House of Trembling Leaves, The

by Lees, Julian

  The bastard, the bloody bastard. Of all her ghosts the Black-headed Sheep was the one that had never been laid to rest.

  Her blood ran cool again as his face, his mole, the ugly slant of his shoulders all came to mind. And she knew, that despite the dangers, she was going to have to expose him.

  Rain clouds marked the KL skyline, spilling moisture. Lu See looked at the clock. A sudden spasm streaked through her gut. Ignoring the pain, she concentrated on the time. It was almost 4 p.m. and the city seemed to hold its breath as the usual daily downpour approached. The wet rooftops, warped from the monsoon rains, rang out with the call of the muezzin.

  Allaaaahu Akhbar! Allaaaahu Akhbar! Subhaan-Allaah wa’l-hamdu Lillaah wa laa ilaaha ill-Allaah wa Allaahu akbar wa laa hawla wa la quwwata illa Billaah.

  The late afternoon heat, combined with the effects of Ramadan fasting, were making people heavy-lidded. Along Macao Street some of the Muslim eateries had drawn curtains across their windows so that the hungry could snack without guilt or recrimination.

  An Indian woman in a sari floated by, a section of her stomach showing; the skin paler than her face and arms. It was Mrs Viswanath from the spice shop. As she passed the restaurant, she waved a languid hand at Lu See. ‘‘Selamat Siang,’’ she sang.

  Lu See nodded at her and checked her watch again, waiting for the top of the hour.

  Wobbling her head, Mrs Viswanath’s scarlet bindi shone between her eyebrows as she smiled.

  To distract herself, Lu See turned to the porcelain ewer and basin at Il Porco’s entrance where diners washed their hands before and after meals. Presently, the ewer was a quarter full and Lu See topped it up with fresh water, adding half a lime to give it a squeeze of scent.

  A minute or so later she poured herself a whisky and threw it back in one gulp, wiping her mouth with the back of a hand like John Wayne in a Wild West saloon. Then she snatched the large brown parcel from behind the counter and headed down Macao Street, pushing past the lottery ticket vendors. Dressed in lightweight samfoo and her favourite kasut manek beaded slippers, she looked like any other middle-class Chinese woman in the city.

  By the Tung Wah Association assembly hall on Klyne Street an elderly gentleman practising tai-chi arched his eyebrows at her. She dropped a white handkerchief and stepped on it with her right foot. He twisted his chin towards an alleyway.

  Here she found a small room dug from a hole in a wall. Through the narrow door, just wide enough to allow one person through at a time, she saw a dim naked bulb drooping from the ceiling. Inside, seated on a wooden stool, a bald man in a string vest with a toothpick between his lips shot her a what-do-you-want glare. There was a mirror on the wall and several pairs of scissors and combs thrown together on a brass tray. The place smelt of Brylcreem.

  ‘‘Yes?’’ he challenged. She regarded him. His spectacles magnified the size of his squinting eyes, making them appear far too big for him.

  ‘‘I’m Teoh Lu See. I am here to see the mule.’’

  His gaze travelled down her face. ‘‘There is nobody here by that name.’’

  She persisted. ‘‘Do you know why I have come?’’ The man feigned ignorance, examining a hairbrush for hairs. ‘‘I think you do,’’ she said. ‘‘My daughter Mabel, you know who she is. I want you to give her this money and I want her to have these things.’’ She opened the brown parcel and pulled out Carlisle bandages, linen gauze pads, water purification tablets, a bottle of aspirin and packets of sulfanilamide and $300.

  ‘‘I don’t know what you are talking about,’’ the man said unconvincingly.

  ‘‘Look, these things could help keep her alive.’’

  ‘‘Who sent you here?’’

  ‘‘I’ve been trying to contact my daughter for over a year!’’ Lu See exclaimed, almost pleading.

  His face softened a fraction. ‘‘How do you know about the mule?’’

  Lu See swallowed. The heat in the airless room was making her perspire; she brushed a strand of sticky hair from her face. ‘‘Fishlips Foo told me,’’ she said. ‘‘I have known Bong and his grandfather for years.’’ The man held her gaze. ‘‘Use the money on anything you think she and her unit needs, medicines, swabs, food. Can you do this for me?’’ The man eyed her; his face a map of suspicion. ‘‘I can also get my hands on battery-operated radio receivers.’’

