by Graeme Hall
‘Don’t worry, they’re for me’ she said, taking one with her chopsticks. A waitress stopped at their table with another trolley and Alice took a plate of pork buns. ‘I saw my cousin Kwok-wah on Friday,’ Alice continued, picking small chicken bones from her mouth. ‘He’s finished his degree, and would you believe he’s going to Shanghai to do his PhD?’
‘Shanghai?’ The noise in the restaurant was starting to bother Emma and she wasn’t sure if she’d heard correctly.
‘I know. My aunt and uncle are furious. They wanted him to go to the States or Canada – Australia at least – but he says China’s the future, where it’s all happening. Who knows? Maybe he’s right but it seems scary to me. It was Ah-yeh – you know, our grandfather – who came to Hong Kong from China in the fifties, so he’s particularly unhappy.’
‘What’s his subject? Kwok-wah.’
‘Something to do with electronics or computers. Something like that anyway. He did try and explain it to me once but I can’t say I understood much. Yesterday was my last chance to see him before he left. He leaves this week.’
Another waitress approached with desserts and Alice took a plate of pastries and then refilled the teacups before biting into an egg tart.
‘So, are you going to get another job?’ asked Alice.
‘Well, nothing permanent. I’ve got more temping work starting tomorrow. Nothing special but I need some money and I’d like to save for some travelling. A holiday at least.’
‘Again?’ Emma had only recently been in Thailand. ‘I’m so jealous. Where do you want to go this time?’
‘My parents want me to spend Christmas and the New Year with them, but I’m not thrilled with the idea of England in the cold and wet. I’d really like to go down to Sydney but I don’t have the money.’
‘But Emma, they’re your parents!’
‘I know, I know, don’t you make me feel bad as well. It’s hard enough the way they make me feel guilty about it. Anyway, we’ll see. Christmas is a long way off still.’
Emma knew that her parents would have liked her to be at home now, but this was a day above all when she felt she had to be in Hong Kong. In fact Emma’s whole approach to life was a matter of some concern to her parents, who hadn’t wanted her to go travelling in the first place, least of all in this part of the world and especially now she was an only child. Emma had landed in Hong Kong two years previously at the end of a trip through Southeast Asia with her then fiancé Mike. A trip that started with Emma engaged and ended with her being single again. Her parents had been looking forward to a wedding, followed in a year or two by grandchildren, and to them Emma’s apparent contentment with life in Hong Kong, without a boyfriend and without a career, was not part of the plan.
Emma never told them what had happened with Mike, but a succession of arguments had escalated until they ended in a heated row in Thailand when he’d been flirting with a good-looking Chinese-American girl. This hadn’t been the first time she’d caught him either; as far as Emma could tell Mike seemed to be more interested in the young Asian women they met on their travels than he was in her. She had had the last laugh though; after dumping Mike in Chiang Mai, she spent the next few weeks travelling with the object of his attentions.
Later, when she looked back on that trip, Emma rationalised that it was probably better to discover an incompatibility quickly rather than ten years on with children. Perhaps all soon-to-be-married couples should be forced to spend two weeks in a cockroach-infested guesthouse with no air-conditioning.
***
The junk moored for lunch in the sheltered waters off Tai Tam. Sam and Kate took refuge from the heat and sun and watched the others as they took turns trying and failing to waterski.
‘Not your cup of tea?’ he asked.
‘I gave it a go once when I was looking to catch the eye of a guy I was interested in. I caught his eye alright, but repeatedly falling off wasn’t giving him quite the impression I was hoping for. How about you?’
‘Too much of a coward. Too unfit and uncoordinated.’
‘A triple whammy, eh? Here …’ Kate filled his wine glass. ‘This stuff is better than any macho posturing.’
‘I shouldn’t have any more … You’re a bad influence, you know? I blame the convent education.’
Kate laughed. ‘It’s true – there’s nothing quite like a convent girl who’s gone off the rails. Look – hah! That will teach him to show off!’ They both laughed as Rob fell in a cloud of water and spray.
