by Dawn Farnham
‘There is that part, and then it is forbidden, in Chinese tradition, to openly mourn a child who dies young. You see, if a child dies young it is considered bad luck on the family and the child must be put away and not mourned or talked about as if it had never lived.’
Charlotte stared at Lian. What tradition did not mourn a beloved child?
‘As the mere daughter of a concubine, in a Chinese family she is considered worthless. Forgive me, Miss Charlotte, I’m trying to explain. Perhaps he doesn’t feel that in his heart but for all those reasons he cannot show any public grief for her.’
She could hardly believe what she was hearing. She shut her heart from him.
‘Mother.’
Charlotte turned to see Alexander approaching. She rose and so too did Lian.
‘Alex, oh my boy.’
Alex put his arm around his mother’s shoulders and kissed her. He walked to Lily’s grave and placed the orchids he had gathered next to the lotus bud. Lian and Charlotte followed. He rose and looked at Lian, suddenly remembering her.
‘Lian?’ he asked, putting his head to one side.
‘Hello, Alex,’ she said. ‘I heard you were back.’
He smiled. He’d forgotten how beautiful she was. He felt pierced by her slender grace, her quiet assurance. Lian ignored him and turned away, back to the grave.
‘I don’t care about what I said to you. That is my father’s affair. I’ll come here and be her Che Che, her big sister, and light joss for her.’
Charlotte took Lian’s hand. This thought was a great comfort. Lily would not be alone.
‘Thank you. Lily thanks her big sister.’
‘Thank you, Miss Charlotte, for what you tried to do for me. I will never forget it.’
Alex opened his mouth to speak but Lian turned and walked rapidly down the hill.
18
‘Things are so terrible in Aunty Kitt’s house.’
Amber put her handkerchief to her eyes. Sarah and Lian sat on either side of her. The three girls were seated under the branches of the great banyan tree which spread over the edge of the stream. On the ground, behind the tree, lay their three maids. Ah Fu’s snores punctuated their conversation.
The tide was out and they all gazed out over the vast mud flats and the small army of pickers, all concentrated, heads down, gathering the creatures that appeared at every low tide, clams, crabs, sea snails and whelks. A squawking flock of gulls wheeled above the flats, one occasionally diving down and snatching up its prey. Lian recalled doing this picking with Ah Fu when she was a child.
‘No-one talks of my marriage to Alex.’ She began to wail, a high keening with occasional great sobs.
Sarah stared at her friend in astonishment.
‘You are to marry Alex, your cousin? Why, he has just arrived. When did this happen?’
Amber ceased her wailing and shot a look of annoyance at Sarah.
‘Well, Aunty and Father spoke of it. It is Aunt’s wish.’
‘Oh, gosh, really,’ said Sarah. ‘Did they? But now it’s off?’
Amber quietly sobbed anew. ‘I hope not. I love him.’
‘I knew it,’ crowed Sarah. ‘You have been such a liar.’
‘Does Alexander want to marry you?’ Lian said.
Amber stopped sobbing and shot a sharp look at Lian. Then she lifted her handkerchief to her eyes.
‘I … I … I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.’ She looked up suddenly, defiantly. ‘If Aunt Charlotte says he must marry me then he must.’
Lian watched the pickers amid the constant screeching of the wheeling birds. Since the sea wall had been built, children rarely came to play on the beach anymore. The Malay Orang Laut, the sea people, with their blithe spirits and happy dispositions, whom she remembered from her childhood, had disappeared from the town. It was sad. The town here, on the European side, had lost any liveliness it might have possessed and, in its empty, quiet vastness, felt half-dead.
‘Goodness, Amber. If he doesn’t love you, it would be jolly horrid,’ Sarah said, her eyes flashing with pleasure. ‘You always said we should marry for love, didn’t you? Doesn’t that mean Alex too?’
Amber stood up, angry.
‘You’re the one always prattling on about marrying for love. Well I am. I love him so it’s all right. Anyway people marry who do not love each other. Look at Lian. She must marry Ah Soon, whom she despises.’
Lian looked at her friend. She raised an eyebrow.
