by Mick Scully
Although this is a derelict area, used by no one, it pays to be thorough, so I ensure that all evidence of our event is removed. In daylight Pauline will return to clear away cigarette ends and any bottles that have escaped our attention tonight.
It was wages time. No one counted the notes, they never do; they knew there would be enough. I had said nothing to Knighton of what Diesel had told me; I wanted to see if he would come to me himself. Not a word. I was disappointed.
I was parked just beyond Kinny Bridge when Knighton’s van crossed it into the Mendy. I followed for a time then flashed my headlights. Recognising me he slowed and came to a halt, got out. He was wary. ‘Something up, Shuke?’
I opened my passenger door for him to join me and he got in. ‘I didn’t have a chance to mention it earlier, not discreetly, but Diesel had a word with me. She said you knew something about my relative Feiyang that might interest me, some connection with Crawford. But perhaps she has it wrong.’
Inside the car we were in darkness, or at least there was insufficient light for me to observe the man’s eyes, any flicker that might indicate unease, suggest deceit. There was sufficient light seeping in from the street for me to notice his left hand twitch, open and close, before resting like the other one flat against his thigh. ‘Oh yeah. I knew there was something I meant to tell you. I was going to catch you at the end but it slipped my mind. Sorry.’ I said nothing, so he continued. ‘I told Diesel I thought you’d want to know. It’s just that a few times now I’ve noticed Feiyang hanging around with that Kieran bloke who works for Crawford, a runner I think. Quite an important one though, judging by some of the cars he gets to drive. Twice I’ve seen Kieran come into the Bamboo Garden when I’ve been in there for a takeaway. And he’s not there for grub. Or if he is, he eats with the family. He waves to the pregnant girl who’s always serving.’
‘Feiyang’s wife.’
‘Is she? He just waves to her and goes straight up the stairs.’
‘And have you seen them anywhere else?’
‘I’ve seen them in the Maddy a couple of times. Once they had those other blokes that live there with them, one of them was with him tonight. Another time they were chatting with a black bloke. Dreads.’ If he had been uneasy his old confidence was now back. ‘Let’s have a fag,’ he said, opening the car door and stepping out. I joined him.
He offered me one of his Royals but I declined, taking my own from my jacket pocket. I accepted a light though.
‘I don’t know how you can smoke those things. Rough as Old Harry. God knows what the cancer rates are like in China.’
‘You’ve got to die of something.’ The refrain I had heard so often among the English.
‘I’d prefer something quicker.’
‘I am sure that can be arranged.’
Knighton probably wouldn’t describe me as a humorous man but there seemed no doubt in his mind that this was a joke, and so he laughed instantly and loudly. ‘Very good.’ And then, as if suddenly remembering something. ‘Eh, you’re not pissed with me are you, Shuke, for forgetting to mention about Kieran?’
‘I wish you had mentioned it to me sooner. I like to know such things. It may or may not be important, but connections like that are always worth knowing about. Do you have any idea why they are seeing so much of each other?’
‘Well, I don’t think they’re mates. Not in the proper way. You lot like to keep to yourselves don’t you? So, it could be that Kieran’s recruiting for Crawford, or that there is some business going on between them. My missus said she seen them parking up in Essex Street one evening. About seven. She does shifts in the Metro Bar.’
24
For the second successive Thursday Yangku and I parked at the end of Rectory Street with a perfect view of Cathedral Apartments.
Again it was 11.20 when Trudy came into view. I had already decided that if she kept to the same schedule this morning as she had for the last two weeks it would confirm our plan and we would take her next week. And there she was – precisely on time again.
Miss Blossom is a tall woman, unusually so for a Chinese. She carried herself with willowy elegance as she drifted across the shop to greet us.
‘Casino men.’ She bowed her head gracefully, and waved an approaching assistant away. ‘I will see to these gentlemen personally.’
Miss Blossom has been a regular canasta player at the casino for many years. Longer than the Dragons have run it, and there are stories that she played a part in arranging the Dragons’ acquisition of this and various other places in their early days in Birmingham.
