Stanley.
I put the sheets in the sun. The mattresses are still airing on the balcony, so I sit on the concrete floor. A sudden rumble of thunder, and I run outside. Rain peels across the village green and people scurry for cover. Everything is soaked.
Mama bursts into tears. ‘I can’t bear it.’
‘Maybe tonight we’ll sleep in soggy sheets stinking of carbolic acid,’ I say. ‘But it’s better than being eaten alive by bed bugs, don’t you think?’
‘Cheer up!’ Papa puts his arm around Mama and gives me a disapproving look.
‘I’m sorry,’ I stutter. ‘I didn’t mean to be rude.’
***
From then onwards, Papa’s pipe makes rare appearances. Often, I see him stooping and picking up cigarette butts discarded on the roadside. He retrieves the small amount of tobacco then mixes it with dried sweet potato leaves and toilet paper, which is really just a piece cut up from The Hong Kong News.
Our neighbours soon give every indication that they’re struggling with the over-crowded conditions as well. They’ve divided their room in two by hanging a curtain made from old sheets stitched together. It’s difficult sharing the kitchen and bathroom with the Chambers and the Morrises. Squabbles often break out between us about who’s responsible for cleaning the communal areas.
I remember the first time I met the two couples last February. After an awful meal on our first night, I stood with my parents at the door dividing our rooms. A grey-haired man staggered to his feet. ‘Professor Stuart Morris, Hong Kong University,’ he said.
A mousy-looking woman got up from her camp bed. ‘And I’m his wife, Diana.’
I spotted another woman, fast asleep under a large, brown overcoat. A tousle of wavy red hair spread over the pillow.
‘You’ll excuse my wife if she doesn’t get up?’ A burly man with a dark beard stepped forward. ‘She’s suffering from a nasty cold. Bloody freezing here at night. We’re the Chambers by the way. Tony and Jessica. Welcome to Stanley!’
‘We’ve met before, haven’t we?’ Mama held out her hand. ‘Weren’t you at the Boxing Day Meet last year?’
‘Of course. How could I forget?’ Tony Chambers clapped his hand to his forehead.
His brown eyes smiled at me. ‘You’re something of a horsewoman, young lady, aren’t you?’
‘I can’t stand the creatures myself,’ my mother chipped in. ‘They make me sneeze. Well, we’d better get on. Things to do. No doubt we’ll meet again.’ She laughed in an almost hysterical way and I followed her through the door, wishing I could have shrunk to a speck of dust on the floor, I was so embarrassed.
Since then, I’ve seen a lot of Professor Morris at school as he’s my Latin teacher, and his wife helps out with French. But the Chambers keep themselves to themselves.
***
After the discovery of the bed bugs, Mama has become obsessed with getting me to do the cleaning. She makes me scrub our room from wall to wall every day then wash the clothes. I rub them with lye soap until my hands bleed.
‘Off you go,’ Mama says to me one morning after I’ve done my chores. ‘I can’t be doing with you getting in my way any longer.’
‘I haven’t been getting in the way. I’ve been slaving over a scrubbing board. Why can’t you do more of the work?’
Mama lifts her hand. I duck, and before my mother’s palm can reach its target, Jessica Chambers pokes her head around the door. ‘Your daughter has stolen my lipstick.’
Mama’s eyes widen. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Well, who else? The children are out of control, thieving left, right and centre.’
Mama gives me a stern look. ‘Did you take Mrs Chambers’ lipstick?’
I cross my fingers behind my back. ‘Of course not.’
‘Let this be a warning to you, Little Miss Butter-Wouldn’t-Melt-In-Her-Mouth,’ Jessica spits. ‘If ever I catch you in our room, you’ll receive the severest of punishments.’
‘Please don’t threaten my
I put the sheets in the sun. The mattresses are still airing on the balcony, so I sit on the concrete floor. A sudden rumble of thunder, and I run outside. Rain peels across the village green and people scurry for cover. Everything is soaked.
Mama bursts into tears. ‘I can’t bear it.’
‘Maybe tonight we’ll sleep in soggy sheets stinking of carbolic acid,’ I say. ‘But it’s better than being eaten alive by bed bugs, don’t you think?’
‘Cheer up!’ Papa puts his arm around Mama and gives me a disapproving look.
‘I’m sorry,’ I stutter. ‘I didn’t mean to be rude.’
***
From then onwards, Papa’s pipe makes rare appearances. Often, I see him stooping and picking up cigarette butts discarded on the roadside. He retrieves the small amount of tobacco then mixes it with dried sweet potato leaves and toilet paper, which is really just a piece cut up from The Hong Kong News.
Our neighbours soon give every indication that they’re struggling with the over-crowded conditions as well. They’ve divided their room in two by hanging a curtain made from old sheets stitched together. It’s difficult sharing the kitchen and bathroom with the Chambers and the Morrises. Squabbles often break out between us about who’s responsible for cleaning the communal areas.
I remember the first time I met the two couples last February. After an awful meal on our first night, I stood with my parents at the door dividing our rooms. A grey-haired man staggered to his feet. ‘Professor Stuart Morris, Hong Kong University,’ he said.
A mousy-looking woman got up from her camp bed. ‘And I’m his wife, Diana.’
I spotted another woman, fast asleep under a large, brown overcoat. A tousle of wavy red hair spread over the pillow.
‘You’ll excuse my wife if she doesn’t get up?’ A burly man with a dark beard stepped forward. ‘She’s suffering from a nasty cold. Bloody freezing here at night. We’re the Chambers by the way. Tony and Jessica. Welcome to Stanley!’
‘We’ve met before, haven’t we?’ Mama held out her hand. ‘Weren’t you at the Boxing Day Meet last year?’
‘Of course. How could I forget?’ Tony Chambers clapped his hand to his forehead.
His brown eyes smiled at me. ‘You’re something of a horsewoman, young lady, aren’t you?’
‘I can’t stand the creatures myself,’ my mother chipped in. ‘They make me sneeze. Well, we’d better get on. Things to do. No doubt we’ll meet again.’ She laughed in an almost hysterical way and I followed her through the door, wishing I could have shrunk to a speck of dust on the floor, I was so embarrassed.
Since then, I’ve seen a lot of Professor Morris at school as he’s my Latin teacher, and his wife helps out with French. But the Chambers keep themselves to themselves.
***
After the discovery of the bed bugs, Mama has become obsessed with getting me to do the cleaning. She makes me scrub our room from wall to wall every day then wash the clothes. I rub them with lye soap until my hands bleed.
‘Off you go,’ Mama says to me one morning after I’ve done my chores. ‘I can’t be doing with you getting in my way any longer.’
‘I haven’t been getting in the way. I’ve been slaving over a scrubbing board. Why can’t you do more of the work?’
Mama lifts her hand. I duck, and before my mother’s palm can reach its target, Jessica Chambers pokes her head around the door. ‘Your daughter has stolen my lipstick.’
Mama’s eyes widen. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Well, who else? The children are out of control, thieving left, right and centre.’
Mama gives me a stern look. ‘Did you take Mrs Chambers’ lipstick?’
I cross my fingers behind my back. ‘Of course not.’
‘Let this be a warning to you, Little Miss Butter-Wouldn’t-Melt-In-Her-Mouth,’ Jessica spits. ‘If ever I catch you in our room, you’ll receive the severest of punishments.’
‘Please don’t threaten my
Similar Books
It's Always Darkest Before the Fridge Door Opens: Enjoying the Fruits of Middle Age
Phil Callaway, Martha O. Bolton
