by Graeme Hall
‘Shu-ming was such a lovely boy. He was really bright, good at school, we had such hopes for him. We thought he would go far, make something of himself.’
Kwok-wah wiped biscuit crumbs from his mouth and plucked up the courage to ask the difficult question.
‘Did he die in the famine as well?’
Granny Sun paused for a moment and Kwok-wah wondered if he had gone too far.
‘Not in the famine, no. But I don’t know if he’s alive or dead.’ This was not the answer Kwok-wah expected. Granny Sun was silent again before she was ready to go on. ‘You see it was so hard after Honggui died, so hard to keep going. I couldn’t feed Shu-ming, I barely had anything at all, so there really wasn’t anything else I could do. But I think if he was still alive he would have tried to find me, but then again he may not know where I am. Or perhaps he has simply never forgiven me.’
Kwok-wah was confused, uncertain what had happened to Shu-ming.
‘So, what did happen?’
‘I sold him. I sold my only son to a family from the city. They were childless and I thought he would have a better chance with them than me, and the money saw me through the winter. But there hasn’t been a single day since then that I haven’t thought of him, wondered if I did the right thing, what became of him. So much has happened in China since then that I don’t even know if he’s still alive. Later I had to come to Shanghai to try and find some work. I left details of where I was going with my neighbours in case Shu-ming ever went back to the village, but I’ve moved so often since then I shouldn’t think anybody knows where I am now. I don’t suppose they even remember me at all. It’s been thirty-five years since I left.’
‘Have you ever returned to the village since?’
‘No, it has too many bad memories. Anyway, you’ll forgive me if I don’t get carried away with the New Year hoopla. That’s for people with something to live for. People like you, Xiaoyang, who should be at home with your family, not spending all day with your books.’ Granny Sun wagged an aged wrinkled finger at him. ‘They must be missing you.’
***
Kwok-wah could hear voices coming from his dorm before he had even started to climb the stairs. Three days later and his room-mates were obviously back from the New Year holidays. There was no mistaking Zhanyuan’s voice:
‘Yeah the whole family was there including my cousin. Damn, she’s hot. She wears these tight sweaters that show off her breasts and I’d swear she wasn’t wearing a bra. You could make out her tits. I think she was doing it just to tease me. Tell me, is it okay to want to fuck your cousin?’
‘It depends. Is she in the Party as well?’ asked Li Lao. ‘I mean if she’s just a commoner like the rest of us then I guess anything goes. But you Party members are supposed to have higher moral standards, aren’t you? Setting an example for the rest of us?’ Li Lao enjoyed winding up Zhanyuan about his family status.
‘How many times do I have to tell you that I am not a Party member?’
‘Yeah, so you keep saying, but your father is and you will be soon enough. But if she’s that good looking, why don’t you invite her here so we can meet her? I’d be more than happy to give her a personal tour of Shanghai and a one-on-one tutorial …’
‘Shut your filthy mouth, smart-arse, that’s my cousin you’re talking about.’
‘What are you complaining about? You started it. You’re the one going on about how hot she is … Well, look who we have here.’
Kwok-wah had come into the room.
‘How’s our very own capitalist running dog doing? How was it here – all on your own? Just you and Granny Sun.’
‘Not bad. Got plenty of work done.’
For a moment he thought about telling them what Granny Sun had told him about her life, but he knew instinctively that she was right. They wouldn’t be interested. In truth it was a disappointment to Kwok-wah that everybody was back. He had enjoyed the quiet of the campus and the chance to get on with things. He had also enjoyed the time he spent with Susan. They’d had dinner together and they met up to go see the New Year fireworks. Once he began to get over his initial nerves, he found her easy to talk to. She had a way of listening to him that put him at ease. She was attentive and never seemed bored even when he started going on about his research. It was a refreshing change to find someone who was so interested in what he was doing. He found himself positively wanting to talk to her, to tell her about his family and his work. And then there was her Californian accent. Together with her looks, there was something almost Hollywood about Susan. He could imagine her in a movie or a TV show. He certainly felt he had more in common with Susan than with his basketball friends.
