I told Father tonight over dinner. He was very pleased. ‘Playing cricket, Edward,’ he said, ‘will be excellent for you. It’s another bridge Chek Chee, another bridge.’ Playing cricket was fun.
Tuesday, 15 December
I asked the boys to show me more of the cricket game today. I think that I must be a good player for them to let me join in.
Andrew, tossing his arm over his shoulder, showed me how to bowl and when you do let the ball go make sure that it hits the wickets.’ Peter told me to bounce the ball just in front so that the batter has to hit the ball. And he laughed when he said not to worry about hitting the batter with the ball. He says that at my speed the boy will try and avoid the next ball. ‘One’ll hit them stumps an he’ll be out.’
I followed the instructions and hit the sticks a few times, and a few times the batter hit the ball I bowled, and a few times the boys yelled directions to me. I was getting tired really quickly so I didn’t bowl for long. Then Andrew added ‘can ya bat too? If ya bat like ya bowl you’ll be just like Mr Noble. He’s a really top cricketer.’ I could not bat. The bowler kept hitting the sticks and every time he did I was out.
‘That’s alright China, you just bowl.’ I heard the word China but I expect that because I was having such a good time it did not worry me … at least not like before. He sounded as though he was saying it in fun too so that is okay. Still I would rather they didn’t say that about me. These boys think I am Chinese.
Wednesday, 16 December
Last night it was too late to write about the evening’s cultural activities, as Father likes to call them. I was too tired by the time we got home to write about the Fort Street school annual concert at the Sydney Town Hall. What a splendid event it was with all the singing and the talking although I really do think that Mr Turner, the headmaster, can keep his speeches shorter—all the infants children were so restless listening to him speak and I am sure that they did not understand much of what was said.
Why did the infants children perform their songs after the interval? That is strange. Maybe that is so that parents of older children could leave after their child had sung so that they did not have to listen. I really do not like listening to infants sing—sometimes I think they are like warbling birds … but warbling birds are more in tone. When I said that to Mother she was really, really annoyed. ‘Your sister will soon be one of those little warblers, and very nice warbling it was too. Now you walk with your father.’ So we walked down George Street to our store, Father and I behind while Mother and the girls marched ahead, and the girls and Mother wouldn’t stop singing their childish songs all the way home. Once wasn’t enough.
I liked it when the whole Town Hall stood as one to sing a rousing rendition of God Save the King. I am sure that he would have been very impressed to hear so many voices singing to him. I wondered while I was singing—what does the King think of his Chinese and part-Chinese citizens in this country? Does he even know who we are and that we have helped develop this country? I think no. And I wonder what does he think about the way his government allows the Chinese people to treated?
Thursday, 17 December
Spending time with Father in the store is good because it shows him that I am needed but since I have become a star cricket player I want to practise too. I quite enjoy this cricket.
The boys say that I am superb at cricket. They say that I could be as good as Mr MA Noble but I need lots of work on my batting. Not my bowling though.
One of the boys does not like me playing cricket. I think because I bowled him out twice. He mumbled something I did not hear. I did not worry. I was having too much fun. I will make sure that next time I bowl him out again.
Cricket is a good reason not to go to China. Today Father attended the government offices for interviews and translations. Mother was annoyed that he hasn’t asked about his brother coming out yet. I don’t mind.
Friday, 18 December
Now I will be spending more time in the store. School is over. If I show Father how well I can manage the store and do the transactions with the customers and attend to my tasks then maybe he will permit me to remain here always. Mother would surely like this; surely she does not want two sons thrown to the Asian winds.
I must practise cricket during the holidays. I will surely be wanted for the cricket team. Then my name would appear in the Fortian magazine too. Father would be so proud seeing my name in the school magazine even if it is not for academic studies. He was disappointed at speech night when I did not stand on stage like Elder Brother but I have not been at the school long enough for awards and certificates.
Saturday, 19 December
Heard the boy at the paper stand announce that Mr Noble scored lots of runs and he bowled really well in the first innings of the Test match. He didn’t do so well in the second innings. The Australian team will lose the match it seems, unless there is a batting miracle. I don’t think I shall be like Mr Noble being a good batter though. I might just stick to bowling. I will be really good for when school starts next year.
This is another good reason for Elder Brother to stay in Hong Kong. I have to learn to play cricket.
Monday, 21 December
For the first time ever I have delivered Father’s collars to Mr Lee’s laundry. Normally only Mother takes them to him but today it was my job. I never realised that those magic collars, so stiff and white that Father so proudly wears with his business clothes were created by someone other than my Mother. It is Mr Lee’s magic work. He creates the best collars in the world. Mother says that she will wash and dry any of the clothes but that her collars are never good enough. She could never make them look right, but Mr Lee does. And Father insists that his collars are as stiff as boards.
