by Graeme Hall
‘I guess there was no girlfriend in London then?’
‘Not really.’ Sam didn’t want to tell Emma that his girlfriend of three years dumped him when he was sacked. He had hoped that a new start in a new place would be a chance to reinvent himself where nobody knew him; he thought he would be able to become someone else, but of course that hadn’t worked and he was just the same person with the same emotional baggage and hang-ups he’d been in London.
The path continued to snake its way through what might once have been a wetland before starting to slowly climb into the hills and the easy level walk that Sam had been enjoying came to an end. They passed through a grove of acacia trees and then the path opened out into a rough track that rose steeply past ancestral graves dug into the hillside. The remains of incense sticks and offerings of fruit lay scattered in front of each grave.
‘This is the worst bit,’ said Emma as they took a rest and a drink of water. ‘Once we get to the top the path follows the ridge, and apart from one or two ups and downs it’s quite easy.’
‘One or two ups and downs?’
‘Come on, we can stop for lunch when we get to the top.’
Sam would have preferred a longer rest but male pride wasn’t going to let him say so. Conversation dwindled as they climbed. It wasn’t long before it became clear that Sam was holding Emma back.
‘You go on,’ he said, ‘just wait for me at the top.’
Sam continued to struggle up the hill while Emma went on ahead. He kept stopping to catch his breath and those rests became more frequent as the climb went on and on. Trapped beneath his rucksack, his shirt stuck to his back with perspiration and he wished he was wearing lighter clothes. When he finally reached the summit, Sam found Emma sitting on a rock. She was staring northwards, looking over the border at Shenzhen, the new city that had grown in under two decades from almost nothing to being larger than Hong Kong. From their hilltop vantage point it looked like an army of tower blocks had been marching towards Hong Kong until they’d suddenly come to a halt at the border, as if there was an invisible barrier that they couldn’t pass. Perhaps they were waiting for permission to continue their journey south. Sam took a drink from his water bottle and tried to get his breath back while Emma continued to gaze at the view.
‘It’s quite a sight,’ said Sam, when he had finally recovered.
‘A friend of mine was telling me the other day that there are tens of thousands of illegal migrants living in Shenzhen,’ said Emma. ‘Most of them from remote parts of China. All of them looking for a job, all of them willing to work long hours for a pittance and with no rights at all. Those without the right papers are arrested, beaten up and returned to their home towns. They may be the lucky ones. Have you been there?’
‘A couple of times on business.’ Sam had taken a client to Shenzhen the month before. They stayed in a smart five-star hotel where they had a fine dinner. Afterwards their Chinese business partners bought them drinks in a bar where they were served by young women in cheongsams. It was made pretty clear to Sam that the women would offer more than drinks if he was interested, but Sam had played dumb and pretended not to pick up on the hints. Sam thought that it was probably better not to mention this to Emma. ‘It’s an interesting place, that’s for sure,’ he said, settling for something neutral.
‘In what way?’
‘Well, for a start, simply the way it has grown so fast, and like you say it’s full of people from all over China – whether legally or not – which gives it a very different feel from Hong Kong. For one thing you don’t hear much Cantonese and people have quite a different look about them. Different facial features compared to Hong Kong. It’s a sort of microcosm of the mainland in one place – for better or worse. You can’t help but admire the progress, but it’s also a bit Wild West, as if anything goes. Every time I’ve been there I’ve always been very relieved to get back to Hong Kong. I’ve heard about people who get into trouble, get beaten up or something, stabbed in some cases even, who insist on getting back to Hong Kong before going to hospital.’
Sam and Emma ate the lunch they had brought with them while they admired the view. A charcoal grey hillside was clearly visible where earlier in the year five people had died in a hill-fire. A group of hikers – the first people they had seen since setting off – arrived at the summit by the same route, and after saying hello the group continued along the ridge. Sam and Emma let them get ahead before continuing in the same direction.
