by Lees, Julian
Sum Sum thought about the poor airman.
Word had arrived from the monastery that he’d failed to recover from his wounds. Sum Sum remained convinced they could have saved him if he hadn’t been moved. She blamed the abbess. However, she knew she had to grow beyond that now, especially as her relationship with the abbess seemed to have healed. Of course, she continued to make the odd blunder; she was still getting used to monastic etiquette, but gradually she was gaining the sense that she belonged.
‘‘Come, let’s see how long it takes to reach the water,’’ Sum Sum said to Tormam.
Swathed in a yak-hide blanket, it took ten minutes for Sum Sum to walk from the nunnery to the banks of the stream. The terrain beneath her feet was gravelly and dry, the grass as tough as coir. On her return, under a persimmon sky, gazing at the winged roofs of the Ani Trangkhung Nunnery, she said to Tormam, ‘‘This is my plan.’’ She set down her basket of damp, freshly washed robes and rubbed the needle-sharp chill from her hands. ‘‘We do this, lah. We take a hand sled with two empty rice barrels on its back and pull it to the river’s edge. Once there we fill up with river water or ice chips and cart it back to the drying room, you know which one I mean, the room used for drying yak dung for fuel.’’ Tormam nodded, rather wishing the nunnery had running water. ‘‘We may have to do this several times.’’
‘‘And if someone asks what we are doing we say …?’’
‘‘What do you mean?’’
‘‘Why are we transporting barrels? Is it drinking water for the table?’’
‘‘No, lah, the kitchen do that.’’
‘‘What then?’’
‘‘We are making soup.’’
Tormam blinked at this. ‘‘Soup, well, yes, of course. Why wouldn’t we be?’’
‘‘No, listen, lah, I am serious. You see all these scrubby plants growing wild here. It is traditional Tibetan medicine, what English call wormwood, can be treatment for malaria. We say we are boiling up an herbal soup for the abbess.’’
‘‘The abbess?’’ cried Tormam, who panicked at the mere thought of the elderly priestess.
‘‘Yes, for the abbess, and the herbal soup requires plenty of clean river water.’’
‘‘You have already been in trouble with the abbess. Can’t we get water from the kitchen, from their round vats?’’
‘‘No. They will get suspicious. We fetch it ourselves from the river.’’ A supressed smile of anticipation washed across Sum Sum’s face as she spoke. ‘‘You excited?’’
‘‘I honestly cannot wait.’’
Sum Sum ignored her friend’s sarcasm and watched a pair of grey wolves trot along the distant hills in search of sheep. ‘‘Hnnn. You just see, no? I will draw you out like nail to a magnet.’’
Behind the red gate-doors of the drying room, the charcoal stove roared under several round vessels of boiling water. The ceiling, made dark by years of smoke, was low. The room was ill lit and in the dimness the spare robes that hung from wall hooks resembled crumpled ghouls. Sum Sum and Tormam huffed and puffed as they shuffled across the room hefting ice-chip-laden tin buckets. They tipped one bucket of frigid water into an empty rice barrel and went back out to retrieve another. ‘‘Hard work, no?’’ said Sum Sum jovially. ‘‘You excited yet?’’
‘‘Uncontainably so. It is like coming face to face with the Yeti.’’ Tormam frowned with sarcasm. ‘‘Nail to magnet, my foot.’’
‘‘Ndug’re. It will be worth it. Trust me,’’ said Sum Sum. Her eyes shone with a mischievous light.
Tormam made a face over her frost-numbed fingers, stretching them out as if checking to see if they were all still there.
After twenty minutes, with the room smelling of charcoal smoke, the two rice barrels were three-quarters filled with ice chips and river water. ‘‘Now for part two.’’ Sum Sum wrapped a length of cloth over her hands and approached the charcoal stove. ‘‘Come help me.’’ They removed a cooking vessel from the heat and eased it over the lip of the barrel, tilting it with care. The scalding liquid ran over the ice and immediately hissed. Great gouts of steam hit them in the face. ‘‘Again,’’ said Sum Sum breathing quick, panicky breaths. They went to get the other round vessel. More mist filled the room.
‘‘Is this supposed to happen?’’ asked Tormam, eyeing the steam with suspicion and laughing.
‘‘I’m not sure. Are the ice-chips melting?’’
They could hardly see each other through the vapour. ‘‘I think so, slowly.’’
