anti-British activities with a local revolutionary cell.
âDemonstration was big, many hundreds of men, all shouting and ready to kill. These communists are dangerous people,â Raj replied. Krishna shook his head dismissively as he thrust a cork into the bottle of ink and placed it in a basket along with his pens.
âJust like us Indians, the communists also struggle for freedom from colonial rule,â Krishna answered; his hair stood up in a curly halo about his head and he had an intense, owlish appearance. Picking uphis stool and writing board, he strode forward in the direction of the garland makerâs shop where he rented storage space amongst dripping buckets of flowers. He had been forced to leave India when a plot he was involved in, to blow up a British government official, was foiled. Krishnaâs family were educated people and had found the means to smuggle him out of India as the police came after him.
âCommunists are killers,â Raj decided. He tried to understand Krishnaâs view of the communists but found he could not agree. Watching the garland makerâs goat nibble some crumpled paper at Krishnaâs feet, he recalled the unbridled violence of the day, the bloodied hats that had punctuated his afternoon and their wounded owners, the Chief Inspector and Mr Ho, and knew he was not wrong.
5
T HE MEMORY OF HER visit to Ah Siewâs kongsi fong continued to absorb Mei Lan. On their return to Lim Villa, Ah Siew put her straight to bed after a light meal of rice porridge. The next morning Mei Lan struggled to surface from sleep. Frightening dreams had buffeted her about all night and she awoke still tired and fractious. As she opened her eyes to the day the strange and jumbled images of her dreams dissolved, and she saw with relief that Ah Siew had already drawn the curtains at the window and the sun streamed in. A pair of golden orioles perched in the branches of the tree outside; a blue dragonfly hovered against a blue sky.
Mei Lan pushed back the covers and stretched. Ah Siew was already laying out her clothes and directing her to the bathroom. It was Tuesday, Ah Siew reminded her, and they would spend the afternoon with Second Grandmother. Tuesday was Second Grandmotherâs foot day. She liked Ah Siew to bathe her feet and bind them up in fresh bandages. This was not Ah Siewâs work for she was exclusively Mei Lanâs amah . Mei Lanâs mother, Ei Ling, grumbled at the hijacking of her servant but Second Grandmotherâs word was law. Second Grandmother owned three slave girls who were at her service day and night, but she said only Ah Siewâs gentle hands could soothe the pain of unbinding her broken feet. Mei Lan accompanied Ah Siew to Second Grandmotherâs quarters on Tuesday if her mother was out dancing or dining or playing mah-jong; now she was in Hong Kong and her protest could not be heard.
After lunch Ah Siew took hold of Mei Lanâs hand for the journey through Lim Villa to Second Grandmotherâs quarters. Stairs must be climbed, corridors travelled and the great ballroom crossed. The large reception rooms lived in permanent gloom, curtains drawn against a sun that faded upholstery from Paris and carpets from China. On rainy days Mei Lan played in these dim rooms with her elder brother JJ, their rubber ball bouncing amongst Ming porcelain, bronzeornaments and nude nymphets of Italian marble. The place filled Mei Lan with melancholy. She hated the fusty smell of damp upholstery and the rotting wheat and onion pellets strewn about to deter the cockroaches.
Beyond the ballroom was the door to Grandfatherâs jade museum, housed in a part of Lim Villa that had been built especially for this purpose. Glass cases lined the room displaying the precious stone carvings. Sometimes, Mei Lan crept unseen into the museum to gaze at its extraordinary contents. In the shuttered half-light the smooth green stone exuded a strange opalescence.
âDemonstration was big, many hundreds of men, all shouting and ready to kill. These communists are dangerous people,â Raj replied. Krishna shook his head dismissively as he thrust a cork into the bottle of ink and placed it in a basket along with his pens.
âJust like us Indians, the communists also struggle for freedom from colonial rule,â Krishna answered; his hair stood up in a curly halo about his head and he had an intense, owlish appearance. Picking uphis stool and writing board, he strode forward in the direction of the garland makerâs shop where he rented storage space amongst dripping buckets of flowers. He had been forced to leave India when a plot he was involved in, to blow up a British government official, was foiled. Krishnaâs family were educated people and had found the means to smuggle him out of India as the police came after him.
âCommunists are killers,â Raj decided. He tried to understand Krishnaâs view of the communists but found he could not agree. Watching the garland makerâs goat nibble some crumpled paper at Krishnaâs feet, he recalled the unbridled violence of the day, the bloodied hats that had punctuated his afternoon and their wounded owners, the Chief Inspector and Mr Ho, and knew he was not wrong.
5
T HE MEMORY OF HER visit to Ah Siewâs kongsi fong continued to absorb Mei Lan. On their return to Lim Villa, Ah Siew put her straight to bed after a light meal of rice porridge. The next morning Mei Lan struggled to surface from sleep. Frightening dreams had buffeted her about all night and she awoke still tired and fractious. As she opened her eyes to the day the strange and jumbled images of her dreams dissolved, and she saw with relief that Ah Siew had already drawn the curtains at the window and the sun streamed in. A pair of golden orioles perched in the branches of the tree outside; a blue dragonfly hovered against a blue sky.
Mei Lan pushed back the covers and stretched. Ah Siew was already laying out her clothes and directing her to the bathroom. It was Tuesday, Ah Siew reminded her, and they would spend the afternoon with Second Grandmother. Tuesday was Second Grandmotherâs foot day. She liked Ah Siew to bathe her feet and bind them up in fresh bandages. This was not Ah Siewâs work for she was exclusively Mei Lanâs amah . Mei Lanâs mother, Ei Ling, grumbled at the hijacking of her servant but Second Grandmotherâs word was law. Second Grandmother owned three slave girls who were at her service day and night, but she said only Ah Siewâs gentle hands could soothe the pain of unbinding her broken feet. Mei Lan accompanied Ah Siew to Second Grandmotherâs quarters on Tuesday if her mother was out dancing or dining or playing mah-jong; now she was in Hong Kong and her protest could not be heard.
After lunch Ah Siew took hold of Mei Lanâs hand for the journey through Lim Villa to Second Grandmotherâs quarters. Stairs must be climbed, corridors travelled and the great ballroom crossed. The large reception rooms lived in permanent gloom, curtains drawn against a sun that faded upholstery from Paris and carpets from China. On rainy days Mei Lan played in these dim rooms with her elder brother JJ, their rubber ball bouncing amongst Ming porcelain, bronzeornaments and nude nymphets of Italian marble. The place filled Mei Lan with melancholy. She hated the fusty smell of damp upholstery and the rotting wheat and onion pellets strewn about to deter the cockroaches.
Beyond the ballroom was the door to Grandfatherâs jade museum, housed in a part of Lim Villa that had been built especially for this purpose. Glass cases lined the room displaying the precious stone carvings. Sometimes, Mei Lan crept unseen into the museum to gaze at its extraordinary contents. In the shuttered half-light the smooth green stone exuded a strange opalescence.
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