Princess Bari (12 page)

At the salon where I worked, Uncle Tan and four of the women who'd learned nail art gave manicures and pedicures to customers, while I was there to give them foot massages either during or after their treatments. Customers who were short on time turned down the massages, but we started to get more and more who came back just for one, after having had a taste of it. On Uncle Tan's recommendation I taught Luna how to give foot massages as well. It only made sense, as she was helping me to study English. Being roommates with Luna, who'd grown up in England, helped me to pick up the language much faster than when I was in China. Talking to customers all afternoon in the salon was also a big help.

One day I left work first and arrived home only to realize that I'd forgotten to get the key from Luna. I rummaged through my bag and stamped my feet in frustration outside our door; there was nothing else to do but run back up to the first-floor entrance and ring Grandfather Abdul's doorbell. His voice came over the intercom, asking: “Who's there?” I told him I was Bari from the basement, and that I'd forgotten my key. The door opened and I headed up the stairs. He was standing outside his door, watching me from over his reading glasses.

“Come on in,” he said.

When I stepped inside I saw a man sitting in the living room. He stood up to greet me. He was very tall, almost as tall as the floor lamp shining up at the ceiling, but it wasn't just his height that was imposing. He also had broad shoulders and long arms. His curly hair was cropped short, and his large eyes were open wide in his brown face, the whites showing around the irises. At first I was too afraid to look directly at him. Later I found out that he'd played cricket when he was in his teens, at school.

“Rest here for a bit,” Grandfather Abdul said. “When Luna gets home, she can let you in, right?”

“Yes. Thank you, sir.”

“You probably haven't eaten yet. Would you like a piece of pie?”

I was too afraid to sit down in front of the strange giant, so I stood there timidly and said: “No, thank you.”

“Oh, this is my grandson, Ali.”

Ali stooped from the waist and extended his big bear paw of a hand to me.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

His voice was deep and husky. I put my hand out too. To my surprise and relief, Ali grasped the tips of my fingers lightly and then quickly released them. I sat across from him. Each time our eyes met, he grinned at me. His smile, with those big, even teeth of his, was so friendly that I relaxed and began to smile back.

“What kind of work do you do?” Ali asked.

“I work at a nail salon. What about you?”

Grandfather Abdul placed a slice of the pie that he'd warmed in the oven on a plate and set it in front of me.

“Ali drives a minicab,” he said.

I didn't know what that meant, so they explained that it was not an officially licensed taxi, but a private car hire. Ali was paid by the hour to drive one of several cars owned by the person who ran the company. He didn't own his own cab, and he wasn't officially employed. Ali mostly worked the night shift. I didn't know what to say about that, so I asked him: “You're not working tonight?

Ali glanced at his grandfather before saying: “It's his birthday tomorrow.”

Grandfather Abdul, who was standing at the sink, let out a hearty laugh.

“I was born so long ago that I can't even remember the date anymore, but he always remembers for me.”

“Actually, I forgot too. Mum called to remind me,” Ali said with a laugh.

I tucked into the pie and had a cup of tea afterward as well.

“Ali's parents live in Leeds,” Grandfather Abdul said. “I keep telling him to move in with me, but he's stubborn.”

Ali just laughed and didn't say anything back.

“You and Luna should come back tomorrow and eat dinner with us. Have you ever had Punjabi food?”

“No, I haven't. I'll let her know.”

“I would invite the other neighbours, but they all live with their families.”

He seemed to feel apologetic about the fact that he was only inviting the two of us. I'd wanted to get to know him better for a while, as he'd made such a nice impression on me, and here I was getting to know his grandson as well.

The following day, as luck would have it, Luna and I were able to leave work an hour earlier than usual; as the salon was closed the day after, Uncle Tan didn't object to our leaving early. Luna and I stopped at a takeaway place and bought some Malaysian Chinese food. She warned me that Muslims didn't eat pork, and selected shrimp and chicken dishes as well as vegetable-fried rice made with mushrooms and bamboo shoots. When we got to the apartment building and started walking up the stairs, the smell of cooking wafted down the hall. There were so many different nationalities under one roof that whenever a holiday evening rolled around, the building was filled with all kinds of food smells, though no one ever complained.