  The man said nothing.

  ‘‘Please don’t make this more difficult for me. I should have done this earlier, I should have supported the cause earlier, but I was afraid. I am still afraid.’’

  ‘‘I run a barber shop,’’ the man said. ‘‘I really cannot help you.’’

  ‘‘I have a dozen battery-operated radio receivers in my home. Please allow me to donate them to the barber shop.’’

  The man looked at her. A spark of shrewdness hid behind his eyes.

  She made to leave. As she turned he said, almost inaudibly, ‘‘I will see what I can do. You are aware we will take the radios apart to check for explosives?’’

  ‘‘As is your right.’’

  ‘‘There’s one more thing.’’ She extracted Stan’s calling card from her sleeve and placed it on a tub of Brylcreem. ‘‘On this card is an address. It is a secret place. There’s a man who goes there from time to time. He wears a white suit and has a mole on his left cheek. Woo Hak-yeung. You’ll remember him as the Black-headed Sheep. During the war he killed many of our friends, many of your colleagues. Perhaps you thought he was dead. Well, he’s not. He’s alive and he’s still killing your colleagues. Do with him as you feel fit.’’

  The man pinched the skin between his eyes. ‘‘Someone will contact you about the radio receivers. Do not come back here again.’’

  6

  Later, it was business as usual at Il Porco.

  ‘‘More teh tarik!’’ roared Old Fishlips from the far corner with despotic ferocity.

  ‘‘Your pulled tea is on its way, Mr Foo. Just be patient,’’ Lu See said. She was in her kitchen, slicing carrot discs. In annoyance the old man flapped the pages of his newspaper and belched.

  After fetching his tea, Lu See kneaded her lower abdomen with her thumbs, massaging a spot to the left of her navel. Her stomach cramped more often now and there was blood in her stool. She was sure, too, that she was nursing a fever.

  She went to the cashier’s desk, removed a piece of writing paper and sat down. Pebbles nudged her with his cold moist nose and because Dungeonboy was sweeping the floor with a broom Lu See was forced to pick up her slippers as he swept up under her.

  ‘‘Tsk! Impossbo, impossbo,’’ he complained, with a grin.

  ‘‘What is impossible?’’

  ‘‘Alla mak, keeping nee gor floor clean-ah, of coss! Impossbo! Ayaahh, everywhere dog hair! Like when toothless Grandma Fung tries to eat hard, raw carrot. Impossbo!’’ He laughed.

  Mother, seated by the door, adjusted her batwing spectacles. ‘‘Lu See, did I tell you that your brothers will be paying you a visit soon? They want to give you earbashing for allowing Mabel to run off the way she did.’’

  ‘‘Why on earth would they do that now? Mabel’s been gone for ages!’’ Lu See bristled.

  ‘‘At first they relied on prayer, hoping Jehovah would bring her home.’’

  ‘‘And when prayer fails, they come to badger me. What’s it got to do with them, anyway?’’

  ‘‘That’s what I say, but you know what James and Peter are like, all holy-than-thou. They always such busybodies.’’

  ‘‘I wonder who they take after, aahh!’’ Uncle Big Jowl strolled in swaying from side to side like a top-heavy bus. ‘‘A plate of char siu faan, please.’’ He threw a letter on the cashier’s desk. ‘‘Post just arrived. Looks like you have a fancy letter from the Italian Embassy. See?’’ He gestured with a salami-like finger. ‘‘Says so on the back.’’

  The telephone rang. ‘‘Wai-eeee!’’

  Lu See wiped the palms of her hands on her apron and ripped open the envelo
pe and saw a gold-embossed card with an invitation to drinks with the new ambassador. ‘‘Strange,’’ she said aloud. ‘‘I wonder why they asked me?’’

  ‘‘Maybe they need a new chef, aahh!’’

  ‘‘That’ll be the day.’’ Lu See smirked and turned towards Dungeonboy. ‘‘Have you done the washroom yet?’’

  ‘‘Tung yet jun! Soon-soon, lah. Finish dog hair sweeping first, lah.’’

  ‘‘Hum gaa chaan!’’ Fishlips slammed the phone down.

  Uncle Big Jowl eyed the invitation. ‘‘Friday 13th. Bad joss, bad joss, aahh.’’ He cocked his head. ‘‘Never sit at table when thirteen people are seated. Never so long as there is still teeth in my mouth.’’ He knocked three times on his wooden chair. ‘‘Are you going to go?’’

