The Secret Mother (37 page)

No harm will ever reach you.

“It’s weird, but since coming back from China I feel safer, like I can breathe again. Like a big stone’s been rolled away … I had to go back and see it, didn’t I? China … couldn’t avoid the place forever. Boy, do they like cycling! I nearly got mowed down in Nanchang.”

Ricki reached out and nudged May’s hand. “May …
pssst
, May, can you hear me beneath all that wire and shit? You do know how weird you look lying there? I keep thinking you’re going to wake up and say “Surprise!” … Maybe not, hey … I think somewhere you can hear me though? Maybe I could hear you too, if I’m honest. You were always telling me you were my mum. May … May? You used to look right through me sometimes, like you had x-ray vision … don’t think I didn’t notice.”

May’s lips looked dry where they hung slack around the tube. Ricki rubbed them with some of her lip balm. Melon flavour, she would like that, there were loads of melons in Nanchang.

Whatever they say, we’ll never be parted – not even for a second.

“I’m shit at goodbyes,” Ricki whispered. “So I won’t say it … I’m just gonna turn round and walk out that door … but I’ll take you with me, May … I’ll take you … Shit, Mum, I’ve got to go now. It’s getting late. I’ve got to go home …”

She waited a second, in case May’s eyes opened, her hand twitched, her tongue lapped against the tube in gratitude for the lip balm.

She reached out and laid the bag of red soil from Hunan at May’s feet.

The September air felt warm and fresh inside her room, as though it was spring and not the beginning of autumn when everything starts to die. Summer’s effects lingered on – perhaps May would feel the sunshine behind her eyelids?

Ricki squeezed one last time on the hand that had rocked her as a baby; then let go gently, sensing the right time would never come.

Woman at Piccadilly bus stop say, “Typical bloody weather!”

She say it at no-one, so I not answering.

On bus, I check Pocket Collins English Dictionary which tell me
weather
is tiānqì, sky breath. Today weather is white sky, feeble rain. Bones, they ache. March in England not like March in China, where sky sometimes yellow and fierce and rain feel ancient, like is falling for centuries.

Woman from bus stop she sit next to me.

“Chinese?” she ask and lights up cigarette. Her fingers yellow from love of smoking. She want sell me something? I think.

Chance to practise English. “Yes, I’m Chinese.”

Simple! Phew! English not so hard after all. Ten years of Suzinne’s lessons are not waste.

Then she say, “Student?”

I say, “No. Teacher.”

The law is no smoking on English bus. I keep my gob shut. Stranger tell her off anyway.

“Typical bloody buses,” she moan. “Typical bloody government, no pleasure in anything these days.”

No-one on bus care she insult government. I terrified. Rest of journey I wait for cadre to appear, but only more little English grandmothers get on with bags on wheels. Eventually I take giant breath.

Woman, she talk to herself. She lonely like me? No man at home? She ask where I live. I tell her home no place for me right now, and she offer cheap room in
bedsit.
Woman’s name is Mrs Eva.

Mrs Eva bedsit nowhere near middle of Manchester, nowhere near Iain and Nancy. I will hunt
long and hard
for find New Street, where Iain work. For that, I am needing better map.

Cooker in my room it have no fire. I light with switch. Shop on street corner are Indians and I buy 5kg of rice in plastic bag, enough for strangers in bedsit. Then I go big store that smell of bread in some place and sick in other. Spend two hungry hour looking for food, trying to understand label, with English nonsense music sounding in my ears. I buy ginger, chilli, onion, garlic, noodle and some other vegetable called
daffodil
which I not know, but it look like chive. I also buy ‘Wide-rule Notebook,’ pen and ‘A-Z of Greater Manchester’. Manchester, it not seem that great so far, but maybe tomorrow it will be better … the ASDA good place for learning new words. It smell also of dog. Dog belong to man with magazine,
The Big Issue.
He standing on pavement outside. But I walk by, pretend like I invisible magic paintbrush in tale of Ma Liang.

There are five
New Streets
in Greater Manchester: New Street Swinton, New Street Eccles, New Street Droylsden, New Street Radcliffe and New Street Altrincham. In words of Mrs Eva, search for daughters is
piece of cake.
I have Iain’s business card, but what if Iain not photographer no more? What if, ten years pass, ‘Fleeting Moments Photographic Studio’ not exist? Maybe he become ancient and stop working? Maybe so many things … I have to try. I have to look.

