Mr Ma and Son (12 page)

The Reverend Ely said nothing, but slowly poured two glasses of water for the two Mas. By combining a mouthful of rice pudding with a mouthful of cold water, they more or less managed to survive the dessert.

‘I’ll tell you a funny story!’ said Alexander, addressing all and sundry, totally unconcerned as to whether anybody wanted to hear one. Mrs Wedderburn gave a light clap with her dainty hands in anticipation. Seeing her applaud, Mr Ma quickly uttered a series of ‘Splendid!’s.

‘It was the year I went to Peking.’ Alexander stuck his thumb in his waistcoat pocket, stretched out his legs and positioned his spine squarely against the back of his chair. ‘It’s a poverty-stricken hole is Peking, I can tell you. Not a single big store, not a single factory, and the streets are filthy. Someone had told me Peking was an attractive place. Saw no signs of that. Filth and charm don’t go hand in hand, what!’

‘Kay!’ said Mrs Ely hastily, noticing that Ma Wei’s face was reddening somewhat. ‘Take Ma Wei to have a look round your study, and when you come back, we’ll be having coffee in the drawing room.’ To Ma Wei she said, ‘Paul has collected a good number of books, and his study is really quite the little library. You go and have a look with Catherine.’

‘Listen to me!’ Alexander looked a bit disgruntled. ‘I was staying in the Peking Hotel. Now that’s what you’d call a decent place. You can have a drink, play billiards, dance or gamble. If you wanted, you could do the lot. And do you know, there’s only one good hotel like that in the whole of Peking. Well, when I’d finished my dinner, and had nothing else to do, I went downstairs for a round of billiards. There was an old chappy with black whiskers standing in the billiard room – a Chinaman. One of the old school of Chinamen. That’s the sort I like, the old-school type, what! As I started playing, he curved up his moustache in a smile. Interesting old chappy, I thought to myself. When I’d finished the game, he was still standing there, so I went over and asked him, in Chinese, “He-chiu pu-he?” Would you like a drink?’

As Alexander pronounced the four words of Chinese, he did so with his face turned to the ceiling, his fist resting on his hip and his eyes closed, mumbling in a stifled wheezing voice, imitating a Chinese person.

While her brother was preoccupied with his Chinaman impersonations, Mrs Ely hastily said to her guests, ‘Please come and sit in the drawing room.’

The Reverend Ely stood up with alacrity to open the door. Alexander made a beeline for Mr Ma, intent on continuing his funny story. Mrs Wedderburn, very eager to hear someone who’d actually been to China talk about the country, said to him, ‘Tell us when we’re in the drawing room, so that we all can hear.’

‘Mrs Wedderburn! Your dress is quite gorgeous!’ Mrs Ely was trying her level best to interrupt Alexander’s tale.

‘Most pretty!’ added Mr Ma.

When they were all in the drawing room, Mrs Ely poured them coffee. The Reverend Ely smiled at Mrs Wedderburn. ‘Shall we listen to the gramophone?’ he asked her. ‘Which record would you like to hear?’

‘Lovely! But let’s ask Mr Lanmore to finish his funny story first.’

His efforts falling flat, all the Reverend Ely could do was pick up his coffee and sit down. Alexander said ‘Ahem!’, and proceeded with his story, now in a thoroughly merry mood.

‘Well, Mrs Wedderburn. You see, when I asked him if he would have a drink, he nodded his head and smiled again. I forged on to the bar, with him tagging behind me like an old dog —’

‘Alec, pass Mrs Wedderburn a – Mrs Wedderburn, would you like an apple or a banana?’

Alexander passed the fruit bowl and carried on speaking, not for a moment breaking his stride. ‘“What are you drinking?” I said. “What’ll you drink?” he said. “I’ll have a whisky,” I said. “I’ll join you,” he said. So the pair of us got drinking. Fine chappy, that old fellow. Drank five with me. Never flinched.’

‘Ha ha! Oh Mr Lanmore, do you mean to tell me that when you were in China you actually taught Chinese people to drink whisky?’ asked Mrs Wedderburn, laughing.

The Reverend and Mrs Ely both opened their mouths to try to interrupt Alexander’s anecdote, but as both of them started up simultaneously, nobody heard what either of them said, and Alexander grabbed his chance, and carried on.

‘What was even more extraordinary, when we finished drinking the old chappy paid for the drinks. Settled the bill. Then he really opened up – asked me how he could buy a betting ticket for the
Shanghai horseraces
. You Chinamen are all for gambling, eh?’ he asked Mr Ma.