We rang the bell, and Grandfather Abdul opened the door. He was wearing his usual long tunic over a pair of
shalwar
trousers. Luna and I each greeted him by saying, “Happy Birthday, Grandfather!” Ali smiled at us; he was standing at the kitchen sink. The table was already set with big plates stacked with lamb kebabs and chicken curry with green chillies. When we filled some empty plates with the takeaway food we'd brought, Grandfather Abdul's small table was completely full.

Ali prepared ready-made
chapatti
by heating it in a dry frying pan. Ali placed the bread in a basket, and the four of us sat around the table. Grandfather Abdul poured
chai
for everyone. As Muslims didn't drink alcohol, it seemed we would have to skip the birthday toasts. Before we began eating, Grandfather Abdul said a prayer that began with
“Bismillah”
. Ali prayed with him. We were so hungry that we ate and ate.

Ali's parents and younger sister lived in northern England, in Leeds. His father moved to Britain from Pakistan after he turned five, and had grown up in this building, but moved to Leeds for work when he turned twenty. Grandfather Abdul said that back in his home country everyone from grandfather to grandson and grandson's wife lived under the same roof; he added that it was the only way to maintain close family ties. After dinner we had coffee and sweet almond cookies. I was completely stuffed. Ali blinked his big eyes at me, his eyelashes sweeping up and down, as he told his grandfather: “I'll be right back. I'm going to walk Bari home.”

Grandfather Abdul smiled and didn't say anything. Luna looked at me and opened her hands wide, as if to say she was at a loss for words. Ali snuck a paper bag out from under the sink and hid it beneath his shirt. We all said goodbye to Grandfather Abdul and headed down to the basement. The moment we stepped inside our flat, Ali put his right hand to his chest, bowed his head and apologized.

“I can't smoke or drink in front of my grandfather,” he explained.

Luna said to me: “I don't care if you don't care.”

“I don't care,” I said.

Ali poured us a little of the whisky he'd brought. Then he lit up a long Pakistani cigarette made with whole-leaf tobacco. He looked happy as he gulped down the whisky. Luna drank too, grimacing as she did so, and I tried a sip only to break into a coughing fit. Ali seemed completely different away from his grandfather.

“I didn't think I'd make it through dinner!” he exclaimed. “I can't drink so much as a single drop of beer around him.”

Luna sipped the whisky and said sarcastically: “It's better to be British. Muslims have too many things they're not allowed to do.”

“I
am
British,” Ali said.

Luna snorted.

“The asshole who beat me every day was born here too,” she said. “I don't care if someone is Hindu or Muslim or whatever. I don't trust anyone.”

Ali didn't look offended. He poured himself another glass, but this time he sipped it rather than downing it all at once.

“My father and grandfather don't get along. But my mum worries about him a lot.”

“Don't you visit him often?” I asked.

Ali cocked his head to one side.

“Maybe about twice a month,” he said. “I prefer living by myself, but whenever I do come to visit, I feel more relaxed afterward for some reason.”

Luna took out a pack of cards and we played at the table. I don't know if Ali lost on purpose or if he just had bad luck, but we won about thirty pounds from him. Luna and I rejoiced at having earned some fun money for the weekend. We played until late into the night, and when it was time for Ali to leave I followed him to the door so I could lock it behind him. At the door, he whispered to me:

“You have the day off tomorrow, right?”

“Yes.”

“Would you like to take a drive out of the city with me?”

Clueless as to Ali's feelings for me, I turned and shouted to Luna: “Ali wants to hang out with us tomorrow!”

Ali shook his head, and Luna barked with laughter.

“Hey stupid, he's asking
you
out! Why would I want to be a third wheel?”

Finally I understood and shut the door in his face. I looked through the peephole. Ali stood there for a while and then slowly turned and went back up the stairs.

“You've got an admirer,” Luna said teasingly. “This is where ladies like us have to be careful.”

“What're you talking about?”

“That big elephant of a man is coming after you!”

