The Language of Threads (10 page)

“No.” She swallowed the sourness that had risen to her throat. “Please say good-bye to Wing for me.”

Pei lingered a moment in the doorway, trying to smile reassuringly at the two women; then she stepped outside and banged the door closed behind her.

The large, gated houses of Po Shan Road gradually gave way to smaller houses and taller apartment buildings as Pei walked down the hill. Occasionally a voice rang out in the dark. Pei still couldn't believe Fong would go to such lengths to get rid of her. Had she been planning it ever since she'd given her the tin of candy? Leen had warned her to watch out, and still, Pei had stupidly fallen right into Fong's trap.

With each step she took, Pei grew angrier. Through her blood raced thoughts of revenge, laced with self-pity, and then despair at having to find work elsewhere. She gripped the cloth bag and swung it over her shoulder, thumping it hard against her back. Pei took a deep breath. It would be all right, she told herself. She had put aside some money in the past six months, and she and Ji Shen would be together again. Pei ached for Lin to guide her to safe ground. The cool night air swirled around her, pushing her onward.

Wan Chai bustled at night: the congested tenements, the bars with their flashing signs, the brassy music that blared out of opened doorways. Pei sidestepped crowds of drunken sailors with scantily dressed Chinese women. A loud voice screamed out in a hard, gruff language. A rumble of laughter filled the dense, smoky air. Pei kept walking and didn't dare turn back.

By the time she reached Ma-ling's boardinghouse, it was late. Downstairs, the herbal store was completely dark. She imagined the old herbalist holed up in a back room, sleeping happily amidst his precious remedies. Her own legs suddenly felt weak from the tiredness that spread throughout her body. Pei looked up to see lights still flickering from the windows of Ma-ling's sitting room. Only then did she allow herself to relax.

Song Lee had sensed Fong would be trouble from the first moment they'd met, three years ago. It was all there in the other woman's quick, impatient demeanor and forced smiles. Newly arrived from Shun-te, Fong lived briefly at Ma-ling's boardinghouse. She was anxious to begin her new life in Hong Kong. “I'll take whatever position you can find for me,” she'd said, confidently. “I can always move up from there.”

Song Lee had sipped her tea and watched the pale young woman, with her prominent square jaw, a sure sign, Song Lee knew, of one who was stubborn and self-centered. And Fong's dark, three-cornered eyes left her with a discomfort she couldn't name. Then Song Lee remembered what her own mother had once told her: “The eyes mirror the heart of a person. An entire life can be seen through them. Love, sorrow, deceit, pain. If you look closely, it's all there.” Fong's eyes darted from side to side; she avoided looking directly at Song Lee when she spoke. Her flitting gaze reminded Song Lee of a Siamese cat—intelligent, yet conniving.

She recalled the Siamese owned by the first Tai tai she'd worked for in Hong Kong. One evening, as the cat was being lovingly stroked by the Tai tai, it suddenly jerked around and viciously clawed her, drawing blood and leaving fine red lines that remained on her fleshy arm for weeks. The Tai tai screamed bloody murder and gave the cat to her servants to look after. “The cat can't be trusted,” the servants whispered. “It's just lucky we aren't eating it in tonight's stew.” When Pei mentioned Fong's name again, Song Lee felt the same mistrust surge through her.

The morning Ah Woo sent her a note saying that Chen tai had let Pei go, Song Lee at once knew the dismissal had something
to do with Fong, even before the rest of the characters on the page confirmed her suspicions. Song Lee went to work trying to find Pei a new household immediately before rumors could spread. Hong Kong was a small world, where words sped from one household to the next. Song Lee imagined how stories took on a life of their own, exaggerated with each retelling: “She found herself pregnant, and had to take the necklace in order to get rid of the baby,” or “The husband gave it to her to keep quiet about their love affair.”