Mr Ma nodded.

Mrs Wedderburn, chewing a piece of banana in her mouth, murmured, ‘Teaching people to go horseracing and bet, and then you say they’re —’

Before she’d finished whatever it was she was going to say, the Reverend Ely cut in quickly, ‘Mrs Wedderburn, is the Reverend Chamberlain still —’

Mrs Ely opened her mouth, too: ‘Mr Ma, which church do you go to for Sunday service?’

Alexander slurped noisily at his coffee. The more he thought about it, the funnier his story seemed, so that he ended up going off into great guffaws of laughter once more.

I
N PAUL’S
study, Miss Ely sat on her brother’s swivel chair, and Ma Wei stood in front of the shelves, looking at the books. There were probably twenty or thirty of them, of which a complete collection of Shakespeare’s works accounted for half. On the walls hung three or four coloured prints of famous paintings, all bought by Paul in the market for sixpence each. On the small table next to the bookshelves lay an opium pipe, a new pair of shoes usually worn by Chinese women with tiny bound feet, a shabby snuff bottle, and a pair of old embroidered purses.

Paul’s friends knew he’d been born in China, and Paul felt obliged to play this up a little. Whenever his friends came by, he’d weave a whole concocted tale round the curios: when the Chinese bound their feet and smoked opium, this was the little pot into which they stuffed the opium, and these were the purses that they put the little pots in . . . Fortunately, English people know nothing about China, so he could tell them whatever he liked and it didn’t matter.

‘So this is Paul’s collection then?’ said Ma Wei, turning round to Catherine with a smile.

Miss Ely nodded. She was probably about twenty-six or twenty-seven. Like her father, she wasn’t tall, and she had big eyes. She had as much hair as her mother, and as she wasn’t as tall, that head of hair seemed to weigh down the rest of her, depriving it of frivolity or lightness. But she wasn’t at all unattractive, and, especially when she was seated, with her back very straight and her shimmering tawny hair hanging down behind her, she had quite a lot of that passive, still beauty of Oriental women. When she spoke, there was always the hint of a smile on her lips, but she didn’t often laugh aloud. Her hands were particularly smooth and pretty, and she’d often raise them to sweep back her long hair.

‘Are you all right here in England, Ma Wei?’

‘Of course.’

‘Really?’ She gave a faint smile.

‘I don’t take much notice of English people’s attitudes towards us. But my father’s business, it’s . . . It worries me every time I think of it, Elder Sister.’

When they had been in China together he’d called her this, and found he couldn’t shake the habit.

‘The Chinese tend to look down on businessmen, and my father’s not the slightest bit interested in running a business. But now we rely on the shop for our livelihood, it’s no good his being indifferent. He won’t listen to what I say, and doesn’t go to the shop all day, and when he does go, he’s likely to give a customer something for free if he hears them praising Chinese antiques. We’ve only been here a few months, and already we’ve spent more than two hundred pounds of the money my uncle left us. One day Father’s shouting someone a meal, and the next he’s inviting someone to have a drink on him. People only have to say the Chinese are nice, and he invites them out to dinner. And when they tell him the food’s good, he has to go and invite them out again!

‘Quite apart from all that, whenever anyone asks him a question, he tries too hard to answer them the way they want. English people by and large think the worst of China, and they’re only too delighted to hear confirmation of their suspicions from the lips of a Chinese person. For instance, when people ask him how many wives he’s got, he says, “Five or six”! And if I ask him about it, he gets all hot under the collar and says, “People are convinced the Chinese have a lot of wives. So why shouldn’t I tell them what they want to hear?”

‘And sure enough some old folks have got so fond of him he’s become their proper darling – just because he always tells them what they want to hear.

‘There was the day not long ago when General Gower was giving a lecture on the British troops sent into Shanghai, and he made a point of inviting my father to come along. Halfway through his talk, General Gower pointed at my father, and said, “Would it not be a good thing for the Chinese were British troops to remain permanently stationed in China? Let us put the question to a Chinaman. Mr Ma, what would you say?”

‘And my father stands up and says exactly what’s expected of him: “We welcome the British forces!”

‘Another time, an old lady told him that Chinese clothes were lovely, so the next day he traipsed round the streets in a big silk jacket, and collected a crowd of little children shouting “Chink!” at him. If he’d worn the Chinese clothes because he wanted to, all well and good, but no – he was just wearing them to please that old lady. You know, Elder Sister, my father’s generation’s had the scares put into them by foreigners, and all they need is to hear those same foreigners bestowing faint praise and they feel tremendously honoured. He hasn’t got an atom of national feeling, not an atom!’