‘Did you know that Pat Sin Leng means the “Ridge of the Eight Immortals”?’ asked Emma. ‘I’ve been out here a few times. It’s one of the advantages of not having a proper job.’
Sam was relieved to find that Emma had been right and the going was much easier now that they were following the contour of the ridge. To the south the sun still glistened off Tolo Harbour where a flotilla of sailing boats spread over the water, but dark clouds were starting to build to the north.
‘We’d better press on,’ said Emma, looking at the approaching weather. She picked up her pace and after a while Sam again started to struggle to keep up and found himself falling behind. Compounding his general unfitness he had a nagging pain in his left knee that was starting to bother him on the downhill sections, and his left heel hurt with each step. Reaching another summit, Sam found Emma waiting for him.
‘You okay?’ she asked.
‘Just a twinge.’
The temperature was starting to drop as the pressure fell and a wind began to pick up. Looking north, lightning could be seen in the distance and Sam ignored the pains in his knee and heel knowing that an exposed high ridge was not the best place to be in a thunderstorm. It wasn’t long before the rain started, a few drops at first but soon getting heavier. They could both see and hear that the storm was getting closer and they hurried to get to the final summit and then start the descent into the village of Tai Mei Tuk. By the time they made it down from the hills they had long given up worrying pointlessly about the rain; a restaurant with a large open area where they could sit outside, but still be under cover, gave them the chance to start to dry off. They ordered a little food and some beer and Sam noticed a small puddle developing under his chair as the water dripped off his clothes. Soon they were both laughing at how ludicrously wet they were.
‘Sorry,’ said Emma, ‘you must be wishing you hadn’t come.’
‘It’s okay,’ Sam lied. ‘I’m sure I’ll dry off soon enough.’
The thunder and lightning had stopped but the rain had settled into a groove so they ordered another beer.
‘How do you know so much about Shenzhen?’ asked Sam.
‘Sorry?’
‘That business you were telling me about illegal migrants.’
‘Oh, that came from a friend of mine. She’s quite involved with that sort of thing. She’s a member of a small human rights group that she’s been trying to get me involved with. In fact that’s where I was that Friday when you invited me for work drinks. I just missed you and Kate, I was coming from one of their meetings.’
‘You’re a member too?’ Sam had never imagined that Emma might be involved in politics.
‘Not really, Alice – my friend – had been nagging me to go along and I sort of gave in to stop her going on about it. But it was quite interesting so I’ll probably give it another go. With the handover and everything, it makes you think, even if as expats we’re not that affected.’
They were interrupted briefly by a man from another table who asked Sam to take a photograph of a large family gathering.
‘To be honest you don’t look like a human rights activist.’ Sam realised as soon as the words had left his mouth how stupid they must have sounded.
‘What should I look like then?’
‘I don’t know but probably not soaking wet in running kit.’
‘Actually it’s not so bad now; my clothes are more or less dry. But my hair …’ Emma ran her hands through her hair, pushing it back as she did so, revealing a small s
car on her forehead just below the hairline that Sam hadn’t noticed before. He wondered how that had happened. Emma caught his eye and he looked away embarrassed and felt himself blush. ‘Anyway,’ continued Emma, ‘you’re probably right. Certainly my parents would be surprised.’
‘Where do they live?’
‘Hampshire, near Winchester.’
‘Any brothers or sisters?’
This time it was Emma’s turn to look away briefly.
‘No, just me.’
‘And what are your plans next year, after the handover?’
‘Nothing at the moment. Part of me would like to go on to Australia, but then I get a lot of pressure from my parents to go back to the UK.’
‘Would you stay here?’
‘Perhaps. If I could, anyway. It may all depend on what the visa situation is going to be. Who knows whether I’ll be able to stay even if I want to?’
By the time they had finished their second beer the heavy rain had become a slight drizzle and they decided to make a move when they had the chance. An hour later they were back in Central. The maids had mostly left, leaving behind the evidence of a day well-spent.
