From Strength to Strength Read online

  The questioning started. My name, how long had I worked here, was I born in Australia, did I travel much, what countries . . . ? I answered all the questions until my patience started to wear thin.

  ‘What is all this about?’

  More questions. Did I know anyone in Hong Kong? I might have known it would be Charles!

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Name?’

  ‘Charles Henderson.’

  ‘Known him long?’

  ‘What is considered long?’ And on it went.

  Charles, acting true to form, had sent me a thirteen-diamond-cluster engagement ring by air freight and had not insured, registered or declared it. In the sixties, quite a lot of money could be made by buying diamonds in Hong Kong and smuggling them into Australia.

  We went to the airport, my home away from home, and they showed me the ring. Charles had good taste; I liked it immediately. I quickly read the letter enclosed, which said we were to be married on the 4th of July, invitations, church and so on all arranged. My ticket was waiting at the airport. This calmed the grim men considerably but it had the opposite effect on me.

  Words fail to describe the weeks that followed. What with passport arrangements, more travel injections than I care to remember, all of which made me desperately ill, dress fittings and goodbyes, it was a non-stop parade. It finally ended at the airport on the 30th of June 1960.

  The whole family was there to see me off, including all my butter-stealing brothers of former years. Each one took me aside and threatened to do various things to Charles if he didn’t do the right thing by their little sister. I just had to call and they would ‘put him straight’. Of course I was not to mention the conversation to anyone, particularly not to my other brothers. I was very moved by these, never to be repeated, separate declarations of brotherly love.

  After kissing everyone, receiving endless hugs, handshakes, and more kisses and hugs, I slowly, very slowly, started to walk that long hundred yards to the waiting plane. As much as I wanted to be with that unusual man, the times I wanted to run back to my family in that hundred yards cannot be counted. It was the longest walk of my life. It took many hours on the plane to Darwin to collect myself.

  While waiting in Darwin airport for the aircraft to be refuelled, I was surprised to hear my name called over the paging system. I went to the desk and was met by a most charming American who turned out to be Charles’s cousin. His name was Gus Trippe. In typical family style, he crushed me in a welcoming bear hug and promptly opened a bottle of champagne. We talked, mostly about Charles, as if we had been friends for years. When it was time to reboard, he crushed me again and poured me back on the plane.

  I was just getting over the Darwin landing when the hostess appeared and said the captain had invited me up front. It seemed he knew one of my tennis friends, who had told him I would be on the flight. He asked me to have a drink with him in Manila to celebrate my coming marriage. Now in full swing, I accepted.

  We were walking across the tarmac in Manila when suddenly there was Charles, looking like a thundercloud.

  ‘Darling, what are you doing here? I’m supposed to meet you in Hong Kong.’

  ‘It’s obvious you weren’t expecting me here,’ he retorted.

  ‘Oh, don’t be silly. The captain is a friend of Judith’s. He was just about to take me for a drink to celebrate our wedding.’

  ‘It seems you’ve already started.’

  ‘Oh no, that was your cousin Gus in Darwin.’

  The captain discreetly excused himself.

  ‘Will you please stop sulking and say you’re pleased to see me.’

  He didn’t need much encouragement to crush me. We were definitely going to have to come to some agreement on this crushing deal—my ribs were failing fast.

  ‘Darling, there is one problem: as a surprise I was going to join you on this flight to Hong Kong, but the airline cannot pick up passengers en route, so I will fly up on a later flight tonight.’

  ‘What will I do?’

  ‘I’ve arranged for a good friend of mine to meet you at the airport in Hong Kong. He’ll take care of you until I arrive at midnight.’ All this was explained to me over several cocktails, which he said would relax me. They succeeded in making me very drunk. Lots of cups of black coffee later, I was feeling deadly ill, and drunk. When it was time to leave, he kissed me several times, crushed me a little less, and poured me onto the plane with the promise to join me in eight hours time.