Miss Ely sighed, smiling.

‘Nationalism, Elder Sister,’ continued Ma Wei. ‘Nationalism’s the only thing that can save China. Not like the Japanese, manufacturing big guns, aeroplanes and all those lethal weapons, but then again, in this present day and age, guns and aeroplanes are a sign of civilisation. The average English person sneers at us because our military’s no good. If we’re ever going to lift up our heads, we’re just going to have to fight. I know it’s not humane, but if we don’t, we can forget about ever being able to hold our own in the world.’

‘Ma Wei!’ said Catherine, taking his hand. ‘Ma Wei, just stick I know how you suffer, and the irritations you have to put up with. But losing your temper can’t do anything to help China, can it? If your country’s in a shambles, nobody’s going to show you any sympathy. You could go on forever, telling the English, the French or the Japanese, “We’re an ancient land, and it’s not easy for an ancient land to modernise. You ought to show us some sympathy instead of taking advantage of our tribulations”, but it’d be a sheer waste of effort, wouldn’t it? If others see you as weak, they’ll take advantage of you, and if you have a revolution, they’ll mock you. Relations between countries are all about one-upmanship, and unless China becomes stronger without outside help, nobody’s going to respect the Chinese, and nobody’s going to be friendly to you.

‘I’m telling you, Ma Wei: only study and learning can save a country. China isn’t just short of big guns and aeroplanes – it also lacks all kinds of capable people. Unless you can make yourself into someone of ability, you’ve no right to talk about saving your nation! At least you’ve had the chance to come abroad. Take a look at other countries, and take a look at what’s wrong with your own country – we’ve all got our faults, haven’t we? – and then think things over calmly and coolly. You can’t just fly off the handle.

‘The problem here in England is that people
don’t
study. Look at all these rotten books of Paul’s, hardly any of them ever opened, and my mother has the nerve to tell you to come and look at them. All the same, England’s certainly got a few people who really know their stuff, and it’s those people who make it possible for England to stand her ground in this world. An Englishman discovered a medicine for cholera, and that’s something that benefits people throughout the world. Another invented the telephone, so now the whole world can communicate. No matter what, there will always be those who lead the way, and there’ll always be the ordinary people following in the wake of those few real innovators.

‘It’s the same trouble with the Chinese – they don’t study. But where China falls short of England is that it doesn’t even have one leading light. Don’t get impatient, Ma Wei. Study and learn, that’s the only thing to do, study and learn. What are you studying? Commerce. Right then – when you’ve got a real understanding of commerce, you’ll be able to help China compete with other countries in trade.

‘As for Mr Ma, you and Li Tzu-jung ought to force his hand. I know that it’s hard for you; you want to be the obedient and loving son, as is expected in China, yet at the same time you can see the dangers ahead. But you can’t have your cake and eat it too. As we English see it, slavish obedience is a danger too. I was born in China, and can claim to know a bit about the place. And being English, I can also say I understand England. And if you compare both countries, you can reach some very clear and relevant conclusions. Look, Ma Wei, if you have any problems, come and see me, will you? I may not be able to help, but at least I can suggest some ideas.

‘You see, Ma Wei, I’m not exactly happy in my home life. I don’t get on with my parents, let alone my brother. But I’ve got my own job, and when I’ve finished work and can quietly read in my room, I don’t feel upset about anything. In my view, there are only two really satisfying things in life: using your knowledge and gaining more knowledge.’

At this point, Catherine gave a slight smile. ‘Ma Wei,’ she continued warmly, ‘I’m still trying to learn Chinese. Why don’t we have an exchange? You teach me Chinese, and I’ll teach you English. But —’ She scooped back her hair with her hands, and thought for a while. ‘Where, though? I wouldn’t like you to have to come here. To be honest, my mother doesn’t like the Chinese. What if I came to your place? Would you —’

‘We’ve got a small study,’ Ma Wei quickly broke in, ‘But surely, asking you to trek all the way there and back again would be —’

‘That wouldn’t matter – I often go to study in the British Museum, and that’s not far from you. Wait a moment. Let me think. Tell you what: wait till I write you a letter, will you?’

While on the subject of English, she mentioned a number of useful books that Ma Wei ought to study, and also explained how to go about borrowing books from the library.

‘Well, Ma Wei, we ought to go and see what’s going on in the drawing room.’

‘Thanks, Elder Sister. I feel a lot more cheerful after our talk together,’ said Ma Wei in a quiet voice.

Catherine said nothing, just gave another faint smile.