‘And if it came to pass I would hate him. Do you want Alex to hate you?’
It was as if Lian had stuck a dagger in her friend’s heart.
Amber staggered backwards, her eyes blazing, then turned and walked quickly away.
Sarah shot a glance of triumph after Amber but Lian regretted her words.
Sarah and Lian parted, the mood of their easy friendship soured, and Lian made her way along the edge of the sea, Ah Fu trailing her and yawning noisily. The air was cool and clouds obscured the sun throwing a greyness on the scene, bleaching colour from the day.
She had hurt Amber. Had she meant to? And why? What did she care if Amber married Alexander? She had barely said two words to him at the cemetery, but that did not mean she had not taken him in. He was not bluff and red and pompous but tall, broad-shouldered and handsome. He was, perhaps, a little arrogant, but also had an easy charm and she recognised in him the boy she had known and liked so much. She knew instinctively that Amber, so rigid and worried, was not right for him.
She felt sorry and gave a deep sigh. Too much was happening. Lian had been brought up in such chaos, in the uncertainty of strange and unpredictable behaviour, that she craved peace and quiet. Mother Lilin sometimes forgot she was around, especially in the morning when she was busy with her Chap Ji Kee betting slips or with the shamans who visited her daily, two nonyas and one Malay, leeching money out of her, or with the jewellery hawker who always came by to listen to her incessant chatter knowing he would end up the richer. These were the happy hours. At noon the mee hawker and the Tamil fried cake seller and the dumpling man would call and she would eat everything she could lay her hands on. Then she spent hours in front of her mirror, combing her thinning hair incessantly, the comb filled with strands, then blood as furrows of scarlet formed on her scalp.
Lian knew her aunt would sleep at three o’clock and tried to stay away until then. It gave her an hour of calm before Mother Lilin needed her to prepare the sireh and make Lian sit with her whilst she raved, or play cards with her which always ended up in anger, or play the piano which she had bought, or bring her sweets and crystal ginger and read in English which Lilin could barely understand. Then there would be the half an hour when Lilin was virtually inconsolable, howling, and could only be calmed with the opium pills in wine. She was ill, Lian knew it, and it had got so much worse recently. She needed to speak to her father of it but with the tension which lay between them and the loss of his child, no matter what outward manifestation he made, she dared not.
A feeling of desolation crept over her and she walked over the footbridge at the river’s mouth to get lost in the noise and bustle of Chinatown. Ah Fu trailed along, chatting to acquaintances. One such stopped her and Ah Fu, lost in her chatter, ignored her charge. It happened so often that Lian no longer gave it a thought. She wandered amongst the shops and the food stalls, the hawkers calling their wares, the shoemakers banging, the clacking sound of wooden clogs a constant refrain. A pack of mongrels began fighting over a scrap and she went into the Thien Hock Keng temple to escape and sit with the Buddha, who asked nothing from her except serenity, resting in the peace of his smile, listening to the women chant, until three o’clock, when she turned for home.
On the corner of Philip Street a voice addressed her.
‘Hello, Lian,’ said Alex.
She was utterly beautiful, a slender and graceful goddess, with her perfect skin and straight black hair falling down her back. He had left her at twelve and now she was almost sixteen. Since he had laid eyes on
her at the cemetery he had not ceased to think of her.
‘Alex,’ she said and looked around. ‘You should not be here.’
‘I should,’ he said and she felt an unaccustomed thrill. He had said something totally unexpected and it had the ring of truth to it.
The silence lengthened between them. The town went about its business around them but two eyes gazed on them. Lilin, at the window, watched the young man standing with Lian. She knew who this was. This was Zhen’s son and he was back in Singapore. She smiled.
Lian shook her head. ‘If my father knows I am with a man, especially without my maid, he will never let me out again. You don’t know who he is.’
‘He was the lover of my mother.’
Lian shrugged and moved away from him.
‘He’s more than that. Don’t come again.’
She walked quickly to her house and went inside. Alex followed her with his eyes then turned and lost himself in Chinatown.