Ever since I'd had that vision where my spirit split from my body, I'd stopped fearing any man. Uncle Lou, the chef from Shanghai Chinese Restaurant, had guessed what happened to me, but Uncle Tan and the employees of Tongking probably had no idea. I was still just a poor little thing. I wasn't surprised when my first period started so late, back when I was working at the restaurant. Xiang had warned me early on about a lot of things I would need to know, and as far as I was concerned I'd already become a woman long before that.

I did not take that drive with Ali to the countryside, but I did come to think of him differently, with those big eyes and that big body of his. Men and women are not the same, of course, but Grandfather Abdul's warm and caring nature made me feel that my grandmother had been reborn and returned to me. Ali, on the other hand, was just an oversized, immature boy – and maybe that was why I was so comfortable with him from the get-go.

I
had been working at Tongking for several months before Auntie Sarah, one of the salon's regulars, requested a foot massage. At first she kept glancing over and watching as I massaged the feet of a customer sprawled out on the reclining salon chair, but as soon as I was done she motioned to me with her chin and waved me over.

“I'll have one of those,” she said.

She was an attractive, dark-skinned woman with a high nose and big eyes, and had probably been a great beauty in her younger days. I found out later that she was mixed – Sri Lankan and white. She practiced Christianity, like her English father.

As usual, I held her long, thin feet in my hands and closed my eyes for a moment. In my mind's eye I pictured the various twists and turns her life had taken, though none were violent: a white man walks out of a house while a woman holding a child leans against the door and cries. Another man appears; he's black. Then the woman, who is alone again, is working in a hospital. Her daughter, now a toddler, crawls between the other children in a nursery.

“Why haven't you started yet?”

At Auntie Sarah's urging, I began the massage. She looked exhausted. I put everything I had into kneading and tapping her feet, plucking the joints of the toes and applying acupressure. She soon fell asleep. I closed my eyes again and pictured her as a grown woman, dating and breaking up with different men. Whenever a customer fell asleep we made a point of not disturbing her for a while, even after her session was complete.

Auntie Sarah always dressed well, wore expensive jewellery and tipped generously, so we regarded her as a wealthy woman completely out of our league. Whenever she came by, Tan treated her like royalty. But when I touched her feet, I realized that she wasn't all that different from the rest of us.

Luna and Auntie Sarah did not get along at all. Luna hated the way Auntie Sarah, despite being a fellow person of colour, looked down on her and treated her like a servant. But I made a point of being extra polite as I washed Auntie Sarah's feet, trimmed her toenails and cuticles and scraped the callused skin from her heels. When she woke, I served her warm tea and ended the session by massaging cream into her legs and feet and wrapping them with a warm towel. She tipped me ten pounds. Other customers usually only tipped us in change; at most you might receive a five-pound note.

As we began to get more customers looking for foot massages, Luna, who'd learned the basics from me, began giving them herself, along with a Vietnamese woman named Vinh who had quickly picked up the technique from watching me. Auntie Sarah became one of my regulars. She rarely spoke to any of us directly, but one day she asked Uncle Tan for a favour after paying her bill.

“I'd like to chat with the girl for a moment. Would that be okay? I'll pay for her time.”

“No problem, madam,” he said. “You can talk to her as long as you want.”

Tan smiled at me and motioned with his chin for me to go with her. I followed her out of the shop. She looked around, her brow furrowed, and headed for a café across the street. She lit up a cigarette.

“Where are you from?” she asked.

I hesitated, then told her I was from China. She nodded.

“It doesn't matter where you're from as long as it's not Thailand.”

I had no idea what that meant, but just sat there quietly.

“I'd like to introduce you to someone. Naturally, I will speak with your employer about it, but let's just say I'm hiring you for a job. All you have to say is that you'll be working at my house. If you promise not to say anything stupid, I'll see to it that you earn some good money.”

“Yes, madam.”

Auntie Sarah puffed away on her cigarette, deep in thought for a moment.

“How's Wednesday?” she asked. “If she likes you, she'll probably want to see you at least three times a week. I myself wouldn't mind having one of your massages every day if I could.”

“As long as our boss allows me to, I don't mind.”

“What's your name?”