There are many stories about Miss Blossom. It was said that she left China as a child when her family came to Europe in the fifties. Her father was in the diplomatic service but defected before the Cultural Revolution took hold. Miss Blossom claims he was shot down on a street in Antwerp by agents of Mao Zedong. Her first husband was French, her second Irish, and she lived for a time in Dublin where so the story goes she helped eliminate unwanted pregnancies.
‘It is so pleasant to see a little sunshine today,’ she said, speaking now in Mandarin. ‘Hints of spring. I noticed only this morning that the crocuses are coming out in my garden.’
Miss Blossom’s Eastern Emporium, housed in an old Digbeth warehouse, is a cornucopia of goods from right across the East. There is heavy ornate furniture from South Korea and stone garden pagodas from Thailand on the fourth floor. The basement is crowded with Buddhas and vases and jewellery. Futons are on the second floor, and we followed Miss Blossom, still wearing high heels in her seventies, up the stairs.
‘Is this for yourself?’ she asked me, reverting to English.
‘A visitor. One who will not be out much during her stay. I want something with a base, that may be used as both a comfortable couch during the day and a bed at night.’
She nodded and raised her hand indicating the futons with a base. ‘We have several as you can see. These are all the same, very comfortable. Try one.’ I bought a navy-coloured one with cushions, some incense sticks and a blue dragon vase; I had not forgotten my promise to replace my rejected bouquet.
Two of the young black men I had seen going into the flat next door followed us into Nimrod House as Yangku and I carried the box containing the futon towards the lift. ‘Look eavy mate,’ a boy in shorts said, moving ahead of us and pressing the call button for the lift. ‘Whaz in it? Tha’s Chinese writin’ ain’t it?’
‘A futon.’
‘Waz that? Futon?’
‘Sofa bed,’ his friend told him. ‘A Chinese sofa bed.’
The boy in shorts held the door for us when the lift arrived. ‘Fifteen or seventeen.’
‘Seventeen. Carrying down is easier than carrying up.’
‘You want some ’elp?’ the other boy asked.
‘Thank you. But we’re fine.’
The boys left at the fifteenth and were presumably inside their flat and doing whatever they did there by the time we got the futon down the stairs.
The room in which I have my bed is the room used by most people in this block as their living room. There is also a bedroom, and though I had considered keeping Trudy in the room with me, I decided that the futon should go into the bedroom, that I should respect her privacy.
Yangku, who is very capable with such things, fitted a lock to the door, while I arranged the cushions and the quilt on the futon, brought in the television. When Yangku left, I sat for a time on the futon, considering.
In a few days’ time we would take her. She would be here in this room, sitting on this futon, lying on it. There would be white flowers in the vase beside the bed. At Miss Blossom’s I had noticed pictures of Chinese landscapes, waterfalls and gorges. I would buy a couple.
The thought of a Chinese room containing only one person amused me. I lay back on Trudy’s futon. As a youth my father had been prominent in the Red Guard of the Cultural Revolution, and in the first years of my life such service was still recognised with privilege. Though our flat ha
d only one bedroom it had a separate cooking area, and the rooms were larger than most. Times changed, as they always do. The Red Guard were denounced as counter-revolutionary and Mao Zedong announced his return to the country policy. My father was sentenced to a programme of revolutionary re-education based on physical labour. We were moved to a communal flat: four families, two rooms. The luxury of space. Trudy will be in this room, I will be next door – a room each.
25
The Bamboo Garden opens between eleven and two for the lunchtime trade and then closes until five. It was at three o’clock in the afternoon that I paid my visit. After ringing the bell several times the door was eventually opened by Feiyang’s grandmother, my Aunt Lu.
Family ties and traditions are respected properly now by only the oldest in our communities here, and it was a pleasure to see the delight with which Aunt Lu greeted my arrival.
‘I fear I may be disturbing the family’s rest, Aunt Lu. Is everyone sleeping?’
