In that moment he became fully aware that the alley down which he was hurrying was now ominously deserted. The beggars, the cripples, and the squalor had all been swept away, not, as Jakob had dreamed thirty years ago, by widespread acceptance of the Christian faith, but by other historical forces of which he had then been totally ignorant. The alleyway, a small crevice of China, had been transformed along with the rest of the country. Now’ garish wall posters and portraits of Mao’s unsmiling face were plastered everywhere, covering doors and windows without discrimination, and in the unnatural silence that cloaked that lane and others leading into it, he suddenly sensed the unmistakable presence of fear and foreboding.
In the wider streets through which he made his way, Jakob also detected similar signs of unease; older Chinese watched warily from windows and gateways as though constantly expecting some new threat to appear and his own vague feelings of apprehension grew as he neared the area where Abigail lived. He had studied a detailed map of Shanghai while concealed in the captain’s cabin on the freighter and had carefully memorized the location of her address but when he arrived outside the five-story apartment block in a dimly lit street off the Nanking Road, he lingered uncertainly in the shadows on the opposite pavement. Looking up toward the several curtained windows through which chinks of light were visible, he had to fight down a strong desire to turn away and hurry back to the ship, which was due to sail for Hong Kong again on the three A.M. tide. After so many years of near-estrangement from his daughter, bursting in on her disguised in the clothes of a seaman seemed an act of such irrationality that he wavered in his purpose. He tried to imagine what he might say in response to her shocked questions and the prospect of explaining truthfully why he had come was suddenly almost too daunting to contemplate.
Then the twin feelings of horror which Abigail’s letter had provoked returned, flow could he stand by idly while Mei-ling suffered SO cruelly and undeservedly for a second time? How could he allow a close relationship to grow up between Kao and Abigail without telling them the truth? Jakob turned these questions over unendingly in his mind, then, unable to reconcile any of the nagging doubts and fears, he crossed the road almost at a run and pushed open the main door of the apartment building. Seeing from a row of nameplates that Abigail lived on the fourth floor, he climbed the stairs two at a time and knocked firmly on the door. It was opened almost at once by Abigail, who had started to smile, but when she caught sight of him, her expression changed to one of blank incomprehension. Realizing just how effective his disguise had been, Jakob tugged off his cap and Abigail’s eyes widened in astonishment.
“Father! What in heaven’s name
When she had recovered from, her surprise, she motioned him inside and closed the door quickly behind him. At a loss for words, they both stood looking at one another in a stunned silence and Jakob saw that despite the late hour Abigail was dressed attractively in a crisp English shirtwaist dress, and her long blond hair framed her face in soft waves. The tension of the past two days made him want to reach out and embrace her now that he had reached her safely, but something stopped him and he turned and stepped uncertainly into the living room. There he noticed at once that the small dining table was set with two places and a pleasant aroma of cooking was coming from the kitchen.
“What on earth has brought you here, Daddy?” Abigail’s voice was incredulous. “And why are you wearing those strange clothes?”
“I came as soon as I got your letter.” Jakob stopped in the middle of the room and turned to face her. “What I read made me very worried about you. . . . I smuggled myself here on a freighter with false seaman’s papers.”
“But that’s very dangerous!” Abigail’s incredulity changed to alarm. “What on earth could I have said to make you that worried?”
Jakob drew a long breath. “It’s not just what you said in your letter, Abigail. . . . From Hong Kong it’s clear that the Cultural Revolution is beginning to cause terrible disruption all over China. There’s no telling where it will end. . . . I wanted to try to persuade you to leave now before it gets any worse. For your own safety .
“Daddy, that’s very thoughtful of you.” She smiled in puzzlement, touched despite herself by his concern. “But I think I’m capable of judging the situation here. And I don’t think I’m personally in any danger yet.”
“Perhaps not directly at the moment — but I’m sure you will be soon.”
