The Yellow Papers

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The Yellow Papers Page 11

by Dominique Wilson


  Insane screams, the roar of flames. Inhuman howls. Crawling on all fours Edward pushed his way through the bodies around him, turning each over as he came to them. A woman, her face blown away. An old man, naked, his clothing ripped off by the blast. He pushed aside what he thought was the remains of a burning piece of wood, then realised it was a small child, its human form only identifiable by a small hand still to burn. Cars aflame, their occupants charred to cinders. Black smoke billowed around him. People stood about, dazed and helpless. Bodiless limbs. The sickly smell of burning flesh mingled with the stink of burning rubber.

  He saw a body he thought was Ming Li, but when he turned her over he realised it was a pregnant woman, her body shredded by shrapnel. Her eyes stared lifelessly at him and he saw a small movement between her legs. Half out of her body, surrounded by a sticky pool of blood and amniotic fluid the child, hairless and covered in greasy vernix, its eyes sealed shut, opened and shut its mouth like a small fish out of water. It shuddered once, twice, then lay still. Edward vomited once more.

  He found her lying beneath the arch of a twisted girder. She was unconscious, the top half of her dress half torn off, half burnt. A large blister already tight with fluid spread from her shoulder to her breast. The side of her breast was burnt deeper – blood and serous fluid oozed and mingled with soot and flakes of burnt cloth. Flies already feeding on the wound.

  He pulled her from beneath the girder then stood. For a moment he lurched on the edge of unconsciousness. Retched but forced himself to swallow the bile in his throat and breathe deep. He picked up Ming Li and the pain in his back nearly made him drop her but he fought through the pain. He walked towards The Bund, pushing through the panicked crowd, stumbling over bodies, not conscious of where he was going, only aware that he had to get them away from the insanity surrounding him. Twice he nearly dropped her, his arms now weak with shock, his knees feeling disjoined. The crowd was even thicker now as people ran out of buildings, the air almost impenetrable with the call of thousands to their loved ones, the scream of sirens, the honk of car horns. But still he pushed on.

  ‘Give her to me.’

  Edward stared at Xueliang, covered with smoke and ash but apparently unhurt, with little snail trails of clean skin formed by the sweat running down his face. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he should do as Xueliang asked, but he couldn’t move.

  ‘Give her to me,’ Xueliang said once more.

  ‘She’s hurt.’

  ‘Mr Billings, give me my wife.’

  Edward hesitated, then passed Ming Li to him.

  He watched Xueliang hurry away. He turned and walked back to the Avenue Joffre.

  13

  Edward didn’t go back to Sydney that week. He’d collapsed on top of his bed fully clothed, bloodied, stinking of smoke and vomit, and fallen into a sleep that bordered on unconsciousness. Not even the cries of his anxious amah could wake him.

  He woke to the sound of Olivia’s voice giving orders. He was naked in his bed, washed, and with a bandage around his head. In the distance artillery fire kept time to the pounding in his head. He tried to sit up but the pain made him groan.

  ‘Edward! You’re awake! I thought you’d never wake up. Now lie still – you’re hurt.’

  ‘What day is it?’

  ‘Monday. You’ve been drifting in and out these past two days. Jonathan was most anxious. He’s had to go to his office but he’ll be back soon. I made him promise to come right back – it’s not safe out there. Bits of anti-aircraft shells dropping all over the place. Red hot, they are. It’s just not safe! The doctor’s coming back too, when he gets a minute. Now, he says you’ve got concussion so you have to stay in bed. You’ve got a cut on your head too but that’s not serious – just a few stitches. I’ve told your amah to make you some soup – proper English chicken soup – she’ll bring you some in a minute. Now you’re to eat all—’

  ‘Olivia, shut up.’

  ‘What? Oh dear, I’m talking too much, aren’t I. Sorry Edward darling – just relieved you’re all right. I’ll get you that soup, shall I?’