I told her, and she told me her own. She also asked whether or not I had any family, which neighbourhood I lived in, and how old I was. I answered all of her questions.

Then she said: “This is the most important question … Do you have a boyfriend?”

Later I thought it strange that Ali was the first person to come to mind when she asked me that; but all I said was: “I don't even have any female friends, other than my roommate Luna, let alone a boyfriend.”

“Good! Well, except for that brat Luna.”

*

Auntie Sarah and Uncle Tan reached an agreement: I was allowed to leave the salon every Wednesday. Auntie Sarah drove me there herself the first day. As the only places I'd been were Piccadilly Circus near Chinatown and Elephant and Castle, I had no idea where she was taking me. It turned out to be a dazzling white three-storey mansion near Holland Park in Kensington. The garden was so lush with trees that from the outside only a few windows were visible. Next to the front door was a set of stairs that led down to the basement. Auntie Sarah took me downstairs first, past a kitchen, laundry room and maids' quarters, then back up to the ground floor where we crossed a large reception hall, and up further to the second floor. There, in the second-floor living room, I met Lady Emily for the first time. She was a fifty-something woman with a dreamy look in her eyes, as if she'd just awoken from a nap. I knew nothing about the rich, the bluebloods of this country, but what I did catch on to right away was the fact that, aside from Lady Emily herself, every person in that house existed to serve a master or mistress. (I never did catch so much as a glimpse of the master of the house.) Lady Emily wore a white dress and sat at a table talking on the phone while Auntie Sarah and I stood in the doorway and waited a long time for her to finish. Finally she set the receiver down and stared at us.

“Madam, the masseuse has arrived,” Auntie Sarah said politely.

Lady Emily shuffled through some mail and receipts that were sitting on the table and asked absent-mindedly: “You say she's Chinese?”

“Yes, madam.”

“Well, you've really talked her up. Let's see how good she is.”

“I'll prepare the things.”

We went into the bedroom. Next to a
chaise longue
, Auntie Sarah set out some towels and a basin for the footbath, and prepared the herbal oils. She whispered to me: “This is your job next time.”

Lady Emily entered and lay down at an angle on the
chaise
. I placed her feet in the warm water and slowly massaged her calf muscles. Then I dried her feet with a towel, warmed some herbal oil between my hands and gently massaged her feet. I began with long strokes from heel to toe, kneading the entire sole of the foot. Then I closed my eyes and opened my mind to her.

A dark, cloud-like
something
was wrapped around her. I saw her leaving a villa in the middle of a huge forest with her husband. It was not in England. The scene changed, and I saw a small Southeast Asian woman standing next to her husband. Lady Emily's face was smudged with tears as she argued with him. Everything looked like an out-of-focus photograph; only Lady Emily's face stood out clearly. What was that dark cloud? Another image began to take shape. Black women and children lay slumped in front of a clay house.

“Girl, what are you doing?”

I opened my eyes. Lady Emily was looking down at me pointedly.

“I was just concerned about your health,” I stammered.

“You're doing some kind of spell, aren't you? I could feel it at once.”

I didn't know how to tell her about my special abilities, but I sensed she might share the same gift. I pretended not to understand her question.

“All I did was close my eyes and try to sense whether you're ill or not.”

“There's more to it, isn't there?” Lady Emily asked, her head cocked to one side. “Let me guess. You're some kind of shaman?”

I decided to come clean.

“I don't really know myself. I just know that I can tell things about people from touching their feet.”

“You said you're Chinese. What religion are you?”

“I don't follow any religion, madam.”

“Very well. Have you figured out what's wrong with me?”

I examined her feet as I rubbed them. A red aura appeared over the cushiony flesh at the base of her first two toes. Her ankle also glowed dark red.

“You might have a weak heart, and I think your knees bother you.”

Lady Emily studied my face, intrigued.

“You saw my past too, didn't you?”

I had no choice but to tell her what I saw.

“There were trees all the way to the horizon, and you were leaving a large stone house with rows of pillars.”

“That's right! That was Johannesburg! How did you know?”

“A small woman was standing next to the master of the house. I think that's why you two were arguing.”

