There was a pounding on the door.
‘Open up! By order of the government,’ a man shouted.
Mirabel went into the bedroom. Bao Bao was sitting up, awakened by the disturbance. He looked frightened.
‘You have to be very quiet,’ she whispered. ‘We’re going to play hide-and-seek, so hide under your blanket and don’t let the man knocking on the door find you, all right?’
A game! Bao Bao scooted down under the covers, and peeked out, grinning.
‘Good boy,’ Mirabel said. ‘Stay there.’
She returned to the front room.
‘We know you’re in there.’ This time it was Frogface.
‘Kuai kai men! Hurry and open up!’ The pounding was heavier now, it sounded like rifle butts.
Mirabel knew she had no choice but to face these men. They were going to break down the door if she didn’t open it herself. She gathered her courage.
Standing in the passageway were four men – Frogface, a Kuomintang government official and two soldiers. The two soldiers were carrying rifles and they took up positions just outside, on either side of the door, rifles held at the ready. Frogface pushed his way past Mirabel into the lounge room.
He walked around, looking into the kitchen and opening the door to the bedroom. He poked his head in, saw nothing, and came back out into the living room.
‘Looks as if nobody else is here,’ he said. ‘She’s the spy, the one I’ve been keeping my eye on all this time. She has definite links to the Communist party. Her brother-in-law was executed just recently for being a part of a major Communist cell. And her husband is away in the Communist-infested countryside at this very moment.’ He sneered at Mirabel.
‘What do you have to say for yourself?’ the official asked. He had dark eyes, high Mongolian-style cheekbones and oily hair.
Mirabel drew herself up and looked directly at the official. ‘First, if this is legitimate government business, I have a right to know who I am talking to. I know Mr Tan, since he was here earlier. He assaulted and threatened me. I gave him that bruise and threw him out. But who are you?’ Her voice was steady.
The official was taken aback. He glanced at Frogface, then at Mirabel. ‘My name is Gao. I am Section Head in the Public Security Bureau. You are accused of spying for the Communists. This carries a penalty of death. Are you not afraid?’
‘If I was guilty I might be afraid, but I know the government would never let an innocent person suffer. Who accuses me of such a thing?’
‘Mr Tan here is one of our secret operatives. He is in charge of watching this neighbourhood for Communist activity. He says your husband has been consorting with a known Communist. Do you deny this?’
‘All I know is that Mr Tan came to my room and tried to force me to have sex with him. When I refused, he threatened to report me as a Communist spy. But this is completely ridiculous. For one thing, I am an Australian citizen.’ She produced her passport, which the official took and examined.
Frogface snorted. ‘That doesn’t mean – ’
‘Be still!’ the official ordered, without moving his head. He turned several pages in the passport. ‘Li Lei An … Melbourne …’ He glanced at Mirabel with a different look in his eye.
She continued. ‘And my father is a strong supporter of the Kuomintang government in Australia.’
The official raised his eyebrows. ‘Is your father Mr Li, the prominent businessman, the fruit merchant?’
‘Yes.’ Mirabel smiled in spite of herself.
‘I have met him,’ he said. ‘I visited Melbourne in 1935 and spoke at a party meeting there. I was a young man then. Your father had me to dinner at his house. During the meeting, he pointed to a little girl – his daughter – playing our national anthem on the piano. Was that you?’
‘Yes,’ said Mirabel.
Gao stood up and turned towards Frogface, scowling. ‘So you try to seduce the daughter of one of our strongest supporters overseas, a man who has taken me into his own home, and say that she is a Communist? She, who plays our country’s song so beautifully, you say she is a spy?’
‘He said it worked on his maid,’ Mirabel added.
Frogface tried to interrupt, protesting, but the official crossed to the door and said to the soldiers outside, ‘Take this dog away!’
The official turned to Mirabel. ‘Our apologies, Miss Li,’ he said, bowing. ‘He will be dealt with severely. We had heard complaints before, and knew about the incident with the maid. But this time he has gone too far.’ He bowed again and went to the door. Turning, he said, ‘These are troubled times, Miss Li; please be careful.’