  Edward lay back in his bed; he’d wait for Jonathan to fill him in. He dozed. When he woke, Jonathan was sitting by his bed. A bowl of chicken soup congealed on the bedside table.

  ‘You gave us a bit of a scare there, old boy.’

  Edward tried to sit up and winced.

  ‘What happened? The Japs?’

  ‘No. We all thought that, at the beginning. But now they say it was the Chinese. Some inexperienced bugger. Thought he’d fly high enough to avoid the anti-aircraft guns. The clouds probably didn’t help. Ended up dropping his bombs on us instead. The Cathay’s damaged. Managed to blow up The Great World as well. Hell of a mess … Now they’re fighting in the streets. Sandbag blockades everywhere. Bedlam. And you slept through it all. By the way – took the liberty of sending your wife a telegram.’

  ‘Where’s Olivia?’

  ‘I took her home. Why d’you ask?’

  ‘LiLi. Ming Li. She was with me …’

  ‘I know, old boy. Xueliang told me you saved her. She’s in hospital but she’ll be all right. Bit of a burn, but she’ll survive.’

  ‘I didn’t save her. Jonathan, about Ming Li—’

  ‘I know, old boy.’

  ‘What do you know?’

  ‘Olivia clued me in. When she heard what Xueliang said, she put two and two together.’

  ‘I have to see her again, Jonathan.’

  ‘Well, you’re in no state to go anywhere. Neither is she. And it’s different out there now. This place is in chaos – so many refugees from outside the settlements trying to get in we had to close them off.’

  ‘And the Settlement?’

  ‘This area’s relatively safe, but it won’t be long before they’ve got it all. The British Consulate’s moved away from the Bund – they’re in Hamilton House now. All the banks along there have closed up too for now. So have the shops. Can’t get food or money anywhere. There’s barbed wire going up all over the place. Machine guns too. Not a good time to start something with a woman like Ming Li. Addictive, that type, more so than opium. You don’t want that right now.’

  ‘I have to see her.’

  ‘Well, I think you better see what’s happening first, but I suppose you’ll do whatever you want. You always do. I’d wait until that head of yours heals, if I were you …’

  By the end of that month life as the Shanghailanders had known it no longer existed. The women and children of the French and International Settlements had been sent back to their homelands, businesses were being moved to Hong Kong and Singapore, and most of the men were preparing to follow. Ironically, just as the Shanghailanders were leaving, the city was been invaded by another group of refugees – European Jews fleeing Hitler, hoping to find sanctuary in one of the few places in the world still open to them.

  But for Edward, little of this registered. He realised China was at war, but this was not his war. He felt a horrible sense of exhilaration at still being here, at having survived the bombing, at being part of the excitement. He knew he would have to leave soon, but for now, for whatever time he could steal, he was with Ming Li.

  Nearly every day when Xueliang left for work, she would find an excuse to go out and she would come to his apartment, where his amah would shake her head and mumble until Edward slipped her enough extra cash to quieten her disapproval for that day, and they would lie in bed making love, relishing each other’s bodies, oblivious to the world. Later he’d ask his amah to bring them lunch, and Ming Li would tease him as she ate, slowly licking her food off a spoon or feeding him morsels from between her lips, until he could stand it no longer and would reach for her. She’d become playful then, and keep out of his grasp, laughing and dancing around the room, so that Edward thought she seemed more like a carefree young girl than the beautiful but subdued young wife of a Chinese businessman.

  But all too soon she’d dress to leave and he’d remember the reality
of Shanghai once more, the swarm of refugees, the severed heads and bodies riddled with bullet wounds in the streets. He’d argue with her then, wanting to walk her home and back the next day, but she was more frightened of being seen with him in public, of being branded a ‘bad woman’, than of the Japanese, and she’d only promise to return if he did as she asked. So Edward would sigh and let her go, because he knew about the ‘bad women’ of China – women punished and sometimes even killed for having relationships outside their marriage. He knew she was taking a massive risk being with him. But as soon as she was out the door he’d throw on some clothes and hurry into the street, and he’d follow her at a distance until he knew she was safe for yet one more day.

