‘Oh, Elsie, how wonderful. I wondered why you looked so happy when you came into the ward.’
‘We’re planning on getting married next year, and Robert and I are looking for a house in Edinburgh.’
I admired her ring before she had to leave, but Jonas also wished her all the best when he came in.
After she was gone, I said, ‘I’m so pleased for her, as she had a rotten marriage to Ronnie.’
Jonas said that was true, and although he hadn’t said anything to me at the time, Ronnie Lomax was well known in Shanghai’s illegal opium dens.
‘Did Elsie know this?’ I asked.
‘No, she thought he was just a drinker and a womaniser, but it was much worse, as his drug habit was getting out of control.’
‘Do you know that she met her fiancé when she was in Shanghai?’
Jonas said he hadn’t, but that it had proved to be a fortunate meeting.
I was allowed home after a week, and Jonas came in a taxi with Margaret and Peter to pick us up. Peter looked at his sister, then began to point out the tramcars as the taxi made its way back to Carnoustie.
That night, I said, ‘We must choose a name, Jonas. I got to choose Peter so maybe you should choose your daughter’s name.’
‘Well, my mother’s name was Mary, so what do you think about that?’
‘I think that’s very suitable, as my granny was also called Mary, but if you don’t mind I would like to add my mum’s name and make it Mary-Beth.’
Jonas thought for a bit. ‘Yes, that sounds good.’
I wasn’t sure how he would take my next suggestion, but I voiced it anyway. ‘I would also like Margaret. I know Mary-Beth Margaret O’Neill is a mouthful, but I would like all the important people in our lives to be included.’
Jonas said I could add the entire phone directory if it made me happy, and I gave him a playful nudge.
Margaret was delighted that her name was to be given to our daughter, but she was even better pleased that I had called her Mary-Beth. ‘Your mother and grandmother would have been so proud of you, Lizzie, and of Peter and the new baby.’
‘Yes, I know, and I wish they were still here with us, but I do have my memories, Margaret.’
The following Sunday, on the third of September, we listened to the wireless as Neville Chamberlain announced we were now at war with Germany.
I was so upset, but Jonas said that with God’s grace we would all come through this new conflict, and as we watched our daughter lying asleep and Peter playing on the rug at our feet, I gently closed my hand around my jade pendant and said a prayer as well.
I think Jonas was trying to cheer me up. ‘I’ve just remembered another thing I miss about China.’
‘What’s that?’
‘We won’t have Ping Li singing her lullabies to Mary-Beth.’
I couldn’t help but laugh.
EPILOGUE
MARCH 1952: THE YEAR
OF THE DRAGON
It had been a sad year. King George IV died in February and we now had lovely young Queen Elizabeth on the throne. She had to fly back from Kenya in February when the news of the king’s death broke.
We were in Hong Kong when we heard the news. Jonas, Peter, Mary-Beth and I were there to visit our old friends Zheng Yan and Ping Li.
Zheng Yan and his wife were now back living in the colony, and they were waiting to welcome us on our arrival. It was so emotional when we saw them. Ping Li ran forward with a cry of delight. They didn’t look a day older than the last time I saw them on the jetty in Macao.
Ping Li gave Peter a big hug, and as she only came up to his chest it was so comical to watch. I was so proud that Peter hugged her back, while Mary-Beth hopped from one foot to the next in order to get her attention.
Ping Li turned and said, ‘Mary-Beth, we are so pleased to meet you.’ She looked at Peter. ‘I knew your brother well, and I used to sing lullabies to him when he was a baby.’
Peter looked bewildered, but he smiled at her.
Zheng Yan shook hands with us and said he never thought this day would come. ‘Come, my friends, and we will show you our factory.’
It was a large space that had once been the offices of the British Bank, but was now the workplace for forty workers who sat at their sewing machines and turned out lovely clothes.
Ping Li was beaming. ‘I do the designing and Zheng Yan is the manager. We are very prosperous now, Lizzie.’
They had a lovely apartment up on the Heights, and although it wasn’t very large it had a wonderful view. When we were sitting with our evening meal I said I was so glad they had come through the Japanese war and had prospered.
Zheng Yan said it was mainly because of the Alveres family, who had treated them so well during the ten years they had lived with them.
‘After the Japanese were defeated we came back here, and to start with it was tough, but slowly we have built up our business. The Alveres family left Macao in 1947 to go back to Portugal.’
Ping Li told the children, ‘We lived next to your parents in Shanghai and we had many adventures.’
Mary-Beth said she knew. ‘Mummy and Daddy have told us all about you, and I wish I had been born in China like Peter.’
Ping Li gave me a look that said it was fortunate that she hadn’t. ‘Did you enjoy the Chinese New Year, Mary-Beth? It’s the Year of the Dragon.’
Mary-Beth said, ‘Yes, Mummy and Daddy have told us all about the twelve animals that make up the Chinese calendar. I was born in the Year of the Rabbit, but I wish it had been the Dragon or the Tiger.’
Ping Li said the year of the rabbit was a very fortunate year to be born in and this pleased Mary-Beth.
‘I’ll tell my friend Sheila at school and she will be jealous because she hasn’t heard about the Chinese calendar.’