Mr Lee was expecting me to come because as soon as I walked through the door, ‘Welcome, welcome,’ he said to me through his dark and cracked teeth with hands clasped together. Sometimes he greets me in Chinese, sometimes in English. A third time he said ‘welcome’ but this time he was bowing. I should not be surprised. Father treats visitors in the same manner. It is respectful. Before I could say anything Mr Lee continued, ‘Welcome number two son. You have collars for me from Mother?’
‘I am Edward …’ but again I could not finish.
‘Yes, yes, number two son. Now collars please? Would you like cha, fresh?’
Again this is just like Father, making the visitor feel comfortable and welcome. This is good business practice he tells me; although I am sure that Mr Lee does not do this for all people otherwise he would not complete any of his laundry work. It was rather warm inside this store.
Mr Lee gave me a ticket covered in Chinese characters. I have to return tomorrow to collect the collars—he insisted that I return and said … ‘Don’ forget tick. Very import. No get collar if no tick. And maybe more too,’ he finished with a wicked smile that showed even more teeth—this time the gold ones! I am not really sure what else I would get with the collars but I am sure to find out tomorrow.
Mr Lee’s shop surprised me. Before it was a mess. Now it is very organised. He has all the washings bundled and tagged neatly by the wall for their owners. The smell was really surprising. I should not be surprised as it is always around us, that sweet, sandalwood smell. As soon as I approached the store I could smell it. The incense was filling the air. Mr Lee also has a small altar neatly in a corner on the wall. There was a candle glowing and sweet offerings too—freshly cut oranges were there. Just like Father.
I did not stay for cha. Mother had instructed me to go straight to the store and return immediately but as I was leaving, saying goodbye, Mr Lee gave me a bag of food to deliver to Father and Mother. People are always doing that—giving Father treats and gifts.
‘Many western people do not understand what is happening,’ says Father. ‘There are many ways of demonstrating respect and friendship,’ he says. ‘Each person can do favours and expect nothing in return but the sweet offerings and the food gifts are all valued
for each man or woman is offering respect. This is good.’
I gave Mother the laundry ticket and told her that Mr Lee said that it is very important to bring this ticket back, not just for collecting the laundry either.
‘That’s right,’ said Mother. ‘A pakapu ticket, the lucky number ticket.’ In all the times that Mr Lee has laundered Father’s collars he has given Mother a ticket, she has never received anything in return, except the wonderfully starched collars. ‘Even though he tells me that I might receive more. Did he tell you that?’ I nodded my head. ‘Never mind. He is such a dear and his collars are just perfect so I do not mind. Your Father says that he might be trying to pull the wool over our eyes with the pakapu lottery ticket, but then he also says that the gods might be looking on that ticket and favouring us. I do not know. Maybe I should try and learn some of the characters but I am too old to learn this. But you are doing well. Maybe you will get a little extra tomorrow when you collect the collars.’
The first time Mother collected the collars from Mr Lee he tried to charge her more. Fortunately Father arrived seconds later and sorted it all. ‘Honest mistake’ they said but I think that Father had words with Mr Lee because Mother says that he bowed many, many times as they left.
Tuesday, 22 December
I did not have the winning pakapu ticket. Mr Lee could not tell me anything about the ticket.
Friday, 25 December
A little drizzle of rain today but that could not dampen the spirit of Christmas and the celebrations. The store was closed all day and the family had such a glorious time. Mother loves the traditional English Christmas food so we had roast turkey and vegetables and Christmas pudding—again this year I missed out on finding three pence in my pudding. I am destined to be unlucky in this for certain.
Mother prepared the puddings many weeks ago. They have been hanging in the dark closet ‘away from any possible spoilings,’ she says. Mother’s puddings are famous. Mother and Father give Christmas puddings as presents at Christmastime to some of their friends; Father even sells some of them in his store.
After we feasted and unwrapped presents (and I paraded the most wonderful silk gown) we drank Mother’s special Christmas drink. It felt warm running down my throat. Then it was time to sing carols as Mother played piano. Father was sitting in his comfy chair and we all sang our hearts out.
Mr Lee came up this afternoon too. It looked like a bundle of washing that he was carrying but when he unwrapped it he had the most beautifully decorated piece of silk for Mother and Father to cover their bed. He too received a present and was waiting till he returned to his store to unwrap it. He and Father spent some time talking and drinking. He pulled out his pipe to smoke but then rapidly put it back inside his jacket. Not a word needed to be said.
Elder Brother and Sister have presents waiting for them when they return. This is his second Christmas away. I do not want two Christmases away. I don’t want even one Christmas away.
Another present is wrapped and waiting for a visitor. It is for Elizabeth from our family. I wonder if we will receive presents from them too? I don’t expect so.
Monday, 28 December
Working with Father in the store all day. No time to practise bowling. I have been counting stock for Father and then helping Mr Lee all day.
Tuesday, 30 December
I painted stumps on the wall. It’s better than breaking crates which I can’t even find anymore. I have been hurling the leather at the painted stumps all day. I’m bowling longer, and faster, and aiming better.