  Edward traced a finger along the brown wrinkled burn scar that covered half of Ming Li’s right breast.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ he said, kissing it.

  ‘It’s ugly.’

  ‘No – it’s beautiful. And do you know why? Because it’s our mark. It happened the first time we made love.’

  ‘But we didn’t really make love.’

  ‘True. But how I wanted to!’

  Ming Li smiled and brushed Edward’s hair off his forehead.

  ‘What time do you have to leave?’

  ‘First light tomorrow.’

  ‘When will you be back?’

  ‘I can’t say. I might not be able to get back in. With what’s happening in Europe at the moment, many say we’re in for another war. But I can always get to Singapore.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Try’.

  ‘I can’t. I won’t. I’m sure Xueliang knows about us. Smells you on me, no matter how much I bathe. But as long as everything is normal on the surface, he can pretend he doesn’t know. If I go to Singapore …’

  ‘Leave him.’

  ‘No. He’s a good man, Edward. I wouldn’t do that to him. Especially not now. Then there’s MeiMei.’

  ‘But you’ll always come to me.’

  ‘Always.’

  She gently bit his bottom lip, his ear. Worked her way down his body until she reached the inside of his thigh, then bit hard, breaking the skin, drawing blood.

  ‘My mark,’ she said, looking up at him. ‘Now you’ll go back to your wife with my mark.’

  14

  ‘Fellow Australians, it is my melancholy duty to inform you officially, that in consequence of a persistence by Germany in her invasion of Poland, Great Britain has declared war upon her and that, as a result, Australia is also at war. No harder task can fall to the—’

  Edward turned off the radio and went back to his armchair. He didn’t need to hear the rest of Menzies’ speech – he’d been expecting this news for some time. He glanced towards Julia, home for once, quiet and serious.

  ‘Do you think it’ll come here?’ she asked

  ‘I don’t know. Some think that if war were to break out, Japan will join Germany. Well, it seems we’re now at war, so who knows. If they do, there’s a good chance Australia will be a target. We’re certainly close enough.’

  ‘They’d attack Sydney – more so than Adelaide, say, or Tasmania …’

  ‘Possibly. But if you’re worried, why don’t you take Charlotte out of school and go to stay with Mother? There’s only another couple of months of school left anyway. Mother would love to see you both, and Walpinya is far enough away from any city to be relatively safe.’

  ‘Will you join up?’

  Edward thought of his brother Robert, who’d joined up for the Great War – a mere kid of 17 – part of the ANZAC legend. Not that it did him any good – he was dead within a year. Edward had been 13 at the end of the Great War. He was now 34 – nearly twice as old as his brother had been when he’d enlisted. Did that make him smarter? Less likely to get himself killed? No, age had nothing to do with it – except maybe make you slower, an easier target …

  ‘I don’t know. I suppose I’ll have to.’ He remembered the excitement he’d experienced in Shanghai two years ago, when Japan had invaded. But that had been different; there had been Ming Li. War and death and passion – a powerful combination. He tried to imagine days, weeks, years of bombs and bodies and babies sucked out of their mothers’ bellies, and wondered why no one ever said what war was really like. He sighed. In the next street, a dog barked.

  Edward took leave from work and returned to Walpinya Station. He wanted to see his mother and make sure everything was in order before leaving for any length of time. Julia had taken up his suggestion and she and Charlotte were already there. He also wanted to call in on Chen Mu.

  He found him at the back of the cottage, polishing a bicycle.

  ‘Yours?’ he asked, expecting to be told it belonged to one of Macoomba’s children.

  ‘Yes mine. What do you think?’

  ‘I think you’re too old to be riding a bike.’

  ‘Not too old. Old is only as old as you want it to be. Seventy-four’s not old. Anyway, there’s a war on, you know. Soon everyone will want one – no petrol. I thought it wise to buy mine before the price went up. Good exercise!’ Chen Mu chuckled. ‘But come, let’s go inside and I will make you a cup of tea.’

