‘Blimey! She certainly doesn’t want to be followed.’
‘That’s not the end of it. Depending on how things go, we’ll move on.’
‘Back to here?’
‘No. We’re thinking maybe America. A road-trip.’
‘A Las Vegas wedding, perhaps?’
He blushed. ‘Maybe. Who knows.’
‘What’s the plan? Keep your heads down until you get married and then come out into the open. Fait accompli’
‘If it works out. If that’s what we both decide. Can you look after this place for a couple of months?’
‘Absolutely no problem. You gotta do what a man’s gotta do.’
‘We should increase your salary—’
I shrugged. ‘To be honest, living like I do I don’t spend what I get now. No, let’s leave it a couple of months – until the end of the year – see what the profits look like. Perhaps there’ll be enough for a bonus. No hurry.’
He shuffled to the edge of the sofa. ‘Look. I want you to know I appreciate what you’ve done here. This place has given me a new lease of life—’
I held up a hand. ‘Trust me, Mick, whatever you’ve got out of this place, I’ve got so much more. It’s been a lifeline for me.’ As I was saying it I thought to myself how true it sounded… how true it was.
‘You’re not horrified at the prospect of me being away?’
‘Not at all. It sounds like a good plan. We can keep in touch by e-mail. I assume you’ll be staying at hotels where the rooms have modems.’
‘I’ll make sure they do.’
‘Good. You know where you’ll be in Lisbon?’
‘Yes. The International.’
‘Inside a week and you’ll be over there. With Nancy.’
‘Yes. I feel like a bloody schoolboy.’
I chuckled. ‘Love’ll do that to you.’ As if I knew.
I saw Mick briefly on the Friday morning when he called in to The Film Factory on his way to Heathrow. Soon after he left, I called British Airways to confirm my own flight to Lisbon.
17
On the Tuesday before Mick left for Lisbon I had been sitting behind the computer dealing with work e-mails, when I started thinking about Nancy’s letter and, specifically, the warning that she had given Mick about what her family was capable of if it was crossed.
I had always harboured suspicions about Luis’s accident. If Nancy was right and Luis had died because of what he knew, Mick was clearly exposing himself to danger by whisking S Y Lee’s daughter away. Mick was the only family I had left. I could not stand aside and lose him.
Another thought nagged at me. If he and Nancy settled down together, abroad perhaps or even here in Richmond, where in their future lives was the space for me?
I flicked through Yellow Pages to the ‘Hotels and Inns’ section and picked up the telephone.
The Number 8 Hotel in Kingston was an unprepossessing building comprising a row of linked houses on a main road nearer to Surbiton than its bigger neighbour. The signage and decoration implied that it was probably used more by salespeople on the road than by tourists or families.
Mr Sammy Lee came to meet me in the cramped reception area dressed as if he were a character in a drawing-room comedy who was just ‘orf’ to a rowing regatta. The garish stripe of his blazer clashed vividly with the paisley cravat at his neck. When he welcomed me, it was with the smooth assurance of an Old Etonian. Given his urbane manner, I didn’t expect his office to be little more than a broom cupboard nor that it would reek of cigarettes.
After I had declined his offer of tea or coffee, I said, ‘You don’t know me, Mr Lee. There’s no reason why you should. I’m here because I am in the cinema business with my partner Mick Kellie—’
‘I don’t know—’
‘Let me finish please, Mr Lee. All will become clear.’
Sammy Lee sat back in his chair and a cynical smile tainted his otherwise blank expression. He must have thought I was intending to sell him something and he was giving me some leeway before shooting me down.
‘My partner Mick Kellie recently visited Ipoh. While he was there, he met a relative of yours –’ I paused for effect ‘– your niece, I think, Nancy Lee.’
Sammy Lee’s smile faded. ‘You have my interest. Go on.’
‘My business partner and Nancy Lee have strong feelings for each other, so strong, in fact, that she is prepared to break off her engagement to your nephew Tommy Lee.’
‘You seem to be remarkably well informed about my family.’
‘I have seen a letter from Nancy to my cousin. She appears to be very much in love with him.’
