House of Trembling Leaves, The

by Lees, Julian

  ‘‘What’s going on, pumpkin-head?’’ Her voice was soft. ‘‘Do you want me to take you to Addenbrooke’s?’’

  Sum Sum felt her heart pitch over, tumbling like the prayer beads that now danced across the floor. Both girls regarded one another through the grey light.

  Lu See thought the face watching her looked lost, as stunned and innocent as a calf that had just discovered where veal came from. The muscles around Sum Sum’s mouth remained rigid. Eventually Lu See said, ‘‘We can’t go on like this.’’

  ‘‘Like what?’’ said Sum Sum in a subdued voice.

  ‘‘Both with faces as long as a grasshopper’s back leg. Tell me what’s wrong. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me where it hurts.’’

  Looking like a child swallowing a spoonful of cod liver oil, Sum Sum skated a hand back and forth across her tummy. Her heart burned. You are my sister. I cannot keep secrets from you. Two thick tears coursed down her face. ‘‘I been hiding this from you for weeks, vomiting every morning for the last month. Lu See, I am mengandung. I’m carrying a baby.’’

  Retreating to the kitchen, the girls sat at a table before a pot of tea and a dish of biscuits. Their shoulders sagged. Lu See, shocked by the news, sieved the floating tea leaves from the surface of her cup. Smoothing her kerchief, Sum Sum contemplated her broken string of prayer beads.

  ‘‘I thought you were still a virgin,’’ said Lu See.

  Sum Sum shrugged.

  ‘‘Is it Aziz’s baby?’’ asked Lu See.

  Sum Sum hesitated. ‘‘Are you angry with me? I don’t want you to be angry, lah.’’

  ‘‘Angry? No, of course I’m not angry.’’

  Sum Sum shook her head. I should have told her much earlier. Could have saved myself so much heartache. She felt sick with relief. ‘‘But do I keep the baby?’’

  ‘‘Well, that’s something only you can answer. It’s not going to be easy being an unmarried mother, especially in this country. And I don’t know how Mrs Slackford will react to us raising a child under her roof. But if you want to know how I feel about it, well, I’m surprised of course. Surprised yet happy. Happy because if you choose to keep the baby I think you’ll make a fantastic mother. I’m behind you whatever you decide to do.’’

  Sum Sum nodded. A tiny smile crept across her taut, broad face. ‘‘I’ve been carrying this news about like a wicker basket on my back.’’

  ‘‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’’

  ‘‘I don’t know.’’ She sighed. ‘‘Scared.’’

  ‘‘Scared to tell me I was going to become an aunty?’’

  Sum Sum offered a sheepish smile again. ‘‘I would like to keep the baby.’’

  ‘‘Good. That’s settled. Now, will you write to inform Aziz?’’

  Again Sum Sum hesitated.

  ‘‘What?’’ Lu See prompted.

  ‘‘Nothing. It’s nothing.’’ Sum Sum saw Aziz’s face loom before her then everything flowed backwards to the days spent onboard ship. The images returned hurriedly, clear and firm – his muscular arms, his trim waist, the concentrated tautness of his body.

  Bracing herself, Sum Sum shook her head. ‘‘The child will be raised fatherless, lah. I do not want Aziz to know about this. I do not want to shame him. Anyway, he never passed me his address.’’

  Lu See’s mind worked fast. ‘‘Never mind. We’ll tell Mrs Slackford you’re already married. We’ll say that your husband is in the Gurkha Rifles, stationed in India. She’ll be none the wiser and nor will any of the neighbours.’’

  Lu See counted out the months on her fingers since they last saw Aziz. ‘‘The baby’s due in early October, so that’s almost six months away.’’ She told Sum Sum she had to be brave. She thought back to when she was seven years old, of swimming in the river with Uncle Big Jowl. How he coaxed her into the fast-moving water. How she rose on her tiptoes, trying to keep her thighs and bottom dry as the oxen-voiced man called her name. She remembered the way she’d held her breath and plunged in headfirst, arms outstretched. She told Sum Sum now that she had to be just as brave.

  ‘‘Are we going to be okay?’’ Sum Sum asked.

