Chinese Cinderella (22 page)

‘Then you can have two or more words which, combined together, are transformed into something wonderful and illuminating. For instance,
(wei) means danger.
(ji) means opportunity. Add them together and you have a “crisis”
. Break them apart and keep in mind: whenever you are in a crisis, you are in the midst of danger as well as opportunity. Now, do you still think the study of Chinese is boring?’

For a whole week, Niang went out with the Schillings. She always invited Ye Ye but never included me. Everyone knew she didn’t really want Ye Ye to accompany them and only asked him out of politeness. He invariably thanked her and said he preferred to rest at home.

Did I mind being left behind with my grandfather? Of course not! As soon as Niang left, it was as if a heavy weight was lifted off my shoulders. Aside from Ye Ye, me and the maids, even the flat itself seemed to breathe a sigh of deliverance. At once, the whole place became brighter, cosier and friendlier. To the two of us sitting side by side playing Chinese chess or reading the newspaper, the house would gradually transform itself into a happier and more intimate place.

A week went by and it was Sunday again. The sun was shining, everyone was home and excitement was in the air. At breakfast, Niang announced, ‘Today, we’ll all go for a long scenic drive and visit the elegant Repulse Bay hotel on the far side of Hong Kong island. I’ve made lunch reservations at the hotel’s dining‐room where the view is breathtaking and the food delicious. Our car will travel from Kowloon to Hong Kong across the harbour by ferry. After lunch, we’ll go for a swim at the beach, rent a tent and have an afternoon picnic. Won’t that be fun?’

She made it sound so enticing that for once, even Ye Ye agreed to go.

I wondered if I was going to be included in this special outing. Niang had not said I couldn’t go. Nor had she said I could.

One by one, they piled into Father’s large Studebaker while the maids stocked the car boot with picnic hampers, lotion, blankets and towels. Father, Ye Ye and Uncle Jean sat in front. Niang, Aunt Reine, Claudine, Fourth Brother and Little Sister were in the back. Victor and I stood hesitantly next to each other. The car sagged under the weight of its many passengers.

‘Come on, Victor,’ Niang cried out gaily in French. ‘Room for just one more, I think. We can all squeeze in just a little tighter.’

Victor was half in and half out of the car. He turned around and saw me watching him from the kerb. ‘It’s not fair, Maman. What about Adeline?’ he asked Aunt Reine in French. ‘Since Ye Ye is coming with us, she’ll be home by herself. Why don’t we take her along?’

Not understanding French and impatient to depart, Father asked Victor in English, ‘What is it, Victor, do you want to use the bathroom before we start?’

Victor shook his head, ‘No, Uncle Joseph,’ he began in English but Niang interrupted him in French. ‘There is not enough room. You can see how crowded we all are.’

‘Then what about yesterday and the day before and the day before that?’ Victor persisted.

‘Stop dawdling and get in the car!’ Aunt Reine commanded. ‘Everyone is ready to go and you are delaying everything.’

‘It’s so unfair,’ Victor continued. ‘Why doesn’t she get to go anywhere with us?’

‘That’s just the way it is!’ Niang exclaimed sharply. ‘You either get in now and come with us, or you can stay home with her. Suit yourself!’

‘In that case,’ Victor replied gallantly, ‘I think I’ll stay and keep Adeline company.’

He climbed out to stand by my side. Together, we watched the car drive off. I was overwhelmed by his chivalry but could find no words sufficient to express my gratitude. After a painful pause, I ran upstairs, dug out my book
Paper Magic
, gave it to him and said, ‘This is for you.’

He took the book gingerly, too stunned to say a word, unable to believe his good luck.

Chapter Seventeen

Boarding‐school in Hong Kong

I
knew the Schillings were leaving Hong Kong for Geneva on Thursday morning, so I got up early and hovered around the front door, hoping Father would take me along when he left to drive them to the pier. But he was in a rush and I was too shy to say anything. The result was I never got to say goodbye.

Two days later, an hour after lunch on Saturday afternoon, the maid Ah Gum knocked on our door. I opened it softly and placed my finger against my lips because Ye Ye was taking his afternoon nap. She whispered that Niang wanted me to pack my bag immediately because I was being taken away.

