The Orchid Tree

by Siobhan Daiko

  She pulled a fan from her handbag and cooled the sudden glow to her cheeks. ‘James, how do you fancy visiting a den of iniquity?’

  His eyes widened. ‘Depends on what sort of iniquity you mean.’

  She giggled to cover her embarrassment. What had she said? ‘Isn’t Macau known as the Monte Carlo of the orient? Maybe we could try a spot of gambling?’

  ‘You had me going there for a minute,’ James laughed.

  Outside, he placed his hand on the small of her back and ushered her into a taxi. At his touch, a shiver went through her and her breath quickened. She gave the address to the driver and stared out of the window, bringing her emotions under control. This wasn’t right; she couldn’t allow herself to be attracted to an Englishman.

  In the doorway of the Municipal Gaming House, she pushed past a curtain, reeling at the stench of stale tobacco. People stood shoulder to shoulder around the gambling tables, shouting their bets. ‘Let’s go up these stairs here to get away from the crowds!’

  She gazed across the gallery circling the mezzanine floor. Customers were sitting on uncomfortable-looking stools, lowering their stakes in rattan baskets on string to the pit below. ‘They’re playing Fan-tan.’ She grabbed a seat. ‘We have to gamble on how many buttons are left when the croupier has finished dividing the piles. Or you can bet on whether there will be an odd or even number.’

  She threw herself into the game, exhilaration gripping her. First she was winning, then she was losing, then she was winning again. Her grief at losing Father still festered, but he wouldn’t have wanted her to be miserable. She would think about him in her quiet moments, and live life to the full.

  James squirmed on his seat. ‘Let’s quit while the going is good!’ ‘I’ve got the impression this game is rigged. Why don’t we go to the casino in the Central Hotel instead? I’ve heard they’ve got a cabaret and a good bar. This stool is killing me.’

  Out on the Street of Eternal Felicity it was raining. A rickshaw pulled up in front of them. ‘We can squeeze in together,’ James said.

  Sofia took out her fan again; she made a desperate attempt to cool the heat spreading to her face. She caught the scent of James’ after shave and felt the hardness of his body against her own. This gwailo was doing strange things to her equilibrium.

  The rickshaw stopped in front of the only skyscraper towering above the surrounding two-storey buildings. A neon sign flashed a single Chinese character, the name of the hotel and the symbol for China, China being the centre of the earth.

  They found a table in the nightclub on the ground floor. An electronic noticeboard on the wall behind the small orchestra disclosed the results of play from the roulette tables next door. Hostesses in cheongsam dresses fluttered like brightly-coloured butterflies around the male clientele.

  ‘What can I get you to drink?’ James asked.

  ‘A martini, please.’ Cary Grant’s favourite. James would think she was so sophisticated.

  On the stage a group of young women in tail feathers were dancing to the beat of the band.

  ‘Shall we place a bet?’ James signalled one of the hostesses.

  Sofia chose her numbers and their drinks arrived.

  ‘Cheers!’ The cool, dry, slightly spicy liquid slipped down her throat. She put down her glass and grabbed James’ arm. There, at a table tucked behind a screen dislodged by a passing waitress, sat Derek Higgins and Leo, their heads bowed together.

  23

  James was nursing a glass of cold San Miguel opposite Gerry Watkins of Special Branch in the bar at the United Services Recreation Club. Watkins sported one of those handlebar moustaches that only certain types of men could get away with. James told him about his visit to Macau. ‘When Sofia spotted her half-brother and Higgins in the casino, it was as if she’d seen a couple of ghosts. She ducked her head below the table then made me shield her from view as we sneaked out like a pair of thieves.’

  Watkins took a drag from his cigarette. ‘What happened then?’

  ‘We found a rickshaw, and I left her at her uncle’s mansion. She didn’t invite me in, but I got the distinct impression she was about to have it out with Leung regarding Higgins’ disloyalty.’

  ‘Any idea what Higgins could have been up to?’

  ‘I’ve no proof, but I’d hazard a guess he’s sold out to Leo.’

  ‘What about maintaining your contact with the girl?’

