The Year of the Woman (24 page)

She must have dozed, for the stars had moved on when she heard voices. She thought in panic, voices? Miles from anywhere on the high mountain?

They were speaking English, and wore heavy boots. One was whistling, another calling for silence. A
flashlight
washed pallor across the stones and foliage on the steep hill. Soldiers came by, two of them Ghurkas. They were from the garrison, and each held a flashlight. The leading man carried a map. He stopped.

“Miss?” he said uncertainly. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, thank you,” she said back in English.

“What are you doing here?”

There was nothing for it. “I am praying.”

The soldier behind him muttered something. They were all only young, just twenty perhaps. They carried
many pouches.

“Yes, okay,” the leader said irritably in reply to his next soldier. “Do you want some water?” He saw her hesitation and said, “It’s a gift, love. Tide you over.”

“Thank you for your kindness.” She accepted the plastic bottle, saying “
Doh jeh
,” in thanks for something given.

“
Mh sai
,” the soldier said in quite the wrong tones, but trying. They went on their way, pleased.

As they left, she distinctly heard one of them say to a Ghurka behind him, “Third, then, Subardar Sahib.”

The Ghurka laughed and said something she could not catch. They went on in single file, chuckling and making remarks about returning to the meeting point.

Third! He definitely said third. Third what? It hardly mattered. Third of whatever she was told to choose from, was the answer.

“Thank you, Grandmother,” she told the night sky, now pale about Amah Rock. She asked the spirit if it had finished with the Moon Cake, picked it up, had a drink from the soldier’s bottled water, and went carefully downhill, eating the cake as she went. This was ever Hong Kong’s method: simple, but exhausting.

“Why Bonham Strand?” KwayFay asked the driver.

He was Tang, the same driver who always wanted to smoke but was afraid to, in case he gave offence.

“It is here, Little Sister.”

“It is near many hospitals.”

“It is here.” The same calm inflexibility. He was male, and would never be called, as any girl sooner or later heard herself called, maggot-in-the-rice, a problem,
taking
up valuable assets that should rightly be spent on males. She envied him so.

The Tung Wah Hospital was one level up, with the Prince Philip Dental Hospital, the Tsan Yuk Hospital, the Sai Ying Pun Hospital… She shivered. Hospitals were bad luck, yet so many were given felicitous names as if they were not. Why, except for disguise?

She alighted when the man opened the door. The driver muttered to a man on the pavement in a voice of fear. KwayFay was astounded. The fear was hers,
ne
?

The new man was young, bit his nails to the quick and wore gold bracelets, gold rings, a gold watch the size of a clock and smiled with gold teeth. His hair was slicked down. His suit shone, lumpy with felling stitches
testifying
to its expense. His shoes were handmade.

“It is in here, Little Sister. Please follow.”

The driver was ignored, his mutterings unanswered.

Inside, a meagre hallway smelling of decaying food was littered with plastic bags and unswept debris
including
shards of glass crunching underfoot. One shard pricked through her shoes and hurt her foot so she cried out, then apologised profusely as the suited youth
turned quickly, drawing a bulging black lump so swiftly from his sleeve she did not even see his arm move. It vanished when he saw there was no visible threat.

“I am sorry. Broken glass hurt my foot.”

He paled, licked his lips. They entered a lift, the gate clashing to. It rode to the third floor and she was
ushered
onto a landing.

There was one door. Two others had been blocked off with planks screwed against the door jambs. The place was filthy. A stink of stale urine hung in the air. Dead flies dotted the one opaque glass window. The landing was lit by a single bulb. She was shown into a bare room.

“Please, Little Sister.”

A screen made of carved redwood was erected at the far end. She could scent its aroma, not bad. Three
windows
were blocked, two light bulbs giving poor light. The man led her round the reverse of the screen and invited her to sit on a stool beside a ricketty card-table on which lay a slender file.

“This is your place, Little Sister. There is water and a note pad.”

“Write what?”

He looked flustered, as when she had exclaimed about the broken glass.

“I do not know. I was told.”

The man paused as if for instructions, then left. She waited in silence, wondering what to do. She afraid to open the file. It was a beige colour, as you got from near Central Market for Middle School. Should she open it? But what if she was not allowed? She knew the Hongs could knife people in the street with impunity – she had seen it. She sipped water. The heat was unbearable.

Quarter of an hour she sat there, in quiet only broken by the dull roar of traffic, the distant shouts of vendors and the clashing of lift doors. She felt tired and drowsy, wanting to keep awake.