  I was cleared through customs without much trouble and was looking for a porter to take my bags when I was told they were on strike. After dragging my luggage out into the receiving area, I certainly didn’t feel like any fashion plate. I had come from winter and here it was over one hundred degrees, old style—the perspiration was pouring off me. After mopping myself down and trying to look cool, calm and collected, I looked around. In front of me was a sea of faces, all Chinese, or so it seemed. They spoke very quickly and I felt they were all looking at me. I looked for the friend in that sea and then thought, what if he’s Chinese, how will I know him? I was near tears when a hand gently touched my elbow.

  ‘You have to be Sara.’

  ‘Oh yes!’

  ‘Good, I’m Dick Kirby. Charles asked me to meet you.’

  He spoke a few words and all those staring faces started to move in different directions. With suitcases quickly and efficiently packed in his car, he took me on a tour of Hong Kong. In those days it was a marvellous place, not yet ruined by tourism. We finished the tour in his beautiful apartment looking across Kowloon harbour to Victoria Island. After a fabulous dinner cooked by his Chinese cook, I had very hot and very cold baths, and then relaxed listening to music, to await Charles’s arrival.

  He turned up in his usual hurricane style and after a short business discussion with Dick, we had a romantic late supper alone.

  The next day I met a most delightful person, Peggy Cater. I was to stay with Peggy and Jack at their lovely home, the White House, in Tai Po in the New Territory, for the remaining three days. Peggy, and Peggy alone, was responsible for getting me to the altar, twelve pounds lighter and doped to the gills, but nevertheless she got me there.

  Each night before our wedding there was a dinner in our honour to celebrate our coming marriage. However, these Chinese wedding feasts were not dinners, they were endurance tests. Of course Charles didn’t warn me they consisted of twenty-three courses, all he said was that I would be sitting next to the host who was a friend and business client, and if I refused a dish, it would offend him. Having been trained since I was a small child to eat what was set before me, I told Charles this would not be a problem. How wrong can you be? I waded through fried frogs’ legs, thousand-year-old eggs, birdnest soup, steamed octopus, to mention just a few dishes. All washed down by gallons of Coke, my only sensible move in those three days. If I had used alcohol in the washing down process, I would never have made it to the altar.

  My stomach had been raised on grilled steak and baked dinners, so the sudden change of diet was not appreciated. This, coupled with a bad case of nerves, meant that I spent most of each night throwing up all the food which I had spent each evening trying to eat. At least I managed to wait until the dinner was over and I was out of sight of my host.

  And so it went on for three days. In between wedding feasts and throwing up, Peggy would dose me with these marvellous little brown pills which stopped the runs and the vomiting but left me in a complete daze.

  The 4th of July dawned bright and sunny and Peggy whisked me off to the hairdresser. However, in July 1960, Hong Kong and Red China were not on speaking terms. People were crossing the border from Red China to Hong Kong’s new territory on the mainland and Mao Tse-tung did not like it. So, to make life difficult for the colony, the water supply from China was cut off. Hong Kong did have a reserve reservoir but hairdressers were not included on the honoured list of water-users, and received minimum amounts. What they washed my hair in was, and still is, a my
stery, but I think it came out of Hong Kong harbour. My hair looked great, but felt like cement.

  The temperature had now reached a staggering one hundred and one degrees and the humidity was not far behind. By now I was virtually comatose. Peggy took me home and put me in alternate hot and cold baths until I could focus my eyes in unison. I rested a while and then it was time to dress for the big day of my life. I couldn’t get excited, I was too doped to have any feelings at all. Poor Peggy had a dilemma. If she gave me more pills, I would probably never remember being married at all. If she didn’t I wouldn’t be able to stand through the ceremony without having to excuse myself, and whoever heard of a bride having to go to the powder room in the middle of her wedding? She gave me the pills.

  I vaguely remember a civil ceremony in the registrar’s office somewhere downtown. We sat and signed a lot of papers at a very large table and I was then whipped off to Hong Kong Cathedral to be married for the second time. After the ceremony I was led out into the bright sunlight to face a barrage of photographers.