19
Zhen, eyes closed, sat cross-legged in quietness. He had come to Circular Road, to his old house, which was a place which held memories of peace and tranquillity. His thoughts were of this lost child, the daughter he and Xia Lou had formed out of such oblivious passion. He wanted to speak to her, to hold her, but could not. That comfort, that love, was lost to him by this position which had been thrust upon him.
In a few weeks the auction for the opium farm would take place and this would be over, but what comfort was that? She was gone from him and so, for eternity, was Lily. For what? Nothing as he could see. As a Taoist he had not sought this role. He had not wished to stand out but it had been thrust on him and in Taoism that too was his lot in life. It had come to him unbidden and he had to pick it up.
Alexander had arrived, he had seen him embrace his mother on the quayside. He felt a terrible emotion swell inside him and sought to empty his mind.
Two children lost to him. And Xia Lou’s words had stung. Was he to condemn Lian to a kind of whoredom with Ah Soon? This too was not the way of the Taoist sage who should be charitable and seek happiness in the natural flow of life. This marriage was a Confucian concept that he had fallen into. He felt his whole body out of alignment, a constant battle between his Taoist beliefs and the needs of commerce, of family and now the kongsi.
He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on the light of the candle wavering in his mind but he felt as if he was crumbling to dust and the pieces of him were blowing away. He fell to the floor as the strain of iron control burst and all these feelings poured out of him. He sobbed, his chest straining for control but it was as if a river had opened up inside him and tears coursed.
He knew Lian had gone to her half-sister’s gravesite and he was glad. But he knew, too, that she had been greeted by Alexander. Eyes were everywhere. He did not even have to order it. It was done as a matter of course. Wang had taken it upon himself to be the guardian of his life. A life he did not want.
He cried until no more tears could come, allowing himself to fall into the stream of grief. Exhausted, he rose and washed away his sweat and tears. He touched the marks on his cheek where her nails had cut into him. He was glad she had made these marks, he wanted her mark on him. He wanted her back but it all seemed so impossible.
He dressed in the white clothes he had brought, pure white, to make the offerings for Lily’s soul and her release into the void.
On the altar table stood a lamp for the light of wisdom, on either side two candles for the light of the sun and the moon; their light would burn unceasingly for the next ten days. Before them stood cups of tea, water and rice, to represent Ying and Yang and their endless union. He had made a circle of five fruits, green papaya, red banana, yellow mango, white lychee and black dates, which symbolised the five elements of wood, fire, earth, metal and water. Inside the circle, he placed the incense burner. He lit the incense and brushed the smoke over his head and face and visualised Lily’s face. Then he began the prayer.
* * *
Charlotte pointed to the dressing table.
‘There, a picture of her. We had it painted for her third birthday.’
Alex rose and took up the picture. He brought it back to the bed.
Charlotte stroked the face and Alex gazed at his little half-sister. She was pretty, a pretty little girl with her dark eyes. She looked a little … what was it? He could not put his finger on it. She did not resemble Lian, whose features were wholly Chinese.
‘The Taoists believe she has not died, you know, merely passed to another existence, one we cannot see. Her body is not here but her spirit has joined the river of life beyond this veil of tears. They have no concept of God, or heaven and hell. It is comforting.’
Charlotte turned the picture down on the bed and let her hand rest on it.
‘Mother, please. Let the maid bring some food.’
‘No, not now.’
She put her hand to his cheek.
‘Let me grieve how I must. I will be all right. Aunt Jeanne told me how to do it once, long ago. But how I should dearly like to see Zhen.’ She closed her eyes.
Alex went downstairs where Robert and Amber were waiting in the living room.
‘My boy,’ said Robert.
‘She is better. A sleep will improve her.’
‘Yes, yes, good, good. Well, we shall be off.’
‘I shall stay, Father. May I, and see Aunt Charlotte later? Perhaps Alex will keep me company?’
Before Robert could respond, Alex turned to Amber and took her hand, bowing.
‘Forgive me. I must go out.’ He bowed to Robert and left. Amber stared at his back, a look of misery on her face.