‘It is nothing. Nothing.’ She took my arm, pulling me into the shop. ‘It is a joy to see you. Everyone will be overjoyed.’ The old lady locked the door behind me and beckoned me through the shop. ‘It is your cousin Shuko who visits us,’ she squawked up the stairs. ‘Follow Shuko, follow. It is an honour that you are here.’
The staircase at the Bamboo Garden is narrow and steep and the old lady used hands and feet to mount each step, climbing like an animal or a small child. At the top of the stairs stood my cousin Tan, waiting to help her mother.
‘Cousin. You are welcome. Come through. Please.’ The old lady now had my hand and led me through into the family’s living room. ‘Please sit.’ She collected the newspapers scattered across the table, folded them and laid them on a shelf under the large television where Sky Sports showed a soundless darts match. On the other side of the room, coloured fish swam languidly in their tank. ‘Sit. Sit. We will prepare tea.’
Feiyang arrived barefooted in vest and shorts, bowing before shaking my hand, and taking the seat beside me. ‘Uncle. It is good of you to visit us. To take the time.’ It was only a few days since Feiyang and I had met at the dogfight but a visit in one’s own home is very different. Here the ties of family are affirmed. Soon we were joined by Siyu, Feiyang’s pretty young wife, bowing and smiling in a pink silk dressing gown. ‘Uncle, it is an honour and a very pleasant surprise.’ She took the seat opposite her husband, reaching out across the Formica tabletop to touch his hand. The men who work for Feiyang came through in vests and sweatpants and took their places at the table. My aunt and cousin arrived with a tray for tea and a bowl of steamed buns.
‘I come to see you all and to enquire after the health of each one of you,’ I said as tea was poured, ‘but most particularly to see how your wife fares, Feiyang. The pregnant state suits her for she appears more beautiful each time I see her.’
Siyu smiled shyly, casting her eyes down; Feiyang stroked his wife’s hand tenderly. ‘The Western doctor tells us the child is due in three weeks, and the acupuncturist agrees, but the clairvoyant says it will come ten days before that.’
‘And what do you think?’
‘I feel the clairvoyant is right,’ Siyu said. ‘I think the child will be ready soon.’
With the teas all poured, it was up to me as the guest to drink first. All then raised their cups.
‘I will take my tea into the bedroom, Uncle, then you can all smoke,’ said Siyu.
‘Before you go, I have a small gift that I hope may prove useful in the days before the child is born. Get something you need with it. It is not for the child, that will come later. This is to assist with preparations. It should have been offered sooner.’ I took the green gift envelope from my jacket pocket and handed it to Siyu.
‘It is very kind of you, Uncle.’ She dug a fingernail painted with a gold flower into the side of the envelope and peeled back the top half to reveal a small wad of fifty-pound notes. ‘Such a gift!’ Tan said.
‘Fortune smiles on you and your wife, Feiyang,’ said one of his companions, ‘to have such a generous benefactor.’
‘Which must be lucky for your child,’ said the other.
Siyu stroked her belly. ‘Will you excuse me, Uncle? I would like to lie down for a short rest before we open the shop?’
‘Of course. It has been good to see you. I will await your news with anticipation.’
‘Thank you for your gift. As all have said it is very generous.’
Tan said it was time to start her work in the kitchen and the old lady followed.
‘I will go now and let you get about your preparations for the evening.’ But as I made to rise, Feiyang insisted I stay a little, smoke a few cigarettes – would I like to make up the four at mahjong?
While I stuck to my unfiltered Chinese cigarettes my three companions smoked imported Benson and Hedges and Aunt Lu brought in a tray of beers.
We used a Wind suit and agreed on twenty-pound hands. The first throws of the dice gave me the East Wind, a direction that is lucky for me in mahjong. Feiyang held the North. I took the first hand with a chow, and repeated my success in the second round. The South Wind took the third hand with a pung.