Tony spoke of a singing act he used to do with his brother. Alice said she was hoping to win a calligraphy competition, but that art was impossible for females as everybody knew. Calligraphy was for males, since
calligraphers
had been men since the dawn of time. Benny Weng, who had joined as a computer expert three weeks before, said he was going to set up some website scheme Americans were sure to go mad for, and had gone about the office asking people for investors. He claimed he had a friend in Manhattan who knew the Rockefellers.

“Good evening.”

She jolted from slumber, almost crying out in alarm. She glimpsed a figure through the minute fenestrations in the carved wood. Somebody must have come in as she dozed. It was a girl’s voice. She noticed the girl remained standing a few paces away. KwayFay leant forward and put her eye closer to the screen.

Beautiful, alert, young, exquisitely dressed in a costly outfit. She was at ease, confident in her beauty and knowing her allure could only serve to please. She was one of the girls at Lamma Island.

The girl could see nothing of KwayFay. The screen, KwayFay knew instinctively, was old, cunningly made perhaps for this purpose. Was this girl the first of the ones she must choose among?

Perhaps the file held details of the girl’s name, her
origin
, her talents.

“Yes?” she said tamely, ashamed that no question
came to mind.

“Thank you,” the girl began easily. “I am Cantonese, born in Jahore Baru. I am seventeen, and know eight languages. I excel in investment economics, history, art, am capable in computer science, clothing design in
western
and oriental traditions. I am able in several sports, and have directed five student films, three of which won international awards.” The girl smiled a lovely smile, waited a moment before giving herself a nod to carry on. “I am learning Hindi and Arabic – though the
pronunciation
of the Maghreb dialects I find unpleasing.”

“Yes?” KwayFay said in the next pause. What was the girl telling her all this for?

“My family has no connections that would make
difficulties
to the Triad master. I understand the
implications
of being promoted Jade Woman, and would serve with all my skill and endeavour. I am virgin, and harbour no problematic religious or political convictions. My family support this move, if the Triad masters would give me the honour of this advancement.”

“Go now, please.”

“Thank you for your kindness,” the girl said,
brightening
the room with a smile, turned on her heel and walked to the door. She left, closing the door gently.

KwayFay pondered. Jade Women? She had seen one once, in the Yau Ma Tei street market. She had been twelve, stealing from a street barrow belonging to a hawker called Chun, who used to thrash her if he caught her. The wretched man whipped her with a knotted rope if he caught her or any of the street urchins stealing
rotted
fruit long since thrown away. Chun was not kind.

The day KwayFay saw the Jade Woman, she was
hiding
between two barrows. She became aware of cries of adulation. She had looked up thinking perhaps the Governor himself was passing, only to see the most beautiful of women. The lady was in silks, not young, and went among the stalls as if royalty. Vendors pressed wares on the lady. She sailed through with serenity, but did not stop. Henchmen went ahead to clear a way through the crowd. KwayFay wanted so much to be her, pausing whenever she wanted, looking at anything while Triad men guarded her progress like some warrior maiden, maybe even the exalted White-Haired Girl of legend who was universally adored and saved all who loved her. She cried herself to sleep that night under the shrine in the bus station in Kennedy Town, where the leper hospital used to be.

“Good evening,” a new voice said in the room beyond the screen. “I am instructed to enter and explain myself. I thank you for your kindness in honouring me with this interview.”

KwayFay said nothing. Another girl.

“If I may begin?” The girl politely allowed a moment then started with assurance, “I am the only
Cantonese-speaking
girl left from among the seven hundred and eighty-nine who applied from the Philippines and Indonesia, representing over four thousand finalists from different regions of South-East Asia. I hope for promotion to Jade Woman. I have eleven languages including Tagalog and the major western languages, Punjabi, Urdu, Hindi and Mandarin. I …”

KwayFay was lulled by the girl’s voice. She took a look, eye pressed to the fragrant screen. The girl was nineteen, expert in perfumes, commerce, engineering
and pharmacy, and had a degree in the history of art. She could dance in every known style, and her Russian was exemplary …

She waited another ten minutes, during which the girl gave her instances of her inordinate skills, beliefs,
talents
.

“Leave now.”

With elegant expressions of thanks, the girl left. KwayFay wondered what happened to the girls who were rejected.

“They become Flower Girls,” Ghost said in her ear, full of scorn for a granddaughter who did not know obvious facts, “but of the highest order. To be a nearly Jade Woman is honour,
ne
?”

“On the Flower Boats near the godowns?” KwayFay asked. “You told me about the ones along the Canton godowns, and the Shanghai Bund where the foreign
devils
used to assemble.”

“That’s stupid!” Grandmother cried. “Flower Boats were for Chinese and sometimes for opium smokers, not for foreign devils, foolish girl!” Grandmother
cackled
a laugh and confided, “Have you been in the opium divans in the lighters moored near Stonecutters Island off Sham Shui Po here, west of Kowloon?”