Over the years, Song Lee had heard all the rumors; she knew the awful lengths to which some servants would go to get ahead. She cleared her mind of idle gossip, and learned early on to go directly to the source.

The following afternoon, she went to Ma-ling's boarding house, hoping to learn what had really happened. As December approached, the weather was turning cooler, with a slight breeze that brought relief from the humidity. Song Lee stopped to catch her breath and peered into the crowded herbalist shop, to catch her own reflection in the dark window. Her face had filled out in the past year, the deceitful glow of wealth and serenity that many Tai tais also had when they reached middle age. What Song Lee saw in the mirror wasn't the emaciated face she'd had when she almost died, years ago. Song Lee still cringed at the thought of the excruciating pain that racked her stomach and burned through her intestines until she begged to die. She'd drunk down that soup, tasting just a hint of bitterness, never realizing that each sip brought her closer to death. For days she lingered, until the poison slowly seeped from her body and, to everyone's surprise, she lived.

Pale and drawn, Pei answered the door and led Song Lee up to the sitting room, bleached a pale gray in the weak afternoon sun. “I didn't take it!” Pei said, even before Song Lee sat down. “I've never even seen Chen tai's necklace.”

“Why do I feel Fong knows a great deal about Chen tai's necklace?” Song Lee said.

Pei nodded, her lips pressed tightly together.

“I've already begun looking for another household for you,” Song Lee said gently. “Before any rumors start.” She watched as Pei poured her tea, then leaned over to offer her a plate of almond cookies.

“Why would she do such a thing?” Pei's voice was raw and tight.

Song Lee cleared her throat. “I suppose she felt threatened by you. Especially since Chen tai had taken a liking to you. Ah Woo told me as much in her letter.”

“I never did anything to Fong.”

“It's nothing new.” Song Lee shook her head. “Why, I know of a girl who poisoned another just to get her position. A week went by before she was found out, and then it was only because she was foolish enough to keep the poison hidden among her clothes instead of throwing it away. When she was asked why she hadn't gotten rid of the poison, the girl said she was afraid she'd need to use it again in the future!”

Pei's eyes widened. “Did the other girl live?”

“Just barely,” Song Lee answered, and felt a twinge in her stomach. She leaned closer to Pei. “Unfortunately, Fong isn't so simple-minded, and life has gotten too complicated in this big city. At least in the silk villages, we were all working for the same cause. There wasn't this vicious competition for money and rank.”

“Who will have me now?” Pei swallowed, fingering a frog on her tunic.

Song Lee smiled. “Don't worry, we'll soon see.”

Word of Chen tai's stolen necklace spread even more quickly than Song Lee had imagined. By the end of the month, many of
the Chinese households she approached weren't interested in hiring Pei. “Why risk a thief?” they said, or “A bad seed will never blossom into a flower.” Even if the rumor was just a rumor, no Chinese household wanted to hire a servant whose past carried even a sliver of bad fortune.

Song Lee spent all her free time making inquiries, putting the word out through other silk sisters. She visited Pei and Ji Shen as much as she could, and often found them in the sitting room, where Pei diligently helped Ji Shen with her homework. Song Lee remained in the doorway, not wanting to disturb them.

“You have to try harder,” Pei said, her voice raising in exasperation.

“It doesn't matter how well I do.” Ji Shen slapped her book shut. “They'll make fun of me anyway. If it's not my accent, it's my clothes. It won't make any difference if I get the best grades in the class!”

Pei softened. “It does matter. It's what you do for yourself.”

Shrugging, Ji Shen looked up to see Song Lee standing in the doorway. “I'll finish this later,” she said, gathering up her books and quickly leaving the room.

Song Lee sat down next to Pei, and couldn't help but feel she was interrupting. “Ji Shen's growing up.”

“She has a mind of her own,” Pei said, frowning.

Song Lee saw tiredness in Pei's eyes, and knew it had to do with the weeks that had gone by with no hint of a new position. “But would you want her to be any other way?” Song Lee gently asked.

