Authors: Victoria Delderfield
“They tried to fob us off with redundancy pay-outs, but we knew they’d never do it. Crock of bureaucracy shit. It was a rubbish place to work anyway,” she laughed bitterly.
I laughed too, comforted to see suffering in someone else’s face other than my own. “You want a drink?”
I stole Suzinne’s liquor which was hidden behind the washing machine inside a small cavity in the brickwork. The heat of it warmed my throat and settled my aching guts. My eyes returned frequently to the carrier bag containing Yifan’s book of traditional tales and my wooden figurines. Fei Fei poured us both another drink and helped herself to some of Suzinne’s peanuts while I flicked through Yifan’s book.
“To our pride and joy, our dear son …”
I thought of my own family, their faces fading as the months passed, their voices reduced to common phrases, “Husband! Your food is making the chickens fat!” and “Wife, why aren’t the chickens making us fat?” The inscription wished Yifan
“a happy life, working his hardest for the good people of China.”
Gentle Yifan, working hard and loving deeply, he had been a friend when I needed one. His soul was goodness. I couldn’t say the same of mine. I couldn’t say I was a good woman of China.
I left the other items in the bag. It was too much to go through everything, all those broken pieces of the past.
“I’m sorry,” Fei Fei said.
“Don’t apologise.”
“Not for the bag, I mean I’m sorry for not doing more to help you.”
“Maybe you should leave,” I said in an attempt to hide our past behind the wall. “My boss will be coming back soon to check up on me.”
Fei Fei wiped her nose on the sleeve of her thin and mucky jacket – it was the denim one I’d bought her the night of the ferris wheel.
“It was me who followed you to the abortionist, Mai Ling,” she blurted suddenly. “I told Manager He you hadn’t gone through with it. I snitched about Yifan, too. I said you were seeing each other … I’m so sorry. I was on my way to warn you the night Manager He came to your dorm and … oh, Mai Ling, I made things worse not better. I didn’t realise what I was doing or the consequences … I was so stupid.”
“Stop!” I stared at her, numb.
“He said I was beautiful. He gave me extra money to send home to my family. I didn’t know he was using us. He told me not to worry. I asked why I was spying on you, he said it was for our own good, for our safety. I followed you into town and all around the factory.” Fei Fei shook as she confessed.
“I thought I was going mad,” I said, remembering the feeling of being watched wherever I went. I knew someone was there; that day I met Yifan in the Suseng Teahouse, I saw something at the window and then you were gone. And in town, when you bumped into me on your way to buy melons. You insisted I buy the pink shoes; it was him who sent you to bring me back to the factory, wasn’t it?”
Fei Fei nodded, her head bowed in shame. “I’ve come to say sorry … not to be forgiven.”
I picked the bag of my belongings off the floor and held them close to my weary heart. “You’ve said it, so now you can go.”
Suzinne appeared at the laundry room door, scowling.
“Who’s she?”
“She’s just leaving.”
Suzinne shouted at me about the state of the breakfast pots, how I hadn’t scrubbed them hard enough – another guest had gone down with stomach pains. I felt humiliated being told off in front of Fei Fei. It was like we were back at the factory. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Fei Fei cowering.
Suzinne shoved a pile of sheets into my arms. “And make sure you tuck the sheet corners in tightly.”
“I can see you have work to do. I’ll go.”
I felt a twinge of something, perhaps sorrow or maybe an impulse to forgive her. We had all made such terrible mistakes at Forwood.
“Fei Fei –” I called after her.
She kept on walking. Her legs were so thin, unlike the rest of the plump, well-fed guests who sauntered along the hotel corridors. Without my belongings Fei Fei had nothing to carry. I think perhaps they were all she had owned in the world. I closed the laundry door and put the dirty bed linen into the machine. Then I watched the machine fill with water and started to plan.
My first step was to learn English. I began with the McDonald’s menu in Kim’s drawer, but burgers and milkshakes weren’t going to get me to England. At breakfast, I earwigged conversations and managed to pick up the odd word. Sensing Suzinne was in one of her better moods, I asked if she’d teach me the basics.
“Why do you want to know?”
“Isn’t everyone learning it these days?”