“No, Grandmother!” KwayFay was shocked.

“Don’t you get high and mighty with me, girl!” Grandmother screeched. “Putting on airs, just because I was once a
Mui Chai
. Being a slave sex-girl takes skill. I should know!”

“Yes, Grandmother.”

“The next one will wear a pearly pendant. You will like it.”

“The third one, Grandmother?” KwayFay said with meaning, remembering the soldier’s remarks at Amah Rock.

“I rather liked the first one, didn’t you? She was
slender
. I loved being slender. I was exquisitely slender. Everybody looked at you.”

“They were both beautiful.”

“Call that beauty?” Grandmother sneered. “They would have been laughed at when I was girl.”

“The one chosen will become a Jade Woman?”

“Yes.” Ghost’s voice grew dreamy. “They will be multi-millionairesses. Their families will bask in money. They will be hired out by the Hongs to visiting princes, businesses, arrange functions for world leaders and entertain kings. They are educated to speak with the world’s greatest minds, and know everything. They never know hunger or want. They are the most perfect women on earth. Idiots think they are the same as geishas. Japanese trollops! Can you imagine?”

“Ridiculous, Grandmother.”

“The next girl’s pearl pendant is a baroque. She has common sense. She is from the Tai Pu Sea, that used to be called the Mei-Chu Pool during the Five Dynasties. You won’t remember. You call it Tai Po, near the Lei Yue Mun Channel leading to Hong Kong main harbour. That’s because you copy the barbarian English, who don’t know any better.”

“I sorry, Grandmother.”

“It’s where best pearls came from,” Ghost said
wistfully
. “The conches were huge in the old days, much
bigger
than you get now. All China wanted Hong Kong’s pearls and incense. The Emperor Liu Ch’ang of the Nan
Han – I only just missed seeing him go by during last year’s Ching Ming Festival – loved pearls so much he sent nine thousand men to work our pearl fisheries. That was in the sixth year of Ta-pao, a thousand years ago.”

“How lovely, Grandmother.” KwayFay wanted the third girl to hurry, so she could go home.

“That’s why the Great Pearl Legend persists, of the Pearl Nullah, a great underwater cavern. All Nan Han pearls were stored in a water channel. Thousands and thousands of the choicest specimens. I never saw it. Divers all along the coast of the Celestial Empire still seek it!” Ghost cackled, setting herself coughing again and coming to only when she calmed down. “What fools people are!”

“Are they fools, Grandmother?” KwayFay knew she had fallen quite asleep, because she could no longer hear the traffic and the room was darker. She felt comfortable and no longer so hot that she was almost dripping with sweat.

“Of course, silly girl! They say Hong Kong’s name comes from that horrid woman pirate Hsiang-Hu – the written characters of her name look like Fragrant Harbour, see? Or from that waterfall – you know the one crossing Pokfulam Road near Dairy Farm? Stupid, stupid!”

“What is it from, Grandmother?” KwayFay had heard it all before but as long as she was allowed to doze undisturbed. She was so tired.

“Incense!” Ghost screeched triumphantly. “It’s from
kuan-hsiang
, incense. Hong Kong is the incense port, the Fragrant Harbour!”

“I see, Grandmother!” KwayFay tried to hide her yawn. There was a brief period of quiet. “
Kuan-hsiang
was the name of the incense?”

“Yes, in olden days,” a girl’s voice interrupted. KwayFay shot awake. There was a new girl standing before the screen. “Properly called
Aquilaria sinensis.
The best was grown in Sha-Tin, where the new
race-course
now is. And at Sha-Lo-Wan on Lantau Island. How sad the new airport will cover the old incense grounds!”

“What a rude bitch!” Ghost Grandmother bawled. “Interrupting like that!” She whispered spitefully in KwayFay’s ear, “Ask this know-it-all which was the best Hong Kong incense.”

“The best?” The girl answered immediately, quite as if she heard Ghost Grandmother. “The best was Daughter Incense, called so from being used for temple worship. But that was before the Ch’ings moved all coastal folk inland. There was no more incense growing after that.”

“Horrid cow!” Ghost spat, and left in a temper.

KwayFay stared at the wooden screen in
wonderment
.

“I am sorry if I gave offence,” the same girl’s voice said from out in the room. “I thought you asked me.”

“No need sorry.”

She leant close and looked through. A girl stood there, quite as lovely as the two who preceded her. She was wearing a pendant of a single baroque pearl, and plainer clothes. She was the last of the three exquisite girls, the one who had been most upset at the blasphemy in the Queen of Heaven’s temple on Lamma Island that day.

“You were born by the Tai Pu Sea, in the place now called Tai Po,” KwayFay said.