A small voice in his head told him not to mention her to them.
Chapter 9
‘Did you see that Chan Wah Man has been released early?’
Emma suddenly felt a chill at Yannie’s words. Her hand stopped in the act of picking up a glass, before she gathered herself and took a sip of her wine. She glanced around, hoping nobody had noticed anything unusual. Liang-bao was pouring Alice a glass of sparkling water, Kelvin was taking an olive from a bowl, and Charles was trying to catch the attention of a waiter. They were in a bar one evening after a meeting, and with most of Hong Kong back from the New Year holidays the place was busy. A big screen was showing football and they had to compete with the noise.
‘Who?’ said Kelvin.
‘You remember – he was jailed a few years ago for a hit-and-run,’ said Yannie.
‘Vaguely,’ said Alice. ‘What’s the big deal?’
‘There were rumours at the time that he wasn’t the driver. That it was a cover-up.’
‘It’s coming back to me now, sort of anyway,’ said Kelvin. ‘Something to do with Xinhua, if I remember. But nothing was ever proven, was it?’
‘No, and the driver confessed, but it just struck me as odd. He got ten years but is out after three on medical grounds?’
‘Well, fair enough I suppose, if he’s ill,’ said Alice.
‘When did all this happen?’ asked Emma.
‘Four, no, maybe five years ago. Four and a bit. In ’92, I think,’ said Alice.
‘So what were the rumours?’
‘Like Yannie said, there was some gossip he was just a fall-guy and that the driver was a mainland official who left Hong Kong in a hurry. But it was just talk and, anyway, why would anyone admit to something like that if they didn’t do it?’
Charles had finally succeeded in getting the attention of a passing waiter and ordered more drinks. Alice was leaning into Liang-bao, her right hand resting on his left. Their relationship seemed to be more open now, at least within the group. Emma wondered if Alice’s parents knew.
‘You okay, Emma? You look a little off-colour.’
‘Fine. Perhaps I shouldn’t have another drink though. It’s a bit loud in here for me; I think I might get going.’
Back home, Emma was restless. Briefly she thought about ringing her parents before remembering that they were away on holiday. She knew there was no point in trying to get to sleep. Eventually she gave in to the temptation she had been trying to resist since getting back from the meeting and took a small photograph album down from a shelf. Making herself comfortable, she started to look through pages of memories: family holidays in Wales and Cornwall; visits to relatives in the Netherlands; children playing in the garden. She knew what she had to do in the morning.
***
Emma was already awake before the sound of the first tram made its way along the street; the ringing bell, the metal wheels grinding against the track. Slightly to her surprise there hadn’t been a dream to disturb her that night, but even so she hadn’t slept well. But at least she now had a plan and a sense of purpose, even if she had no great expectations of any results. She was glad she wasn’t working today, that nothing would get in the way of what she wanted to do, and after breakfast she headed to the Central Library, an uninspiring 1960s concrete edifice near the Star Ferry.
Emma approached the information desk. ‘Excuse me, I’m looking for back issues of newspapers. Where do I go?’
She was directed to a department on the floor above, where she found another desk.
‘I’m looking for back editions of the South China Morning Post – can you help me?’
A young woman looked up from the filing cards she was organising.
‘What years you want?’
‘1992 and ’93. Perhaps 1994 as well.’
‘Up to 1992 we have microfiche, from 1993 onwards we have CD-ROMs. I show you.’
The assistant took Emma to a desk with a microfiche reader.
‘These drawers have films for 1987 to 1992.’ Showing Emma another cabinet, she added: ‘Here you’ll find the discs for 1993 onwards. There are few PC station around you can use. Are you familiar with using CD-ROM?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then I leave you. Come find me if need anything.’