Feeble rain all April.

May. I new woman – new woman called May.
Cut and finish
from ‘Kayz Cutz,’ give me curls for first time my whole life. I wear respectable teacher clothes from BHS. Everything ready. So why not I feel ready? I journey long way to find what belongs me and today sky breath is smiling, good sign. Happiness in the air down New Street Altrincham.

I turn a corner and see ‘Fleeting Moment Photographic Studio’!

Relief. It feel like sunshine after storm. I walk past the shop on different side of street: one time, two, three time, I walk by. It definitely Iain shop. I re-born on New Street Altrincham.

Open door and enter. Suddenly Iain, he right there in front of me! He same face of English Prince Charles. Ha! My English go and I say “nĭ hăo” by mistake. Iain is proud because he know two words in Chinese.

“Nĭ hăo.” He even bow.

I am like shy English raspberry.

He quickly run out of words. His Chinese, not so good. “How can I be of help?” he ask.

I need him to do portrait, a gift for my fiancé back home in China.

He seem very interested in me; it definitely same Iain I remember from Bluewater Hotel. He fussy and polite. Iain also very productive worker – so many happy, foreign faces staring at me from his walls! Like ancestral shrine. All smiles on Iain’s photos. All happy families, babies, pretty women and many, many grandparent who should really be dead.

Emotions, they get the better of me. I start to cry, ready for seeing my daughters after all the lost years spent waiting.

He pass me a Kleenex from box on reception desk. “Oh dearie me.”

I blow my nose so loud. “Sorry.”

“Take a seat. I’ll fetch you a glass of water? My name’s Iain Milne, by the way.”

“Thank you. My name’s May.”

I sit in the corner where cool airs from fan. It all very nice ‘Fleeting Moment,’ no wonder photos they all smiling. Even water tasting clean and chilli. I hold my knees still when they are shaking.

Iain say, “Pardon me for asking, but I feel like I know you from somewhere. Have we met before?”

His sentence long and hard for me to understand. I prefer he speak slow.

He repeat, “Do we know each other?”

Best answer I have is, “No, I don’t think so.” I am good liar after years. Quickly, I tell him about my job as Chinese teacher in Altrincham. He swallow down all my story.

Iain gets his diary and ask me what date would suit me for the portrait. I say Saturday 10 o’clock. Enough time for getting two bus to Altrincham from Mrs Eva bedsit. Altrincham nothing like where I live with Mrs Eva. People here they taste tea in street cafe. Where I live, man he sit outside the ASDA with dog and
Big Issue
and taste tea on street. Easy to believe why man like Iain work in a place like Altrincham where there is happy, smiling, rich.

Portrait, it cost a hundred quid. About 1,000 yuan! I think how much of my daughters that buy me back? One hand? Two eye? Another beautiful black hair to match the one in my pocket?

Three days I wait. I buy new outfit from the ASDA. I choose a dress that make me look and feel more British – but I know my place: a person who not belong. Foreigner. I see myself from outside, like window shopper. Way other see me: getting on the Stagecoach buses and asking direction, walking here and there in town, always a little lost. Is like watching myself in movie. My head, it still in China, thinking different way about how to do things like eat, talk, get up early for work and follow rules.

Iain happy to see me. Maybe he feel relief? I turn up and am not
scamming it,
as Mrs Eva say. He lead me into different room and sit me down. I like British Queen on his stamp. Prince Charles take my photograph, all big ears and greying hair. I laugh without meaning to.

He start taking picture. His camera is new, still posh. “Oh, that’s lovely!”

At Forwood, factory photographer say smiling not allowed. He tell me to have “face without expression”. With Prince Iain, it impossible not to smile. So much my face has to say that words cannot. Ten years I live without my daughters and nearly I am seeing them – that one hell of a lot to smile about.

Iain say “lovely” again. I like that word. I like the way he say it.
Luv-lee,
through his nose. Feel like long time since I hear such nice word said in such nice way. Last person to speak like that is Yifan. Iain ask me a question about him like he hearing my thought.