Then he left, closing the door behind him.
Mirabel’s calm deserted her. She began shaking. What would happen when Frogface’s story about the connection between Jin Yu and JJ was found to be true? They would be back, and this time nothing she said or did would convince them of her innocence.
She heard a noise from the bedroom.
Bao Bao was still in bed, grinning at her from under his blanket. ‘Me play dead!’ he giggled.
It was soft, that creaking sound of the front door being opened, but she was awake in an instant. It was still dark outside. She looked at Bao Bao asleep beside her then slipped out of bed and tiptoed into the living room. The moon’s half-light shone through the balcony windows and outlined a dark figure standing by the curtains.
Mirabel froze.
The figure turned, and she saw then that it was him.
‘I’m back,’ he said.
She burst into tears. JJ crossed the room and took her in his arms. ‘Are you all right? What has happened?’
She looked at him, then shook her head against his shoulder. ‘No, it’s just … I’ve been so scared since you’ve been away. When you didn’t come back …’
‘I was held up,’ he said grimly.
She did not ask any more, she didn’t want to know. ‘That man Tan informed on us. Soldiers came …’
‘Are you all right?’ JJ’s alarm was visible, despite his fatigue.
She nodded. ‘They’re gone, but I don’t know for how long.’
He lit the kerosene lamp but kept it low, and as he sat down at the table, she saw his drawn face. She set a cup of tea in front of him.
‘I have found a way out of Shanghai,’ he said. ‘One of my old army friends has a small fishing boat. He can get us down the coast a few miles, maybe to Wenzhou or a bit farther south. From there we will have to find a way on to Hong Kong. It won’t be a comfortable journey but I trust him. I don’t trust many others, nowadays.’
‘We are packed and ready,’ Mirabel said. ‘When do we leave?’
‘Before dawn,’ he said. ‘I just need a few moments’ rest.’
He put his head down on the table, and was asleep before she could say anymore.
Flight to Fortune
They fled through the pre-dawn darkness in the heavy mist that had rolled in from the river and the Pudong swampland beyond. They were heading for the docks. The fog echoed their footfalls so that it seemed many people were fleeing with them, stopping when they stopped, running when they ran. When they paused, Mirabel could hear an ominous rumbling in the far distance.
‘Artillery,’ JJ whispered. ‘The armies are close.’
They fled along narrow alleys, past small shops boarded up for the night, or closed forever for fear of the coming battle. They paused at the larger roads, still deserted at this hour, peering up and down to see as much as they could in the mist, before dashing across them to safety on the other side. Mirabel laughed to herself. Nowhere was safe.
She was just about to rush across a major boulevard when JJ grabbed her arm and held her back, pulling her into a doorway and holding Bao Bao close. Three trucks filled with soldiers came roaring out of the fog, careered down the street and disappeared around a corner. Her heart hammered in her chest.
As they approached the river, Mirabel looked at the buildings stretching up out of the haze. Everything see
med surreal. The occasional lonely light flickered from a window here and there, life stirring in the darkness.
Along the riverside there was more activity, boats plying their way against the current, or moored to the pier with gangplanks bridging the gap. They hurried along the dock, JJ carrying Bao Bao, Mirabel following behind, holding their small bag. Only the essentials, he had said. They had nothing else in the world.
More people were about now as a pale morning light shone down through the fog. They came upon ghostly lines of coolies loading and unloading a boat. Weighed down with heavy bales on their backs, they looked like monsters crawling out of the river.
The fog cleared a brief distance in front of them. They suddenly saw two government soldiers questioning someone in the harsh tones of command. JJ quickly pushed Mirabel down behind a stack of bamboo poles, covered Bao Bao’s mouth and ducked down beside her. Mirabel looked at him. He motioned with his eyebrows to remain silent.
The soldiers’ voices were raised now. The man they spoke to wore the faded blue trousers and ragged top of a poor fisherman. Mirabel was horrified. Could he be the one who was taking them to freedom?
She was unable to suppress her anxiety. ‘Is that your friend?’ she whispered to JJ.
