“It’s called a dojo, not a studio. School is okay. I have a few friends. Can I go now, sir?” Jason replied, passing a glass of milk to William and still refusing to look at his father.
“Go where? You haven’t seen me for nearly six months. No, you can’t go. I have to take a shower. Then, we have to go to the karate studio—sorry, dojo—and pay for the damages you caused. After that, find a new nanny and buy a TV.”
Jason sat back down at the kitchen table and gazed out the window at the other apartments. He still did not know his father’s friend’s name. He was unhappy that the man was staying in his home and taking his father’s attention, but he had to make the best of it. “I am Jason Steed, sir,” he announced as he walked over and held out his hand to introduce himself. “This is my house.”
“Pleased to meet you, Jason. Because your dad never introduced us, I’m William Giles. You may call me Bill.” He smiled, shaking Jason’s hand.
Ray stood and walked toward Jason’s bedroom and beckoned to his son. His dad sat on the bed.
“Close the door behind you.”
Jason followed with his head bowed. He looked up at his father through his blond hair that just covered his eyes.
“You and I need to sort something out. Don’t you ever talk to an adult like that again. Do you hear me?” Ray whispered.
“But I did not know who he was.”
“That is not the point. You could just ask. Now, I want you to promise me you will start to behave.”
“Yes, sir,” Jason replied, still looking through his hair.
“Stop calling me ‘sir.’ It’s Dad. Also, we need to get your hair cut. I can’t see your eyes. It’s much too long in the front. Make sure you’re ready to go in five minutes. Officer Giles won’t be joining us.”
“Yes, Dad.”
***
When they arrived at the karate dojo, Ray paused outside. It was boarded up with a large piece of plywood painted with the words “Open as usual.” Ray walked in without checking to see if Jason had kept up. Jason followed, red faced and out of breath.
“Hello. Is anyone here?” Ray called out to the empty room. Wong Tong walked out from behind a black screen and bowed. Jason in turn bowed. Ray looked at him and shook his head in annoyance.
“Hello, sir. You are boy’s father?” Wong Tong asked.
“Yes, sir. I’m very sorry about your window. I am here to pay for it. Jason’s here to apologize. How much do I owe you, sir?” Ray asked.
“Twenty dollars, sir. That will take care of damage.”
Ray pulled out his wallet and took out the cash to pay Wong Tong. “Jason, have you something to say?”
“Sorry, Mr. Wong Tong.” A smile crept across his face. “Can I come to your karate dojo and learn karate?”
“Out of the question, Jason. That is not what you were supposed to say,” his father snapped back.
“But, Dad, please.”
“Are you answering me back?” Ray hissed, his eyes like ice. Jason froze and said no more.
“Why you not let boy do karate? He can move very fast. I teach good and teach discipline,” Wong Tong said with his arms folded.
Without a word, Ray grabbed Jason by the arm and hurried out of the dojo. He marched Jason to a large building and told him to wait outside. For what seemed like nearly an hour, Jason watched the traffic drive up and down the busy Hong Kong street. Finally, Ray appeared from the building, carrying some papers.
“Okay, your new nanny comes tomorrow. She is Chinese and has great references. Now let’s go and get your hair cut.”
***
The barbershop was filled with smoke. It had three chairs for cutting hair and a long wooden bench to sit on and wait. The barbers were all Chinese and spoke broken English. They all worked fast.
Jason hated the front of his haircut. He did not mind the back and sides, but he preferred the front long to cover his eyes. He thought no one could see him, and it made him feel secure.
“Boy, you sit here,” the barber told Jason as he put a small plank of wood across the chair’s arms. Jason slowly sat down and looked at himself in the mirror. He could see his father looking at him from behind. He tried to think of a way to avoid the front of his hair being cut as the barber trimmed the back and sides military short. As he was about to cut the front, Jason yelled out, “Ouch, that hurts! It’s pulling my stitches.”
“I not touch stitches,” said the startled barber. Jason jumped down, holding his head.