***
‘Do you want that last pastry?’ Alice was inspecting what was left on the plates.
‘How can you eat so much and stay slim? It’s not fair. Go on, you have it. How are your mum and dad?’
‘They’re well,’ said Alice, through a mouthful of pastry. ‘But still arguing over whether to stay in Hong Kong.’
‘Pardon?’ Emma was struggling to follow the conversation.
‘Sorry. I said they’re still arguing over whether to stay or leave.’
‘I thought they’d decided on Vancouver?’
‘They did – sort of. They’ve got their residency rights sorted, and we have other family there, two of my mother’s cousins, but now they can’t decide whether to go or not. My mother wants to but my father wants to stay. He thinks there might be good business after the handover.’
‘And what do you want?’
‘I want them to make up their minds and stop arguing. Seriously? I don’t know. I don’t know what I want. Changing the subject, are you going to come to our meeting on Friday?’
Alice was active politically and for some time she’d been trying to persuade Emma to join a human rights group she was involved with. Emma didn’t think this was very likely to happen and kept gently declining all invitations. She’d had a fairly conventional Home Counties upbringing – father a retired civil servant, mother a teacher – and had never been involved in politics before leaving the UK other than going on the odd student demo. Even then she had once chickened out of a poll tax march by claiming to be ill, when in truth she had simply been worried about what her parents would think if they found out.
‘I don’t know, Alice, you know I’m not really into that sort of thing, and with my hearing I do sometimes struggle in groups.’
For once there was a hesitancy in Emma’s answer that Alice picked up on, as if for the first time her resolve seemed to be eroding under the constant action of Alice’s repeated invitations.
‘Just come and give it a try. Just for once. If nothing else we’re quite a fun bunch and afterwards we often end up in a bar or getting something to eat. You might be surprised.’
Recognising that Alice was going to keep asking until she said yes, Emma decided that it would be simpler to give in. After all, she only had to go once.
‘You win, I’ll come.’
‘Good.’ Alice smiled at her victory. ‘I promise you won’t regret it. I’ll call you later in the week to tell you when and where. You won’t be the only newcomer – there are a couple of other new people coming along.’
‘I’ll give it a try – beyond that … who knows, we’ll see.’
***
At the end of a long afternoon the junk deposited its passengers in Aberdeen. No amount of cajoling and begging could persuade the crew to take them back to Central. The junk lived in Aberdeen and they weren’t going to make an extra trip halfway round the island just for the convenience of a bunch of drunken gweilos. Tired from a mixture of sun, alcohol and activity, they fell into waiting taxis. Rob and a gang heading to Lan Kwai Fong for a beer or two; Sam and Kate shared a ride home.
‘Sorry about Rob,’ said Kate. ‘He was particularly obnoxious today. Such a wideboy sometimes. Perhaps I shouldn’t have asked him along.’
‘Oh, he doesn’t bother me, and you had to invite him. He’d have moaned like hell if you hadn’t. I’ve just never fitted in with that crowd. You know that as well as anyone.’
‘And you’re all the better for t
hat. But … ah, here we are … Ni douh, mh’goi,’ Kate said, leaning forward to ask the taxi driver to stop. ‘Do you want to come in for a drink?’
‘No thanks, it’s been a long day. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
***
That night Emma had a familiar dream, a variant of a dream that often came to her over the years. The dream always involved water. Water and fear. In this particular version, which was one of the most common, she is walking in a forest by the edge of a river as it runs towards a waterfall. There is enough growth on the trees that she knows it must be spring, but in the shade of the forest canopy it is cool and damp. She knows that it is dangerous to walk so close to the fast-moving water, and the rocks are wet and slippery, but the temptation is too great. She picks her route from stone to stone and tries to keep her balance, but the rucksack she is wearing is heavy and makes it difficult, so she tries to take it off. In the attempt she loses her balance and, as her feet slip on the moss-covered rock she is standing on, she knows that she cannot stop herself from falling into the river.
