Little Paradise

by Gabrielle Wang

  ‘Father,’ she called out. ‘Father, I’m over here.’ She stood on tiptoe, waving madly. Please, God, let him see me.

  She felt the streamers tug where she had wrapped them around her fingers. They pulled taut, tightened, then snapped.

  Part Four

  SAILING HOMEWARD

  Cliffs that rise a thousand feet

  Without a break,

  Lake that stretches a hundred miles

  Without a wave,

  Sands that are white through all the year

  Without a stain,

  Pine-tree woods, winter and summer

  Ever-green,

  Streams that forever flow and flow

  Without a pause,

  Trees that for twenty thousand years

  Your vows have kept,

  You have suddenly healed the pain of a traveller’s heart,

  And moved his brush to write a new song.

  Chan Fang Sheng (fourth century AD)

  The Dead City

  Mirabel felt an exhilarating sense of freedom. The ocean spray in her face, the wind in her hair, the great expanse of ocean in all directions, and the warm breezes of the tropics calling her northward.

  Now she could dare to dream of a life with JJ.

  The thought filled her with excitement although she knew how fine the membrane was between happiness and despair, and how easily it could be punctured.

  Mirabel pointed to a pod of dolphins swimming alongside the ship. Bao Bao watched, transfixed, as the graceful bodies slipped through the calm blue waters.

  On her first night Mirabel had shared a table with a young English couple. Edward had been the manager of a British company in Singapore but was evacuated to Sydney during the war, barely evading capture by the Japanese. Now he and his wife, Chrissy, were heading for Shanghai to manage the company there. Mirabel took a liking to them instantly. They were lively and knowledgeable, and had travelled to places she had never heard of before. Chrissy was twenty-two with dark hair that curled neatly on her shoulders. When she spoke, she had a slight lisp that Mirabel thought was sweet.

  ‘Do you see that lady in the green dress over there?’ she whispered in Mirabel’s ear one evening at dinner, about five days into their trip. She smiled mischievously. ‘I’ve been watching her. She’s definitely got a thing with one of the ship’s officers. The other night I was coming down the corridor and saw the two of them slip into her cabin.’

  Mirabel tried not to stare. She pretended to drop her napkin and, as she picked it up, glanced quickly over in the lady’s direction. She had a pointy nose and small painted mouth. Every now and then she would giggle loudly and glance over at the officers’ table.

  ‘Most of the Australian wives are going to Kure in Japan, where their husbands are stationed as part of the occupying forces,’ Chrissy went on. ‘I’ve noticed quite a lot of hanky-panky on board. I suppose one last fling before the ball and chain can’t do anyone any harm.’ She raised an eyebrow and pouted.

  ‘I beg your pardon!’ Edward pretended to look shocked. ‘I hope you don’t have any immediate plans, my dear …’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry, Eddy, we’re an old married couple now, all settled down.’ Chrissy patted his arm affectionately, grinning at Mirabel.

  ‘So I suppose I am safe leaving the two of you alone for a few moments while I see what the desserts table has to offer?’ Edward stood up, rubbed his small moustache and gave a humorous bow before threading his way across the room.

  Mirabel looked around at the other tables. Apart from a few Chinese heading for Hong Kong or Shanghai, most of the passengers were Australian wives travelling alone or with small children. How lucky they are, she thought. They know that the men they love will be waiting when they arrive at their destination.

  ‘You two going for dessert?’ Edward returned with a large assortment of cakes piled high on his plate.

  ‘Mirabel hasn’t even finished her main course yet,’ Chrissy said, slicing off a piece of his chocolate cake with her fork and popping it into her mouth. ‘Mmm …’ She turned to Mirabel. ‘Why don’t you let me hold Bao Bao? You’ve hardly eaten a thing.’

  ‘I’d appreciate that,’ said Mirabel, thankful for Chrissy’s help. She wasn’t used to caring for Bao Bao full time. There had always been Mei Lin or Mama to look after him.

  Chrissy bounced Bao Bao on her knee. ‘Ohhh … you gorgeous little thing, I could eat you up.’ She took his hands and jigged him slowly up and down. ‘Ride a cock horse to Banbury Cross to see a fine lady upon a white horse. With rings on her fingers and bells on her toes, she shall have music wherever she goes,’ she sang.