Emma sat down at the microfiche reader and started to realise the enormity of her task. She didn’t even know exactly what she expected to find, only that she hoped she might learn something. She was at least doing something productive, and on the plus side she knew where to start. It didn’t take her long to find the South China Morning Post for 17 September 1992 and she soon came across the item she was looking for.
TOURIST KILLED IN HIT-AND-RUN
A tourist was killed last night in a hit-and-run accident in Wan Chai. According to the police, the victim, who has not been named, was killed by a car at the junction of Lockhart Road and Luard Road. Witnesses say that the man was hit by a silver Mercedes that stopped briefly and then drove off.
Emma had only read the reports in the British press before, but this short paragraph didn’t tell her anything new. She looked through the next few editions in case there was any further mention, but there was nothing until another brief item three days later:
VICTIM OF HIT-AND-RUN NAMED
Police have identified the victim of the hit-and-run incident on Wednesday night as British citizen Peter Janssen, 28. Mr Janssen was on holiday in Hong Kong at the time of his death. Police are still looking for information as to the driver of the car.
Emma continued to trawl through the microfiche slides looking for any follow-up article or anything she didn’t already know, but there was nothing of interest until the next article, which came from 27 September 1992:
ARREST IN HIT-AND-RUN CASE
A man has been arrested in connection with the death of a tourist in a hit-and-run accident in Wan Chai on September 16th. Peter Janssen, 28, visiting Hong Kong from the United Kingdom, was killed when he was struck by a car at the junction of Lockhart Road and Luard Road. Chan Wah Man, aged 34, has been charged with death by dangerous driving and failing to report an accident. Chan Wah Man is believed to be employed by Xinhua News Agency as a driver. It is understood that nobody else was in the car at the time of the accident.
Emma hadn’t known before that Chan Wah Man was employed by Xinhua; that was news to her. She remembered that Kelvin had said something about Xinhua in the bar. Emma went through all the remaining editions for 1992 but there was nothing else, so she replaced the microfiche slides in the cabinet and switched to the CD-ROMs. Taking the disc for 1993, she found a vacant PC and placed the CD-ROM in the drive. A basic search function installed on the disc allowed Emma to find what she wanted quite quickly:
GUILTY PLEA IN HIT-AND-RUN TRIAL
Chan Wah Man, 34, has pleaded guilty to causing death by dangerous driving and failing to report an accident. Chan Wah Man admitted causing the death of Peter Janssen, 28, a British tourist, in September last year in a hit-and-run incident in Wan Chai. Speaking in mitigation, Gao Zhihua, a senior official at Xinhua News Agency, said that Chan Wah Man was his regular driver and was a conscientious and careful driver and that the accident was out of character. Chan Wah Man was remanded into custody and will be sentenced at a later date.
There were no other references to the story and Emma didn’t need to go any further, she knew the rest. Chan Wah Man was sentenced to ten years but now it seemed he had been released after only three. There was nothing in those brief reports to suggest the cover-up Yannie had suggested. Perhaps that might have been in the more scandal-filled Chinese press rather than the sober SCMP, but if so that wouldn’t help her as she couldn’t read Chinese and wouldn’t know where to start looking. But if Yannie was right then what about Gao Zhihua? There was something vaguely familiar in the name. Had she heard it somewhere? Emma hadn’t come to Hong Kong for the trial, but her parents had. Emma didn’t recall them saying anything about a Gao Zhihua when they returned, but they had been so upset she hadn’t asked them too much about what had happened. She puzzled over why the name rang a bell.
Emma realised that she had been in the library for longer than intended. There was little more she could do so she removed the disc from the computer and returned it to its place.
***
Emma flung her jacket on the bed and lay down wearily. She had agreed to meet Sam for a drink after work but wasn’t in the mood. Getting up again before she got too comfortable, she picked up the telephone and called him. Her tinnitus was sometimes a useful excuse for getting out of things when she wasn’t in the mood, and although she could hear the disappointment in Sam’s voice there wasn’t a problem and they agreed to rearrange sometime soon. She went to lie down again, but then stopped and picked up the phone once more. She called the number she used to get Alice at work, which took her through to the main reception. A voice answered saying something in Cantonese that Emma just ignored.
