The Language of Threads (16 page)

Pei's heart raced. “Are you sure?”

“Very.” Mrs. Finch let the newspaper fall to the floor. She fitted the teakettle and clanked it on the stove to boil. “It might be nice to have one more cup of
po lai
tea before I leave.”

Against Mrs. Finch's initial wishes, Pei and Ji Shen decided to accompany her down to the bank. “I don't want you girls walking back alone,” she argued.

“You'll need us to help carry your suitcase,” Ji Shen answered.

Pei stood before her in silent determination, until Mrs. Finch finally relented. She was allowed to bring with her one suitcase, which she'd had packed and ready for days. “No need for much,” she'd said, carefully folding a few sweaters and three of her favorite cotton dresses into the case.

They walked in silence down the nearly empty streets, pockmarked from the constant Japanese shelling. The sky hung heavy and low. The once vibrant streets were battered beyond recognition. Where there had once been trees and houses, now stood empty craters and burnt-out automobiles. As they weaved around
downed power lines and the rubble from collapsed buildings, Pei saw for the first time the extent of the damage the Japanese had inflicted on Hong Kong. She felt sick to her stomach as a strong and repulsive smell drifted through the chilly January air and made them all quickly cover their noses. “What is it?” Ji Shen asked.

Pei didn't point out the dead body that festered beside the road, its face no longer recognizable in decomposition. She picked up the pace along a patch of clear road, then slowed down again to avoid a mangled piece of steel and concrete that resembled part of a ship.

Pei spied a servant hurrying down Robinson Road, and was instantly filled with dread. Was Song Lee safely tucked away with her family up on the Peak? Had Ah Woo and Leen survived the bombing? And what of Quan? Dear Quan, who lived and worked on the streets. Pei tried to clear her mind and swallowed the sourness that rose up to her throat.

Once they arrived down in Central, they were surrounded by groups of Japanese soldiers in their drab, ill-fitting uniforms, rifles fitted with bayonets slung across their shoulders.

As they neared the bank, Mrs. Finch turned to Pei and said in one quick breath, “Now, you know where everything is hidden. It all belongs to you and Ji Shen. Take it and take care of yourselves. I'm afraid, my dears, our paths must part now.”

“We'll keep it all safe for you. For when this all comes to an end,” Pei added.

The sharp sting of cold air surrounded them.

Mrs. Finch smiled. “Of course you will.” She leaned over and kissed Ji Shen, then Pei, on each cheek. “We've had a lovely time together. I wouldn't have traded it for anything in the world.”

“I'll come to see you as soon as I can,” Pei said, her heart racing.
What else am I forgetting to say?
she wondered. Ji Shen stood stone-still next to Pei, squeezing her hand tighter and tighter.

Mrs. Finch nodded.

Long lines of people waited in front of the bank, carrying
suitcases and other belongings, which Pei suspected would be confiscated—dangling cameras, hat boxes, makeup cases. For a moment she wished they would fight back, flinging their possessions at the thin young Japanese soldiers who pushed them along with their bayoneted rifles.

Mrs. Finch reached for her suitcase, gently prying it from Ji Shen's hand. “Please be careful walking back home,” she said, her voice breaking. “God be with you both till we meet again.” She waved at them to hurry off. “Go!” she commanded, slapping at the air between them.

Pei and Ji Shen barely had time to wave back before Mrs. Finch turned away from them. They watched her walk to the end of the long line, while the rain began to fall as lightly as tears.

1942–43

The million and more who comprise the Chinese population of Hong Kong and who have been under British Imperialism for over 100 years have now been released. The Japanese army, by its courageous advance, has, in the shortest interval of time, lifted the hundred years of oppression which the Chinese people have suffered
.

The Hong Kong News
December 31, 1941

The soft clattering of rain interrupted the flat's eerie quiet. The humidity of the day before had evolved into heavy gray clouds. With the electricity out, the room appeared dark and deserted. Pei picked up the newspaper that Mrs. Finch had dropped on the floor that morning and ripped it first in half, then into quarters. They would have to leave the flat as soon as possible now that Mrs. Finch was to be interned at Stanley Camp. There was no telling how soon after she was processed the Kempeitai—the Japanese military police—and soldiers would arrive to confiscate the rest of her possessions. Pei almost wished she could stay to see
their faces when they kicked in the front door, to find nothing of value left. In the end, they had been outsmarted by an old woman.

Pei had heard rumors that the Kempeitai were cruel and unrelenting when they wanted something. How could someone as good and humane as Mrs. Finch stand up to them?

She hurried into Mrs. Finch's bedroom, where the lingering scent of lily of the valley offered a comfort, yet tempted tears. She knelt down and searched for the lever underneath the armoire, then popped open the hidden drawer just as Mrs. Finch had instructed. Inside, Pei found a cloth bag containing a diamond brooch shaped like a flower, a gold bracelet, a man's gold wedding band, and a pearl necklace. There was also an envelope of Hong Kong dollars, which, since the Japanese occupation, had been greatly devalued. And lying face down underneath the envelope was the blackboard on which she'd learned to read and write in English. Pei picked it up and turned it over. On it, Mrs. Finch had written in large, clear letters, “You will be with me always.”

Pei hugged the blackboard tightly against her chest and closed her eyes against tears. When she looked again, the words were smudged, the chalk a dusty veil across her breast.