  Bao Bao giggled with delight.

  ‘We’re going to start a family as soon as we get settled in Shanghai, aren’t we, darling? I hear it’s very easy and cheap to find a servant there.’

  ‘There’s plenty of time for all that,’ Edward replied, then turned to Mirabel. ‘Does Bao Bao look more like you or your husband?’

  Mirabel blushed violently. They thought she and JJ had been married in Melbourne and now she was joining him in Shanghai. ‘Well … people tell me he looks like my husband.’

  ‘You must miss him,’ Chrissy said, smoothing down Bao Bao’s hair.

  ‘I do, dreadfully.’ Mirabel sighed.

  ‘Cheer up, old girl,’ said Edward. ‘You’ll be seeing him soon enough.’

  That was another thing she had not told them – that she had no idea where JJ was.

  Every day the sea lay before them like a sheet of shimmering glass. Mirabel wrote letters home. They couldn’t be posted until they reached the next port, but it filled in the time.

  Then one morning, four weeks after they had left Melbourne, she heard excited cries coming from up on deck. She hurried outside to join the other passengers.

  There she was met by the most beautiful sight. Small mountains rose out of the sea like a mystical land from a fairytale. Some islands had a single tree growing on their peaks, like graceful dancers posing. The bigger islands were inhabited. Vegetable gardens had been planted along the shoreline in the narrow strip of land between the sea and the foot of the mountains. Fishing boats and junks glided past, silently, effortlessly, pushed by the wind.

  They had entered the Inland Sea of Japan.

  Everyone fell silent as they passed the wreck of a Japanese warship looming out of the water like a grey ghost. In the distance Mirabel could see the bombed-out skeleton of a huge naval plant.

  The ship moored at Kure, only a shell of a city after the war. It was dusty and dirty. Edward told them Kure used to be a large military and naval centre for Japan, and was now the headquarters of the British Commonwealth Occupation Forces.

  From the deck Mirabel watched with envy as the Australian wives and their children boarded the jeeps that were to take them to the base where they would see their husbands again. She noticed one of the officers wink and wave towards a departing jeep but was not quick enough to see who responded.

  While the cargo was being unloaded, Edward organised a car to take them to Hiroshima – the city devastated by the atomic bomb. It had been the tipping point for Japan’s surrender and the end of the war. Mirabel didn’t want to go but Chrissy begged her to come along, and in the end Mirabel agreed.

  The jeep rattled and bumped along the dusty road and after about an hour they came to the outskirts of the city. But there was no longer a city. Stretching to the horizon was a lifeless mass of rubble and twisted iron. Mirabel could not believe the devastation.

  She was surprised to see a group of school children seated at their desks in the open air, listening attentively to their teacher, surrounded by what was left of their classroom.

  A ragged little boy ran up to her, holding out his hand, begging for food. She opened her handbag to find something to give him but Edward put his hand on hers, shaking his head. ‘You’ll have all the poor blighters after you,’ he warned.

  She snapped it shut and followed him, but after a few steps t
ook a chocolate bar from her bag, looked back to catch the boy’s eye, then laid it on a blackened beam.

  Mirabel was numb with disbelief. This was the aftermath of war, real war, so different from the newsreels she had seen at the theatre and the newspapers she had read.

  They should have dropped the bomb on the whole of Japan! Great Auntie May’s angry words leapt into her head. This was the country that had invaded China and occupied it for eight long years. These were the people who had mass raped and killed women and children. She had seen the photographs and now the images rose up like a sickening wave. How could she pity them? Wasn’t this justice, swift and clean? And yet here she was, standing amidst such terrible suffering.

  Chrissy touched her arm. ‘Are you all right, Mirabel?’

  Mirabel was shaking while tears welled in her eyes.

  ‘It’s getting cold,’ Chrissy said. ‘I’m going back to the jeep. Are you coming?’

  A young woman wearing a tattered blue-and-white kimono picked her way through the rubble at the side of the road. She lifted her head and stared at Mirabel. Mirabel heard a small cough and it was then that she noticed a baby tied to the young woman’s back.