Peter and Mary-Beth were wide-eyed as we went around the streets, and Peter couldn’t get over how congested the harbour was with the sampans. I told him I had been the same when I first saw them.
At New Year they had been delighted with the celebrations. There were dragon parades and fireworks, and we had spent ages walking through the streets, stopping to eat prawns with sticky sauce and rice and other delicacies.
When we came to Mr Wang’s shop, it was no longer a bookshop but had been divided into three shops. Peter and Mary-Beth spent ages looking at the goods on display, and Ping Li bought them what they wanted.
‘You mustn’t spend your money on us, Ping Li,’ I said.
She gave me one of her wise looks. ‘Who else can I spend it on if not my good friends’ children?’
Mary-Beth was fascinated by everything she saw, and although Peter was interested, it wasn’t with the same intensity. My daughter very much reminded me of myself when I had first come to the colony.
At Mr Wang’s old shop, Jonas said, ‘This was the shop where I first met your mother.’
Mary-Beth was hopping about in delight. ‘What were you doing here, Daddy?’
‘I came with your uncle Alex to sign our books and this girl kept staring at me, so I felt I had to marry her,’ he said with a laugh.
Mary-Beth looked at me and I nodded.
‘That’s right, I did, but he also stared back at me, so I accepted his proposal.’
With the mention of Alex, Zheng Yan asked, ‘How is he keeping now, Jonas?’
‘He’ll never get over Sue Lin’s death, but he keeps busy with his work. We have a new book coming out and hopefully it’ll be another bestseller.’
I said I had heard from Senhora Alveres. ‘They are planning on coming to London next year to see Queen Elizabeth’s coronation, and Jonas and I will meet them there. Isabella won’t be there, as she is working in Paris, but Frederick will be with them. I’m really looking forward to seeing them again, Ping Li. Elsie has got married again to a policeman she met in Shanghai but who went back to Edinburgh before the Japanese invaded the city. She’s now Mrs Macdonald, and he was an old school friend of hers when they were yo
ung.’
‘What about Margaret, is she still well?’
I said she was. ‘She’s moved in with a friend until we get back, but she’s remarkable for her age, although she gets a bit forgetful now and again. I also had a letter out of the blue from Lorna-May Hamilton. She must have seen Margaret’s address when we lived in Bubbling Well Road and she wrote on the off-chance I would get it. Conrad is now in politics and he’s hoping to get elected to the Senate in Washington.’
Ping Li wasn’t impressed. ‘I didn’t like her, but I can imagine she will be revelling in her status as a senator’s wife.’
I wasn’t keen on her either, but I still recalled her worry over Peter and my safety when she offered to buy us our passage out of Shanghai, so for that small act of kindness I was able to think of her favourably – not that I said this to Ping Li.
We were out sightseeing one morning when I caught Zheng Yan gazing wistfully over the harbour to the new territories.
‘Will you ever go back to China?’ I asked him.
He gave it some thought but shook his head. ‘No, Lizzie, I don’t think so. China is different now that the Communists are in power with Mao Zedong as Chairman. Oh, I’m not saying it will be any worse than it was before, but Chiang Kai-shek was right when he said he was afraid they would take over. It’s a true saying: never to go back, as it will be a disappointment.’
‘What about Ping Li?’
He smiled. ‘She’s very happy here, being the boss of her own business. We try to be good employers to our workers, as we know what it was like for the Chinese population in Shanghai, and they are grateful for the work.’
We only had another couple of days before we left to go home, and I knew I would get emotional when we said goodbye. We had been through so much together, and no matter how far apart we lived, we would always think of one another.
Mary-Beth and Peter were sad at having to leave and Mary-Beth was crying as she said goodbye. Peter was more stoical, but he let Ping Li hug him again as we left to come home. Ping Li and I held one another tight and we were both crying. Jonas said they should come to Scotland to visit us. Zheng Yan said maybe they would when they retired.
Ping Li said, ‘You still wear your jade pendant, Lizzie.’
I told her I was going to give it to Mary-Beth when she was older, and Ping Li smiled and patted my hand. ‘That’s good.’
Then we were on our way back home.
Margaret was pleased to see us and she had news from Marie McBeth and Sandy McFarlane, or Mr and Mrs McFarlane, as they were now married: they were coming to see us and at the end of the week.
Marie looked just the same. She was dressed in her woollen jumper, thick tweed skirt and furry boots, while Sandy wore an open-neck shirt and his straw hat. He looked like Somerset Maugham.
They were pleased to see Margaret looking so well and I asked them if they liked living in Oban.
‘After we got married we went to Skye to begin with, but Sandy didn’t like it, so we moved to Oban and he likes it there, don’t you, Sandy?’
He rolled his eyes at me but said, ‘Well, I didn’t to start with; then I rediscovered the gourmet delights of the fish supper and the white puddings.’ He winked at me and I smiled.
‘Dear Sandy,’ I thought. ‘If his stomach is happy, then so is he.’