‘We’re going the same way, aren’t we?’ said Sam. ‘We might as well share a cab.’
They sat in silence in the back of the taxi. Sam knew that he only had until they reached Emma’s apartment to pluck up the courage to say something, but before he knew it they were on Des Voeux Road and pulling over to let Emma out.
‘Sorry about the rain,’ she said. ‘I hope today wasn’t too awful for you.’
‘Of course not, I enjoyed it. Perhaps …’ Sam hesitated momentarily as Emma started to climb out. They’d had drinks once, been to a movie and now gone hiking, but he was still unsure of himself with Emma. Were they dating? Only one way to find out. ‘Would you like to have dinner or something … sometime?’ Sam knew how corny that sounded and was relieved that Emma smiled.
‘I thought you weren’t going to ask. I’ve got your number,’ she said. ‘I’ll call you.’
Sam watched Emma cross the road before the taxi pulled away. His knee was still hurting, his legs ached and he suspected that he had a cold coming on from the rain, but he thought that it was worth it.
Chapter 8
Lunar New Year – the Year of the Ox – and everywhere was dead. The university had closed down and even the city itself, sprawling megapolis that it was, appeared as if asleep. A slumbering giant. There was little traffic on the roads and for once all work had stopped on the countless building sites. Cranes were stationary, pile drivers silenced. The background sounds of the city, which the rest of the time Kwok-wah hardly noticed, were now conspicuous by their absence. At the university only a handful of a people were still around; Kwok-wah and Granny Sun the only ones in his building. He was glad he had Susan for company, and she seemed to appreciate having him around as well.
‘Like you I’m the only one there at the moment,’ she had said. ‘Everyone else has disappeared to all four corners of China. It must be a nightmare though. I mean, did you see the TV news the other night? It was completely crazy. The queues outside the main railway stations were just horrific.’
His room-mates had left over the previous couple of days to catch overcrowded trains to all parts of the country. It was the largest peacetime movement of people in the world, and the numbers increased every year.
On the first day of the holiday Kwok-wah saw that Granny Sun was in her room.
‘Gong Xi Fa Cai!’ he said brightly.
Granny Sun muttered something in reply that Kwok-wah didn’t quite catch, but he got the sense she was not completely enamoured of the holidays.
‘Don’t you have family to visit? Or will they come to you?’ he asked.
‘No, not me, Xiaoyang.’ Kwok-wah was the only student in the dorm to be honoured by Granny Sun with an affectionate pet name. He received this singular distinction after fixing her rice cooker. ‘It’s just me these days. Come, sit with me for a while and have some tea.’
Kwok-wah was coming back after a morning run. He wanted to get on with some work, the quiet of the campus gave him a perfect opportunity, but he didn’t really have an excuse for not taking some time out, and anyway, he liked Granny Sun. He also had enough sensitivity to realise that his question had touched a nerve and perhaps she would like some company. Granny Sun had only a small single room. In one corner was a two-ring hob; the repaired rice cooker was next to it on an old card table. The only decoration was last year’s calendar, which still hung from a nail on a wall, along with faded photographs of two men, one older than the other. A camp bed occupied another corner, while a single chair and a small table made up the remaining furniture. A door leading to a small bathroom was the only concession to the fact that this spartan room was in fact a home.
‘Come, Xiaoyang, sit down.’ Granny Sun gestured to Kwok-wah to take the chair while she filled a kettle and put it on one of the rings to boil. Kwok-wah quickly discovered that the chair was perfectly placed to watch the entrance to the building.
‘Are they family?’ asked Kwok-wah. ‘The pictures on the wall?’
‘My husband and son.’
Kwok-wah wondered what had become of them but didn’t know whether he should ask. She would tell him if she wanted to.
‘I expect you’re wondering what became of them.’ Kwok-wah tried not to look embarrassed. ‘The one on the left is my husband, Honggui, the other one is my son, Shu-ming. Such a lovely boy.’