  Mirabel held Bao Bao close as she stared at the woman. They were so much alike. Alone with their babies, not knowing where their husbands were. Everything gone. Everything lost.

  The young woman reached her hand behind and patted her whimpering child. Then she bent down and continued searching through the ruins.

  Mirabel, wiping the tears from her eyes, returned to the jeep.

  ‘Will you hold Bao Bao a minute?’ she said to Chrissy.

  She had brought a jacket for Bao Bao in case it grew cold later on and it was lying on the back seat. Mirabel grabbed it and returned to the woman. She had very few possessions herself but this young woman had nothing. Touching her on the shoulder, Mirabel smiled and handed her the jacket. Then she turned quickly and walked away.

  The Oracle Chief

  SHANGHAI

  JANUARY 1947

  The wind cut through Mirabel’s winter coat as she stood on the wharf, dazed and bewildered. It was like being in the centre of a whirlpool, the teeming life of Shanghai spinning about her. She pulled Bao Bao’s hat down low over his ears and stepped closer to the small suitcase that held her most valued possessions. Her other two larger cases were under a tarpaulin by the gangplank.

  All the passengers on board the SS Taiping had left, gone their own way with relatives or associates. Some gave a solicitous glance at Mirabel as they swirled off into the chaos of Shanghai. Chrissy and Edward, not wanting to leave her alone, had offered to drive her – but she’d insisted Rose’s uncle, Max Hartmann, was coming to pick her up. They gave her their address, then drove away in a chauffeur-driven limousine, Chrissy’s hand waving madly out the window.

  Mirabel felt so alone.

  She looked around nervously for Rose’s uncle but there was not a single white face in the ever-changing crowd. How strange. For the first time in her life all the faces around her looked like family.

  Smells of fish and garlic from the small food stalls, and rotting garbage, filled the air. A line of coolies yelled at the tops of their voices for everyone to make way. Mirabel quickly stepped sideways, pushing her suitcase along the ground with her foot. She saw how they strained under the weight of their loads – bamboo poles balanced across bony shoulders – carrying baskets of cabbages, earthenware pots and wide-eyed ducks that stared through slats of woven reeds. Further up the dock, a woman with two ragged children grabbed handfuls of what looked like raw cotton from a large bale that had been left unsupervised. They were stuffing it under their jackets when a man charged towards them, baton raised. Mirabel watched, horrified, as he twisted the woman’s arm, forcing her to kneel at his feet. Then he beat her repeatedly over the head and back. The woman cried out as the children cowered behind her. Nobody stopped to help. They simply glanced at her as if this was a common sight.

  A policeman made his way through the crowd at that moment and Mirabel felt relief wash over her. He picked up the woman and bound her arms to her body. Then he did the same to her small son and daughter. Mirabel watched, stunned, as he led the family away, tethered together on a long rope.

  Her arms ached from carrying Bao Bao and she shivered as the icy wind blew across the water.

  ‘Eh!’ came a sharp voice from behind. ‘Nong you ma ta yi?’

  Mirabel spun around. A man wearing straw sandals, a patched jacket and black-and-white striped trousers tied at the waist by a piece of string gestured with a dirty finger at Bao Bao. She didn’t understand the words. Maybe he was speaking in Shanghai dialect? She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders.

  The man took a step closer, this time speaking in Mandarin. ‘Ni yao mai ta ma? You want to sell? I’ll give you a very good price.’ He reached out his arms, his greedy eyes on Bao Bao.

  Mirabel spun away in horror and Bao Bao started crying.

  ‘Go away or I’ll call the police!’ she screamed in English.

  The man looked around nervously then shoved his hands in his pockets and turned on his heels. She watched with relief as he disappeared into the crowd.

  ‘It’s all right. Shh … shh,’ her voice shivered. ‘That man can’t hurt us.’

  She needed to find a safer place to wait. Maybe closer to the road would be better. She reached down to pick up her suitcase and her hand closed on emptiness.

  Mirabel’s stomach lurched as she saw the man again. His black-and-white striped trousers stood out as he walked briskly towards the main road carrying a small suitcase. Her suitcase! A small boy wearing a sailor’s hat trotted beside him. While the man distracted her, the boy must have crept up and snatched it.

