Raffles and eat strawberry ice cream.

But instead Phyllis was rattling on.

There doesn’t seem any point in just continuing to march. I suggest we find somewhere suitable to settle, and just try and sit out this dreadful war. What does everyone think?

Excellent idea, piped up Georgie McPherson. She was a little woman with straggly grey hair. She’d lost her glasses when their boat had been bombed and now peered at everything in the way of the short-sighted. Lost quite enough of our number I’d say.

Water – that’s the most important consideration.

And food.

What about staying near the sea, so we can catch fish?

But we can’t drink sea water. Fresh water’s what we need.

The boy walked away. He could tell an argument was brewing and anyway they wouldn’t be interested in the opinion of a 10 year old child.

He mooched over to the edge of the jungle and saw a brightly coloured lizard. He kicked a stone at it, but missed, and it scurried away.

Mi Ling came over to where he was standing.

It will be good not to march don’t you think?

The boy shrugged. He had made a point of not talking to her in all the months they’d been walking, but she seemed too dim to cotton on. The boy reasoned that if you were from the servant class it had to be expected, but he still found it wearing that she was so thick.

Lawrence, we’re off, called bossy Phyllis Smythe. She was one of the Australian nurses and the boy thought she must have been a Sister or something, because she always took control. He felt a bit guilty that he didn’t feel fonder of her than he did because early on when they first started marching he’d