‘Come, child. Well, well,’ Robert said. ‘I shall take you home. I have things to do.’
‘Father, what of the marriage? You said …’
‘Yes, yes, well. We shall see. After all, now is not the time. Your sister or brother is about to be born. You must attend to your mother.’
With a pout of annoyance Amber took up her hat and followed her father.
Alex made his way to Chinatown, crossing the river at Thomson Bridge and turned on to Boat Quay.
Before the Tan godown he stopped, watchful. The coolies were unloading bales of Indian cotton and great quantities of pepper. He went up to the gang leader.
‘Master Zhen. Is he here?’
The man drew back in astonishment at the Chinese words issuing from the white man’s mouth. A samseng loitering at the corner of the godown looked up. The coolie leader glanced at the samseng. The man took off. From the quay to Market Street where the Shan Chu lived and worked was a matter of minutes. He spoke to Ironfist Wang.
Alex could not understand the man’s silence. He repeated his question then, as the man shrugged, he turned his footsteps towards the interior of the godown. A man appeared out of nowhere and barred his way.
‘Get out of my way,’Alex snarled, adding a string of the filthiest Hokkien insults he could muster. Work on the quay came to a halt at the happy prospect of a fistfight.
‘Ah Rex,’ Zhen said and Alex turned as the man he had sought strode towards him. ‘Your Chinese is still versatile, I see.’
Zhen waved a hand and instantly the coolies returned to their tasks. Wang took up a stance on the edge of the quay.
‘Come inside,’ Zhen said.
The interior of the godown was cool and vast. Alex looked around. He had spent hours here, whiling away time with Ah Soon and his Uncle Zhen. Zhen gazed at his son. He was fine looking, tall and strong and handsome.
‘I heard you had returned. I am very happy to see you.’
Alexander faced Zhen. They were almost the same height and Zhen knew that in a few years, Alex would be as strong and muscled as him. Kai would never look like this. He was not tall and he tended to Noan’s plumpness, not helped by the fact that his grandmother fed him anything he liked.
‘Uncle, my mother wishes to see you.’
Zhen turned away from the boy.
‘
Sit,’ he said in English. He had no wish for this conversation to reach the ears of all the coolies.
‘I do not wish to sit. I have come only to tell you that your absence hurts mother. She mourns for your daughter.’
‘Ah Rex, at the moment I cannot come to see Xia Lou. It is not possible.’
‘Uncle Zhen, I don’t understand. You and my mother, what has happened, all of that, it is not my business. But that you do not comfort her in this time, it is heartless, sir.’
‘So it must seem. But I am not heartless. You must trust me on this.’
Zhen could see curious eyes staring at them as the coolies unloaded their goods in a steady stream. All this would be around the town in an hour. Alex opened his mouth to speak.
‘No,’ Zhen said, his tone harder. ‘You do not understand my position and you must leave now.’
He turned on his heel. Alexander followed him, unable to believe the man so cruel but Wang stepped in front of him and the look he gave him made Alex stop abruptly. Zhen disappeared and within a moment so did Wang. The quay returned to its bustle as if nothing had happened.
He wandered away, bewildered. What was going on here? He did not notice the man following him at a discreet distance.
It was nearing three o’clock. He knew Lian came home at that hour. He felt the most intense need to see her. And to speak to her, for she must surely know more of what was going on between Zhen and his mother.
He waited and felt the eyes of the shopkeepers turned to him. He moved away, fingering some cloth goods and keeping an eye out for her. He saw her maid first, the old Ah Fu. Then she appeared and he smiled.
At that instant a hand shot out, grabbed his arm and pulled him swiftly sideways so hard he stumbled.
‘You can’t do this,’Ah Soon hissed to him. ‘Come on.’
Alex was so astonished he allowed himself to be led.
‘We need to go over to the European side. Too many eyes and ears here.’
For a man in Ah Soon’s cadaverous condition, he walked fast and within fifteen minutes they found themselves over the wooden footbridge by the fort and quickly onto the beachside of the padang. Ah Soon slowed, sweat pouring off him. He mopped his face and Alex fell into rhythm beside him.