Marie said she was glad they retired from Hong Kong because they would still have been there when the Japanese invaded in 1941. Sandy shuddered at the thought and I was surprised he seemed frightened. Still, I need not have worried, because he said in all seriousness, ‘They might have banned Chinese food and replaced it with their own cuisine, which I think revolves around raw fish.’
‘When did you decide to get married, Sandy?’ I asked.
‘When we came back from Hong Kong, we decided two could live cheaper than one, so that was that. Anyway, I’ve always had a soft spot for Marie, in spite of her culinary tastes.’
I had to laugh, as he was incorrigible, but I was so pleased for them both.
Another visitor was Milly, who was doing so well. Her son Bertie was at the university in Glasgow and was hoping to become a doctor. I couldn’t help but remember the day she left Dundee, but it was the best move she made in her life.
After she left I wrote to Laura and her husband. They still lived in Newcastle but now had two sons. Pat still taught in Kirriemuir and we met up now and again to catch up with the news. The far-off days of teaching college were just a pleasant memory, as our lives had taken us down different paths.
I was in the town one day when I was approached by a young man. ‘It’s Miss Flint, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, I am, although I’m married now and I’m Mrs O’Neill.’
The lad smiled. ‘You probably don’t remember me, but you were my teacher at Ann Street School. I’m Charlie, and you lent me your book.’
‘Oh, Charlie, how lovely to see you again. How are you?’
‘I’m working in the library. It was you who gave me a love of reading and I love my job.’
After he went off, I had a small glow of pride. But it seemed neither of us became pirates.
Peter left for Cork after our trip to Hong Kong. He was going to run the stables with his grandfather, who was delighted he loved horses as much as he did, much to Jonas’s amazement. I gave Peter my St Christopher medallion to keep him safe.
Alex would be coming to see us, as the new book had been published. It was called A World in Conflict from the Rising Sun to the Swastika. It wasn’t an easy book to read, as it portrayed the brutality of war on different continents, but Jonas’s text was wonderful to read and the words complimented the photographs. It was full of the courage of ordinary men and women who lived through the Blitz and the destruction of lives and homes and somehow managed to come out at the other end. It was similar to the Great War, when my father was killed.
One book critic wrote, ‘It is a book that should be read by every government, dictator and tyrant to tell them war isn’t the answer.’
Jonas said it wouldn’t make any difference to the world, as the Korean war was being fought with the Chinese Communists and the Western powers and nothing would ever change in the world. ‘There will always be wars,’ he said.
We were really lucky during the war in our house by the sea. We didn’t see any conflict, not like the devastation of London, Coventry, Glasgow and Clydebank and other major cities. Jonas had travelled extensively during the war years to see Alex and document the carnage, while I stayed with Margaret, Peter and Mary-Beth.
We heard the door slam and Mary-Beth came rushing in from school. I had told her repeatedly not to slam the door, but she never remembered. When she came into the room, her eyes were accusing and her face red.
‘Mummy, you’ve forgotten to wind up the grandfather clock. You know I like to hear it ticking, as it makes the house all cosy and friendly with the little clock people looking after us.’
Margaret popped her head around the door. ‘Is that Mary-Beth? I thought I heard the door.’
Jonas sighed. ‘Heavens, Margaret, you could hear her in China.’
He was standing lounging against the door frame and I felt a strong urge to go and kiss him.
‘Isn’t it strange the traits we pass on to our children,’ he said. ‘There’s Peter, who loves horses like his grandfather, and Mary-Beth, who loves clocks like your mother.’
I gave him a kiss as I passed. ‘Yes, and she has your imagination, Jonas O’Neill. Little clock people indeed,’ I said as I went to wind up Granny’s grandfather clock.
As I passed my dad’s photograph in its frame, I thought back to my meeting with Andy Baxter a few months earlier. He looked so happy as he introduced me to his wife and two children. They had just received their keys for a new house in Kirkton and were looking forward to a new life.
I recalled his first visit to the house, and I remembered how my father had saved his life and how some good had come out of the carnage of the trenches and the Grea
t War. My father died a hero, but then he had always been a hero to me.
I gave him a smile in passing.
Also by Maureen Reynolds
Voices in the Street
The Sunday Girls
Towards a Dark Horizon
The Sun Will Shine Tomorrow
Teatime Tales from Dundee
McQueen’s Agency
A Private Sorrow
Indian Summer
COPYRIGHT
First published 2014
by Black & White Publishing Ltd
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This electronic edition published in 2014
ISBN: 978 1 84502 792 6 in EPub format
ISBN: 978 1 84502 743 8 in paperback format
Copyright © Maureen Reynolds 2014
The right of Maureen Reynolds to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Also by Maureen Reynolds
McQueen’s Agency
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Also available in paperback
When Molly McQueen returns home after an unhappy time in Australia, she needs a new challenge. As the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II lifts the spirits of post-war Britain, Molly opens her brand-new venture, McQueen’s Agency. Hiring out temps to local businesses, Molly soon finds it tough going, until a lucrative job comes in which almost seems too good to be true. On her first day working for Lamont’s Antiques, Molly senses that something isn’t right. She’s determined to get the job done, until she gets caught up in a web of intrigue and deceit that puts her life in grave danger.
Dragon Land Page 34