I thought I’d blown my chances, then later, whilst folding sheets, she said, “Pass me the sheet … the
sheet
,” she repeated, pointing to the pile.
“Seat?”
Suzinne laughed and pulled over a chair. “No, this is
seat.
” She picked up the linen. “This is
sheet.
”
For the rest of that week Suzinne spoke only English. Her mouth pouted like the English Queen as she told me off.
“No, Mai Ling, you’re putting too much soap into the washing machine! Clean the sheets! Don’t waste expensive powder!”
Most sentences went over my head, but I could tell when she wasn’t happy with the way I did my chores.
Meanwhile, the couples showed off their new babies at breakfast, lunch and supper. There was a captive audience of hotel staff and guests, even the odd businessmen who stayed a night at The Bluewater cooed at the sight of so many babies. Nancy and Iain stole the show with my twins. ‘Twin eggs,’ as Chef nicknamed them. Of course I was jealous. People are such bloody hypocrites. They couldn’t see they were the same beloved children whose mother had once begged on the street to afford clean water; and that it was only the arms that held them and the clothes they wore that had changed.
My girls yelled a lot. Their front teeth were cutting early as mine had done. I made their congee especially runny. I wanted to tell Nancy she hadn’t wrapped them up warm enough. Our Chinese babies like to feel safe inside plenty of layers, not dressed up in little velvet dresses and bows. These thoughts ate away at me so much that some days I couldn’t bear to serve at Nancy and Iain’s table.
The hotel made a big effort in December to make the place jolly. Management ordered in a fir tree from Xiangshan Forest Park, but by mid-December it drooped pitifully. It was a nightmare for me, crawling under the tree to sweep up all those pine needles, crying because they reminded me of a brother I might never see again and the babies that were so close but so far from me every day. By then, the westerners had grown friendly with one another and some decided to spend Christmas in Nanchang.
Iain organised a group photo of all the new babies and parents. The children were grouped together on a settee in the lobby; some wore Santa outfits that said, ‘My First Christmas’. My girls managed to smile at their new father and, for a brief moment, I persuaded myself I had done the right thing. Iain and Nancy could offer them a much better life, a whole future’s worth of
Happy Christmas,
fat turkeys and presents enough to fill a room. I emptied the dustpan full of pine needles into a rubbish sack. What right did I have to chase after them?
On Christmas Eve, Nancy and Iain were late down to breakfast and I started to panic they may have checked out early. I was so relieved to see them that I dropped my tray, some teacups smashed across the tiled floor. Iain rushed over to help me pick them up.
“Thank you, you very kind man,” I said in English. He looked impressed because it was the first proper thing I had said in his language.
“We’re leaving for England today,” he smiled.
His words punched through my chest.
“We’ll be home for Christmas.”
I wanted to tell him he was wrong, that I was their home. “Mr Milne, I have present. For babies’ Christmas.” I reached urgently into my apron and offered him the wooden figurine Fei Fei had salvaged from Forwood.
He turned Mrs Nie over in his hand and stroked the new slippers I had stitched in red satin.
“Oh my, she’s lovely, did you make this yourself?”
Yes, just as I made your daughters.
I nodded.
Nancy was busy settling the twins into their buggy; I gave a polite smile in her direction. It was too hard for me to say goodbye.
Never let you go.
The stairs felt steep as I raced to the third floor. I paused on the stairwell to catch my breath and wait unseen for Nancy and Iain to appear in the street below. They were going to the park, to take photographs before leaving Nanchang. I watched them cross the road with their new double buggy bought from Walmart.
Taking the master key from my apron pocket, I unlocked Room 111. It smelt sweet. They had positioned my babies’ travel cot near the window; I dragged it away, cold air was no good for their
qi
. I stroked the tiny indentations their bodies had made in the mattresses. Their blankets were still warm as skin against my cheek. Two bottles, half full, rested on the bedside table. How much Nancy expected them to drink! What was she thinking, feeding my babies like they were giants? Their matching green suitcases were packed and ready by the door; their dirty towels strewn over the bidet for me to collect.
I didn’t have much time. Iain had left his wallet out on the dressing table. Silly man, he was far too trusting. I rifled through it in search of his business cards, taking only one, so as not to rouse any suspicions.
Iain Milne, Portrait Photographer.