Lady Emily clasped her hands in front of her chest in shock. She took several long breaths. Her eyes were turning red. It took her a while to calm her breathing. Then she dropped her hands.

“It's a good thing you're not Thai,” she said.

I decided not to mention the dark cloud yet, or the piled-up bodies of black women and children. Lady Emily lay back on the
chaise
and gestured.

“You may massage me now.”

I began by applying pressure with my thumbs and stroking with the flat of my hands, progressing from the bottoms of her feet to the tops, then to the toes, heels and finally her calves. I massaged every acupressure point I knew. At some point she fell asleep. I ended the session by wrapping her feet in another warm towel, then massaging cream into her legs and feet. As I always did with clients, I crept out of the room to avoid waking her. Auntie Sarah was reading a magazine in the living room. She stood up when she saw me.

“Done?”

“Yes, madam. Lady Emily is asleep.”

“That's good. I guess it's my turn now.”

We went down to the maids' quarters in the basement. Auntie Sarah was in charge of the maids, which put her on nearly equal footing with the butler, an Indian man. She sat down on a sofa with her legs outstretched while one of the maids brought a towel and a basin filled with warm water. In the middle of the massage, a voice came over the intercom saying that Lady Emily was looking for her. Auntie Sarah quickly dried her feet and went upstairs. She came back shortly, her face aglow.

“She was really happy with you,” she said. “She wants you to come back tomorrow.”

Auntie Sarah told me she would drive me back, but added: “Here is the address. Can you find your way back here on your own tomorrow? All you have to do is ring the bell at the door we used earlier.”

On the way to Elephant and Castle, she said: “By the way, Lady Emily says you have an unusual talent?”

I had to repeat the brief conversation I'd had with Lady Emily.

“That's extraordinary!” She shook her head. “I can't believe you saw the Johannesburg estate. Her family lived in South Africa for generations.”

When I also told her about the small Southeast Asian woman, and how agitated Lady Emily had become, Auntie Sarah's voice turned angry.

“You said something stupid after all! That Thai bitch is the reason her husband is living in Brighton and not here. How embarrassing for her.”

She mumbled to herself for a bit, then whipped her head around to look at me; something had just occurred to her.

“That means you saw something when you touched my feet, too!”

I didn't answer, but she immediately chuckled to herself as if to say there was no use worrying about that now.

“I guess you saw all my dreadful ex-boyfriends.”

I debated whether or not to keep quiet, but then decided to say something in order to hold her attention a little bit longer.

“I saw your white father, and the black man your mother met when she was working at the hospital.”

“Oh my!” Auntie Sarah's hands slipped on the steering wheel, and the car swerved. “You're really something, kid!”

I didn't tell her about the form that looked like a dark cloud wrapped around Lady Emily, or the bodies. When the car pulled up in front of Tongking, she handed me an envelope. I got out of the car and looked inside: there was far more in there than just my hourly fee. If I kept working at that rate, I would be able to pay off my debts in Chinatown within six months. For the first time I felt my heart grow lighter. I gave the money for my hourly fee to Uncle Tan and kept the rest. He looked satisfied to have such a wealthy regular who would provide a fixed income for the salon.

The following week, I took the Underground to the mansion on my own, address in hand. I was so scared that my heart nearly beat out of my chest, but at the same time I was happy that I had the freedom to go anywhere now.

By the time I had made the two station transfers, walked down the side street next to Holland Park and arrived at the house in Kensington, I was ten minutes late. I went downstairs and rang the bell. Auntie Sarah's face appeared.

“I was worried you wouldn't find it,” she said.

“I took the wrong train and had to make a different transfer.”

“Lady Emily's waiting for you. She's already asked me twice why you're not here yet.”

Auntie Sarah led me up to the living room on the second floor. Lady Emily was resting on the sofa, wearing a sky-blue silk Chinese gown.

“Yes, come in,” Lady Emily said in a drowsy voice.

Auntie Sarah gave me a nod and then vanished.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” Lady Emily asked. “We don't have to start with the massage today.” She spooned some dark tea into a porcelain pot that was ready on the table.

“Is that black tea?” I asked.

“No, it's made from medicinal herbs. It'll relax you and make you feel better.”