Mr Ma and Son (22 page)

‘Buy our stuff . . . ha ha! . . . and you get a free gift . . . ha! A tobacco pouch! Ha ha!’

The two young men laughed for a good quarter of an hour. Or maybe more.

O
N CHRISTMAS
Eve, London was astir with great excitement. Male and female, young and old, all went into town. It was as though the things in the shops were being handed out free, in big bunches and little parcels, carted away on backs and clutched under arms, for you couldn’t see anybody in town walking along empty-handed, except for the policemen. Buses and trams came past all the time, but, even so, old ladies couldn’t push their way onto them, and in the process of trying to, would send things from their baskets tumbling all over the street.

None of the postmen were using their bags now – they all had another man to push a trolley for them, as they went door to door delivering parcels. Some of the citizens of London had already dispatched their presents and taken a trip to the countryside to spend Christmas there. At the same time, country people came into London for a few days’ celebration and entertainment. So the main roads to the countryside were crammed with traffic.

The weather was very dull, and a cold east wind was blowing. But nobody noticed the dullness of the weather or the coldness of the wind. All the shops in town had put up their coloured lights, which lit up the goods with sparkle and vivid colour, radiating good cheer. Father Christmases hung everywhere, wearing big red hoods and carrying magic sacks filled with presents. So preoccupied were people with looking at the shops that they were oblivious to the gloominess of the sky. And once you’d pushed your way through the crowds, you’d be covered in sweat, so nobody even noticed how cold the wind was.

People forgot about everything: politics, society, court cases, sorrows, opinions . . . all fell by the wayside. People suddenly turned into little children, eager to give their friends something novel, and at the same time hoping they’d receive some nice trinket themselves. Everyone’s faces seemed open and generous, completely free of worries and cares, and their only concern was to eat and drink well. Those with surplus wealth even gave a little of it to the poor. That evening it was indeed as if the redeemer of humankind was about to be born on earth, as if the world was about to know a great peace, with all people living in harmony with one another.

The shops didn’t close till midnight, and the buses and trams were still running in town right until dawn, all crammed with passengers. The side streets were as bright as the main streets, every shop adorned with a Christmas tree and at least a few coloured balls. Poor children were singing Christmas carols, going from door to door asking for money, while the children of the better-off were still awake at midnight, waiting for Father Christmas to come and bring them some nice presents. There’s a gap between rich and poor, but on this day both the haves and the have-nots might receive a gift to render their hearts as joyous as a newborn Jesus. The sounds of bells and carols from the churches rang out in the air all around, and even those not religiously minded were filled with a sense of solemnity and beauteous concord.

Mr Ma had already sent off his presents ten days earlier, because, once he’d bought them, it would have nagged on his mind to have them around. Only those for Mrs Wedderburn and her daughter remained in his study. Mrs Wedderburn had told him that they weren’t to be brought out until Christmas Day. After he’d sent off the rest of the presents, he waited eagerly for people to send him presents in return. As soon as the postman knocked, Mr Ma would have a race with Napoleon to see who could be first to the door.

In the two days before Christmas, presents kept coming. From the Reverend Ely he got a bible, from Mrs Ely a book of hymns, from Miss Ely a handkerchief and from Master Ely no more than a Christmas card, although Mr Ma had given Paul a box of cigars. It’s English custom to exchange presents, but Paul, utterly despising the Chinese, had made a special point of not giving Mr Ma a present. Mr Ma’s first thought was to send the bible, hymnbook and Christmas card back again. But he thought better of it.
For Miss Ely’s sake, I won’t do that.

These last few days, he hadn’t been to the shop at all, there being nothing much for him to do there. When customers came, all he could do was open the door for them, bow, and see them out. Although a good many old women remarked, ‘What a well-mannered old man! So nice!’, Mr Ma felt differently about the matter.

Do you imagine all a manager’s here for is opening the door for people? he grumbled to himself. I know you’re doing fine, but don’t forget I’m your father. Fancy making your own dad open the door and bow to people! Feeling put out, he’d ceased going to the shop.

Strolling idly round town, he looked at the men and women, young and old, all so bustling and busy, and he felt a bit dismal inside.
Ah, it’d be so nice if I were in China. Just the sort of bustle and excitement we have at New Year. No matter how much others are enjoying themselves, I can’t get into the spirit of things, celebrating a festival abroad. I only hope I can make a fortune. Then I’ll go back to China and celebrate the festivals there.