“It’s okay, Jason. Don’t be a baby. He will not hurt your stitches. Get back up in the chair,” his father said, trying to reassure him.
“The doctor said I must not touch the stitches. He will pull them out, and he hurt me,” Jason protested. He knew he was pushing his luck. It was obvious that the barber had not touched Jason’s forehead.
Ray was embarrassed. People in the barbershop were now looking at him. “How much do I owe you?” he asked the barber.
Once outside, Ray grabbed Jason by the arm and dragged him down an alley. Jason wanted to protest, but he thought he should keep quiet. The space was thin and dark and smelled unpleasant like rotting vegetables. Ray grabbed Jason and pulled him over his knee. He then whacked his son’s backside six times. Jason’s eyes filled with tears, and his lower lip quivered; however, he remained silent.
“I told you to behave. You and I both know he never got anywhere near your stitches. This is what you will get if you want to start acting up. Do you want more?”
Jason shook his head in silence. There was no arguing with his father. He knew that now.
***
When they arrived home, Jason went to his room and gazed out the window. From here, he could see the Royal Marines assault course. He spent many hours watching the marines and navy personnel climbing the ropes and obstacles while being shouted at by a drill instructor.
William had left already, and that was fine by Ray. He was feeling guilty for being so estranged from his own son but could not see a way of getting close to him. He thought about sending Jason to live with his grandparents in Scotland. All he seemed to be doing was shouting or spanking. Was he raised in fear? No, he wasn’t.
***
The following morning, Ray answered a knock on the door to find the new nanny: a young, athletic Chinese lady.
“You must be Mai Lee?” Ray asked, holding out his hand as he invited her in. They spent a few minutes talking, and Ray called to his son.
Jason skulked out of his room, an unhappy look on his face. The idea of a new nanny was not pleasant for a five-year-old. He had grown to love Miss Watson.
“Hello. You must be Jason? I am Mai Lee,” she said, offering her hand. Jason halfheartedly shook her hand and nodded. The room went quiet.
“Jason, have you lost your tongue?” Ray barked.
“Hello,” he said quietly.
She knelt down to make eye contact with him. “You look so sad, Jason. Did you like your previous nanny?” she asked.
Jason nodded.
“Maybe you’re just shy?”
“No, he’s not shy. He’s not afraid to say anything,” Ray interrupted.
“I am sure you will grow to like me. Now, Jason, if we are to get on, I need to know what you like and don’t like. What is your favorite drink?” she asked.
“Milk,” Jason replied.
She gently held both his hands. “Good, milk is good for you. And food—what is your favorite food?”
“Carrot cake.”
“Carrot cake? I don’t know what this is. Is it a cake made from carrots?” she laughed.
“Yes, and it has cream on the top. They sell it in the store. Miss Watson always buys it,” he replied.
She spoke to him more. Then, Jason used his finger to part his hair, revealing his eyes. Ray watched his son closely. It was the first time he had seen his son smile since he had been home. Ray knelt down in front of Jason, watching his son’s eyes sparkle like deep-blue sapphire, the same color as Karen’s. H
is white teeth shone through his cheeky but adorable smile. He smiled just like his mother. Jason noticed his father staring at him and stopped talking.
“Tell me more, Jason,” Mai Lee asked. “What sports do you like to play?”
Jason seized the opportunity. “I am not allowed to play sports,” he said, looking down to the floor and putting his sad face back on.
Ray stiffened. “Why? That’s nonsense, Jason. Of course you can play sports. I expect it of you. I was good at sports and still am. Your mother competed in the Olympic Games and won a bronze medal. You can do any sport, son. It’s in your genes. You should be really good at it.” Ray realized he was trying to bring Jason’s smile back. He wasn’t succeeding.
Jason looked at his father and made direct eye contact.
“Dad, you said I can’t have karate lessons.”
Ray knew he was now backed into a tight corner. He smiled at his cunning son and nodded. “You can have karate lessons at Wong Tong’s.”
Clumsily, Jason reached out and hugged his father. Ray quickly stood.