  ‘She told me her uncle is opening a cotton-spinning factory in Kowloon next month, and said she’d send me an invitation.’

  ‘That’s good. Try and get closer to her, if you know what I mean. There must be something she needs. Find out what it is and offer to help her. As you know, the Consortium is sitting on a pile of gold and we know a lot of it is making its way into the colony. Could be the Fourteen K Triad are some of the likely recipients.’

  ‘Fourteen K. Who are they?’

  ‘Kuomintang supporters. Some say the name is because there’re fourteen big shots. Others reckon the fourteen comes from their original address. We’re in the process of identifying them and finding out what they’re up to. They’re called Triads because of the symbol used.’

  ‘What sort of symbol?’

  ‘The Chinese character, Hung, encased in a triangle. Represents the union of heaven, earth and man.’

  ‘Are all Triads criminals?’

  ‘Not necessarily. Sun Yat Sen was the founding father of the Republic of China. Well, apparently, he was a Triad, as are many of the nationalists. There are various factions, but the Fourteen K is a much bigger organisation and much more violent than any of the others.’

  ‘I’ll do my best to get closer to Sofia,’ James said, intrigued. ‘I’ll invite her out to dinner and take it from there.’

  ‘Perfect. By the way, a chum of mine, Duncan Smith, District Officer in Tai Po, used to row at Cambridge. He’s keen to raise a crew to compete in the dragon boat races.’

  ‘Sounds like fun. When?’

  ‘On the first of June. Tony’s game for a laugh as well. We’ll have to practise a bit first to get the hang of paddling.’

  James nodded. He’d been a good oarsman in the Navy. Joining in with this lark would be a way to show he was “one of the boys”.

  ***

  Dressed in a pair of shorts and nothing else, James sat in a fishing sampan stripped of its gear, a carved dragon’s head attached to the bow, and a tail fixed to the stern. For the past month he’d trained with Gerry, Tony, and Duncan Smith, a well-muscled ginger fellow. He’d gone like the clappers up and down Tolo Harbour in the New Territories, day after day, sweating buckets and trying to get the hang of driving the blade of his paddle through the water. Now he was as ready as he’d ever be.

  James and Tony were perched at the front, with Gerry Watkins and Duncan Smith behind. A Chinese man beat a drum in the prow of the boat, synchronising the paddling. Another local acted as coxswain at the stern, and steered the vessel with a long oar.

  Last week a religious ritual had taken place to wake the dragon from its slumber, when the head and tail had been fixed onto the boat. The village elder of the Tai Po clan, who managed the affairs of the district under the eye of the colonial administration, had dotted the dragon’s fierce eyes with black ink. To all intents and purposes, the dragon had come alive. James smiled at the superstition of it all. Apparently, he was a dragon himself in the Chinese zodiac. He rather liked the fact that Julius Caesar and Abraham Lincoln had been dragons, but not that Hermann Göring and Francisco Franco had also belonged to the same club.

  A large crowd had gathered on the waterfront to watch the races, attracted by the spectacle of seeing a gwailo team of foreigners competing against seasoned locals. Hot sunshine beat through clouds of humidity and the air was heavy with the stench of drying fish on the quayside, and rotting seaweed on the rocks by the shore. James prodded Tony. ‘Why are they staring?’

  ‘It’s our hairy chests, old chap. We’re like apes as far as they’re concerned.
’

  Gongs signalled the start. James plunged his paddle into the water on the beat of the drum. It took him and his team-mates a minute or two to get going. Striking the sea fast and furiously, they started to make good headway and were catching up with the fishermen. James gasped. They were heading for a direct collision!

  ‘Hard over,’ he shouted to Coxwain. The Chinese man changed the direction of his oar. The boat heeled brusquely and tipped. James and Duncan, on the outside of the turn, fell into the harbour. Tony and Gerry sat in their seats and the boat slowly filled with water. The crowd on the waterfront giggled loudly, clearly embarrassed for the Englishmen at their acute loss of face.