Watching others rush around made him feel more and more inclined to go home. And the more his thoughts turned to home, the more people kept treading on his toes.

Let’s get back. Go home and see Mrs Wedderburn. Give her a helping hand.
Leisurely he sauntered back.

Mrs Wedderburn was in such a hustle she was run off her little feet, the veins of her temples were throbbing and the delicate tip of her nose was bright red. She beat the carpets, polished the tables, and wherever there was anything brass, she gave it a rub – from oven door to doorknocker. Above the pictures in every room she hung a twig of holly, and she bought a bunch of chrysanthemums, which she set reverently before her husband’s photograph. And from the light in the drawing room she hung two sprigs of mistletoe.

Having no small children, she couldn’t very well have a Christmas tree, but she insisted all the same on having some decorations in every room. In some places it was a string of coloured balls, in others a couple of paper lanterns. The whole house took on a festive air. In the oven she was steaming a Christmas pudding and baking mince pies, and every now and then she took a peep at them. So, what with one thing and another, she was flying round in a flurry, up the stairs and down the stairs, like a little swallow. In the evening, after rushing around the whole day long, she had to write Christmas cards and wrap the Christmas presents, and she was in such a flap and fluster that she didn’t even have time to dab any powder on her nose.

As Miss Wedderburn’s shop was extra busy with the seasonal trade, young Mary went out early and came home late, and couldn’t give her mother any help at all. Napoleon kept running madly up and down the stairs, barking at the coloured balls, and then giving another few barks at the little lanterns. And when his mistress was elsewhere engaged, he’d seize the opportunity to go into the kitchen and steal one or two of the shelled walnuts to eat.

‘Mrs Wedderburn!’ called Mr Ma as soon as he came in, ‘Mrs Wedderburn! I’ll come and give you a hand, shall I?’

‘Thank you, Mr Ma!’ said Mrs Wedderburn, wiping her tiny red nose. ‘Take Napoleon out to have a play first, will you? He’s doing nothing but giving me trouble here.’

‘All right, Mrs Wedderburn. Napoleon! Here!’

Mr Ma took the dog out for a stroll. Luckily no children played any pranks on him, as they were all celebrating Christmas and had no spare time for mischief-making. He brought the dog back, and, just as he reached the door, Alexander appeared in the street. He was carrying lots of things in his arms, parcel upon parcel piled right up to his big red nose.

‘Ma! Ma!’ he shouted, while still a good way off. ‘Take the parcel on top. It’s your present!’

Mr Ma went and took the parcel down, and Napoleon came up too, to have a sniff at Alexander’s large feet.

‘Thanks for your present, Ma, old chap!’ bellowed Alexander. ‘How about dropping over to my place for Christmas, eh? We’ll have a good old booze-up together!’

‘Thank you very much,’ said Mr Ma, smiling, ‘but will it be all right if I come after Christmas? I’ve already promised Mrs Wedderburn that I’d keep her company here for the festive merrymaking.’

‘Aah!’ Alexander took two paces forwards, and said in a low, confidential tone, winking each eye in turn. ‘So you’ve taken a fancy to the little widow, Ma, old chap. Well done! Well done! Right, we’ll leave it at that, then. I’ll be expecting you at my home the day after Boxing Day. Make sure you come. Cheerio! Ah – hang on a moment! Pull out the fourth parcel from the bottom, and give it to Mrs Wedderburn with my wishes for a Merry Christmas. Cheerio, Ma!’

Mr Ma took the two parcels, and Alexander, clutching the remaining ones, charged off like a path-clearing demon effigy at a funeral.

‘Mrs Wedderburn!’ called Mr Ma again as he came in.

‘Hello!’ shouted Mrs Wedderburn from upstairs, at the top of her high voice.

‘I’m back. And I’ve a present for you.’

Clitter, clatter
, Mrs Wedderburn sped downstairs like a flash of greased lightning. ‘Oh,’ she said as she took the parcel, ‘it’s from Alexander. And I’ve nothing to give him. What shall I do?’

‘Don’t worry. I have a box of cigars in the house. You wrap them up as a present for him. That’ll solve your problem.’ Mr Ma’s smiling eyes riveted themselves on her dear little red nose.

‘Oh, yes, that would be lovely! How much did they cost you? I’ll pay you whatever it was.’

‘Don’t mention the money,’ said Mr Ma, still gazing at the red tip of her tiny nose. ‘Don’t mention money! It’s Christmas. What’s a box of cigars between friends? We are friends, eh?’

Smiling, Mrs Wedderburn nodded.