Sammy Lee maintained his neutral expression but his body had tensed as if he was steeling himself to jump across the desk.
‘My business partner also happens to be my cousin. He is the only family I have. I would not like to see him come to any harm.’
There was no movement, no answer from the other side of the desk.
‘Perhaps I need to give you more background.’
At last a response: he nodded slowly. ‘Please do.’
I took a deep breath. This was the delicate part. ‘About five years ago another cousin of mine visited Ipoh. We have a family interest in Kellie’s Castle. My grandfather built it. Do you know it?’
‘Of course. It is part of the Kellas land owned by our family.’
‘Exactly.’
‘And?’
‘While he was there he discovered something that might have been unwelcome to your family, your brother S Y Lee in particular. It would have affected your family’s right to own the castle. Before my cousin could prove anything, he had an unfortunate accident and died.’
Sammy Lee frowned. ‘That is most unfortunate. I’m sorry for your loss. But I still don’t see what this has got to do with me – or my step brother.’
‘My cousin, Mick Kellie, has arranged for your niece to meet with him and effectively elope. Your nephew Tommy will no longer be part of her life.’
‘I don’t see how this can happen. My step-brother will prevent it.’
‘I’m afraid the plans are already in place.’
‘I still don’t understand why you are telling me all this.’
‘Let me put it like this. I wouldn’t want Mick to have a nasty accident like my cousin. I would rather he didn’t put himself in harm’s way.’
Sammy Lee stood up. His eyes narrowed and his voice had lost the all trace of its previous miserly warmth. ‘I am not sure I fully understand what you are saying but it seems to me that you have an out-of-date view of how families in the Chinese community behave. We are not some sort of Mafia. You have been watching too many Triad films, I think.’
I clasped my hands together. ‘Please, I’m sorry if I have offended you. Perhaps I’ve got the wrong end of the stick.’ The idiom didn’t appear to confuse him so I ploughed on. ‘I have written down certain details on the back of this business card. I will leave it with you and you can decide whether to pass them on to your step-brother.’ I placed the card on his desk.
‘Why are you doing this? I don’t understand. Surely you don’t believe we would harm your cousin?’
I spread my palms. ‘Let’s just say I’m leaving nothing to chance.’ He was right. I was trading Mick’s future happiness against the vague possibility that, if he and Nancy went ahead with their madcap plan, he might be harmed, die even.
If Nancy and I were wrong, and Luis’s death had been an accident, Mick was in no danger; I was making a dreadful mistake. The image of Mick and Nancy playing happy families passed momentarily across my mind’s eye. No, this was the right thing to do. I pointed at the card that he had left untouched. ‘You have the information. You decide what to do with it.’ I stood up. I had done what I had come to do.
Sammy Lee reached out for the business card and, theatrically, when his fingers were only millimetres away, withdrew his hand and stood up. ‘You need not have come, Mr Cross. Your cousin has nothing to fear from us.�
� He pressed an intercom button on his telephone. ‘My assistant will show you out.’
The door opened and a youth sidled in with a toothpick twitching at the corner of his mouth. He slouched by the door, his feet anchored to the floor by bright, golden trainers that looked three sizes too big.
‘Stand up straight, idiot boy!’ Sammy Lee’s order made the youth stiffen to attention. Turning to me, Sammy Lee said, ‘You just can’t get the staff.’ He smiled as we shook hands. My assumption, that this Henley-blazered caricature was any kind of violent Triad boss, was, in that moment, ridiculous.
18
Once I had negotiated the arrivals procedures in Lisbon Airport, I went straight to my hotel, dumped my case and returned to the ground floor. The cold drizzle swept across the doorway and I threw my raincoat over my shoulders for the few steps to the waiting taxi. We stopped off at a flower shop on the way and, when we reached the International Hotel, I asked the taxi driver to wait, gripped the lilies, blooms downwards, in my right fist and ran into the lobby. It was bland and bright, dotted with dark-suited businessmen. Tourists were rare in November. I could have been anywhere in the world. The receptionist smiled a welcome.
