A Ghost in my Suitcase

by Gabrielle Wang

  ‘Australia,’ I say.

  ‘Never heard of the place.’

  ‘It’s a long way from here,’ I say. ‘How old are you?’

  ‘Ten … well, I was ten … when I died.’

  ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ I say.

  He doesn’t answer me.

  I sit down on a stone bench under one of the branches. ‘My name is Little Cloud,’ I say, ‘and I am a ghost-hunter.’

  ‘Hmph! Girls are too dumb to be ghost-hunters,’ the fat belly says.

  ‘If you’re going to insult me like that, I’ll leave right now,’ I say, and pretend to get up and go.

  ‘As if I care. I didn’t ask you here anyway.’

  I walk away slowly.

  ‘Bu yao zou, wait, wait,’ he calls out. ‘I didn’t mean it. I don’t get to talk to very many people, not like this. And I get so bored hanging around here all day, all by myself.’

  ‘Would you like me to tell you a story?’ I ask, as one suddenly pops into my head.

  ‘Yes, I like stories.’

  I sit down on the bench again. ‘Once upon a time there was a boy who went camping in the mountains with his dad. While his dad was setting up the tent, the boy walked to the edge of the cliff and began yelling and swearing at the top of his voice just for fun. To his surprise, someone started yelling and swearing back at him. The boy put his hands on his hips and screamed, “Nobody talks to me like that!” And guess what? The boy on the other side of the valley yelled back, “Nobody talks to me like that!” The first boy grew so angry that he began to yell and swear even louder than before, using even worse swear words.’

  ‘What kind of swear words did he use?’ the fat belly asks.

  ‘Never mind about that,’ I say. ‘Well, the boy across the other side of the valley grew angry, too, answering back in exactly the same way. This went on for at least ten minutes, yelling backwards and forwards until the boy’s throat grew sore from shouting. Not wanting the other boy to get away with being so rude, he raced back to tell his father. “There’s a horrible boy on the other side of the valley,” he said, pointing to the cliff. “He’s so rude. You have to tell him off. Come on, Dad.”

  ‘His father followed him to the edge of the cliff and the boy yelled out across the valley. Immediately a voice yelled the same words back. When his dad saw what the problem was, he threw back his head and laughed loudly. The sound of his laughter echoed right back at him. That’s when the boy realised that it was his own bad temper, his own nasty words, that he was hearing. And from that day on, he never uttered another mean or rude word again.’

  ‘He must have been a ben dan, a stupid egg, not to know it was his own echo. Bah!’ the fat belly says.

  ‘You’ve been acting a bit like him, lately,’ I say.

  ‘Who are you calling a stupid egg?!’ The branches of the tree shake violently.

  ‘I’m not saying that you are stupid,’ I say, brushing leaves out of my hair. ‘I just mean, if you want people to be nice to you, you have to be nice to them.’

  ‘Do you have another story? I didn’t like that one very much,’ the fat belly says.

  ‘No, I can’t think of one right now.’

  ‘Well, I have a story then.’

  ‘Go ahead,’ I say. ‘I like stories, too.’

  ‘Well, there was once a boy who grew up on a barge that travelled up and down the Grand Canal carrying goods for other people. This boy spent more time on water than on dry land and he loved his life. He loved feeling the wind in his face, discovering new places, and the freedom of the canals. When he was very small, his mum and dad tied him to the boat by a rope around his waist so he wouldn’t fall overboard. Then, when he was six years old, they took the rope off. By that time he had perfect balance. But one day, while his mum and dad were in town, the boy slipped and bumped his head on the side of the boat. He fell into the water unconscious and sank to the bottom where it was dark and cold. When his parents returned, it was too late to save him. The boy had drowned.’

  ‘That’s a very sad story,’ I say.

  ‘Yes, he has no one to play with and he misses his parents so much.’

  ‘Perhaps I can take him away from here,’ I say, making my voice bright and cheerful. ‘I can take him to a place where he will feel happy – a place where he will belong.’ I stand up and stroke the bark of the tree. ‘I promise it will be all right.’

  I hear a sigh come from the tree. ‘If I go with you, will it hurt? I don’t want to be hurt again,’ the fat belly says.