  ‘‘To the Italian Embassy?’’ She shook her head. ‘‘Not my cup of congee.’’

  Mother’s ears perked up. ‘‘I’m not surprised, just look at your appearance – moth-hole in dress, no eye shadow. You think she was hut-yee. Sometimes I think you steal clothes from the dustman.’’

  ‘‘You know, Mother, I’ve been thinking. When you’re old and senile I’m going to send you out to work at the chicken farm in Pagoh and force you to pluck feathers for ten hours with all the other old, mad, stinky people.’’

  ‘‘Cha! No respect. You see how my own daughter speaks to me?’’ she said to her imaginary audience.

  ‘‘And at the end of every day I’m going to bring my dresses with holes in them for you to mend.’’

  Mother started to grin. ‘‘Terrible things she says, meh?’’

  ‘‘And if you refuse to comply I’ll jab you with a stick. Mother, stop laughing!’’

  Mother covered her mouth but continued to giggle. Lu See turned to Dungeonboy, who had taken up his mop. ‘‘Scrub the footprints off the toilet seat while you’re at it.’’

  When he’d gone Lu See at last found a moment to herself. She remained at the cashier’s desk and played with a pen cap, deep in thought. Eventually, she began to write.

  When will I get to see you again, Mabel? I find it horrible imagining you in the jungle surrounded by leeches and spiders. Are you in constant danger? Is there anything to eat? Are you hurt? You wanted to be a nurse at school. What happened? Why did you go and do this? Was it to punish me? To reject me for not telling you sooner about Sum Sum?

  When, just after the war, Hesha came with that letter saying she was safe and well I wanted to tell you there and then but you were so young. I suppose I was selfish – I was frightened of disappointing you, losing you. I depend on you for love.

  I worry so much I cannot sleep at night. I wait and watch from the window. What did you think of me, of your family, when you went off to fight for the Communists? The house is so quiet without you. The dogs miss you. I imagine you think you know what you are doing, know what you are fighting for, that you are proud that you have a cause, but remember those you have left behind. I am your mother, not your birth mother it’s true, but your mother all the same. Like it or not, I am. I raised you. I kept you safe for so many years

  Lu See stopped writing in mid-sentence. She realized her lips were moving, muttering Mabel’s name under her breath; she crumpled the paper in her hands and threw it angrily to one side.

  I kept you safe for so many years. Lu See closed her eyes and clung tightly to the words.

  She took a breath and recalled the day Mabel’s eyes found hers and blazed with such shock and distress Lu See had been reluctant to meet them.

  Mabel had just returned from nursing school and she was frantic. ‘‘The administration department is questioning if I am Chinese?’’

  ‘‘What? Why?’’

  ‘‘They have initiated race-based quotas. Malays get first choice of courses available, followed next by the Chinese and finally the Indians. They say from the colour of my skin I might be an Indian. They want clarification.’’

  ‘‘Your complexion isn’t dark.’’

  ‘‘No, but it isn’t as fair as most Chinese. And I’m too pale to be Indian.’’

  ‘‘It’s simply that milky-chocolate shade because you used to spend hours in the sun when you were a child.’’

  ‘‘Please don’t lie. I know when you’re lying. I’m nineteen years old. I’ve had to live without a father all my life. Tell me, was my father really Adrian Woo? Or was he an Indian?’’

  ‘‘Mabel, really, you mustn’t – ’’

  ‘‘It was something I never wanted to ask. I never even suspected anything until a few years ago, when I realised that I didn’t look like the other Chinese girls at school. But I never dared ask. Well, I want to know the truth now.’’

  Lu See absorbed her daughter’s words and shut her eyes briefly.

  ‘‘Is there something you want to tell me?’’

  ‘‘Mabel,’’ said Lu See. ‘‘Please take a seat.’’

  She sat down at the kitchen table. Lu See sat next to her and took her hand. ‘‘A long time ago I promised myself you would learn the truth about your life, that I would confess everything … I promised I’d tell you one day.’’

  ‘‘The truth about my life?’’ repeated Mabel. ‘‘What are you talking about?’’