Father was at the office and Little Sister was attending a birthday party. Niang, Fourth Brother and I climbed into the back seat of Father’s Studebaker. I didn’t know where they were taking me and dared not ask. In the car, Fourth Brother deliberately snubbed me. He was playing with Niang’s diamond ring, twisting it round and round her finger. I envied his privilege and freedom as he nonchalantly positioned her finger this way and that, trying to catch the sun’s rays. She looked on indulgently while I sat primly in my corner, with my back straight and my skirt pulled down, hoping to be unnoticed. I knew Fourth Brother was angry at me because of what had happened earlier.

Ye Ye had a habit of going into the living‐room at eight o’clock every morning to read the newspapers before breakfast. His sight was failing and he liked the bright sunlight at that hour. To my surprise, I caught a glimpse of Fourth Brother lurking furtively in the hallway. I thought, ‘It’s Saturday and there’s no school. Besides, Fourth Brother hates to get up early. What
is
he up to?’

Now Ye Ye was shuffling slowly from the hall towards the half‐open door of the living‐room. I happened to look up and suddenly spotted a pile of thick encyclopedias propped precariously on the door’s upper ledge: lying in wait, like their perpetrator Fourth Brother, to fall on Ye Ye’s shaven head.

I was seized by a sudden rage. It was a sizzling hot day but I felt a chill within. In a flash, I lurched forward, overtook Ye Ye and pushed the door open violently. Three heavy volumes crashed to the floor, narrowly missing our heads and landing with a loud bang!

‘Mind your own business!’ His plans thwarted and beside himself with fury, Fourth Brother was screaming at me at the top of his lungs, ‘
Gun dan!
(Get lost! Drop dead!).’

‘How mean you are!’ a voice declared. We both turned to see the tiny figure of Little Sister, arms akimbo, glaring at Fourth Brother from the doorway of her room.

Before either of us could react, Father rushed out in his bath‐robe. Grasping the situation at once, he hesitated briefly. I saw his face, half turned towards Fourth Brother and half turned to return to his room. ‘Pick up the books!’ he commanded finally in a stern voice. ‘Such a racket! Don’t you know your mother is still sleeping? Keep your voices down when you play! That goes for all three of you!’

And that was all.

Afterwards, Ye Ye and I sat by ourselves on the long couch not saying a word. I looked at my grandfather, defeated and resigned with a blanket around his drooping shoulders in the blistering heat, his face contorted with sadness and anguish. A tired old man with no one to turn to, imprisoned by his love for his only son, my father.

I closed my eyes and made him a promise. I didn’t dare say it out loud but I wished very hard over and over, ‘It’s bound to get better. One day things will be different. Life won’t go on like this forever. I don’t know when, how or what but I’ll come back and rescue you from this. I promise!’

In the car, Fourth Brother demanded to have afternoon tea at the posh Peninsula Hotel. We stopped there though I felt sick to my stomach, besieged with unknown fears but too afraid to utter a single word. As we approached the grand entrance, I spied a little girl standing forlornly beside a man kneeling on the ground with his head bowed. Both were in rags. On the pavement was a sheet of paper describing their miseries and a plea for help. The child had a large placard hanging around her neck on which was written, ‘My name is Feng San‐San. I am for sale’.

In the cool, luxurious lounge on the ground floor of the hotel, there was a long line of Chinese customers waiting to be seated for afternoon tea. The head waiter was writing down their names in a large leather‐bound appointment book.

Fourth Brother had run ahead and was in the process of giving his name. As I approached with Niang, I heard the head waiter repeating in Chinese, ‘Last name is Yen. Party of three? Looks like half an hour’s wait, I’m afraid.’

Meanwhile, Niang was impatiently checking the time on her gold Rolex watch. Haughtily, she demanded in English to be seated immediately. ‘My name is Prosperi,’ she proclaimed in her best European accent. ‘We are in a great hurry!’

With one sweeping glance, the head waiter took in Niang’s French designer suit, alligator handbag, matching shoes and seven‐carat diamond ring. ‘Of course, Madam,’ he said, without any change of expression, while leading us past the long queue to sit at a table by the window. After all, Hong Kong was a British Colony. White people took precedence over the native population and went automatically to the head of every line, wherever that might be.

After tea, we crossed the harbour by ferry and drove past an impressive building, Governor’s House, which was surrounded by lush green lawns and guarded by tall, English soldiers. Our car stopped at a large school building perched halfway up a slope. A sign outside said Sacred Heart School and Orphanage.