  I couldn’t help wondering why Charles and Peggy had arranged so many photographers. There must have been at least twenty-five of them, all rushing around popping shots at every angle. Several hundred photos later, we finally made it to the car and off to the reception. Mr and Mrs Charles English Henderson III.

  Our wedding reception was at the Repulse Bay Hotel, a few miles’ drive from the Cathedral on the other side of the island. Charles told the driver to go slowly.

  ‘Let’s give the guests time to arrive and have a few drinks,’ he said. I smiled, all I was capable of doing.

  ‘Just along here a bit, there is a lovely lookout with a beautiful view of the bay and also a view of where you are going to spend your honeymoon.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Yes, I’ll have the driver stop and we can sit in the sun for a while. You look awfully pale, do you feel alright?’

  ‘Well, I’m not one hundred per cent, but I’ll improve.’

  ‘We’ll get some food into you. That’ll make you feel better.’

  Charles told the driver to pull over a few miles out of the city. He helped me out of the car and told the driver to wait. We went up a little path to a monument in a clearing. The bay was beautiful, and there, in the middle riding at anchor, was a long slender white sailboat.

  ‘Do you like her?’ he asked anxiously. ‘I wanted to keep it a surprise for you.’ Along with the other two million he had in store for me.

  ‘Oh Charles, she’s beautiful. And so big.’

  ‘Fifty-seven feet.’

  He was very proud of his sailing boat. We sat in the sun looking out over the water. It was extremely restful after what I had been through in the last few days. However, eventually it was time for us to meet our guests at the reception so we walked back down the little path. But no car. Perhaps in our driver’s particular province it was customary for wedding couples to take off into the bush after being married. Anyway he seemed to think it was normal to leave us there. We were now faced with the delightful prospect of either walking or hitching a ride to our wedding reception.

  However, when the driver arrived at the reception with an empty car, he was immediately dispatched again to collect us. When we finally arrived our wedding reception was in full swing. The Repulse Bay Hotel was a beautiful building in a perfect setting, a little like a time warp, a piece of England transplanted.

  I met Charles’ friends there for the first time, and they were all perfectly charming. After something to eat and a little champagne to relax me, all under the supervision of Charles, I did start to feel slightly human.

  Before I knew it, it was time for the bride and groom to depart, so I left the party to change. It was then that I discovered the strength of the hairdressers’ cement. My hair was so solid that the hairpins would not come out. Peg and I tried a few weird and wonderful things, but to no avail. I could not even sink a comb into it, let alone comb it. Finally I covered the mess with a big hat and went to say goodbye to my newfound friends.

  We walked down to the beach with all our guests and stepped into the dinghy. Amid cheers, confetti, streamers and best wishes, Charles rowed us off across the calm waters of Repulse Bay towards his sailing boat. The boat was in perfect order with decks made of beautiful teak wood. With our shoes off, we relaxed. We were alone at last.

  Charles then decided that a swim was in order so I went below to change. All my suitcases were in the master’s cabin and I was soon dressed and ready for the swim, except for my hair. I tried vainly to make a dent but short of scalping myself, I was not going to move it. I went on deck hiding under a sun hat.

  ‘How are you going to swim wearing that?’ Charles asked.

  ‘Oh, it’s my hair, it looks terrible!’

  ‘Never mind, we’ll swim now and worry about that later.’

  I was swimming around wondering what his reaction to a bald bride would be when he said, ‘Look, your hair.’ I looked around, fully expecting to see my concrete hairdo floating by, when he added, ‘It’s normal again.’

  My hand went to my head and sure enough, that wild concoction made by the hairdressers had been dissolved by the salt water. After a quick towel down, we sat on deck to watch the sun set, quietly sipping a ‘sunset drink’.