“Mr. Steed, Wong Tong teaches boys from age eight to adult. I don’t think he will teach someone who is barely five,” Mai Lee said.
“In Jason’s case, he will. He has already offered.”
Chapter Three
Karate lessons were once a week. Wong Tong told Jason that if he worked hard, he could get a black belt in four to five years; however, Jason was far too impatient to wait that long. He studied hard for each category. To pass a new colored belt in karate, you had to show you could memorize certain moves. These moves were called “katas.” Jason made sure to learn a new move each week.
After just four weeks, Wong Tong agreed to allow him to take the test for his yellow belt. Jason took it one step further and asked if he could take his orange belt at the same time. Reluctantly, Wong Tong agreed and was surprised to see Jason pass. Jason then asked if he could take his green belt.
“You will fail,” Wong told him. After Jason insisted, Wong agreed, thinking Jason would learn a valuable lesson. Wong was wrong. Jason passed his green belt too. Mai Lee had just enough money on her to pay for three exams.
Over the next few weeks, he studied for his blue belt. By the time his father was due to come back for his next visit two months later, Jason was studying for his brown belt. Wong Tong was also giving him additional one-on-one lessons. He had never seen a student so gifted and enthusiastic before.
“You have talents,” he told Jason. “But do not allow them to make your head swell.”
***
Ray came back to an empty house. The apartment was very clean. Fresh flowers sat in a vase on the kitchen table. He went to the fridge to look for a drink and laughed to himself when he saw the amount of milk and carrot cake stored there. He looked around the apartment and went into Jason’s room. The room was covered with karate posters and pictures of a young actor named Bruce Lee. Above Jason’s bed were white, yellow, green, and blue belts.
On his bedside table was a framed picture of Karen collecting her bronze medal at the Olympics. Ray had never seen this picture before. Maybe Karen’s parents had sent it to the boy.
The front door slammed opened, and he could hear the sound of running feet. Jason ran into the room, and to Ray’s delight and surprise, he threw his arms around his neck naturally and easily. He spoke so fast about his karate that Ray could hardly understand what he was saying. He sat on Jason’s bed, pulled his son onto his lap, and watched him talk.
“Jason, I have some news. We have to go home for two weeks. I have an invitation to go to a garden party at Buckingham Palace. Do you know who lives there?” Ray asked.
“Home? This is home, Dad,” Jason replied, confused.
“No, son, we have a house in England that my parents left me. That’s home. Now, tell me who lives at Buckingham Palace?”
He smiled. “The queen. Can Mai Lee come too, Dad?”
“No, it will just be me and you. We have to leave tonight. I will ask Mai Lee to pack some things for you.”
“Can I still go to karate? Can you come and watch? Did you see the belts I’ve gotten? Watch this move,” Jason said.
He then jumped off his father’s lap and stood showing his father a high kick.
“If I have time, I will come and watch you. I have a lot to do before we fly.”
Jason replied with a thank-you in Cantonese.
Mai Lee was teaching him. When he talked in the home, he was only allowed to speak in Chinese. He also spoke to Wong Tong in Chinese. When he learned of all this, Ray could only think that Mai Lee was taking Jason to karate and teaching him how to speak. Ray never made it back in time to watch his son.
***
When they arrived at London’s Heathrow Airport, Ray called his uncle, Stewart Steed, and asked to be collected and driven to the house.
The two men shook hands as they met. Stewart, wearing his monocle, bent down to shake Jason’s hand. Jason stared at his gray handlebar moustache and wondered how his uncle Stewart prevented his monocle from falling out.
“Welcome to England, Jason. It’s nice to finally meet you at last. Well, what do you think of your country?”
“My country is Hong Kong, sir. Is it always this cold here?” Jason replied.
Stewart laughed out loud.
An hour later, after a drive that had Jason pinned to the window until he started yawning, the Jaguar pulled up outside the estate. Ray jumped out and opened one of the large black iron gates. As they drove up the gravel driveway to the large white house, Stewart asked, “What do you think of your home, Jason?”
No reply came. Jason lay asleep on the backseat.