  ‘You won’t feel a thing,’ I say, as if I’ve done this a hundred times before. I look around to see if Por Por has come back, but she hasn’t. ‘It will be like going on a holiday. Just stay quiet and still and leave the rest up to me. Will you do that?’

  ‘Yes,’ the fat belly says, but his voice sounds small and scared.

  I stop to concentrate a moment, the way Por Por does when she’s about to begin a job. I take a deep breath. My hands are no longer shaking. The lightning stick feels warm and alive in my right hand. In my left hand I hold the mingshen mirror. I begin to move the stick slowly from the tree to the mirror, humming a tune that comes from deep inside me. I keep up a steady rhythm with the stick as if I’m conducting a slow waltz. Then I see that the point is going right through the mirror, as if there’s no glass there at all! Something attaches itself to the end of the stick where the circular patterns are. It looks like pale blue fairy floss, only it has the consistency of chewing gum and grows longer and longer until it stretches so thin I think it’s going to break in half.

  Suddenly there’s a loud SNAP! My mirror flies out of my hand and bounces across the white stones. I look at the lightning stick but the gooey stuff has gone. Is the boy inside the mirror or is he still in the tree? Or worse still, is he lying hurt somewhere?

  I rush over and pick the mirror up, holding it in both hands. I remember what Por Por said about not looking directly into it, so I look out of the corner of my eye.

  I see a small boy with straggly hair and bare feet, dressed in shorts and a yellow vest. ‘Are you all right?’ I ask, touching the mirror with my fingers. But he can’t see or hear me.

  I hear quiet footsteps behind me and someone puts a hand on my shoulder. ‘Good work, Little Cloud,’ Por Por says, as if she’s been watching the whole time. ‘Now wrap him up using the ghostlock fold. Do you remember it?’ She hands me a red cloth and a gold cord.

  ‘I think so,’ I say. I squat down, spread the cloth flat on the ground, place the mirror face down on top of it, then fold all the corners into the centre. I look up at Por Por. ‘I might need some help with the ghost knot, though,’ I say.

  Por Por kneels down, wraps the cord around the mirror three times then makes one loose knot, then another, which she hooks through the first. Finally, she pulls the loops horizontally. ‘There, now it cannot be broken from the inside.’

  ‘What do we do with him now?’ I ask. ‘We can’t take him home to your pond, Por Por, ’cos that’s only where naughty ghosts go, not fat bellies.’

  ‘That’s right, Little Cloud. We need to find one of the entrances to the underworld. They shift constantly, so we need a guide to show us the way.’ She takes a small paper lantern from her bag. It looks like one of the Chinese folding lanterns Mama used to hang up around the garden when we had summer barbecues. Por Por lights the little candle inside, then sits the lantern on her palm. With a gentle blow she sets it afloat. ‘Now we have to follow it,’ she says. ‘Wherever the hu lantern lands, that will be the entrance to the underworld.’

  The lantern guides us out of the house and along the narrow laneway, floating just above our heads. I carry the mirror very carefully. I don’t want the fat belly to feel scared or get seasick.

  We follow the hu lantern for about half an hour across the canals, weaving our way down the streets and alleyways to the edge of town. A small rutted track leads out of the Isle of Clouds and between fields of vegetables to a small, rocky hill
. The lantern lands on the ground and the candle snuffs out.

  When we reach the place where the hu lantern sits, I see a crevice in the rocks.

  Por Por pokes her head inside. ‘This is it,’ she says. ‘The entrance to the underworld.’ Her voice echoes back. She squeezes through first and I follow her. There’s the sound of trickling water and it smells sweet, like peaches that are just ripe enough to eat. We are standing in a cave.

  ‘Haole,’ Por Por says. ‘Put the mirror on the ground and pull the two loops vertically this time. This will break the lock.’

  I do as Por Por says and the knot falls away easily. Por Por asks me to stand back. Then she takes the dried stalks with the red berries from her bag and sprinkles them in a circle around the mirror. After this she begins to chant.

  I can just make out the faint outline of the mirror and strain my eyes to see more. I hold my breath as a pale blue light slowly rises out of the mirror’s surface. For an instant it quivers, glows irridescent, then it vanishes. The sweet scent of peaches grows even stronger than before.