Pei and Ji Shen had been back at the apartment for less than an hour when a faint creaking caught Pei's attention. She looked up from the extra pocket she was sewing into her tunic. How could the Japanese soldiers be coming so soon? She quietly stood up, her hands shaking as she tossed aside her sewing and reached down for the sturdy piece of driftwood she kept for her protection. She listened, then heard another creak of the floorboards. With the rugs burned in Mrs. Finch's bonfire, the wood floor no longer muffled even the lightest step.

“Ji Shen,” Pei whispered. Ji Shen had closed her eyes in exhaustion while Pei sewed. She quietly inched over to Ji Shen's bed, gently pushing her awake, covering her mouth to keep her
from saying anything. “There's someone out there,” she murmured quietly into Ji Shen's ear. Ji Shen nodded, wide-eyed, before Pei lifted her hand from the girl's lips.

“Soldiers?” Ji Shen's voice trembled.

“I don't know,” Pei whispered.

Ji Shen stayed right behind her as they moved cautiously toward the closed door of their bedroom. If only Pei hadn't stopped to sew more pockets into their clothing. They had planned to gather their belongings, then make their way back down to Wan Chai, where they hoped to find Ma-ling still at the boardinghouse, or the old herbalist ensconced in his crowded shop. It was the only place left for them to go.

The floorboards creaked again, careful steps clearly heading toward their room. Pei took a deep breath, then turned around and gestured for Ji Shen to crouch down low behind the bureau. She gripped the piece of wood with both hands, ready to strike whoever entered.

The steps grew closer. Pei heard a quick intake of breath on the other side of the door; then the doorknob gradually turned. She stepped back to allow herself room to swing the driftwood. If the Japanese were to take them in, it wouldn't be without a good fight.

The door opened slowly. Pei pursed her lips and gripped tighter as a dark head appeared. She was poised to swing when a voice whispered, “Pei? Ji Shen?”

Pei froze.

“Ji Shen?” the voice repeated.

“Quan?” Ji Shen rose from behind the bureau.

Pei dropped the piece of driftwood and swung the door wide open to let Quan in. She had never been so happy to see anyone in her life. He brought with him the salty smell of fish and sweat, as she and Ji Shen rushed toward him with open arms.

“How did you get in?” Pei asked, her heart still racing in surprise as she put the last of their saved water on to boil for tea. She couldn't believe how tall Quan had grown in the past six months.

Quan rubbed his hands together and glanced shyly at Ji Shen. “It wasn't easy. I jimmied that window.” He pointed to the rear of the kitchen. “I just wish I'd known you were still here. It would have been much easier to come through the front door.”

“Mrs. Finch had to turn herself in this morning,” Ji Shen said in a small voice.

“I thought she would have to sooner or later.” Quan sipped the hot tea. “They're holding all British and Canadian citizens at the Hong Kong Hotel, then trucking them off to Stanley prison after they've confiscated everything they own.”

“Will she be all right?” Pei asked, her voice breaking.

“From all I've heard about Mrs. Finch, I'm certain she will be. The Japanese take greater pleasure in parading foreign bankers up and down the streets, or bashing in the heads of Chinese citizens who walk too near them instead of crossing the street. They have better things to do than harm an old lady,” he said quietly.

“We've been hoping you were all right,” Ji Shen said.

Quan wiped his hair away from his eyes and said, “It's been rough. The Japanese bastards have destroyed so many areas in Wan Chai and Central with their shelling. For almost a week, it was nearly nonstop. My family and I stayed hidden anywhere it was safe—in basement shelters, mainly. We were hearing explosions in our dreams.”

Ji Shen unpacked some biscuits, then sat down next to Quan. “Is your family safe?” she asked.

Quan nodded; he picked up a biscuit and chewed it slowly. “We're living on a sampan with my aunt and uncle down at the harbor. Now it feels safer on the water than on the island. Those stinking soldiers are everywhere!”

Pei poured more tea into their cups and sat down next to Ji Shen. “Have you seen Ma-ling?”

Quan shook his head. “There's been nothing but confusion. I've been back to Wan Chai, but I didn't get to Ma-ling's. As far as I could see everyone has scattered, or is in hiding. As soon as I thought it was safe, I came here to see if you were all right.”

Pei took his hand in hers. “Thank you. What should we do now?” she asked, forgetting for a moment that he was only seventeen.

Quan sat up straight in his chair, taking on full responsibility. “It's best if you rest for a few more hours. We can leave just after sunset.”

“What about the Japanese soldiers?” Ji Shen asked.

“It'll take them at least a day to process all their prisoners. Besides, it will be safer for us to move through the streets just after dark. I'll take you to the harbor. You can stay with my family on the sampan until you decide what to do.”

“Are you sure?” Pei asked. There was no certainty they would find Ma-ling even if they did make it to Wan Chai.

Quan nodded. “It isn't much, but it's as safe a place as any for now.”

“Thank you.” Pei looked around the large, empty kitchen and felt something hard and cold lodged in her throat.

Ji Shen handed him another biscuit, her hand brushing quickly against his. “Thank you, Quan,” she said softly.

It seemed as if Pei had just closed her eyes when she heard Quan's dull thumps against their door. “We have to leave soon,” she heard him whisper.

In the gray hour just before nightfall, Pei and Ji Shen gathered the last of their belongings in the same cloth sacks they'd carried all the way from Yung Kee. Pei carefully distributed Mrs. Finch's jewelry among the pockets she'd sewed into their tunics, taped the envelope of money inside the cover of
Great Expectations
, and watched as Ji Shen struggled over which records to take.