‘I’d like to see one of your guests – Mr Mick Kellie – that’s Kellie spelt with an “i” and an “e” at the end.’
‘Of course.’ She checked her computer and pointed to a bank of telephones behind me. ‘If you take the first one on the left I’ll connect you to his room.’
As I picked up the telephone, one of the businessmen came alongside and lifted the receiver next door.
‘Hello?’ Mick’s voice sounded tentative; the response of a fugitive.
‘It’s me… Steve.’
‘Is anything wrong?’
‘Absolutely nothing. But I’m here in Lisbon, in your hotel. Downstairs.’
‘What!’
‘Downstairs. I thought I’d surprise you.’
‘Yes. Well, you’ve certainly done that.’
‘Is Nancy here? Have you met?’
‘Yes. The poor girl’s tired out after being on the road since Wednesday, but she’s here. She’s safe.’
‘Good. Look do you want to go out? There’s something I want you to see.’
‘I can’t. Nancy’s asleep.’
‘I thought she might be. This needs only you. Only an hour. Let her sleep. Leave a note.’
‘An hour?’ His voice dropped to a whisper. Perhaps Nancy had stirred. ‘What’s it about?’
‘Come down to reception and I’ll tell you. Or should I come up? Which room are you?’
‘Room 808. Don’t come up. Like I said, Nancy’s sleeping…’
‘Room 808, did you say?’ I glanced at the businessman on the phone next door. He hadn’t yet spoken.
‘Yes, but don’t come up. Can’t this wait?’
This was more difficult than I had hoped. ‘I’ve come all this way.’
‘I didn’t ask you to.’ He was waiting for me to give up on it.
I held my breath. The man next door put down his phone and sauntered over to the lobby’s far corner to confer with a similarly suited colleague.
‘You still there, Steve?’
‘Yes.’
‘Okay.’ I could hear his exasperation. ‘Give me a minute. I’ll come down.’
I put down the phone, sat on one of the armchairs facing the lifts and tried to slow down my breathing. The lilies lay across my lap.
Mick exited the lift a few minutes later. He was dressed to go out in a zipped waterproof top and carried an Indiana Jones style hat. I stood up and we shook hands like strangers. ‘Everything okay upstairs?’ I said. I proffered the flowers. ‘These are for Nancy.’
‘Thanks,’ Mick said. He looked disorientated with the lilies suddenly thrust into his care. ‘I’ll just leave these…’ He went across to reception and passed them over with a few words of explanation. When he returned, he said, ‘What are you doing here? What’s all this about?’
‘I’ll explain in the taxi.’
‘What taxi?’
‘I said. I want to show you something.’
‘But Nancy—’
‘You said she was asleep. It won’t take long.’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t understand.’ But he followed me out through the revolving doors.
As we crossed the pull-in road, where the taxi was parked, I was relieved to see that the rain had stopped. I looked up. The clouds had gathered on the horizon giving the weak sun an unfettered view of the city.
Once we were settled in the back of the cab and I’d given the destination: the British Cemetery, I turned to Mick. ‘I’ve got a confession. I haven’t been entirely straight with you. I’ve been to Lisbon before. I met our other cousin, the one who Nancy mentioned in her letter. It’ll be easier to explain when we arrive at the cemetery but for the moment I just want you to know that as far as the cinema is concerned I’ve been totally honest. From the second I first saw the old factory and had the vision of the picture house and wrote to you, right up to today, everything between us has been above board.’
‘I don’t understand.’ He shook his head, frowning. ‘What do you mean you haven’t been straight? How else—?’
I could see we were already on the far side of the square from the cemetery gates. ‘Look. We’re nearly there. You’ll understand soon enough.’
Mick pressed his forehead to the window. In a small voice he said, ‘Is it about Nancy? If you’re going to tell me something bad about her. I couldn’t bear it…’
The taxi pulled up outside the gates and I handed over the Escudos with a good tip. I led the way down the wide central path, turned off to the right and stopped at the Celtic cross.
Mick read the inscription aloud. ‘William Kellie-Smith.’