The elder Ma let the dog off its lead, and went upstairs to fetch the box of cigars.

On Christmas Eve, Ma Wei and Li Tzu-jung were still working at four o’clock in the afternoon, at which point they made a halt.

‘Li, old fellow, lock the doors. We must go and enjoy ourselves now!’ said Ma Wei, smiling.

‘Right, shut the door!’ replied Li Tzu-jung, smiling.

‘Shall I switch off the sign at the door?’

‘Yes, but leave on the one at the end of the street.’

‘I’ve got to give you a present, old Li. What would you like?’ asked Ma Wei.

‘Mr Ma’s already given me a pair of shoes. Don’t give me anything more.’

‘That’s from my father. I’ve absolutely got to give you something. You’ve gone to so much trouble for us.’

‘Look here, Ma, old lad,’ said Li Tzu-jung with a smile, ‘one thing we mustn’t do is start getting all stuffy with one another. I’ve been helping you, but you’ve been seeing to my lunch every day.’

‘I don’t care. I insist on giving you a present. What do you want?’

Li Tzu-jung scratched his head for ages, without saying anything.

‘Speak up, old Li!’ said Ma Wei, trying to pin him down.

‘If you’ve really got to give me a present, then buy me a watch.’ Li Tzu-jung pulled a shabby old watch from his pocket, put it to his ear and gave it a shake. ‘Just look at this watch. When it feels like it, it loses a couple of hours or more per day, quite apart from the fact it’s only got an hour hand, no minute hand. If you’re so inclined, fork out a few shillings and get me a new one, will you?’

‘A few shillings, Li, old mate!’ said Ma Wei, his big eyes opening even wider. ‘If we buy one, it’s got to be a good one. Now then, no call for you to make any fuss. Let’s go and buy one together. Come on!’

Ma Wei began to drag him to the door. Li Tzu-jung was never at a loss for words, but today he seemed timid and bashful, and his face was bright red.

‘Hold on. Wait till I’ve taken that old bike back first.’

‘We’ll do it together. You ride, and I’ll stand on the back.’

The two of them mounted the bike and took off, wobbling and swaying, to the bicycle shop, where they returned the bike and settled the bill for its hire.

As they came out of the bike shop, Ma Wei grabbed hold of Li Tzu-jung, fearing he might make a bolt for it, and the two of them headed off, walking a bit, then stopping a bit, arguing as they walked, and coming to a standstill to keep arguing. Ma Wei maintained it was right to give presents at Christmas, and Li Tzu-jung said one shouldn’t spend much on presents. Ma Wei countered that if you bought something, you had to make sure it was good, while Li Tzu-jung declared that he’d been carrying his shabby old watch around for three years and saw no need to buy a good one now. Ma Wei was steadily losing patience, and his eyes grew fiercer and fiercer. Li Tzu-jung was steadily losing patience, and his face was getting redder and redder. From St Paul’s Cathedral, the two of them crossed Cheapside and continued on till they came to Charing Cross, from where they traversed Piccadilly and arrived at Regent Street. Noticing a watch shop, Ma Wei wanted to go in, but Li Tzu-jung hurried on past, dragging Ma Wei with him.

‘Look here, old Li, you can’t do that sort of thing!’ Ma Wei was getting really worked up.

‘You’ve got to promise me that any watch you buy won’t cost more than ten shillings. Or else I’m not letting you go in!’ Li Tzu-jung was getting really worked up too.

‘All right, that’s settled then.’ Ma Wei had no choice but to agree. In the Grand Watch Emporium they bought a watch for ten shillings. Ma Wei felt so embarrassed that his face was scarlet, but Li Tzu-jung, quite unperturbed, put the watch in his pocket, and marched out with a back as stiff and straight as that of some
Grand Marshal of the Army
. ‘Thanks, old Ma . . . Thanks.’

Outside the shop, he took hold of Ma Wei’s hand and wouldn’t let go, but kept on repeating, ‘Thanks. But I haven’t bought you anything. Haven’t got you a thing.’

Ma Wei almost wept with frustration but he said nothing, and just shook hands very vigorously with Li Tzu-jung.

‘Ma, old mate, have you taken all the money from the shop to the bank yet?’

‘Yes, I have. Where are you going for your festive fun tomorrow, old Li?’

‘Me?’ Li Tzu-jung shook his head.

‘Come round to my place tomorrow then, eh?’

‘The buses and trams are only running for half the day. It’ll be awkward getting about.’