When we had played the full sixteen hands it was time to leave and I asked Feiyang if he would walk a little way with me. It is possible to make a simple request like that in such a way as to endow it with more than ordinary significance. Feiyang understood, and once we left the Bamboo Garden there was for a time silence between us as we walked. I had asked him to come with me. He recognised I had something to say. He waited. And there was wariness. An atmosphere – which was as I wanted it. We both lit cigarettes. When I was ready I spoke in English: ‘I have heard you have a new business partner.’
Each of us moved our head a fraction, glanced at each other, then Feiyang took his eyes to the ground.
‘Who you do business with is up to you, Feiyang. But there are family ties between us. Crawford’s outfit are not popular with the Ninth. I will be frank. There may be serious business disagreements between Crawford and the Ninth. These could become very difficult. Who knows what I may be called upon to do. Anyone who is part of that outfit…’ I stopped. ‘Do you understand me, Feiyang?’
The streetlight behind him held Feiyang’s face in shadow, but I could see as much of it as I needed. A touch of anxiety. Some defiance. ‘Uncle, I don’t know what you have heard. But I am not part of Crawford’s outfit. Never have been. No, I am certainly not in business with Crawford.’
‘But you are in business with Kieran?’
As neat as a hand taken in mahjong. One simple tile from the wall – the eyes narrowed and there was the slightest of intakes of breath, little more than swallowing.
‘So Walsh is starting to set up his own deals. That will upset Crawford. That could be dangerous for both of you.’
Feiyang opened his mouth, but did not have words ready.
‘Whatever Kieran Walsh and you are arranging is up to you. I wish you success. But if you’re planning to take anything away from Crawford, make sure it is of no interest to the Ninth. Understand?’
Now defiance got the better of Feiyang’s anxiety. But he needed a smirk to say it. ‘Business is business, Uncle. You know that. And as you said, we are family.’
The sound of an ambulance approaching stopped us. Louder and louder. Cars pulled over. A boy on a bicycle stopped and covered his ears. Then the flashing white light zoomed past. This was the moment when ideally I would have put an arm around Feiyang’s shoulder, familiar and friendly, and offered some final advice. As he is taller than me a different tactic had to be employed. I threw my cigarette end into the gutter and spoke as we walked. ‘How is your Chinese history, Feiyang? You went to history classes as a boy?’
‘Of course.’
‘Then do you know your history well?’
Feiyang laughed and flicked his cigarette butt high into the air. ‘China’s is a long history, Shuko, a long long history. No one knows it all. I know of the modern
part. Some of that I know very well.’
Shuko – the respect was gone. I know of the modern part – was that a reference to my father?
‘I think there are more valuable lessons to be learned from China’s dynastic history. For what are dynasties, but gangs, family gangs fighting to retain wealth and power? Who founded the Han Dynasty, Feiyang?’
‘So now you are a quizmaster, Uncle. Will I get a prize?’ His confidence was rising. ‘Gaozu was the founder of the Han Dynasty.’
‘You are right, Feiyang. But Gaozu was his temple name. His family name was Liu Bang, important I think, as so few of the dynastic fathers were of peasant stock. What is it in a man, Feiyang, that enables him to rise from a plough-pulling peasant to the founder of a great dynasty, Emperor of China? Do you know of the Treaty of Honggou?’
‘I’ve heard of it.’
‘The Treaty of Honggou divided China from the East to the West, and was entered into with Bang’s ancient enemy Xiang Yu. I am sure you know of him.’
‘Yes.’
‘Bang governed the West and Yu the East, but both men wanted the whole country and so there were many fierce battles.’
‘Shuko, I don’t know—’
‘No you don’t, so listen.’ And now I spoke in Cantonese. ‘Before one battle Bang learned that his enemy had captured his family: wife, mother, children, all. The following evening an envoy arrived from Yu’s camp with a message for Bang: You have until dawn to surrender. If you do not, as the sun rises I will wring the necks of your wife and mother like hens, cut the heads off your children and a meat stew will be made of them.
I wonder if you know how he replied. I think it tells us much about the man. From peasant to emperor. The message Bang sent back was this. Please, take pity on your hungry enemy and when you have prepared your stew send him a bowl to eat.’
CARROW