‘Yes. This is your grandfather’s twin brother. Your grandfather Kenneth started the factory in Richmond. His brother, William –’ I pointed to the name on the stone ‘– started the Malaysian plantation and built Kellie’s Castle. This is my grandfather’s grave.’
‘And what’s this got to do with—’
I took his elbow and steered him to the next grave along. ‘This is his daughter.’ I pointed to the name on the headstone Helen Escobar. ‘She was Kellie-Smith before she married.’
‘Escobar! That’s the name of the man in Nancy’s letter.’
While he was talking, I noticed a small plaque had been planted at the base of the headstone. On it was picked out: Also the final resting place of her son Luis Escobar who died in Ipoh, Malaysia on 21stNovember, 1990 aged 40. I hadn’t expected the plaque to be there but it helped me make my point. ‘In 1990, I discovered I had a cousin, Luis, and came to see him in Lisbon. He told me about the castle but only decided to go there after meeting me. I sparked his interest. I was the reason he went there.’
‘Where he died.’
‘Yes. In an accident that I always had doubts about and which Nancy mentioned when she warned you about her family in her letter.’
Mick shook his head as if he was trying to shake something loose from his hair. ‘I don’t get it. This is all too much. Why are you in Lisbon? Why are we here?’
I pointed to a shelter with a bench. ‘Let’s sit down and I’ll try to explain.’
It was cold and I regretted not bringing a winter coat. Neither of us could stand a drawn-out explanation but I needed to take my time if I was to keep him safe; I leant forward with my elbows on my knees studying the ground. I dared not look at his face. ‘You never asked me for the whole story about how we’re related and I think I’d better start there. I told you how I never knew my father, Anthony Kellie-Smith. He was William’s son. He was born in Malaysia but was in the UK when World War Two started. It sounds like he was a high-up in the RAF in London when he was killed in a flying-bomb attack in June 1944. I was born in January the following year – 1945. He never married my mother but they were engaged. Perhaps he didn’t even know she was pregnant. She died five years ago.’
Mick mumbled a commiseration. He studied his shoes and rubbed his palms together to warm them.
‘Your grandfather, Kenneth, died in the same air raid as my father. My father met your grandfather in the London Blitz and a bastard Doodlebug landed on them. When my mum died – she’d been ill a long time – I felt desperately alone and started to search for my family – some remnants from my father’s side—’
‘And you found me.’
‘No. Not until much later. This was five years ago, remember.’ I straightened up. ‘I found Luis Escobar first and he told me about the land in Malaysia and the Castle.’ The story was garbled. I feared he wouldn’t be able to grasp it all.
He pulled me round to face him. ‘You knew all that stuff about the land five years ago. But you—’
‘I know. I could have told you about it before but there was no reason to. Not until you showed me the picture of the family land. That’s when I gave you the magazine to put you on the right track.’
‘You had the article all along.’
‘I’m sorry. Yes, I’d had it for years. Perhaps subconsciously, I thought that if I told you and you went to find the castle you might have an accident like Luis. But you did go and you came back safe. Except—’
‘Except I’d found Nancy.’
I watched the sparrows flitting from bush to bush in the thin sunlight. Their twittering filled the silence while I contemplated how to lead into the part of the story that I had rehearsed over and over.
‘None of this explains why you’re here now. Why are you here?’
‘I thought if you saw where Luis ended up it might impress on you the huge risk you’re taking. It’s not too late. I think Nancy was right. I think her family was probably behind Luis’s death. They are capable of murder. If you do this. If you take Nancy from them…’
I turned and faced him. ‘After Escobar died I had a sort of breakdown. My new family had been snatched away. I went off the rails for a bit, drinking and not looking after myself. I was getting my life back on track when I saw the old Kellie factory and had my vision for the cinema. I knew about this stuff and it didn’t matter that you didn’t know. But because of Nancy… suddenly it seems important that you should know what they will do if you cross them. That’s why I came here. I had to make it as clear as possible what they’re capable of.’
Once upon a time in Chinatown Page 22