She wakes with her alarm just before hitting the turbulent water but almost at once recognises the familiarity of the dream.
A dream that has become a friend.
A companion, at least.
Chapter 2
Shanghai, September 1996
Yeung Kwok-wah moved to his right to close down the opposition. Shoulder to shoulder, he leant into the mathematician from Nanjing, and when the mathematician briefly lost control of the ball he was quick to steal it. Kwok-wah was shorter than the others, but in compensation he was fast and agile. He turned and spun away, leaving his opponent flailing behind him. Sighting the basket, he took a shot. The ball rattled the hoop and hesitated briefly before dropping through the net.
‘Yes!’ shouted Kwok-wah, raising an arm in triumph. His three-pointer from near the halfway line was the cue for everyone to decide that the game was over. They had been playing on an outdoor court and storm clouds were building up in the west. There was a distant rumble of thunder and everyone knew the weather was changing. By the time they had gathered their belongings and started to head to the dorm, the first heavy drops of rain were beginning to fall.
Granny Sun watched from her room as the basketball players came back, pushing and shoving each other out of the way in their rush to get out of the rain.
‘No running!’ she shouted.
***
‘I need your papers.’
Kwok-wah’s arrival in Shanghai several weeks previously had not been encouraging. The guard had been abrupt and aggressive, his uniform ill-fitting and his tie loose. His breath smelt of raw onions. A second guard sat in the gatehouse with his feet on the desk and a cigarette in his mouth.
‘Sorry?’ Kwok-wah had had a long journey and only wanted to find his room.
‘You new here?’ the guard grunted, approximating speech.
‘Yes.’
‘From down south I guess by your accent?’
‘Hong Kong.’
‘Xiang Gang you mean … Remember where you are, sonny. I need to see your papers. Some kind of ID as well.’
Kwok-wah handed over his letter of acceptance from the university, counter-stamped by the Shanghai Ministry of Education, along with the letter he had received telling him when to arrive and where to go, his temporary residence permit issued by the Shanghai Municipal Government, his China Home Return Permit, his Hong Kong identity card, and finally his British National (Overseas) passport. The guard threw the last one back at him and took the rest back to the gatehouse, leaving Kwok-wah standing alone and hoping for the best. It didn’t seem the most promising beginning to his time in Shanghai. Shortly the guard returned bearing a clipboard that he clutched protectively to his chest as if he thought Kwok-wah might make a lunge for it. The guard struck Kwok-wah’s name off a list before returning his papers and directing him to the main administration block.
Kwok-wah made a mental note to never be without his student ID. He wasn’t particularly interested in politics but even he was acutely aware that Tiananmen Square was only seven years ago and most of the dead had been students. His older cousin Alice had been on the protest march in Hong Kong when a million people filled the streets. She had wanted him to come along with them but he’d only been fifteen and his parents said no. Kwok-wah hadn’t been that bothered. All that interested him at that age was building a basic home computer from scratch. His mother was constantly frustrated to find his bedroom full of circuit boards, power supplies and the smell of burning solder. Kwok-wah had been taking things apart – and putting them back together again, most of the time anyway – for as long as he could remember. He had started with simple things like toasters and kettles, and then moved on to radios and televisions. There was a time when his parents thought he had a psychiatric problem and they took him to see Dr Chan, but the doctor had been relaxed about Kwok-wah’s obsessive interest in household appliances.
‘Mrs Yeung, some children can play the piano very well. Others the violin. Some can learn foreign languages quickly, others are good at sports. Your son just has a natural aptitude for technical things. Trust me, he’ll do well in life.’
After getting the seal of approval from the medical profession, Kwok-wah’s parents encouraged him, and it was soon after that he moved on to computers. When it was realised that he also had a talent for maths, his future seemed predestined.