Jakob’s whole bearing was that of a man ill at ease and Abigail could see in his face traces of the strain that the secret journey from Hong Kong had produced. “Daddy, please sit down, “ she said gently, waving him toward an armchair and crossing the room to a tray of bottles on a sideboard. “I’ve got some Scotch here. I can see you need something.” She poured whisky into two glasses, gave Jakob one of them, and sat down opposite him on the sofa. “Please tell me what it was I said that alarmed you so much.”
Jakob drank some whisky without looking at her. “You told me in your letter that you’d seen a poster attacking Lu Mei-ling, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Has it occurred to you that the Red Guards might have forced her to confess that she once cared for the child of a ‘foreign imperialist spy’ — and that you might be in some danger yourself if they discovered you were here in Shanghai?”
“That’s hardly very likely,” said Abigail with a faint sigh of exasperation. “Nobody here really knows that much about my past.”
“I expect you’ve told somebody.”
“One or two of my foreign colleagues know — but that’s all.”
“They might have spoken of it in the hearing of students — anything’s possible.” Jakob looked up suddenly from his drink. “Have you managed to see Lu Mei-ling yourself yet?”
“Yes, I have. She’s just been released by the conservatory’s Red Guards. I talked to her at her home two nights ago.”
Jakob’s shoulders hunched with tension and he shifted to the edge of his seat. “How did she seem?”
“She was still quite upset by what had been happening to her. I think she’s been through some unpleasant experiences. But she’s strong and resilient — and still a very remarkable woman.”
“Did she tell you all you wanted to know?”
“No, she wouldn’t really tell me anything of substance. You’ll be glad to know she’s almost as evasive as you are.” Abigail put down her whisky on a side table and when she spoke again her voice was carefully controlled. “But she did mention that you’d visited her in 1957 and showed her my photograph. Why didn’t you tell me about that?”
“I thought it was best at the time to say nothing to you about it. Mei-ling was undergoing reform through labor, it was very distressing for us both Jakob stood up and began to move about the room, stopping now and then to gaze absently at the scroll paintings on the walls. “You must be expecting somebody,” he said over his shoulder. “Is it Kao?”
“I’m not exactly expecting him,” said Abigail, speaking slowly and deliberately. “He has a standing invitation. Sometimes he comes here to join me for a late supper.”
Jakob stood still and turned to face her. “So you’ve become . . . very close friends?”
“I suppose you could say that,” said Abigail coolly. “But I don’t really see, Daddy, that it’s any business of yours.”
“I’m sorry, but it is some business of mine.” Jakob’s voice broke a little. “I wish it weren’t.”
“I can’t imagine what you mean.”
Jakob closed his eyes briefly to gather himself. “Does Mei-ling know that you and Kao are meeting?”
“I should hardly think so. What possible interest could it be to her?”
A pained expression came into Jakob’s eyes. “Mei-ling is Kao’s mother.”
Abigail shook her head incredulously. “[can hardly believe it.”
“It’s true — but before I try to explain anything else I must see Mei-Jing. . .
“You mean now?”<
br />
Jakob nodded quickly. “Yes, straightaway. The ship I came on is due to sail at three A.M. — so I don’t have much time. Will you take me to where she’s living?”
For a moment Abigail did not reply. Sitting motionless on the sofa, she stared perplexedly at her father. “If we’re going out, I’ll have to change my clothes,” she said at last in a distracted voice, rising slowly to her feet. “I shan’t be long.”
She hurried out into the hail and Jakob began pacing agitatedly back and forth across the room again, glancing occasionally at the two place settings and the unlit candle that had been positioned between them on the small dining table.