‘‘What should we do?’’
‘‘Boil more water!’’
Tormam went to stoke the charcoal. ‘‘I cannot see a thing! Too much steam!’’
‘‘Shhh!’’ hushed Sum Sum, hoping nobody could hear their whispered giggles. ‘‘We mustn’t get caught.’’
They started giggling even more.
At long last Sum Sum and Tormam were in their makeshift tubs. Their robes and mala beads lay on the floor in a heap. Following some oohing and aahhing, the girls squeezed into the barrels and sat with knees curled to their chests, their heads resting on the rims, both arms hanging loose, water up to their collarbones. The flesh on their shoulders shone pink and the ends of their fingers wrinkled like prunes. Their eyes were shut.
Sum Sum forgot where she was, forgot all she’d done and all she should have done, forgot about everything but the feel of the water on her skin; as welcome and warm as springtime rain.
After a short while Sum Sum stretched her arms like a cat in the sun and looked over at Tormam. ‘‘What’s the matter? It sounds like you’re crying.’’
‘‘No, no, it is because I am so happy. This feels so wonderful and you are the first person in a long time who has done something so nice for me.’’
Sum Sum inclined her face and reached out to touch her friend’s hand.
Just then the red gate-doors crashed open.
Prayer hall manager Jampa stood at the threshold, hands on hips. Her face swam with anger. ‘‘By the mother of all Buddhas, what do you think you are doing?’’ she cried, sounding like a startled goose. ‘‘Get out of those barrels this minute!’’
The girls scrambled for their clothes. As soon as they put on their robes, they stood side by side, sodden and shivering like a pair of shaven-headed kittens. Steam rose from their scalps.
Glaring with her piglet nostrils aflare, prayer hall manager Jampa ordered them to withdraw to their dormitory. ‘‘Go and think about what you have done. Go and pray for forgiveness from the eternal Gods of the mountain. You’ll be lucky if the abbess doesn’t throw you out for this!’’
‘‘Please don’t tell the abbess!’’ mewed Tormam. ‘‘It won’t happen again.’’
‘‘It was all my idea,’’ said Sum Sum staring defiantly at prayer hall manager Jampa whose face was now so red Sum Sum thought she might be having a heart attack. ‘‘Leave Tormam out of this.’’
‘‘Humph! Who are you to tell me what I should or should not do?’’
‘‘All I am saying is if anyone should be punished let it be me.’’ The words slipped out before she could stop herself.
Tormam yelped. Squirming, she folded and unfolded her hands, marvelling at Sum Sum’s outspokenness.
‘‘Such insolence!’’ The words swished like a horsewhip. ‘‘I will send for you both later, once I have decided what to do with you.’’ Jampa eyed the steaming water in the barrels and shook her head at them. ‘‘I am so very disappointed in you.’’ She clapped her hands violently. ‘‘Now go!’’
Back in their dormitory, melodic chanting resonated through the walls together with the music of damaru drums and rolmo cymbals. Secluded from the other novices who were all at evening prayers, Sum Sum stared at her hands, as if searching her lifeline for an answer. ‘‘I’m sorry, Tormam. Are you angry with me?’’ Head down, it looked like she was trying to see into the future. ‘‘I don’t want you to be angry, lah.’’
Tormam smiled. The truth was written in her eyes
. ‘‘Of course I am not angry.’’ She covered her mouth as she giggled. ‘‘Actually it was good fun.’’ Her face coloured as if embarrassed to admit it.
Almost as an afterthought Sum Sum said, ‘‘You know some tip-top Englishman writer once said, ‘The greatest pleasure in life is doing what others say you cannot do’. I think he makes sense, lah.’’
‘‘How do you know about English-Minglish writer?’’
‘‘I have been to England.’’
‘‘You have not!’’
‘‘Have, lah. In summertime it gets dark at eleven at night. And I’ve travelled in a motorcar with no roof and seen Cluck Gable in moving pictures. Seems like long-long time ago.’’ Sum Sum went quiet and searched the palms of her hands again.
‘‘Tell me about your past.’’ Tormam sat forward.
‘‘My past? My past is all mist now.’’ Thumbing back through the years, she thought of Lu See and Cambridge and all that she’d left behind. There was so much she wanted to tell her shy-faced friend but she remained tight-lipped. The previous day Tormam had asked her about her earlier life, about marriage and children, if she’d ever considered it. Sum Sum looked at her for a prolonged moment, and replied – Yes and no. The same expression of regret was in her eyes now.