  James stood on the seabed. He clutched his sides and laughed. Tony, Gerry and Duncan chortled with him as they waded ashore. ‘Well, here’s another nice mess you’ve got me into,’ James said, removing seaweed from his hair. He fell against Tony, shoulder to shoulder, and held onto him for support, letting out more belly laughs.

  ‘Duncan’s invited us for a beer and a spot of dinner back at his house,’ Tony said, chuckling.

  ‘Sorry!’ James gulped in air and collected himself. ‘But I’ve got to get a move on. Sofia and her uncle are expecting me at the opening of their factory.’

  Tony winked. ‘Off you go, then. I’ll make your excuses.’

  James took a taxi home to his new flat in Kowloon Tong. He stood at his bedroom window and lifted his gaze over the rooftops towards Lion Rock, the tallest crag in the centre of the hills that formed a back-drop to Kowloon, its shape like one of the lions in Trafalgar Square.

  His flat was on the ground floor and had a garden, which made it almost like living in a house. Kowloon Tong was developing into quite a posh residential area. Not the Peak, of course, but it would do for now. One day, he would move up the social ladder and get a place that would be worthy of Kate Wolseley.

  Only last night he’d taken her to dinner at the Parisian Grill and told her about his new apartment.

  ‘I wish I didn’t have to stay with my father,’ she’d said, wistfully. ‘It’s a bit stifling. There’s a teacher at school I’ve become friendly with and we’re thinking of getting a place together. She’s in a hostel at the moment, the Helena May. But we can’t find anything.’

  ‘I’ll keep my ear to the ground. Something’s bound to come up,’ he said, making an effort to sound more optimistic than he felt. The colony was reaching saturation point with all the refugees pouring in from across the border.

  ‘I wonder what will happen when the dust settles. I mean, when the civil war in China is over.’

  ‘We live our lives in complete isolation, don’t we?’

  ‘My father says, whenever there’s trouble in China, people come to Hong Kong. In the past they would go back again, but I don’t know if that’ll happen now.’

  ‘You’re probably right. What’s going on there will change the place out of all recognition.’

  ‘When I was growing up here, I was pampered and spoilt. It’s the way we lived then, but things are different now. I want to contribute. To really be a part of this place.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘There’s an orphanage in the New Territories that’s run by an Englishwoman. She’s looking for volunteers and I’m going to offer my services on Sundays.’

  ‘What a good idea! I’m impressed.’

  They’d spent the rest of the meal talking about their respective jobs, but whenever James had tried to steer the conversation towards more personal matters such as Kate’s tastes in music and reading matter, she’d turned the questions round. He’d found he was talking more about himself than he was listening to her.

  After dinner he’d taken her dancing and she’d let him kiss her for the first time. Somehow, though, it seemed her heart wasn’t in it. Something to do with the way she’d avoided a second kiss. The proverbial ice-maiden.

  ***

  James showered, letting the tepid water wash away the smell of seaweed. Then he changed into a pair of beige slacks and an open-necked white shirt. The weather was too hot for a jacket and tie. He sent his houseboy to flag down a taxi, and knocked back a glass of beer.

  Half an hour later he stood in front of the two-storey factory watching the fireworks that trailed in a long line from the top; they erupted in a cacophony, supposedly to chase away the evil spirits. The sign above the premises, Leung’s Textiles, showed he was in the right place. James pushed open the door.

  The factory floor was crowded with looms, and a receptionist ushered him up the stairs to a large suite of offices. Sofia came forward, her uncle by her side. ‘We’re honoured you could be our guest.’ She indicated a passing waiter. ‘Do help yourself to a glass of champagne.’

  James glanced at Sofia; she’d moved away and was talking animatedly to another invitee. She was dressed in a simple, elegant, red cheongsam with a split up the sides revealing her impossibly long, slender legs. God, she was beautiful. He walked over to her, reeled in by an invisible thread. ‘Thanks for inviting me. And please give your uncle my congratulations. I was wondering, though, if you’re free to have dinner with me?’

  ‘I was going to invite you to come with us. Uncle has arranged for his launch to take the three of us to Aberdeen fishing village. To a floating restaurant.’

  ‘Sounds wonderful.’

