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The taps were wheels on the wall and a chunk of soap was wedged onto a piece of wood on a rough chain. There was also a bath brush on a chain. The bath itself was deep with steps up to it and a wooden seat below the water. I sat down and the water came up to my neck. I rubbed the brush hard along my back and neck, giving myself a bracing scrub. Dad was singing in the cubicle next door, so I joined in a chorus of ‘The Banks of My Own Lovely Lee’. When he sang ‘Skibbereen’ other voices mingled with his and the whole bellowing concert made me laugh madly as the hot water, steam and soap cleaned me thoroughly.
    ‘Finbar, are you cooked?’ shouted Dad, banging on the door. ‘Are you turning into a seal in there?’
    ‘I’m ready,’ I shouted.
    Still in the bathhouse, we next went to the barber’s. By the time we came out into the street our faces were glowing, and our hair was trimmed and parted, and glistening with oil.
    Then Dad took me back to the front door of Weir’s because he needed to visit the Cunard office in Upper Manhattan.

CHAPTER 15
C HINATOWN
    D uring the days in New York I walked the streets, gazing at everything in amazement. There were millions of people in the city and the buildings cast long shadows, and on some streets it was dark and on others dazzlingly bright. You couldn’t really see the sky because it hurt your neck looking up so far.
    On our second night Dad took me to an amazing place. Even the street was different to every other street I had seen so far. The people were mostly Chinese. The buildings had archways at the entrance with lanterns and paper dragons; the shop fronts were mostly red and black, and many had incense smoking in lamps at the doors that caught my nose, making me sneeze. There was strange twanging music from harps,stringed instruments, bells and drums.
    We went into a hotel in Chinatown where the staff wore black caps, had pigtails, and seemed to shuffle in and out slowly and with great ease and dignity no matter how busy they were. Dad ordered and we were served lots of tiny dishes of fish and meat, with brightly coloured sauces. He ate with chopsticks, but after a messy attempt, I stuck to a knife and fork.
    Then a woman in a red cloak with coloured birds sewn onto it came over to our table. Her hair was as black as coal. She had white powder painted all over her face, except for red paint on her lips and black paint at her eyebrows. She smelt like flowers.
    ‘I am Lily Lee.’ She had a beaming smile. ‘Can I tell your son’s fortune, sir? One dollar – a really special deal for the boy.’ She smiled and bowed.
    ‘You go ahead,’ Dad said, and he peeled off a note from his wedge, telling me to hold onto my eleven dollars.
    ‘Give me your hand,’ Lily Lee said as she sat on a chair near me. Her eyes became narrow. She gasped. Her eyes shone like jewels as she stared at me.
    ‘Hey, this is a bit strange,’ said Dad.
    ‘Be patient, sir. Your son knows some things that you donot.’ Lily Lee became silent and motionless again. Then she breathed in loudly, closed her eyes and when they opened she stared into a vacant space above my head. ‘Be careful, boy,’ she said. ‘I see you in grave danger on a ship. You want to see your sister and brothers again, don’t you?’
    ‘But how could you know he has a sister and brothers?’ Dad was amazed.
    But Lily Lee ignored him. ‘You watch out, sonny,’ she said slowly. ‘In time of war a boy at the centre of bad things can survive. Remember that.’ She repeated this three times, stared at my father as she bowed, moved backwards, facing us for a while, then rushed away and disappeared outside into the crowd of passersby.
    Dad looked worried for a moment and then indicated that we were leaving. He paid the bill, left a tip and we walked outside. ‘You all right?’ he asked as we strolled along the sidewalk. ‘You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’ He stopped and put one hand on my shoulder.
    ‘Is she a