  Lu See nodded. She felt a twinge in her heart. ‘‘We’re going to be more than okay.’’ She held her friend’s hand, palm-on-palm. ‘‘We’re going to bring up this child together. It will grow up to be strong and healthy and happy. And I promise you, we are going to be all right.’’

  Lu See saw the emptiness in her friend’s expression fade as her eyes turned bright against the semi-darkness. Each raised a teacup. Sum Sum’s shoulders straightened. ‘‘To us!’’ The cups knocked against one another with a plink!

  They sat in the kitchen until it got light and then, changing out of their nightgowns, they walked into the fresh new day, to Fitzbillies cake shop on Trumpington Street and bought themselves four Chelsea buns to celebrate. They stood in the long shadow of the morning sun, sticky cinnamon glazing their mouths.

  10

  But whatever optimism Sum Sum felt about the baby didn’t last. Raising a child without a father was always going to be hard, she realized. Raising it in a country where people already looked at her askance was going to be nigh impossible. Is it my fault, she asked herself, that I do not speak the King’s English, that my upbringing was so different, that my skin is unfamiliar? I am only a village girl from Tibet. These English people are funny-funny, meh? Some stare at me on the street, so curious; others refuse to look at me as if I am a witch that will make them go ploof and disappear.

  She grew increasingly homesick. She also grew a tiny bit resentful toward Lu See, yet for the life of her she couldn’t understand why. Maybe I’m angry with her because she does not see my pain. If she was such a good friend she would sense what happened to me, she would feel it in her bones, no?

  One day two letters from Malaya appeared. Sum Sum placed them in front of Lu See. The first was from her mother. Her tone had mellowed.

  My daughter, even though you have shamed us I still worry about you. You are my child. You live inside me. I will always worry about you, no matter how old you are.

  It was Ah-Ba’s birthday yesterday. His ankles have grown very swollen. The doctor says that he must cut all salt from his food. I blame the stress caused by the dam explosion. We are suing the Woos for sabotage, though we have no evidence. Cha! The bloody swindlers.

  Other troubling news - your brother James has become a Jehovah’s Witness! He spends his days preaching about paradise on earth. He has taken to handing out pamphlets to strangers and telling them that Jesus is in fact Michael the Archangel and that blood transfusions and the wearing of beards are evil.

  What terrible sin did I commit in my past life to deserve such children?

  As the youngest you always hated being left behind. You hated being left out, and it made you headstrong and stubborn. And now it is your family that has been left behind.

  On a positive note, your elder brother Peter has met a girl from the Ting clan. Her name is Irene. If the courtship is successful this would make for a favourable union. The same way you marrying into the Chow family would have been favourable.

  I pray that you are safe. I pray that you return home.

  Please write to tell us how you are – it is not so very much to ask.

  The second letter was from Second-aunty Doris.

  Dearest niece Lu See,

  Your letter of March 29th received yesterday. I am thrilled about the Girton news. Be strong and be confident and always remember it doesn’t matter what you do with your life so long as you push to better yourself. Stand out from the crowd! Never be a wallflower! Weather here is stifling. Frangipanis in the garden are thriving.

  Tomorrow Po On Village celebrates Wesak, Lord Buddha’s birthday. The Chinese Clan Association has erected a new shrine. The temple is already thick with incense smoke and full of flowers and statues of the baby Buddha. Needless to say, the Juru Diocesan Trustees Association is anxious to complete the building of
the new Anglican church in the village in response. I agree with you that constructing a brand new organ will take too long to complete and that we should opt for a ready-made console. And, like you, I am sure Conrad P. Hughes of London will do us proud. I like their drawings you sent to me and think the casing is both elegant and practical. I enclose below the specifications as agreed by the Trustees:

  GREAT

  SWELL PEDAL

  Open Diapason 8′

  Violin Diapason 8′ Bourdan 8′

  Claribel 8′

  Principal 4′

  Octave 4′

  Rohrflute 4′

  Flute 2′

  Nazard 2′

  Oboe 8′

  Time is of the essence now. Get Mr Hughes to have the pipes cast as soon as possible. The new church will be completed in November. We must have the organ and its full rank shipped here by early December for Tak Ming’s memorial service.