It even gave me the name and the address of his studio, ‘Fleeting Moment,’ including a telephone number. His hometown was Manchester. I slipped the card inside my apron and went to collect some of the dirty towels, in case Suzinne caught me out.
The corridor was empty apart from an elderly couple doddering in the opposite direction. I bowed and hurried to the laundry room with the bundle.
Manchester …
I said the word quietly under my breath as I raced down the stairs.
Manchester, I go live …
The words were like salty food in my Chinese mouth. I thirsted to be there.
Man-chest-er …
I loved the way that English city tasted on my tongue.
The nurse at Hope didn’t warn Ricki that May looked like modern art: wires strapped to her head, tubes sunk from her nose, tape on her hands, pads on her chest – what the hell were they all for? Ricki perched at the foot of her bed. After a while, she edged closer, checking May’s face for any movement.
I see your eyes and nose. I feel your tears …
Ricki had memorised whole sections of May’s letter. She didn’t need a translator to figure out that May loved her, that she hadn’t just dumped her and Jen without giving a shit as she had believed before China, before Jinsong, before everything.
A small grain of goodness in my bitter agony of a life.
This woman in a coma loved her.
I will guard you with my life.
May’s choice – no choice at all.
The doctors at Hope had transferred May from Intensive Care to a private room attached to their high dependency ward. The perfect place for a life to slip away unnoticed, without any fuss, without trauma. Ricki gazed at the tube which disappeared into May’s nose and wondered what they fed her on – was it the same watery stuff they served in The Bluewater for breakfast? Or full English?
It’s true, May
:
I think of you all the time, from the start to the end of the day as well as all through the night.
A voice from behind startled Ricki. “You can stay, we won’t be long,” said a nurse. She was accompanied by a younger nurse holding fresh sheets. “It’s important we keep her moving,”
“It’s okay. I’ll go buy a Coke,” said Ricki.
When she returned, May looked the same, but the clean sheets were smoothed down, the window opened a crack. A box of tissues sat on her bedside cabinet, along with a fresh jug of water.
“May,” she whispered. “Can you hear me?”
Thoughts of you burn like a fire over wild plains.
“I read your letter … Jen gave it to me in Hunan. She translated it into English so I could understand. What a brain box, huh? I wanted to come and see you … I wanted to say sorry, for not letting you be part of me … I didn’t realise. I pushed you so far away …. I thought my tummy mummy hated us. I didn’t believe Mum and Dad’s stories – I thought they only told us you loved us to make us feel wanted … But now I’ve read your letter.”
How long will it be before you arrive and these arms hold you?
“They don’t know I’m here – Mum, Jen, the social worker, any of them … I wasn’t going to come. I wanted to leave you in China … I even went back to the institute, thinking I could say goodbye to you there. I left your photograph on the steps - the one from the birthday party, do you remember, May? Shit you looked frightened, like you were out of control. I guess you were. What did it feel like seeing me turn sixteen? I thought of you, you know … that day. I thought about my real mum and wondered if … Shit, May, you kept a good secret.”
If I cannot keep you here, then I’ll find a better place and a way out for us.
“Do you think you found that place, May? Did you do the right thing coming here to find us? I dunno, really I don’t … You did what you had to do. You were a shit hot sleuth, May, I’ll give you that.”
They cannot take you from me.
“Your brother misses you … We went to find him. It was Jen’s idea, she talked Guan into going – he’s Yifan’s son. I’m guessing you don’t know about him? He’s really cool, his exhibition was awesome, it’s given me loads of ideas. I’ve decided not to bother with the unit at Afflecks, I’m going to use part of Dad’s studio instead. I can even sell some of my work … I don’t know whether people will get it, but it’s a start … I’ve promised Mum and Dad I’ll take up a place at Queen Elizabeth’s … It’s not Oxford but, hey, they have some pretty good dark rooms and one of the tutors seemed cool, Dad and I went to meet them … It feels right, May. I’m gonna give Afflecks a miss for a while … No point hanging round where you’re not wanted. You know what I mean, don’t you May? Oh, and something else, Jen got her A*s – nine of them, and one for Chinese … you must have done a good job with her, May. She got all the brains, huh? But then we’re not stupid, you and me, are we?”