His eyes flashed a warning to her to be silent, but he nodded.
Mirabel’s breathing quickened. What were they going to do if this man was taken away too? The fisherman spoke to the soldiers in a rough country dialect, grinning at them through crooked teeth. He gesticulated energetically when they didn’t seem to understand.
‘Kuai!’ one soldier ordered, pointing his chin towards the boat.
The fisherman went into the small cabin and came out carrying a package. He held it up, then gave it to one of the soldiers. As they opened it, Mirabel heard a satisfied laugh from both of them.
‘Hao le, qu qu qu!’ The soldiers waved at the man to leave.
He promptly untied the rope from the dock and jumped into his boat, then started the motor and putted away, waving back at the two soldiers, who were already walking towards the road, talking and sniffing the package as they went.
Mirabel watched with despair as the boat disappeared down the river. Their last hope for escape. JJ slumped back against the poles, clearly exhausted. Bao Bao, sensing their distress, began to cry. It didn’t matter now. They were done for. There was no other way out.
The Communist army was only two days away from the city, if that. And as they drew closer, the Kuomintang government soldiers became more and more desperate, almost a law unto themselves. Why not? After all, the generals had run away, seeking safety. No trains ran any more, and all the roads were blocked. Nothing got into or out of Shanghai except by boat.
And now that chance was gone.
JJ stirred, then stood and lifted Bao Bao. ‘Come on,’ he urged. ‘We have to move. We’ll go further up the river. Maybe he’ll come back. We can’t stay here.’
They moved stealthily along the river for half an hour, passing warehouses and flimsy shacks built by refugees who had fled the countryside. The stench turned Mirabel’s stomach. People sat in their doorways, frightened faces hunched around open fires, gaunt children with large staring eyes. Hunger reigned here. How soon before her family joined them, scrounging for food or a bit of warmth, running in fear or cowering to hide, prey to anyone who offered a small particle of hope? Refugees.
Mirabel swallowed as she realised that they were already refugees. The only difference was that she and JJ still had a few resources. But not many, and certainly not for long.
Just then a flash caught her eye and she glimpsed a white cat, ten yards ahead on the dock. It looked back directly at her. She saw something in its mouth: a rat, a fat rat. In some inexplicable way, the sight heartened her.
Suddenly JJ stiffened and stopped.
‘There he is,’ he said. ‘He’s waiting for us. Careful now. I’ll go first.’
He handed Bao Bao to Mirabel and approached the boat, moored a short distance ahead of them, where the cat had stopped. She crept forward after him.
A curling tendril of cigarette smoke wafted upwards from behind a stack of folded canvas on the deck, but no one was visible.
‘Wei, Lao Pan,’ JJ called, softly.
A head rose from behind the canvas stack, a smile slowly etching itself across the face. It was the fisherman Mirabel had seen bribing the soldiers earlier.
‘Xiao Lin, I never thought you’d find me,’ he said. All trace of the rough country accent was gone. ‘I had to move on. It’s good to see you safe.’
Lao Pan stepped forward, took off his woven bamboo hat and patted JJ on the back.
‘You stink of fish,’ JJ joked. Mirabel could see the relief flooding his whole being, replacing the tension that had masked his exhaustion ever since he had returned the previous night.
Was it only last night, only a few hours ago? She shook her head, dazed with the speed of events. Yesterday, at this time, she had not yet retrieved her oracle bone, had not dealt with Frogface, or met the official. Yesterday she had not known when JJ was coming back. Or even if he was coming back.
‘What’s the good of masquerading as a fisherman if you don’t smell like one?’ Lao Pan laughed. ‘Luckily, I had a bit of opium for those soldiers. That was a close call.’ He looked over at Mirabel.
JJ introduced them, telling her that he had worked with Lao Pan behind enemy lines several times. ‘I never knew a man who could become a stupid country bumpkin faster than Lao Pan, when he had to do so. It’s only one of his disguises, though.’
