The weather had grown rough after breakfast, and the waves were spilling over A Deck. We held on to the rails as we climbed, and I felt the familiar nausea swirling at the pit of my belly. The air was dense with an approaching tropical storm.

Miss Farr knocked at the teak door of the captain’s dayroom and all the dread and nausea churned inside me. I had only ever seen the captain from afar.

‘Come in,’ he called.

I followed Miss Farr inside. There on a floral upholstered couch sat the captain. He had cropped grey hair and sharp features. Jim stood beside him, a stiff expression on his face.

‘Good day, ma’am,’ the captain said, standing. ‘You are Mrs Sarah Jackson, from Sydney?’

I cleared my throat. ‘Yes.’ My voice squeaked like an old hinge. Was this about how I’d spoken to Jim in Suva? I felt furious at him for dragging me in front of the captain, for not speaking to me himself if I had angered him.

‘Please, sit down.’ He sat and gestured to Miss Farr to sit as well. ‘This is Ensign Jim Rice; I believe you’ve met?’

I nodded. I felt sweat bead on my forehead, roll down my neck, pool between my breasts and at the waistband of my skirt.

‘Mrs Jackson, we received a radio message from your mother yesterday.’

‘What’s happened?’ I looked from the captain to Jim, who was studying his shoes intently, refusing to meet my eyes.

‘I’m afraid they’ve received confirmation that your brother Jack died in a Japanese POW camp. I’m so sorry to give you this news.’

The sweat felt as though it were melted ice. ‘No. They must be mistaken.’

Miss Farr put her hand on my arm. ‘Now, dear…’

I moaned, a sound that I didn’t even recognise as my own, and felt the hope I’d held on to ripped away.

‘Mrs Jackson…Sarah.’ Jim had pulled over a chair to sit beside me, his stiffness gone. ‘I’m so sorry. If you like, you can return home to be with your parents, but your mother said to tell you not to come home, that you were to continue your journey.’

The captain nodded, looking down at his hands rather than at me.

‘You’ll not make yourself sick, Mrs Jackson, with sorrow,’ Miss Farr said sternly, patting my hand as if I were some sort of imbecile.

I was breathing fast and shallow, my face wet and my voice trapped in my nose. I wanted to jump over the side and be swallowed by the sea. I wanted grief to sink me like stones in my pockets.

Miss Farr looked at me with her tight mouth. ‘There, there, dear. There, there.’

I couldn’t bear the pity in their eyes. I stood up abruptly and rushed from the room.