  ‘Now he will be happy,’ Por Por says.

  ‘Why do people have to die?’ I ask. ‘That boy was only ten. It’s not fair.’ My voice trembles in the dark.

  Por Por puts her arm around my shoulders. ‘That’s just the way it is, Little Cloud,’ she says.

  As we walk through the front door of Por Por’s little house, I feel very pleased with myself. Por Por is smiling and I know she’s pleased, too. On the way home she said I definitely had the talent and the genes because I knew exactly what to do.

  I imagine a ghost-hunting business card, which I could hand out at school when I get back. And I would buy a small suitcase to carry my equipment around in. Less obvious than a long cloth bag over my shoulder, I think. I’m still smiling to myself when Por Por turns on the light. But my smile fades to horror.

  Ting Ting is lying motionless on the kitchen floor, her clothes torn and bloody. For one terrifying moment I think she’s dead, but then she groans. Por Por bends down and strokes her hair. When I look closely there are cuts and bruises all over her face and hands. She looks terrible.

  We help her to the bed and change her out of her dirty clothes. I kneel on the floor beside her while Por Por rushes to the kitchen. Where did she go last night? Who did this to her? I want to ask Ting Ting, but I don’t dare.

  Por Por comes back with a bowl of warm water and a bottle of antiseptic. She gently wipes Ting Ting’s wounds with a washer, but she doesn’t ask any questions. Por Por is always so patient, never pushy. That’s one of the things I love about her.

  I see a tear roll down the side of Ting Ting’s face and fall onto the pillow. She blinks her eyes and lets out a long sigh. ‘It was so … horrible, Por,’ she says, weakly.

  ‘Sshh … don’t talk now. Just rest,’ Por Por says, wiping the blood from a graze on Ting Ting’s elbow.

  ‘I want to talk about it. I have to.’

  A long silence follows as Ting Ting tries to hold back more tears. Then she takes a deep shuddery breath. ‘I went back to Bao Mansion last night,’ she says. ‘I had to find out the truth … about my grandfather.’ Ting Ting winces as she draws up one knee. ‘I heard you praying, Por. I heard you say his name – Shen Da Pai, you said. That’s when I knew who the ghost of Bao Mansion was. Then Little Cloud told me what he did to your father.’ Ting Ting looks at me and I look away. My face reddens with shame.

  Por Por strokes Ting Ting’s head without saying a word.

  ‘I didn’t want to believe her. How could I?’ Ting Ting goes on. ‘He was my hero.’

  ‘Shhh … shhh.’ Por Por says. ‘No more talk now. I will make you some warm chicken broth.’

  ‘No, Por, wait …’ Ting Ting says, grabbing Por Por’s arm. ‘I want to tell you everything. I can’t hold it inside me. Shen Da Pai is like poison in my veins.’

  Por Por puts the bowl of warm water on the floor and sits on the edge of the bed. I slink over to the window and sit on the floor. I feel as if it’s all my fault.

  Ting Ting blows her nose on a tissue. ‘I only wanted to meet him. I had heard so many great things about him from my father. But when I met him, Shen Da Pai boasted about how he got rid of your father. He was so proud of it, too. He said his plan was all written down in a letter that he kept hidden in a strongbox in Bao Mansion. I couldn’t believe it. After the house was sold, he felt your presence, Por, that’s what drew him out after all these years. Then he wanted to use me to hurt you. To do something bad to you.’ Ting Ting begins to cry again. ‘He said you deserved it. And that I was in a perfect position, living in your house and all,’ she sobs. ‘I almost believed him … I was so confused … But when I refused to help him, he began tearing things off walls and throwing furniture around. I had no weapons with me – I didn’t think I would need any. The windows started shaking, then they exploded inwards. I covered my head and face with my hands. Glass was flying everywhere! I was so scared, Por. I have never been so scared in my whole life.’ Her body starts trembling.

  ‘Slowly, take it slowly,’ says Por Por, stroking her arm.

  ‘I didn’t know what to do. All the things you taught me were suddenly gone from my memory. It was as if he had sucked them out of me.’

  ‘He made you powerless by using your emotions against you,’ says Por Por.