She decided to change the subject. ‘‘Jampa was cuckoo-clocks crazy annoyed, no?’’ She clicked her tongue.
‘‘I thought she was going to burst open with fierceness.’’ Tormam stopped herself from giggling again. ‘‘I suppose we ought to pray for forgiveness.’’
Suddenly Sum Sum touched her wrist and immediately grew concerned. Her eyes started wandering over her robes and across the plain plank bed.
‘‘You lost something?’’ asked Tormam.
Sum Sum scanned the floor and felt her cheeks glow hot. ‘‘My mala beads.’’ She touched her wrist again.
They searched all over. ‘‘You must have left them by the tubs. You will have to go back.’’
‘‘By Dharmakaya heaven, we are supposed to be confined to our dormitory. I’m scared to go back alone in case Jampa is there. She will skin me alive. Will you come with me?’’
They flitted down the corridor and through a hall strung with guttering candles and crinkles of shadow and incense burning from stoneware pots
Soon they were at the red gate-doors of the drying room. Sum Sum stretched out her hand to grasp the door handle but then stopped herself.
‘‘What?’’ asked Tormam.
‘‘You hear that?’’
‘‘Hear what?’’
They cocked their heads to the noise. ‘‘Sounds like a quarrelling seagull,’’ said Sum Sum.
They pressed their ears to the thick gate-doors. ‘‘By Dharmakaya heaven, it’s Jampa.’’
‘‘She is singing!’’ Tormam’s eyes widened. ‘‘She is sitting in the bath water, in our bath water, and singing!’’
An ejaculatory cry of joy thrummed through the walls. Sum Sum stamped her foot. ‘‘What nerve!’’
‘‘It is not fair. What should we do?’’
‘‘Let’s come back in an hour. She’ll be gone by then. Of all the nerve, ai-yoo!’’
An hour later, the two girls returned to similar cries of joy. ‘‘What, lah, still?’’ They sat on their haunches, limp with disappointment, hands cradling their chins. ‘‘You’d think she’d had enough by now, no?’’ Another impassioned whoop pierced the air. Followed by another. ‘‘It seems the piglet queen cannot relinquish her throne.’’
Tormam shook her head. ‘‘But wait. Does that sound like singing to you?’’ The whoop turned into an enraged howl. The girls approached the door and peeked through a tiny slat. Sum Sum turned to Tormam. ‘‘Something’s happened to her. She has a cuckoo-clocks crazy look on her face, her eyes are wild and rolling about like marbles.’’
They pushed though the gate-doors. Jampa glared at them; her eyelids, eyebrows and lips were twitching uncontrollably. ‘‘I’m stuck!’’ she screamed, teeth chattering. ‘‘Stuck, stuck, stuck!’’ The words lashed the air. ‘‘By the scorching sun, I have been sat here shivering and alone for an age!’’
‘‘We thought you were singing.’’
‘‘Singing?’’ She squawked like an angry hen. ‘‘I was calling for help!’’ Every muscle on her face was in spasm. ‘‘Well, don’t just stand there gawping. Help me out of this wretched tub! I’m freezing! And bolt the door behind you!’’
Tormam and Sum Sum snuck their hands under prayer hall manager Jampa’s armpits, but she wouldn’t budge.
‘‘Ayo Sami! She is wedged in like a Mongolian tick. Lift!’’ cried Sum Sum. Cold water sloshed on to their robes on its way to the floor.
‘‘It’s my hips,’’ cried Jampa in a hoarse voice, her lips blue. ‘‘They’re jammed to the sides of the barrel. Here,’’ she threw one of her saggy breasts aside. ‘‘Can’t you see?’’
Sum Sum peered at the folds of bunched skin and the waves of goosepimpled flesh. ‘‘Let’s tilt the rice drum on to its side.’’ It was half-full of water now and easier to shift. ‘‘Gravity will help us, no?’’ With Jampa’s arms resting on their shoulders they eased the barrel sideways and began to heave and grunt and pull. Stiff-necked, faces pinched, nostrils flaring, everybody strained their limbs and tendons.
The girls began to giggle.
‘‘Don’t you dare laugh!’’ scolded Jampa, the skin of her face pulling tight. ‘‘And not a word of this to anyone!’’