  How is your friend Mr Adrian Woo? I am so relieved you never formed a union with the Chow family. Remember, keep a green tree in your heart and perhaps the trembling leaves will stay away.

  You are constantly in my thoughts.

  Second-aunty Doris

  As soon as Lu See read the second letter she and Sum Sum took a train to London to meet with Conrad P. Hughes.

  Sum Sum and Lu See hardly said a word to each other on the train. By now both were deep in thought. Lu See reflected on Tak Ming – pictured singing with him in the church choir and tried to remember the way he laughed when he deliberately warbled out of tune.

  All Sum Sum could think about were the mountains of Tibet, the beards of mist drifting across the plains, and the soft lullabies her mother would sing to her as a child. She closed her eyes and tried to distract herself with the thrump of the train wheels, the chatter of the other passengers, the talk of Hitler and the price of a loaf of bread and Noel Coward’s new play. What was she doing here? It all seemed suddenly implausible. As implausible as running from a man with a mole through the streets of a foreign city where nobody stopped to help. She felt a lurching panic and opened her eyes. The face of the man recoiled to the dark corners of her mind.

  Even in London she kept her silence. She sat in a wooden chair and watched the organ maker discuss his plans at length with Lu See. Sum Sum stared at his lips as they moved but hardly registered a word.

  He said the flue and reed pipes would have to be made to order, cast from ‘only the finest’ copper and aluminium and insisted on collecting a deposit before proceeding.

  Lu See handed over half of her funds as a down payment. If Sum Sum had been paying attention she might have stopped her.

  11

  Towards the end of May the grey days became less common. In their place came the intense dark blue skies of late spring and on the Backs the flowers threatened an ocean of yellows and violets.

  Sum Sum enjoyed the fresh smells of summer, the sounds of the seasonal chirping and croaking. She felt the changes in her tummy too. My little char siu bao is growing stronger. Swimming inside me like a fish.

  She tried to keep an open mind about the future of her child, tried to remain optimistic, but whenever she thought about the baby she grew overwhelmed. Freedom; that was what she wanted for her unborn child; a different kind of freedom than hers; not a maidservant’s freedom.

  She massaged her temples with the tips of her fingers. There were so many questions, questions with no answers.

  Where would the child go to school? And who would pay for the schooling? If the baby was a boy would the Teohs sponsor him? They sponsored the wash-amah’s son and helped him get an apprentice job in Penang. A boy, she thought, tapping her tummy. There might be a smiling little boy in me. For a while she imagined what he might look like.

  Then she wondered about his nationality. If he is born in England will he be an Englishman? Can he not be a Tibetan? What if government here says he is neither? Maybe they say he is a stateless person, like a refugee. Not from here, not from there. What then?

  They could put her on boat and tell her not to come back. They could also send someone to take her baby away. Someone bad. Someone like the man with the mole.

  Thinking about the man with the mole made her shiver. It made something within her turn black, darkening her insides like a stain.

  In her bedroom, she watched herself in the mirror, looking for some physical sign of her ordeal. No extra lines around the eyes. No new wrinkles by the mouth. Her face registered nothing. It was as blank as a flag of surrender.

  Was she ever going to tell Lu See, she wondered, or would she keep on denying it, deny what had happened in that deserted lot all those weeks ago. Can a memory be banished, she asked herself. Perhaps in time she’d bury it in the far regions of her mind. Or freeze it dead, as a fly is suspended in ice. She felt her hands turn to fists. What she really wanted was to leave, to get away from here, where it happened. Why couldn’t her brain let it go?

  Sum Sum cupped her hands over her eyes.

  Just then, Lu See appeared at the door with a mug of tea for her. ‘‘Is anything wrong?’’ she asked.

  Sum Sum shrugged.

  ‘‘You’ve been so quiet. Have you been crying?’’

  Sum Sum looked away.

  ‘‘Has something happened?’’

  ‘‘No.’’ But she blushed.

  Lu See placed the tea by the side of the bed. ‘‘I know it’s not easy for you in England. You feel isolated here. We both do. We’re outsiders. And I’m sure you’re worried about the baby. Maybe you’re missing Malaya too. I know I am.’’

  Sum Sum said nothing.