  24

  They boarded the launch at Kowloon pier. The evening air had turned cooler, and Sofia wrapped her silk stole around her. The vessel crossed the harbour and headed out past Green Island. Would James fall in with Uncle’s plan? At Aberdeen, the boat nudged into a space at the waterfront and they stepped ashore.

  Immediately, a crowd of boat women clad in black trousers, aprons, and round woven straw hats, surrounded them like a flock of vultures. Sofia had thought James might have found it more amusing to cross the short stretch of water to the restaurant by sampan. A big mistake. The women pulled at James’ shirt and jabbered at him in Cantonese. Sofia looked around for Uncle’s boat. Too late. It was already half-way across the bay.

  She negotiated a price with the most forceful of the vultures. The woman then led them down the stone landing steps to her sampan. Sofia settled herself carefully with James on low rattan chairs. She eyed him contemplating the woman; he appeared mesmerised by her as she revolved a single oar in her hand, rocking back and forth on the heel and sole of her foot. The sea was flat and black as ink, and ahead shone the gaudy neon signs of the restaurant boat: Chinese characters a foot long and wide in red, blue and green. The night air was balmy now and redolent with the odour of brine, mixed with the aromas of spices and rice cooking in the village. The voices of the fishing people, sitting at the prows of their junks, carried across the water.

  On board the restaurant, the manager greeted them and showed them the floating pantry. Moored to the seaward side, four large wooden pens had been fastened at water level, their walls bored with holes for fresh sea-water. A man rode the brine in a small shell boat.

  Sofia pointed to a sleek, grey grouper. The boatman tossed the fish onto a platform floating at right angles to the restaurant. A boy caught it in another net and flung it to the first in a line of cooks. With the flat of his chopper the cook stunned the fish on a large round board, then passed it on to a second man, who gutted the fish with one stroke of a sharp knife, and handed it to a third cook squatting on a stool in front of a brazier.

  The fish eventually emerged on a flowered porcelain dish, steeped in soy sauce, bamboo shoots and seasoning. ‘Fascinating,’ James said. ‘This is marvellous.’

  A shout, and the boy with the net held up an enormous lobster for Sofia’s inspection. It waved its claws in protest as the boy took it to the cook, who chopped it up and pan-fried it with green onion and ginger.

  Another man showed Sofia blue and gold speckled crab and pearl-grey translucent shrimp. She nodded her approval, then led James to a round table overlooking the harbour. Uncle was already there.

  Sofia watched the men feasting,
until they obviously couldn’t eat another morsel, and drinking rice wine until their heads must have been spinning. She took care to eat and drink little; she had to keep her wits about her. James was affecting her equilibrium again; his mere presence was making her pulse dance.

  ***

  ‘I’ll leave you and take the boat back to Kowloon,’ Uncle said after dinner. ‘I have business to attend to on the island.’

  Uncle’s so-called business was a woman he’d set up in a flat in Wanchai. The plan had always been to leave Sofia alone with James. Uncle had said the Englishman would sniff around for some information and he’d told her precisely what to divulge. How did Uncle know this? She shrugged to herself and looked out the window. The launch had tied up to the side of the restaurant. ‘Time to go, James,’ she said.

  There was plush seating at the stern of the boat and a table for their drinks. Sofia sat next to James, poured him a brandy, then leaned back. ‘One day I’ll move to Hong Kong,’ she said. ‘When the time is right.’

  ‘And when will that be?’

  ‘When I’ve sorted out some family matters.’

  ‘I’ve been meaning to ask about your family. You never mention your mother.’

  ‘She died giving birth to me.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘She was Uncle’s favourite sister and Father’s concubine. Uncle considered it an honour. Twenty years ago he wasn’t as well off as he is now, but I sometimes wonder if it was more than that. Father passed a lot of business his way over the years.’

  ‘Your English is very good. You have a Russian accent, if I’m not mistaken. How did that come about?’

  ‘I had a Russian governess. What about you? Where did you go to school?’

  He seemed to hesitate a moment. ‘What if I were to tell you that I’m not exactly top drawer?’