‘Hello. I’d like to speak to Yannie Chan please.’
‘Who?’
‘Yannie Chan.’
‘One moment. You hold on.’
There was a pause with the silence broken only by static on the line and the click of the call being put through. Finally a woman’s voice answered in Cantonese and again Emma simply spoke in English.
‘Is that Yannie? This is Emma, Alice’s friend from the group.’
‘Oh, hi Emma. Did you want Alice? She’s around somewhere I think.’
‘No, actually it was you I wanted to speak to. Do you have a minute?’
‘Sure.’
‘I was wondering if we could get together sometime. There’s something I’d like to ask you about.’
‘Of course. We can talk at the next meeting if you want.’
‘No, I was thinking of just you and me, it’s something private.’ Emma didn’t exactly know why she didn’t want the rest of the group to know her problems, but she rarely told other people about Peter. Sometimes it was easier with strangers, but with friends and colleagues she was wary.
‘You’re sounding very mysterious, Emma, but okay, no problem. I can’t do tonight but how about after work tomorrow?’
‘That’s good for me. When and where?’
‘I finish about six, meet me in our reception and we’ll go find somewhere.’
‘Thanks. Oh, just one thing – please don’t mention this to Alice.’
‘Okay – I think she’s in the Kowloon office tomorrow anyway.’
‘Thanks again. See you tomorrow.’
‘And you’re not going to give me a clue what it’s about?’
‘Tomorrow, I promise.’
This time Emma allowed herself to lie down on the bed and although it was early she fell asleep still dressed.
***
Emma arrived at Yannie’s office in Causeway Bay in good time and took a seat in reception. She didn’t have to wait long before a lift door opened and Yannie walked over.
‘Have you been waiting long?’ Yannie asked.
‘Just a few minutes, I didn’t want to be late.’
‘There’s a new bubble tea place around the corner I’ve been wanting to try. Shall we give it a go?’
‘Sure. Anywhere you like.’
The bubble tea shop was already busy with young Hongkongers. Emma suddenly
felt very old; many of the customers barely looked out of their teens.
‘What would you like?’ asked Yannie.
‘I’ve no idea.’ Emma was bemused by the drinks list, which was only in Chinese, and the accompanying pictures of various multicoloured concoctions didn’t help much. ‘This is all new to me.’
‘It’s a Taiwanese thing. The tea is mixed with tapioca, milk and various fruit juices. Green tea with milk is my favourite.’
‘Then I’ll try that as well.’
Emma grabbed an empty Formica table while Yannie ordered at the counter. Shortly, Yannie returned with two alarmingly fluorescent green drinks. Emma sipped hers cautiously through the straw.
‘What do you think?’ asked Yannie.
‘Not sure, if I’m honest. The tea itself is okay but the tapioca reminds me of school dinners.’
‘Perhaps it’s not for foreigners. What was it you wanted to talk about?’
Yannie played with her straw, stirring the tapioca so that it mixed with the tea. Emma put her drink down and took a deep breath.
‘The other night in the bar you were talking about that guy being released from prison.’
‘I remember.’
‘You said something about rumours of a cover-up. That he hadn’t been driving that night?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Can you remember what the rumours were?’ asked Emma.
‘It’s a while ago now, but I remember he was the driver for a mainland official and there was gossip that it was the bigwig himself who had been driving.’
‘Do you remember a name? For the official?’
‘No, I don’t remember that, sorry.’
‘Could it have been Gao Zhihua?’
‘Possibly. I couldn’t be sure though. Why are you asking this, Emma? You’re acting like a police detective.’
‘Okay, you deserve an answer.’ Emma leaned across the table closer to Yannie and lowered her voice a little. ‘It was my brother who was killed that night.’