  An overwhelming sense of panic rose up inside Mirabel and she began to run after them. Her precious painting books, photographs of her family, a letter from Rose’s family to the Hartmanns were all inside it. And so too was the oracle bone! The soothsayer had told her to keep it with her always.

  In their hurry to cross the road and get away, the thieves jumped back as a truck narrowly missed them. Then they melted into the crowd.

  Mirabel stopped on the footpath, Bao Bao screaming in her arms. She felt so helpless in this strange, impenetrable place. She could barely speak the language, and all she had was Rose’s uncle and, in her pocket, the address Captain Shen had scribbled on a piece of paper. Had she made the biggest mistake of her life?

  ‘Shh … Bao Bao.’ She hugged him to her chest. ‘It will be all right.’

  As she stared around, something familiar jolted her back to her senses. It was the face of a man – not someone she knew or recognised, but the sight of one white face among a sea of Chinese faces was like seeing an old friend. This vision belonged to her world. It was something she could make sense of.

  ‘Mirabel? You are Mirabel?’ he said, as he pushed his way through the crowd. He was tall with thin round-rimmed spectacles and his navy suit was a bit worse for wear.

  Mirabel, dizzy with relief, replied, ‘Yes, yes.’ But the words were barely audible.

  ‘I am so sorry, the traffic was too much … I am Max Hartmann.’ The man stepped up to her, placed two gentle hands on her shoulders and said in a kind fatherly tone, ‘Come, we go to my home now. Yes?’

  ‘Yes, thank you, Mr Hartmann.’ Mirabel had found her voice. ‘Thank you so much.’

  ‘Ah, it is nothing. Taking in a guest is a mitzvah, a commandment from God. And God knows in these times all of us must help the other, eh?’ He patted Mirabel on the back. ‘Yes, and to please call me Max. All right?’

  Mirabel nodded.

  ‘Now, where is your luggage?’

  Mirabel pointed to the edge of the wharf.

  After they had collected the other suitcases, Max waved down two pedicabs and loaded a case onto each one. It was a tight squeeze, holding Bao Bao and sharing the narrow seat with her luggage, but she was safe; that was all that mattered.

&nbs
p; The drivers climbed onto their seats and pedalled away from the pier, heading into the city. Mirabel saw that it was the same street that the thieves had fled down with her suitcase. She tried to look for them, but everything was a chaotic blur of shops and people.

  When the pedicabs had gone two long blocks, she noticed a commotion ahead. Max ordered the drivers to take another road, but they ignored him, eager to see what the excitement was about.

  They stopped at the scene and no amount of yelling by Max would get them to move. A large crowd had gathered.

  A city bus had skewed into a stall by the side of the road, apparently in an attempt to avoid running over some pedestrians. To her horror, Mirabel saw a pair of striped trouser legs protruding from under the bus, and a little sailor’s cap close by.

  Suddenly, a flash out of the corner of her eye made her turn her head, and she caught a glimpse of a white cat disappearing into a building. Then with a thrill of awe she saw something else: the corner of her suitcase, sticking out from an alleyway.

  Mirabel held Bao Bao tightly, shouted for Max, then climbed down from her pedicab.

  Max turned around, ‘Mirabel, where you go? Come back! Is not safe!’

  She hurried over to the alley, retrieved her suitcase, and climbed back into the pedicab. They pulled away from the commotion and resumed their journey.

  Mirabel hugged the suitcase to her chest while she explained the story to Max. The suitcase was thankfully only slightly damaged; the thieves had not had time to open it. But what a horrible death! And had the boy escaped? His hat was there, under the bus … Mirabel didn’t want to think about it. But she could not get the white cat out of her head. Was the oracle bone connected to it somehow? She shivered. Did it cause the death of that thief?

  Out on the thoroughfare it was even busier than on the wharf, with pedicabs, bicycles, cars, trams and buses jostling with pedestrians for space. The biggest vehicles seemed to rule. Pedestrians dodged the traffic, darting and weaving through the moving, honking stream of vehicles.