Sum Sum bit her tongue. There was a subversive twinkle in her eye.
They clamped and clawed and kneed. Little by little they worked Jampa’s body free. Purple patches appeared all over her skin where it had scraped along the barrel walls. Eventually with a final tug and a sharp exclamatory yowl her puckered buttocks popped free like a cork.
Jampa flopped across the floor like an injured flounder. Euphoric and trembling all over, she gave a cry of delight and immediately the girls began to rub her legs back to life. Sum Sum, thinking Jampa resembled a desiccated plum, all pink and raw and wrinkly, grinned from ear to ear. ‘‘It feels like someone has taken a ruler to my bottom cheeks,’’ the old lady mused. They moved her close to the heat of the smouldering charcoal stove and covered her in spare robes. Head drooping, body slumped, Jampa peered at the girls and hoisted a warning finger, but then seeing the impish expression in Sum Sum’s eyes a smile spread over her face. Seconds later all three burst into soggy laughter.
After lights out Tormam leaned from her bed, over the lip of plank wood, and angled her head in Sum Sum’s direction. The sheen from her shaven scalp reflected light from the Tibetan moon. ‘‘Hey,’’ she hissed across the gulf. ‘‘I’ve been thinking about you making that journey to England. Why do you never speak about it, never speak about your history?’’
‘‘Because I don’t want to.’’ Sum Sum stared at the ceiling, eyes roving the blackness.
‘‘Why, did something bad happen?’’
Sum Sum’s heart skipped in her chest. ‘‘Yes, something bad happened and I don’t want to talk about it, you stupid or something, is it?’’
‘‘I was only asking,’’ said Tormam, sounding hurt.
‘‘Don’t look like that. Go to sleep,’’ Sum Sum said with a suppressed querulousness, refusing to allow her memories a foothold. But it was too late – already her past had begun to snatch at her, with all the accompanying should haves, would haves, how and whys.
Sum Sum felt a tiny urge to confide in Tormam – to tell her about Lu See and Adrian, Pietro and Cambridge, Aziz even, but she couldn’t. She had a secret she dare not tell anyone – not her brother, not the abbess, not Tormam. All she could do was put the urge out of her mind.
She’d made a sacrifice back then, in her eyes the ultimate sacrifice; something that cut so deep it left a wound that still wept. Even now, the heat of guilt filled her chest.
Tomorrow will be a new day, she said to herself … as new as an infant’s fingernails. Right now I just wa
nt to forget.
The thing was, no matter how she distracted herself, it always came back to her. In the small, dark hours of the night, lying on her back, the memories flooded in. Despite herself she proceeded, cautiously, step by step, through the events of her twentieth year, pausing at each landmark, unfurling the episodes one by one until she settled on the day her child was born.
She’d gone into labour late.
Push! Ayo … bloody … Sami! Push! PUSH!
Outside, beyond the shaded window, grey pre-dawn clouds darkened the cobbles of Bridge Street as rain began to fall, pocking the glass, making plink-plink noises. Mrs Slackford propped a pillow under Sum Sum’s head. ‘‘Yew want me to fetch Lu See from Jesus Lane?’’ No, thought Sum Sum. Adrian had not been dead long. She is still grieving, curled up in bed, legs clutched to her chest. Leave her in peace. ‘‘And are yew having the baby here?’’
‘‘What, you want me to go behind bushes like hillside women in Tibet?’’
‘‘I’m talking about hospital.’’
Sum Sum shook her head. ‘‘No, I have baby here.’’
There were clean towels, scissors and a pail filled with scalding water at the ready. Mrs Slackford applied a cold, damp cloth to Sum Sum’s face and told her to take in several deep breaths before pushing once again.
‘‘Wooden spoon!’’ Sum Sum caterwauled.
Mrs Slackford returned from the kitchen seconds later. Sum Sum clamped the wooden mixing spoon between her teeth. Okay, push. PUSH! And don’t go screaming like you cuckoo-crazy.
The rain hit the glass.
Teeth clenched; Sum Sum squeezed her eyes tight. Mrs Slackford puffed out her cheeks to mimic the breathing mechanism. ‘‘Big shove now, dear.’’
Another half an hour passed. Sum Sum threw off the damp cloth on her forehead and sucked air in, feeling her face glow hot and her toes grow colder. With her whole body trembling, her stomach bulged before her eyes like an angry, pink-veined Humpty Dumpty head.