In spite of everything Alice had said about him coming to China, Kwok-wah didn’t regret choosing the Shanghai University of Science and Technology. Already one of the best in the country, it had been marked for expansion and growth. More importantly, at least as far as Kwok-wah was concerned, the university was home to his supervisor, Professor Ye Zhang; his number one reason for coming to Shanghai. For those in the know, Professor Ye was fast becoming a world leader in the areas where computational mathematics overlapped with computer science and telecommunications, and he was a regular speaker on the international conference scene. That was how Kwok-wah had first come across him. Professor Ye had given a talk in Hong Kong on mobile data transmission and its future potential, a talk that inspired Kwok-wah and was probably the main reason that he had wanted to go into the field. On one occasion Kwok-wah tried to explain to Alice his interest in fast Fourier transforms and their potential use, but he had quickly realised that her polite nods were only a way of pretending to listen when in reality she had no idea what he was talking about. In truth not many of his friends understood or cared either. Quite a lot of them had a mobile phone, but few seemed to see the potential for them in the future, and even if they did they weren’t interested in the technology that would be needed.
After several false starts, Kwok-wah found the administration building and was directed to an accommodation block where he was to share a small dormitory with three others. Bunk beds occupied the walls, and there was a small cupboard each and a single large table. A communal bathroom at the end of the corridor smelt of cheap disinfectant.
But Kwok-wah soon discovered that the most important aspect of his new home was Granny Sun who lived on the ground floor by the main door, ideally placed so that she could keep an eye on comings and goings. She was of an age that could only be described as ancient; missing most of her teeth save for a single gold tooth that would glint on the rare occasions when she smiled, and with a tuft of hair growing from a mole above her upper lip. Nobody knew her real name, she was simply Granny Sun, and nobody knew how long she had been there, only that she had seen off several generations of students and would probably see off several more. Her exact role was also unclear; at times a combined caretaker and mother, but more often a gatekeeper. Bringing girls back to the dorm was a particular crime, and if anyone attempted it she would be out of her room at a speed remarkable for her age, scolding whoever was foolish enough to try, while the guilty party would stand there staring at his feet and apologising profusely.
To begin with, his new room-mates – a physicist from Huna
n, a Beijing engineer, and a Shanghainese chemist – regarded him with a confused mixture of disdain, suspicion, curiosity and jealousy. They were fascinated by him and were always asking about life in Hong Kong (‘Can you always get the latest American movies?’, ‘What’s the stock market doing?’, ‘Who is Michelle Yeoh dating?’), but at the same time they took every chance they could to tell him how much better everything was in China (‘Look at the way Shanghai is growing, it will overtake Hong Kong soon’, ‘China – the next superpower’). His poor Putonghua hadn’t helped either. Kwok-wah had taken some classes but evidently not enough.
***
The first few weeks in Shanghai proved frustrating. Eager to get on with what he thought of as his real work, instead Kwok-wah found himself spending most of his time in compulsory courses in advanced mathematics. He was relieved to be excused the political classes his room-mates had to sit through, but it was still a month of boredom before he was finally able to meet his supervisor.
Professor Ye’s office was in one of the older buildings on the campus. A creeper had spread up the front, giving it an air of Ivy League or Cambridge. The building itself had once been a school dated from the 1920s and had more than a little flavour of old Shanghai; the Shanghai of the French concession, the days when everybody wanted a piece of China, and the Bund was the most important concentration of wealth and power in Asia. It was an unlikely building for a computer science department and less than ideal. A new home was planned but for the time being the computer science department occupied three floors in one wing of the building.
While he waited for his supervisor, Kwok-wah made small talk with the departmental secretary about how he was settling in to Shanghai. He’d quickly worked out that being friendly with her would pay dividends.
‘Good morning, Mr Yang,’ said Professor Ye when he finally arrived. Kwok-wah was becoming used to people using the Putonghua form of his family name. ‘Please, come in.’ Professor Ye unlocked his office and Kwok-wah followed him in. ‘Let me go and get my secretary to bring us some tea.’