Granny Sun took a small metal caddy down from a shelf and spooned tea into an old silver-plated teapot. ‘We were farmers. Our parents were farmers and their parents before them. Back in Liaoning province. We were never rich – just peasant farmers – but as the saying goes there was always food in our stomachs and clothes to wear.’
Kwok-wah turned his chair so that he could face her. He made a mental note to himself to put the chair back in its original orientation before he left.
‘You’ve heard of the Great Famine?’ she asked.
‘A little. Well, not much to be honest.’
‘That’s still probably more than most of your room-mates have. They’re not interested in hearing about the past. All they care about is making money, getting a girl and a good job. You try and tell them about the hard times and you can see they don’t care. Their eyes glaze over and all they want to do is get away from you as quickly as possible. Sometimes they yawn right in front of me. I think they do it deliberately to make fun of me.’
Granny Sun took the kettle off the heat and left it for a moment before filling the teapot and pouring two cups. She passed one to Kwok-wah and then sat on the edge of the bed with the other.
‘What happened to your family?’ Kwok-wah didn’t tell Granny Sun that her assumptions about his fellow students were spot on.
‘First they took our land off us. Not that we had much – just enough to grow some vegetables and keep a few chickens. We could feed ourselves with a little left over to sell. But apparently that was bourgeois. Whatever that meant, to be honest I never really understood. All the land in the village was seized and we had to send most of what we grew to a nearby town. We were happy to do that. It wasn’t a large amount we had to give and we were told it was for the good of the country. It was for the people, they said, and we still had enough to eat. But then they started reducing the amount we could keep for ourselves. Bit by bit. We used to have rice and vegetables every day, then the vegetables were only every other day. Then it was down to once a week. I used to take Shu-ming and go searching in the hills for edible flowers. Honggui set traps for animals but all he caught were rats. We ate those sometimes. If you cook them for long enough and use enough chillies you can’t taste what you’re eating.’
Granny Sun paused and took a sip from her tea. Kwok-wah wondered how hungry he would have to be before he could contemplate eating a rat.
‘Didn’t anybody say anything?’ he asked. ‘What about the village authorities?’
‘Pah!’ Granny Sun almost choked on her tea. ‘Don’t talk to me about those scumbags. They always seemed to have plenty to eat. Bunch of thieves, they were. No, things just got worse … Do you know some people were reduced to boiling leather belts to eat? Hours they had to be boiled for and they were still inedible and as tough as … well, as tough as old leather.’ Granny Sun chuckled at her joke and then was silent for a minute. Kwok-wah was beginning to change his image of Granny Sun. He’d thought she was just a harmless little old woman who stopped the students from doing whatever they wanted. Clearly she was more than that.
‘If it had just been Honggui and me I think we’d have been alright. We could have managed.’ Granny Sun appeared thoughtful, looking into the distance, almost as if she had forgotten Kwok-wah was there; as if she was looking into the past and in her mind’s eye Honggui and Shu-ming were there in front of her. ‘But we had Shu-ming to think of. He was only five at the time. He used to cry all night. He was always hungry and his skin was covered in sores. Honggui couldn’t bear it so he started to give some of his own food to Shu-ming. I should have done the same … even today I feel bad about that but I was just too hungry.’
‘What happened to your husband?’ asked Kwok-wah, even though he could guess.
‘He started to get thin. Well, thinner, I should say. Also, he lost his hair. That was strange because before he had such a full head of hair. But even worse was the way the spirit seemed to go out of him. It was as if he’d just given up, and one day he did just that. Gave up. He lay down on the bed, closed his eyes and that was it. He was gone.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘He gave his life for Shu-ming. I think he knew what he was doing.’
Kwok-wah had no idea of what to say, or indeed whether he should say anything at all. He thought about his own grandparents who had escaped from China after the war. What would have happened if they hadn’t? Should he ask what happened to Shu-ming? Granny Sun raised herself from the bed and refilled his tea. She opened a tin and offered Kwok-wah an almond biscuit.