‘Choose something you enjoy, that is what you told us,’ Phillip continued. ‘Birds is what I enjoy. What else did you say ? If you work for someone else choose a profession where you are rewarded on the basis of seniority so you leave nothing open to the prejudices of individuals. But my rewards will come every day I look up into the trees. You of all people must be able to understand that. Let me go to London, Father. Let me secure the qualifications I need to earn the respect of my peers. Then I will come home.’
Song caught himself gripping the edge of his desk. He looked down and saw his knuckles white. He shut out any noise in his head urging him to deny his son this. But he was too choked to look Phillip in the eye.
Song nodded. ‘Go and find some life,’ he said. That was the line Song’s own mother had said to him. Fragments of words floated about his head like dust-motes. ‘We’ll be here when you come back.’
CHAPTER 36
Song thought how pale Hannah looked. ‘Are you sure you’re all right ?’
‘I’m fine, Song. Just heavy. Don’t worry.’
‘I do.’
‘Don’t.’
‘When the baby comes, I want you to rest.’
‘I expect the baby will have other things in mind.’
‘Lean on me,’ Song said. ‘I will be a better husband this time. A better father.’
‘You already are. You’re here with us every day.’
‘There’s nowhere else I want to be. I feel like I know my children now. Phillip and all his faraway dreams. Flo and all her fight. Vivi with his incomparable imagination. I could be in Bartica, or upriver, and missing all this. Thanks to you, I’m here.’
‘I didn’t do anything,’ Hannah said.
‘You told me.’
‘You listened.’
Song rested his hand on Hannah’s belly. ‘A new life, Hannah. A new beginning. So what do you think ? A boy or girl ?’
‘A girl. We already have Phillip and Vivi. We lost a baby girl. I want another girl.’
‘If she’s anything like Flo, I’m not sure I’ll be able to cope,’ Song said. ‘Girl or boy, I promise to do better this time, Hannah. I’ll be by your side always.’
*
The following day, Hannah collapsed on the landing. Song heard the fall from his study. He found her slumped on the floor. He crouched down and held his wife close. ‘Tell me you’re all right, Hannah.’
‘I think the baby’s coming.’
‘The baby ?’ It was too soon.
Song rushed to fetch Dr Patel, who arrived quickly at the house.
By then Hannah was moaning, almost unconscious, and losing a lot of blood. Song looked at the bedclothes, stained red. ‘Help her, Doctor. Help us.’
Dr Patel was too busy to reply. He was trying to deliver the baby. Song moved towards Hannah’s side. He rested his head against hers, held her hand gently; with his other he stroked her clammy forehead, sweeping her tangled hair back from her face, whispering to her, as if the room was empty. ‘Your mismatched eyes, Hannah, that’s what got me all those years ago. Do you know that ? The way you kissed my stitched-up eye. The way you kissed my scars. You saved me, Hannah. You saved me all those years ago. You save me every day.
‘Stay with me, Hannah. Stay with me here in Sugar House with our beautiful children. We have so much yet to do. I have so much yet to show you. Let me have the chance to show you.’
The baby came too early, lifeless. Dr Patel passed her to Little A. Song stepped in and took her in his arms. A little girl, like Hannah had wanted. So small. So unready. He held her to his chest, awash with pain and guilt.
‘She’s lost a lot of blood,’ Dr Patel said.
‘Please help her, doctor. Do everything you can.’
‘I’m trying,’ Dr Patel said. ‘I’ll do my best.’
Song moved back to Hannah’s side, eventually giving up the baby to Little A. His eyes were full of tears. He had hoped their little girl might yet open her eyes and breathe.
‘Hannah needs to rest,’ Dr Patel said. ‘Watch over her.’
‘I will.’
Song stayed by Hannah’s side, clutching her hand, feeling her warmth.
‘Song,’ she said faintly.
‘I’m here, Hannah.’
‘The baby ?’
‘We lost the baby, my love.’
‘We lost the baby.’
‘She was too little to be born so soon.’
Hannah slipped back into the folds of sleep. Drowsy. Sometimes making no sense.
‘I’m here, Hannah. I’m never leaving.’
He stayed by Hannah’s side watching her. Seeing her summon up a fight. He knew she didn’t want to let go. Desperate to stay, to watch her children grow up, to be together. She said as much, albeit weakly. She reached out to hold Song’s hand when she found some strength. When she was tired out Song could still see her eyes moving under her eyelids. He imagined the shine of her mismatched eyes.
Days blurred into each other. It was a heartbreaking routine. Trying to coax Hannah to eat something. To sip some water. Watching her sleep. Waiting for her to wake. The children were a distraction. They brought in books, trays of food, vases of fresh flowers, messages from outside. Flo spent hours sat beside her father, discussing her lessons at school, what she had read in the newspaper that day, imploring him to tell her more about his life upriver. She’d rearrange Hannah’s pillows and sit at the end of the bed, peeling back the sheets to squeeze and gently rub the soles of her feet. Song could hardly bear to watch the tenderness unfold between mother and daughter. He longed for their old life instead of this one full of dread, of fear.
When Song dressed in the morning, he imagined what clothes Hannah would have chosen. When he ate a new pineapple cake Little A had baked, he told her about it, even if she was sleeping. When he heard the call of a bird, he identified it for her, knowing she would have asked him what it was. Every instant he felt the rawness of his shredding heart.
CHAPTER 37
Night had not yet ended but Song could see the sky lightening at the window. It was the hour Hannah liked to wake, before the children, before the house. Song felt the room still. Something was missing. He listened for Hannah’s breath. He could hear the trill of a nightjar. Song reached for her hand to pull her towards him. In the milky light, she looked too beautiful not to be alive.
He let his fingers slip between hers, as if they were holding hands like they did so often. The slants of early sun fell on them both, passing sharply between the slats of the jalousie shutters. He felt warmth, believing he could almost hold these golden beams in his hand. He remembered the same on the ship, the hope that came with the light splitting open the darkness. Like the hope he had seeing a seam of gold in exposed rock. Like the hope he held now to be with Hannah again. How hard he had lived. He closed his eyes to shut out the light.
Acknowledgements
Thank you to my family and friends who stood by Song, even as I wondered if. Thank you also to my dream team at Unbound (John, Liz, Miranda, Imo, Anna, Philip, Tim). With immense gratitude to you all.
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This edition first published in 2018
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© Michelle Jana Chan, 2018
The right of Michelle Jana Chan to be identified as the author
of this work has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988. No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
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ISBN 978-1-78352-547-8 (trade hbk)
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Song Page 41