10
The sight of the old, crudely daubed slogans attacking “Bourgeois Reactionary Vampire Lu Mei-ling” made Jakob shudder as they came in sight of the courtyard wall surrounding Mei-ling’s house. It had begun to rain heavily soon after they set out from Abigail’s apartment, and the painted slogans and posters along the length of the lane were being rapidly reduced to a blurred, sticky mess in the downpour. The feeble cones of light cast by the Street lamps heightened the dismal, defeated atmosphere of the area and again Jakob found himself wishing desperately that he could turn around and hurry back to the docks. Outside Mei-ling’s gate Abigail stopped and reached up toward the bell push, but Jakob moved forward quickly, catching at her wrist before she could ring. He had noticed that the poster—covered gate was standing slightly ajar and he leaned close to his daughter to speak in an undertone.
“I’d like to see Mei-ling alone at first. Will you wait here for two minutes, please — then come up?”
They had scarcely spoken to one another since leaving her apartment and Abigail shook her head in a little gesture of exasperation. “I suppose deep inside I knew from the time of that first visit to Hong Kong that you were hiding something to do with Mei-ling.”
“You’ll know everything soon,” said Jakob in a hollow voice. “Just let me have a few moments alone with her.”
Without waiting for Abigail’s response Jakob pushed open the gate. Debris and ashes still littered the courtyard inside and he walked carefully along the path that had been cleared to the door. Acting on an impulse, he turned the handle before knocking; when it gave under his pressure he entered the shabby hail and climbed quietly up the steep flight of stairs. The walls of the staircase were still covered with slogans attacking Mei-ling. By the light of the unshaded bulb on the landing Jakob also saw that other daubings defaced the visible walls on the upper floor. His heart began thudding loudly inside his chest and when the sound of a movement reached his ears halfway up the stairs, he halted in his tracks, aware suddenly that his silent entry might be misunderstood.
“Is Madame Lu Mei-ling at home?” he called politely in Chinese.
“Who is it? Who’s there?”
A faint inflection of surprise was recognizable in Mei-Iing’s query but the sound of the soft, educated voice stirred Jakob deeply. He began climbing again and when he reached the top of the stairs he found she was standing in an open doorway looking at him.
“It’s me ... Jakob,” he said softly, removing his cap.
Mei-ling stood unmoving, as though turned to stone. A blank expression had frozen on her face and she gazed mutely at him, seemingly incapable of speech.
“Don’t be alarmed,” said Jakob, stepping toward her. “Abigail wrote saying she’d seen your name in a ‘all poster. . . . I thought perhaps I could help in some way . .
Although she wore a shapeless cotton tunic with baggy trousers and her hair was unkempt, Jakob found that the beauty of Mei-ling’s face moved him as profoundly as it had ever done in his youth and he stared at her, transfixed.
“Jakob, you shouldn’t have come,” she said in a barely audible whisper. “Please go quickly.”
“Mei-ling, I came secretly on a cargo ship — just seeing you again has made all the risks worthwhile.” Jakob reached out a hand and touched her cheek wonderingly with his fingertips. “My feelings for you have never changed —“
“Please, Jakob!” She shrank back from him. “I’m not alone.”
She half turned to look behind her and Jakob noticed for the first time that a male figure was seated at the table among the still- uncleared heaps of smashed furniture and ornaments. Pictures of Mao and slogans attacking “Stinking Bourgeois Intellectual Lu” remained splattered on all the walls and something in the stiff attitude of the seated figure echoed his ominous surroundings. As Jakob watched, the man rose from his chair and walked slowly toward them.
“This is my son, Kao.” Mei-ling stepped back into the room, struggling to keep her voice steady, and Jakob saw a fearful look come into her eyes. “Kao, this is Jakob Kellner.”
Jakob felt his chest tighten as he looked at the handsome, self- possessed Chinese in his early thirties. Kao still wore his navy blue cadre suit, buttoned high at the neck, and he was staring fixedly at Jakob, his expression wary and mistrustful.
“We met briefly at Pei-Ta University in 1957,” said Jakob haltingly. “My daughter, Abigail, and I were members of a peace delegation . . . We shook hands with you
Kao nodded but his hostile expression did not soften. “How do you know my mother, Mr. Kellner?”