  I didn’t exactly excel in the culinary arts, so I wondered how I was going to handle the problem of feeding my new husband in the days to follow. More immediately, I was wondering about the next meal, which I was sure Charles would be looking for in the next few hours. Just as all this drifted through my mind, a sampan paddled up to the landing and waiters from the hotel scurried on board. They set out a magnificent meal on the cabin top and departed without a word. Charles sat there with a wide grin—another of his surprises.

  The sun had set, it was quite dark and we were sipping our coffee quietly contemplating our life ahead. Well, at least that’s what I was doing. Charles was always so completely confident about everything I’m sure he never spent a moment wondering about the future.

  Charles interrupted my rambling thoughts and suggested that, after such a strenuous day, we should retire early. This threw me into complete turmoil. A loving kiss indicated the night had only just begun. I went below to dress, or should I say undress, but there were no lights. I called to Charles and he shouted back directions. Still no lights. It became evident that Charles did not know how to fix the problem and seeing as he had sent all the boys ashore for the night that was that.

  ‘Oh well, who needs lights?’ I fumbled around trying to find things. In complete darkness it was impossible.

  Meanwhile Charles had arranged the bedding aft. Our first night was to be under the stars.

  ‘What are you doing?’ the question floated down to me.

  ‘I can’t find my nightgown.’

  ‘Well, come as you are. It’s dark and I’m the only one here.’

  I wrapped the bed sheet around me Grecian style, and sauntered up on deck. The aft deck was a sea of foam mattresses the size of a large trampoline surrounded on all sides by buckets of champage.

  We were sipping champagne, looking at the stars and snuggling into each other’s arms when suddenly we were bathed in floodlights. Streaking was not yet in fashion but I can tell you, those Chinese fishermen sure had a sneak preview. Having reached the safety of below, I peeped out the porthole. Apparently we were anchored right in the middle of the regular fishing ground. For those people not exactly up on Chinese fishing methods, they use large—the largest I have ever seen—hurricane lamps. The fish come to the surface where the light illuminates the water and are caught.

  Charles casually strolled below and said he had negotiated with the head fisherman to move to a better fishing ground. After he explained the situation, the fishermen were most sympathetic and apologetic, and departed. I thought this was very nice of them, seeing as we were parked in the middle of their fishing ground. Ah, love conquers all. Or it could have been the money Charles gave them.


  This little event had wiped out all the effects of the champagne and left Charles with a very nervous bride. He calmly led me back on deck wrapped in another sheet, made me comfortable on the trampoline and after a few more glasses of champagne, I was laughing with him about the whole episode.

  The laughter faded as we became deeply engrossed in each other. Charles’s arms were wrapped lovingly around me, and he was whispering delightful things in my ear when the boat gave a terrible lurch. At this point, Charles was beginning to show slight signs of irritation.

  ‘Damn, what a lousy landing!’ a voice called out. Once again I started to streak below, this time thank goodness in darkness. I was stopped in my tracks by a man sitting on the cabin deck next to the companionway. I turned to return to Charles and was horrified to see people joining him. There I was, midship and stark naked. I crouched down behind the mast and waited my chance to dash below.

  It seemed we had been joined by some of our wedding guests who had thoughtfully brought the wedding cake on board for us, all five tiers of it. The most intoxicated of the mob offered this explanation, ‘You can’t have your wedding night without the wedding cake!’

  Frankly I couldn’t see his point.

  ‘Where’s the Mrs?’

  Charles said I was below decks. What was I going to do? Maybe they would go. Not likely, they were too drunk. Charles would have to throw them off. But how long would they stay? Crouching there, trying to decide what to do, I felt a tap on the shoulder. It was the man who had blocked my retreat asking if I would like his coat. He was so drunk that to this day he does not remember this incident. In fact, he doesn’t even remember coming out to the boat. Thanking him, I grabbed his coat, put it on in a flash and then helped him along the deck to join the others. They were by now sprawled all over my wedding bed, drinking all the champagne.

  There was much ribbing as to the state in which I had been found. How they expected to find a girl on her wedding night was never explained. They settled down comfortably to our cold champagne and wedding cake.