  ‘‘I’ve been thinking,’’ Lu See continued. ‘‘Do you want to go home? Once the baby’s born, do you want to return to Juru?’’

  Sum Sum took a careful sip of her tea.

  ‘‘You mean the world to me, peanut-head. But if you’re unhappy in Cambridge I can understand. You’ve no friends here. I’ve at least got Adrian and I’ve got my books to keep me occupied. I can arrange for you to return to Malaya. You can work for Second-aunty Doris. And don’t worry. I’ll be back once I’ve got my degree.’’

  Sum Sum turned and looked at her friend. She wanted to tell her then and there about the man with the mole. She wanted to tell her everything but the words were crushed in her throat. The hand that held the tea trembled. Her chest trembled with it.

  ‘‘Please don’t look so sad.’’ Lu See pulled Sum Sum close. ‘‘We cannot be sad, not us. Especially not us. And do you know why? Because you have me, pumpkin-head, you’ll always have me, and I love you.’’

  Sum Sum forced a smile. ‘‘Do I look sad now?’’

  ‘‘You cannot fool me.’’

  ‘‘I am tired,’’ Sum Sum said, eventually. ‘‘Nothing wrong. I am just tired with the baby inside me.’’

  ‘‘You will tell me if anything’s bothering you, won’t you?’’

  Sum Sum could not find any more words. She simply looked at the floor and nodded her head once, gripping the mug in her hand, as though fearing she would be dragged away if she failed to hold on tight. Dragged away into a deserted lot.

  June. With Lu See deep into her studies, lost in her textbooks within the Divinity library, Sum Sum grew increasingly morose. Lu See was right. She had nobody to talk to. Her world here was so constricted. And often, when she stepped out alone, she was scared she might see the man with the mole again. She still hadn’t told Lu See about him. In fact she avoided thinking about him full stop.

  One morning Sum Sum looked up from her copy of Modern Screen and was overcome by a powerful craving. Noodles! I need a bowl of Pietro’s delicious Italian noodles.

  She strode down Sydney Street and headed straight into Christ’s College, past the Great Gate Tower and the porter’s lodge with its bowler-hatted porters, into First Court and up staircase C.

  She rapped twice on Pietro’s outer oak door.

  ‘‘Ennnnn-tarrr!’’

  With the bedder’s permission, she let
herself into his set. The walls were plastered with operatic posters and lobby cards from Tosca and Madama Butterfly. Pietro was reclined on a chaise-longue, fanning himself with an oriental paper fan. There was a hint of rouge on his cheeks.

  ‘‘Morning, lah. I need that recipe,’’ she demanded.

  ‘‘Well, well, if it’s not my favourite Oriental Samson, slayer of the Philistines. The girl with the beautiful hands.’’ He shut the paper fan with a clack and looked down at his own fingernails. ‘‘If only mine could be as well maintained.’’

  ‘‘Do you remember last week we all had dinner in college hall, no? I want you teach me how to cook that noodle dish, lah!’’

  ‘‘My dear old sausage, I have a lecture to attend in twenty minutes and the college kitchens are still shut. Besides we don’t call it ‘noodles’, we call it ‘pasta’.’’

  ‘‘Please.’’

  He showed her his left profile. ‘‘I’m taking luncheon at the Pitt Club. I couldn’t possibly.’’

  ‘‘It is emergency!’’

  An awkward pause.

  ‘‘I’m pregnant, with no husband and I lost my flower to a vendor of pickled delights!’’

  Pietro’s eyes widened to the size of tulip bulbs. ‘‘Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place, sausage?’’ He sprang to his feet, grabbing his college gown from behind the door. ‘‘Come with me!’’

  Ten minutes later, down in the bowels of the college kitchen, Pietro posed in a pair of Greta Garbo sunglasses. Sum Sum, as instructed, stood on his left side so that she could be heard.

  ‘‘Here, slip this apron on.’’

  ‘‘Are you sure the cook doesn’t mind you being in here, lah?’’

  ‘‘Strictly speaking only staff’s allowed in the kitchens, but don’t you worry yourself about Illingworth.’’ He winked. ‘‘We, how should I put it delicately, we understand one another.’’