“We met many, many years ago. We traveled on the same passenger ship when I came to China to work as a missionary. Your mother was returning from her studies in Europe. . . . When I became a prisoner of the Red Army we met again. During the most difficult stages of the Long March she cared for Abigail . .
Kao’s eyes narrowed but he absorbed the information without betraying any other reaction. “And now you’ve come back to Shanghai in secret to offer her your help?”
Jakob nodded uneasily. “That was one of my reasons for coming.”
“Mr. Kellner, how can somebody like you help my mother?”
Jakob hesitated. “Some years ago I was able to request lenient treatment for her at a high level.” He turned to Mei-ling, who was looking at him in surprise. “I did it with Chiao’s help, Mei-Iing,” he added softly. “It hastened your release from the coal yard.”
Kao’s face betrayed his surprise briefly, then his expression hardened again. “And what are your other reasons for coming here tonight?” he asked acidly.
Jakob had not taken his eyes off Mei-Iing and he addressed his answer to her. “When Abigail wrote telling me she’d seen wall posters attacking you, she mentioned that she’d met Kao again. . . . She said they’d become close friends. . . . I)o you understand now, Mei-ling, why I had to come?”
As the significance of what Jakob had said dawned on her, Mei-ling’s face grew taut and she turned to stare in trepidation at her son. “Is this true, Kao?”
The hostility in Kao’s eyes gave way to uneasiness but at that moment Abigail entered the room quietly from the landing, where she had obviously been listening, and moved to his side.
“Yes, Mei-ling, it’s true — but I don’t see why it need worry you — or my father.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you knew my mother?” asked Kao in an undertone. “Why did you keep that from me?”
“I didn’t keep it from you,” said Abigail gently. “I met her for the first time two days ago. I didn’t know about any of this until my father arrived tonight.”
Mei-ling had been staring wide-eyed at Abigail and Kao and as comprehension dawned, the color drained slowly from her face. With a little cry she buried her face in her hands and her shoulders began to shake in a silent fit of sobbing.
“What’s wrong with my mother?” exclaimed Kao, glaring at Jakob. Mei-ling’s sobbing became audible and Abigail moved quickly to put an arm around her shoulders.
“Your mother hoped you would never know the truth,” said Jakob in a haunted voice.
“What ‘truth’ are you talking about?” snapped Kao.
“The truth about your birth. . . You’ve always believed your father was killed fighting the Japanese . . . but that’s not true.”
“What d
o you mean?”
“The man your mother married wasn’t your real father Jakob’s voice shook. “I’m your father.”
Kao stared at Jakob, thunderstruck. Abigail too was gazing at him openmouthed with shock.
“It’s true, Kao,” sobbed Mei-ling, uncovering her tear-stained face. “I was caring for Abigail in the Great Snow Mountains. She was just a helpless infant. . . . Her father didn’t know whether she was dead or alive. He slipped away from his guards one night to come and find out. . . . There was a blizzard, lie was famished and exhausted. I made him stay with us in the yurt “ She closed her eyes, overcome by the memory, and Abigail, Kao, and Jakob stared at her in a tortured silence. “He asked me to marry him the day he was freed,” she whispered when she had regained her composure. “But I was determined to work all my life for the revolution. . . . You were born, Kao, in March the following year.”
“I knew nothing of your existence, Kao, until 1957,” said Jakob urgently. “I had wanted to marry your mother more than anything else in the world . . . But there was nothing I could do when she refused... . . When everything’s explained to you, perhaps you’ll understand. . .
“There’s nothing you need explain!” Kao’s voice burst from him in a shout of anger. “You’ve said more than enough!” He half raised his clenched fists at his sides as though to attack Jakob, then turned to glare contemptuously at his mother. “How could you do this? How could you live those terrible lies for so many years?”
“I lied for your sake, so that you wouldn’t suffer,” said Mei-ling in an agonized whisper. “I lied only to help you. I never wanted you to know the truth.”
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