“No, you're right. And she has been happier since I've been back,” Pei continued, “At least I'm able to spend more time with her.”

“She needs someone strong in her life right now. She's lucky to have you,” Song Lee said reassuringly.

“Sometimes I'm not so sure I'm the right person,” Pei said, her voice strained. “Ji Shen seems to think that my wanting her to get an education is some kind of punishment.”

“Nonsense! One day she'll thank you. Just enjoy the time you have off. You'll be busy again soon enough. I promise!”

The following day, Song Lee made a quick stop at Ma-ling's on her way to pick up a new cheongsam for her Tai tai at a seamstress in Wan Chai—she was always careful not to take too much time away from her own duties. As Song Lee left the boardinghouse, Ji Shen was trudging down the street on her way home from school. Song Lee saw something troubled and faraway in the young girl's gaze as she meandered down the sidewalk, swinging her schoolbag back and forth, distancing herself from the crowds with each thrust of her bag. Song Lee smiled and stepped toward Ji Shen, more determined than ever to find Pei a position before the end of another month.

Two weeks later, Song Lee hurried up Ma-ling's narrow wooden stairs. And when Pei came into the sitting room, the older woman was too excited to wait until she'd caught her breath.

“I—found you—a new—household,” she said panting.

Pei suddenly came alive, her face widening into a smile. “Where? How?”

“You see,” Song Lee continued, “not everyone believes what they hear. They prefer to judge for themselves.”

Pei grabbed Song Lee's hand. “Thanks to you.”

Song Lee dismissed Pei's gratitude with a quick click of her tongue. “You will go to see her tomorrow morning. She has a large flat on Conduit Road.”

“What is this Tai tai's family name?” Pei asked eagerly.

Song Lee hesitated for just a moment. “You haven't been placed in a Chinese household. You'll be working for an Englishwoman
named—she sounded it out, clutching the piece of paper tightly in her hand—“Car-o-line Fee-inch.”

Pei climbed the stone steps to the second-floor flat and knocked lightly on the door. She brushed away the dust on her white tunic and smoothed back stray hairs. Ever since Song Lee had told her about her new employer, Pei's fears had multiplied and swarmed around her. She'd never been alone in the same room with a white devil before, much less had a conversation with one. She wondered if she should look directly at the woman, or keep her eyes lowered. Should she wait to speak until spoken to? And just how would they understand each other? Pei had asked Song Lee. She'd always thought English sounded loud and harsh.

Song Lee had eased her fears. “The Englishwoman knows how to speak Chinese. She has lived in Hong Kong for many years, so there won't be any communication problems.”

Pei persisted. “But what if I say or do the wrong thing without knowing it?”

“Don't worry,” Song Lee reassured her. “I'm sure she'll tell you how she likes things done. I've heard the English are set in their ways, but at times much easier to work for than the Chinese are. At least they don't hide what they're really thinking behind false smiles.”

Pei sighed wondering which was the lesser of two evils.

Ji Shen was excited to hear that Pei's new position wasn't in a Chinese household. “Maybe I'll be able to go with you,” she'd said. “It'll be as good as going to school, learning about a whole new way of life,” she'd added, with a sly smile.

“You'll still have to finish school.” Pei bit the thread off as she finished sewing Ji Shen's black trousers. “There you are!” Over the years Pei had darned Ji Shen's and her own clothes with
such skill, the many mendings were hardly noticeable. The last thing she wanted was to embarrass Ji Shen in front of her classmates.

Ji Shen reached for her trousers. “Anywhere would be better than Spring Valley!”

Pei heard quick, hollow steps approaching the door, and swallowed her fears. Her head was swimming with quick thoughts. She could always say no to the job if she didn't like the Englishwoman, even if doing so meant she might be out of work for another few months. She could stretch her savings if she was careful. And just the thought that she had a choice helped Pei to stay calm.