  Once Edward was settled at the kitchen table and tea had been poured, Chen Mu went to a cupboard and came back with a fruitcake. He cut them both a slice, then took a bite with a satisfied expression. Something about his manner told Edward there was more to the cake than apparent. He decided to play along.

  ‘Nice cake.’

  ‘Very nice. Thank you. Not too many fruit, not too few.’

  ‘Did you make it?’

  ‘Me? No, not me.’

  ‘A gift then?’

  ‘Not a gift as you mean it, but a gift just the same.’

  ‘A gift that’s not a gift – you talk in riddles. All right, who made it?’

  ‘Your daughter.’

  ‘Charlotte? But why? I mean, why bring it to you? I wasn’t even aware she knew you.’

  ‘She didn’t. I ran into her and your mother in the general store. Your mother was kind enough to speak to me.’

  ‘But why the cake?’

  ‘I wondered too when I saw Miss Charlotte on my doorstep. But then she explained you’d often spoken of me. She remembered stories …’

  ‘But that still doesn’t explain why she would want to make you a cake.’

  ‘She’s worried. She’s only eleven, Master Edward. And when you’re eleven, and don’t know much about the world, your imagination can make it a frightening place.’

  ‘What does she have to be worried about?’

  ‘The war, of course! She thought someone as old as me would have known many wars. She needed to talk. The cake was an excuse – a bribe.’

  ‘She could have talked to her mother. Her grandmother. Asked me—’

  ‘No, she couldn’t. She believes there is a good chance you’ll be killed if you enlist and so doesn’t want you to think of that possibility. And she can’t ask her mother. She said her mother had locked herself away in her room and will probably not come out again until the war is over.’

  ‘But her grandmother …’

  ‘… sent her to me. We had a good talk, Miss Charlotte and I. I told her to feel free to visit me anytime. I think we’ll become friends.’

  ‘What did you tell her?’

  ‘That no one can predict what will happen. That war makes cowards out of heroes and heroes out of cowards. And that you will buy her a bicycle before you return to Sydney.’

  Edward stayed on at Walpinya station for another nine months. Most of the jackaroos had left to enlist, and Edward hired a number of Aboriginal men to replace them; while many had enlisted as soon as war was declared, others went along with William Cooper, the Secretary of the Australian Aborigines’ League, who believed the Aborigines should not fight for White Australia until things improved for them at home. Walpinya’s overseer, who’d been with them for close to twenty years, was too old to enlist and so stayed on. Edward knew that he could trust the man
to do what was best for both the station and his family.

  As the months passed and nothing much seemed to be happening, people began calling the war a phoney war, unaware of the strict media censorship that the Government had put into place. Julia relaxed and joined the Country Women’s Association. She convinced them to throw dances twice a month to help raise funds for the service men and women sent overseas. Charlotte became bored with helping her mother and decided to follow her father around the property instead, and their relationship changed for the better. She asked Edward for permission to take the local bus on her own once a week, for the short ride to Macoomba so that she could visit Chen Mu. But for Edward, being at Walpinya felt like purgatory. The only place he wanted to be was Shanghai; the only person he wanted to be with was Ming Li.

  A meeting was held one night in the town hall, and people were asked to join the Voluntary Defence Corp. Chen Mu was one of the first to volunteer.

  ‘Don’t know if you can, mate,’ the man at the desk said. ‘Don’t think we can let you Aliens join. Can’t be sure what side you’re on, now can we?’

  The town postmaster was less prejudiced. He offered Chen Mu the position of telegram ‘boy’ to replace those who had left. After all, Chen Mu already had a bicycle, and he figured there’d be much need for telegram boys in the months to come. As he was also in charge of the local National Emergency Services, he made Chen Mu an air raid warden as well. When Chen Mu received his tin helmet, gas mask and armband on graduating, he hung the Air Raid Precautions Certificate of Examination over the mantelpiece.

 

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