Friday, 1 January
It is New Year’s Day. The start of a new year. Today there were bells ringing and horns blaring but I cannot wait for Chinese New Year to begin. That is so much fun and excitement.
Saturday, 2 January
When I haven’t been working in the store with Father these holidays I have been out in the back lane tossing balls at the back wall. I will make sure that I am the player every team would want when we return to school after the holidays. Father and Mother even thought that my outdoor activities were very beneficial. I hurled the leather at the stumps but today, my Father never ceases to amaze me. From somewhere, I don’t know where, he has borrowed an old cricket bat and while I was tossing the ball down Father swaggered out and says ‘Now for my turn.’ He had a broad grin on his face. His eyes sparkled.
‘What are you doing?’ I queried.
‘Playing cricket, what does it look like Edward? We men can play cricket too you know. I was quite the batter with the willow in my younger years. And this,’ he said pointing to a solid crate he had carried out with him, ‘makes much better stumps. It will last longer than the ones you’ve been using.’
My first bowl was gentle, right at the stumps, exactly on target, a perfect ball that was sure to hit … but then Father took one step forward, the perfect step, bat caressed ball and it came straight back at me along the ground and screamed right on by. ‘Lucky shot,’ Father called.
‘Try this one.’ Second ball, not so gentle with a bit more venom. And guess what? He took one step forward and another perfect ball bowled faster came sailing past me once more. I should have expected that Father might know cricket when he faced up to my first ball. He addressed the stumps perfectly.
‘Hmmm, lucky shot that one too,’ Father called. But it wasn’t such a lucky shot. Father is good. I think he is very good. ‘Good bowling Edward but this time try and land the ball just about here.’ He pointed to a place a little closer to where he was standing.
Father’s reply to my next bowl? ‘Pearler Edward. That was a pearler. You landed it in just right spot. I am surprised. I never knew you bowl so well.’ And I am doubly surprised. I never knew that Father played cricket. He told me about bowling to the batsmen’s weaknesses and looking for vulnerabilities and making little variations. Father knows a lot about cricket.
We must have been there for hours discussing bowling and batting possibilities and what I could do. Mother came out too carrying a tray with cha and cups which she placed on top of the stumps. ‘Tea gentlemen,’ she called in cricketing tones and so we three sat in the lane drinking cha, only moving when a delivery cart arrived.
‘Now, back to work I have to go,’ said Father as he picked up the empty pot and cups, ‘but you two stay out here and have a hit.’ Immediately Mother picked up the bat and stood at the stumps ready to face my bowling. Mother too, knew all about cricket. She too has a mean swipe at the ball but I did not bowl full strength at her.
‘That’s enough for me Edward. I have to get back to the chores and I should see what the girls are doing.’
I freshened at the washstand and returned to the store. Father was already hard at work writing. ‘Ah good Chek Chee, you are here. Attend to any customers please while I freshen up. That is good, then I can get this task done much faster.’ I knew that this was not the time to ask Father about my parents’ cricketing skills. We didn’t even read the paper today. Father was too busy with letters and I was too busy attending to the customers.
Sunday, 3 January
I went to the lane to practice cricket after lunch … but not for long.
‘Edward,’ implored Mother. ‘I love that you were going to practise your cricket in the lane and bowl but you know that you should be resting right now, it is Sunday. Your Mr Noble and his cricketers do not play cricket on Sunday, that is the rest day, and neither should you.’
I thought that it would not matter because we did not go to church today. I thought it would be permissible to bowl a little.
‘And anyway it looks like rain again and I do not want you getting wet.’
I saw Father come outside, spin on his heels and then walk straight back inside. He was coming to practise a little cricket too. I rested this afternoon, reading.
Tuesday, 5 January
I can’t wait for school to start so that I can play cricket and show the boys how much I have improved.
Wednesday, 6 January
I
walked with Father down Pottinger Street to one of the wharfs around Millers Point; we passed the Central and Dalgety wharfs. When we were there I sat on the bench outside watching what was happening while Father attended to business.
I saw the men mooring another vessel and a steamer steam on down towards its berth. Other men were screaming trying to gather floating mooring ropes and all sorts of people were coming and going in and out of the smaller trading stores. Maybe too there was fight that nearly broke out, I am not sure because two groups of big men arrived and started walking towards each other. There was a squeal and shouting and some water was thrown but then they dispersed when men in uniforms were seen.
I patiently sat listening to all the noises and watching. A slapping noise, different to all the other noises pricked my attention. It was coming from somewhere near the water’s edge. I knew that I was supposed to stay seated, that was Father’s direction, but the temptation to investigate the noise drew me to the wharf’s edge. I walked across the wooden boards and sat with my legs dangling over. Wave after wave gently hit the piers.
A different noise entered the air. I scanned the waters and saw weaving in and out from near the end of a wharf a dinghy with two men on board. Their paddles not too softly slapped the water. In and out they wove, stopping near every second pillar to throw a hooked line overboard only to pull it straight up again. This seemed a strange method of fishing to me.
The Melting Pot Page 8