‘You’ve done well, Xiao Lin; a pretty wife and a son. Come on board.’ Lao Pan held out his hand to help Mirabel as she stepped over the gunwale onto the boat. ‘Xiao Lin, cast off the ropes. We should get going; it is still dangerous here if you are seen.’
‘Thank you for everything, Lao Pan,’ said Mirabel. She knew he was risking a great deal to help them.
‘It’s nothing. I owe Jin Jing my life.’ He paused and looked at her gravely. ‘I just regret that I can only take you down the coast as far as Wenzhou. But there you will be out of immediate danger, and perhaps you can make your way to Hong Kong.’
Mirabel picked up Bao Bao, and sat on the deck by the stack of canvas. For the first time in days she felt as if she could relax.
Lao Pan started the engine, then busied himself with manoeuvring the boat out into the open river. JJ came over and squatted down beside her, spreading a map out on the deck. She leant forward. It was a finely detailed map of the coast south of Shanghai. Her practised eye told her that this was the type of map only military intelligence operatives might have. It was perfect for a spy – or a smuggler. JJ traced their route down the coast, threading a path through the hundreds of islands that dotted the seas there. He looked at her and smiled. She understood him without words. They had a chance.
JJ folded the map, returned it to its oilskin covering, and sat down next to her. Mirabel leant against the canvas. She felt an uncomfortable lump behind her back, and pulled out the small bag in which she had packed their things. Money, passport, a blanket for Bao Bao, her painting books.
When JJ saw the painting books, he groaned. ‘I thought I said essentials!’
Mirabel smiled and shrugged as if to say, I couldn’t help it. She withdrew a photo: Rose and her, two young girls, crammed into Great Auntie May’s armchair all those years ago. Another much more recent one: her family on the wharf in Port Melbourne, Mama supporting Father, Lola forcing a smile onto her sulky face, Jimmy tall and gangly.
Mirabel took JJ’s hand, feeling the surging chug of the boat’s engine beneath her. She looked back at the Shanghai skyline as it slowly receded, and felt a great peace descend upon her.
The tips of the tallest buildings shone like brilliant gold, even as curls of thinning mist still swirled at their base.
In her hand she held the oracle bone. She had dressed the dead and she had her treasures, both wed and unwed. She had been lost, and she had
been found, on the sea, in Shanghai.
To fortune you’ll flee.
May it be so.
A. Vision
In the Nine Provinces there is not room enough:
I want to soar high among the clouds,
And, far beyond the Eight Limits of the compass,
Cast my gaze across the unmeasured void.
I will wear as my gown the red mists of sunrise,
And as my skirt the white fringes of the clouds:
My canopy – the dim lustre of Space:
My chariot – six dragons mounting heavenward:
And before the light of Time has shifted a pace
Suddenly stand upon the World’s blue rim.
Ts’ao Chih (192–233 AD)
Epilogue
MELBOURNE
JULY 1949
The White Cat
A young woman, dressed in a coat of canary yellow, her dark hair folding on her shoulders, stopped outside the bluestone cottage. She was no longer the girl she had been on that wintry morning nine years earlier. She had known the breathless rush of love, the pain and joy of childbirth, the chill of fear down her spine, and the touch of death on her cheek. She had been to the other side of the world and back.
The soothsayer opened the door and invited her in. In his arms sat a white cat, the purr in its throat like a soft motor. Everything was just as before – the small fire, the single bed, the crooked wooden table with the same hard-backed chairs, the kitchen concealed behind the heavy blue-and-white curtain. The fragrance of sweet incense lingered on the still air.
Mirabel took the oracle bone from her handbag.
‘Sir,’ she said, ‘nine years ago I came here and all those things inscribed on this bone have come to pass.’
The soothsayer nodded. His face had not aged nor had his body grown older.
‘One cycle of your destiny has indeed been completed,’ he said, smiling. ‘But only one. Did you think that the oracle bone spoke for only one stage of your life?’ He shook his head. ‘These patterns lie within you: some you inherit, some you create. But all will be brought forth, over and over, until you have learned what they have to teach. When you have worked through them, you can move on.’
Little Paradise Page 23