  Lu See stroked her daughter’s hair. ‘‘Please, just listen.’’ Searching for a tissue in her pocket, she began in a wavering voice. ‘‘There is a woman in Tibet, a woman called Sum Sum, who is a great friend of mine, almost a sister, perhaps even more than a sister … A long time ago she accompanied me to Cambridge, to England, to the place where you were born.’’ She paused, frustrated that her words weren’t coming out right. ‘‘What I’m about to tell you has no bearing on how I feel about you. I love you, Mabel. None of this was ever meant to hurt you. Sometimes we keep secrets to protect the ones we love. You are my daughter.’’ Her eyes began to fill up. The fingers on both her hands knitted together in prayer. ‘‘You will always be my little girl.’’

  Mabel rose and took a small backward step, putting both hands to her mouth. ‘‘What are you talking about?’’

  ‘‘The thing is, Mabel, my darling, Sum Sum left you to me when you were only a few weeks old. Not long after Adrian died.’’ Her voice trembled. ‘‘Not long after my husband died, I miscarried. I was in a terrible state, broken apart. I’d lost my husband and my baby. I was broken apart. Only Sum Sum understood how to heal me. She realized you would heal me.’’

  When she lost her child in the weeks following Adrian’s death, Lu See’s anguish had known no limits. In her darkest moments she feared her psyche had fractured. She often wondered what would have happened if she hadn’t been forced to look after Mabel. If she’d been left with only grief to fill her soul. Would she have done something drastic? Would she have lost her mind? Might she have taken her own life? The answer more often than not was yes. And Sum Sum had known it.

  Lu See had hidden the secret for so long, shielded it, the way a beautiful girl would protect an ugly scar on her arm with long sleeves. Now, seated in front of Mabel, shoulders slumped, she felt as if she was about to be sent to the gallows. She looked into Mabel’s eyes and wished there was something she could say to comfort her.

  ‘‘You’re saying that everything’s a lie. Everything about me is made up.’’

  ‘‘No, of course not.’’

  ‘‘First I had to grow up without a father and now this! Do you have any idea what it was like not having a papa when I was at school? All the girls used to ask what does your papa do, what does your papa do? You know what I told them? I said he was a ship’s captain, sailing the seven seas, that’s why he was never at home. And now you tell me this!’’ Stricken, she looked at her hands intently, inspecting her skin tone, her short fingers, as if seeing herself for the very first time. ‘‘So my mother, my biological mother, is living in Tibet?’’

  Lu See blinked a quiet yes.

  Mabel’s expression grew serrated, like the edges of a bread knife. ‘‘Why?’’ The anger filled her up. ‘
‘Why did she abandon me? How could she – I was her child.’’ She was pacing backwards and forwards in her beaded Nyonya slippers. ‘‘And why didn’t you tell me before – and don’t say you were meaning to, you wanted to, but it was better I didn’t know!’’

  ‘‘Do you think I haven’t thought about telling you? I’ve thought about it every day for the last nineteen years.’’

  Mabel’s arm whipped through the air. ‘‘Who else knows about this?’’

  ‘‘Only Uncle Big Jowl and your grandmother.’’

  Mabel took out a fork and carefully stabbed the back of her hand.

  ‘‘What are you doing? You’ll hurt yourself!’’

  ‘‘I’m making sure I’m not in some horrible dream.’’ She dropped the fork.

  ‘‘I was there the second you were born. I fed you, cradled you, bathed you, put you through school. Made sure you wanted for nothing. Who do you think put coins under your pillow when you lost your first tooth? Who taught you to ride a bicycle, to tie your shoelaces, to count to one hundred? I taught you what’s right and wrong. I left Cambridge, never sat my entrance examination, so that I could return with you in my arms. I’ve taken care of you since–’’

  ‘‘This isn’t about you.’’ Mabel interrupted. ‘‘It’s my life that’s been turned upside down.’’

  ‘‘Who protected you from the Japanese soldiers during the war? When there was no food to eat, who pawned her rings and necklaces so you could have an orange or a packet of biscuits to eat?’’

  Mabel looked away. She gnawed her bottom lip.

  ‘‘I’m sorry,’’ said Lu See, whispering, threadbare. ‘‘I should have told you about Sum Sum, but …’’

  ‘‘But what?’’

  ‘‘I was scared of losing you. When I left Malaya, when I eloped, I left duty and family obligation behind. But then you were born and I had to embrace them all over again.’’ She clasped her hands together. ‘‘In so many ways, you were a blessing.’’