Ray carried Jason inside and put him in his old bed. He gave Jason a kiss and whispered, “I guess this is going to be your room now, son.”
***
Nine hours passed before Jason awoke. It was cold in the house. He climbed out of bed, still dressed, and looked around the large bedroom. It had a polished wooden floor with a center rug, and some framed certificates, which were too high for him to attempt to read, dressed the walls. The dressing table was full of trophies for football, rugby, and tennis—all had his father’s name on them.
The view outside the bedroom window was completely foreign to him. The house was surrounded by a lawn large enough for three football fields. Around the perimeter, large oak trees proudly spread their branches out in all directions. At the front of the lawn was the long and winding gravel driveway that finished at the black iron gates. Outside the locked gates, traffic rushed up and down the main road.
Jason made his way to the door and slowly opened it. There was a stairway on each side of the landing, swooping down to the front hall. He walked down the stairs slowly, his tiny figure dwarfed by the huge house. He heard music from one of the rooms and found his father in the kitchen, reading papers and tapping his foot in time to the Beatles’ “Hey Jude.”
“Morning, Jason, how are you?” Ray asked.
“Has this house got a toilet?” Jason winced, standing cross-legged.
Ray laughed and got up from his seat. “No, it has four toilets. You passed two upstairs and another just outside—that door on your left.”
Jason returned minutes later. “Can I have some milk please, Dad?”
Ray picked up his jacket. “Go and get your shoes. I left them by your bed. We will go out to a café for breakfast. There’s no food in the house yet.”
Jason ran upstairs and soon came running down with his shoelaces flapping.
“Do them up. You will break your neck coming down the stairs like that,” his father ordered. Jason bent down and tried doing his laces on one shoe. Ray looked down to see what was taking so long. He had almost done it, but when he pulled the two loops, the knot came apart.
“You do know how to do it, don’t you?” Eventually, Ray bent down and helped him. Of course, slippers and sandals only in Hong Kong, he realized. His son had so much to learn about his true home.
&nb
sp; As they opened the front door, a large gust of icy cold wind came in.
“You need to get your coat on, Jason. I put your suitcase at the foot of your bed. Run and get it, and I will start the car.”
“I don’t have a coat, do I?” Jason asked.
Ray frowned at him. “Why not? I told Mai Lee to buy you clothes when you need them.”
“I don’t need a coat at home,” Jason said and shrugged. Ray took off his jacket and hung it on Jason’s shoulders. It almost dragged along the floor it was so long on him.
“I will buy you one later, and you need to get your hair cut again.”
The pair set off in what had once been Ray’s parents’ car, a 1962 Rover 100. It was black with red leather seats. Jason knelt on the backseat so he could see out the windows. His unwashed and uncombed hair stuck up in all directions.
After a short journey, they stopped and ate at a small café. Jason loved the food of Great Britain: eggs, bacon, and beans like he had never tasted before. Later, his father bought him a coat and some new “slip-on” shoes at Harrods.
This was a whole new experience for Ray. He had never before had to buy clothes for his son, help bathe him, or wash his hair. He had always had a nanny to do this for him. And all the while, he marveled at his son. Jason could do most things for himself, and he was still only a five-year-old boy.
Chapter Four
The following day, father and son set off in their best clothes to Buckingham Palace for the garden party. Ray wore his naval uniform. It was customary to invite some officers, and Ray knew he’d been asked for earning the Queen’s Award for Bravery a few years earlier when he saved the life of a Scottish fisherman.
On the way to the palace, he instructed Jason on how to behave. “Just be yourself and remember: ‘yes, sir’ or ‘yes, ma’am.’ They won’t expect anything else from someone your age.”
It was at least sunny and not too cold. Once inside, the duke, the queen’s husband, walked over to Ray and shook his hand. He was an ex-naval man himself and enjoyed talking to navy personnel. The duke was tall and stood very upright, and he spoke with an upper-class British accent like Uncle Stewart. He told Jason, “My children are playing over there. Please go and join them.”
Fledgling: Jason Steed Page 2