He say, “Your fiancé is going to love these pictures. What’s his name?”

More
scamming.
Secretly I wish my story is the truth. Yifan, my fake fiancé. “Yifan? Ah yes, he’s a doctor.” My mouth is excited by the lie and won’t stop. “We meet at university. He work in a very large hospital in China.”

Iain, he concentrate on my photo. “Ooh, clever chap then. And no talking for a second now, that’s it.
Luv-lee.
”

Iain he take hundreds of photo of my girls in ten years. Even in The Bluewater Hotel – one second after they are given him and Nancy – Iain snap-snap-snapping. You see, my mind it still in China even when body move to England; it not really matter if I wear British dress from the ASDA.

The past, my past, my girls’ past – that not something that can be deleted like bad photo on digital camera.

Next we try a different sort of picture. A ‘missing my fiancé’ picture. Iain, he take away chair. He say, “Act natural.” Impossible! He gets me a flower – a white rose – and asks me to smell it. We stand by open window. Summer light it flood in. Outside church bells are ringing. Shame photo have no sound. If Yifan could see me now! I so glad, at last, standing by this window. Truthful smile appear.

After he finish taking photos, we talk. Chance I am waiting for. I rehearse a thousand times, same way I rehearse Schnelleck. This time, nothing go wrong. I make promise to myself.

I say, “Excuse me, Iain, but can I leave some of my business cards in your shop?” I hold one out for him to see. It say:

I not include Mrs Eva’s address on card because then everyone would be knowing I live in ungreat part of Greater Manchester.

Iain take one, he look at it carefully. He like me and feel sorry for me, I can tell.
It not easy running a business. Not easy loving fiancé in China.
I know this what he think.

“Usually I’d say no …” He hesitate like he making some big political decision. “But why not? You can leave them on the desk, where people will see.”

“You have customers who wanting learn Chinese?”

“Yes, as it happens.”

“Oh, really?” I act surprised.

“I have a daughter. She’s desperate to learn Mandarin.”

Only one? Where my other daughter?
I almost blurt out.

“Her name’s Jennifer, she’s ten.”

“Ten … Good age for learning. You take this card and ask Jennifer and then you ring me on this number. I come to your house for lesson … Rates very competitive, Mr Milne.”

He smiling again. What he thinking? That I am good little Chinese business woman? He not thinking I his daughters’ good little Chinese mother … But what’s all this crap about only one daughter, where’s my other girl? I know they both living with Iain and Nancy. I see them leave Bluewater Hotel with my own eyes.

“Listen, May, I’ll call you when the portrait’s ready, you can come and collect it and we can talk more about the lessons then.”

“Thank you,” I say. “That’s very kind; I look forward to seeing photo.”

After this I pay huge sum of £100 and leave the ‘Fleeting Moment’. A breeze blow at the hem of ASDA dress. I am flying with happiness. My plan, it work.

A week later and phone ring. It Iain.

“Hello, May, your portrait’s ready.”

I say, “That very good news. What about Jennifer’s lesson?”

Line, it go quiet.

“Um, actually May, we’ve decided not to go ahead with any lessons at the moment. I talked it through with my wife, Nancy, and she felt it was too soon. Jennifer has been quite unsettled at school lately and we … Well, like I say, it’s a little premature. But we’ll keep your card and perhaps in a year or so … I’m happy for the cards to stay in my shop.”

So many words, what this shit he telling me?

“May, are you still there?”

“Jennifer not want lesson?”

“Not at the moment, I’m sorry to get your hopes up.”

“I come collect photograph.” My heart so swollen it on the floor. I not waiting another whole year until they decide time right for daughter to be learning Chinese. Has to be now!

“Goodbye Mr Milne.” I drop phone like it a snake in my hand.

Room feel so lonely all of sudden that I want to scream just to hear some noise. I not sure if I make a sound? I’m on my bed, thumping pillow.

Where my daughters?

I wake up with face like wet sponge. Mouth dry. Heart lumpy. I take little wooden figurine out of wardrobe where I keep all my old Chinese belongings, it all what’s left of past. Childish to talk to a doll, I know, but I not feeling like sensible adult. Mr Nie tell me not to give up; he want Mrs Nie. I promise to try again with different plan. Why my life never going way I want it to?