  ‘Yes, that’s what he must have done. I thought he was going to kill me, so I ran from the house and kept on running.’ Ting Ting clutches her throat. Suddenly her eyes widen. ‘My talisman necklace! It’s gone!’ She tries to sit up.

  ‘Little Cloud, make us some hot chocolate,’ Por Por says.

  ‘Yes, Por Por,’ I say.

  As I walk towards the stove, I hear her say softly to Ting Ting, ‘Don’t worry, child. I will find it for you.’

  ‘But what if he has it already? What if … if he’s using it against me now!’ Ting Ting’s voice sounds full of terror. ‘You can’t go back there, Por. It’s too dangerous for you.’

  ‘Everything will be all right, child. Your por por can take care of herself.’

  ‘But you made that talisman necklace for me. Doesn’t that mean he has power over you?’

  ‘Hush, child.’

  I bring over three mugs of hot cocoa. I want to say sorry to Por Por. I want to tell her that it was all my fault. Will she ever trust me again?

  I watch Por Por as she lays a damp cloth on Ting Ting’s forehead. Then I turn and stare out the window. The sun is setting and the canal looks crimson, like a vein of dark red blood flowing through the town.

  ‘I can’t bring her temperature down,’ Por Por calls out to me. ‘I’m going to have to take her to the hospital.’

  ‘Why don’t you call an ambulan–’ I begin to say, then remember that cars can’t fit through these narrow alleys.

  ‘I’ll be fine, Por,’ Ting Ting says, weakly. ‘I don’t need to go to the hospital.’

  I can see Ting Ting is not fine. She can hardly walk and she’s so pale. ‘Do you want me to come with you, Por Por?’ I say.

  ‘No, stay home. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’ Por Por holds Ting Ting around the waist and they walk slowly to the front door. ‘There are some baozi in the refrigerator if you get hungry,’ she says. Then they are gone.

  I try and write a letter to Robbie. My pen hovers over the paper for ages, then I write Dear Robbie and the date at the top of the page. But I can’t write any more. There are so many things going on in my mind, so many feelings running through my body. I feel them clogging up inside me. The thing I would like more than anything is to feel Mama’s hair tickling my neck and her hand rubbing my back. I want her to tell me everything is going to be all right, that I didn’t do anything wrong. But it will never happen.

  I’ve made such a mess of everything.

  ‘It’s no use running away, Little Cloud,’ I hear Mama’s voice echo inside me. ‘Your mistakes will only catch up with you sooner or later.’

  ‘But what can I do
, Mama?’

  Suddenly I sit up. That’s it! I know the answer.

  I try the door to the weapons cupboard but it’s locked. Por Por keeps the key either in her handbag or tied around her wrist on a piece of red string, so it’s no use looking in the house. But I’m safe as long as it’s daylight. Ghosts like Shen Da Pai only come out at night.

  I grab a pair of pink kitchen gloves from under the sink to protect my hands in case I have to sort through broken glass. Then I catch a water taxi to Bao Mansion. I’m still haunted by the terror of the other night, but I push all my fear aside.

  When I arrive, I look up at Por Por’s old bedroom, hoping the sight of it will make me brave. But the little girl doesn’t appear like she did the other day. Instead, dark shadows seem to be lurking behind the carved wooden window. Or is it just the wind shaking the panes of glass?

  The gate stands ajar and I walk in. The front door is wide open. There are splinters of glass everywhere and the pile of furniture that once sat in the corner under the sheet is now in pieces all over the reception room. How am I going to find the talisman necklace in this mess? Ting Ting said she met Shen Da Pai here, so at least I know I only have to search this one room.

  I put on the gloves I brought with me and start looking – the way police do in the TV dramas where a whole line of them search the ground centimetre by centimetre. Except, of course, there’s only one of me. I move across the room, carefully lifting or pushing aside the shards of glass and bits of wood. I’m hoping that I’ll be drawn to the talisman necklace in some magical way, or that it will glow when I am near it, like in books or the movies. But it doesn’t happen.

  It takes me hours to search the whole room, and by the end of it my eyes feel as if they’re going to drop out of my head. I lean against the wall and close them for a moment.

  This can only mean one thing – that I’m too late and Shen Da Pai has the necklace already.