Dragon Land

by Maureen Reynolds

  ‘We really are blessed, Jonas. We live in their beautiful country, but we are cocooned from all the hardships they suffer. It isn’t fair.’

  Jonas’s mouth twisted in disgust. ‘I know, but when is life ever fair, Lizzie? I’ve seen babies die of hunger, and although I’ve always had so much pity for the people, now I have you and my son I don’t think I can bear anything happening to either of you.’

  I took his hand. ‘Nothing will happen to us, not when we have you to look after us.’

  I suddenly wanted to lighten his mood. ‘We must choose a name, because we can’t keep referring to him as a baby, especially when he’s going to college: his peers will laugh at him.’

  Jonas smiled. ‘That’s what I like about you, Lizzie. You make everything so much fun.’

  I decided to tease him. ‘Is that all you like about me?’

  He blushed deep red. ‘No, it isn’t, as you well know.’

  Gratified, I said, ‘Well, what about our son’s name? Do you want to call him after yourself?’

  Jonas said he did not. ‘I was nicknamed Jonah the whale at school, and although I always laughed about it, I didn’t like it. What about your side of the family?’

  ‘My father was called Peter, and I would like my maiden name as well.’

  ‘Well, that settles it. Peter Flint O’Neill it is.’

  ‘Won’t his grandfather in Cork like to be included in his grandson’s name?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so, because he is also called Jonas, as was his father before him. Anyway, as I said, I haven’t had much contact with him since my mother died. He blamed me for her death, because he said that I broke her heart after I left to go to university.’

  I hadn’t heard that story before and it saddened me. ‘Surely he didn’t believe that?’

  ‘Maybe not now, but he did at the time and he said some nasty things to me, so I left Ireland after university and came here. I do have an uncle and aunt who have a farm in the Borders near Dumfries and I got on well with them. The thing is, although I’m a writer I can’t be bothered writing letters, which I know is awful.’

  ‘Well, I will write to both your father and uncle and tell them about Peter and they’ll be delighted.’

  During that week we registered our son’s name with the clerk in the registrar’s office.

  Ping Li came in every morning and she fussed over Peter like a mother hen. The slightest whimper from him had her rushing over and checking him to see what was wrong. She often came over in the evening, as she liked to help bathe him in his baby bath, then when it was time to put him down she would sit on the small nursing chair I had bought and sing him a lullaby. I had to keep a straight face, as she had a high-pitched sing-song way of singing, and Peter would open his eyes and gaze at her as if mesmerised.

  ‘Ah, Peter likes Ping Li to sing to him, don’t you, Peter?’

  Zheng Yan would come with her to play mah-jong with Jonas and he kept telling his wife not to monopolise Peter.

  ‘I do not monopolise Peter,’ she said huffily. ‘He likes me singing my lullabies.’

  Those times were the stuff of lasting memories – I knew I would never forget those days.

  Elsie was also a frequent visitor and she also liked to hold Peter, but she didn’t sing to him; she merely rocked him to sleep with a contented smile on her face. She rarely mentioned Ronnie on these visits and I didn’t want to bring back unhappy memories for her, so I didn’t mention him either.

  Most days I put Peter in his pram and Ping Li, Elsie and I would take him for a stroll along the Bund. It was a lovely place to walk, with the buildings on one side and the river on the other. It was always busy with pedestrians and traffic. The cotton mills lined the banks of the river, and the wharves and docks were a hive of activity, with people loading and unloading cargoes from the ships.

  One day I was surprised when Elsie said she would go into the mill and see her husband. ‘I’ll give him a surprise and maybe he’ll take me out for a meal, as he says he goes out to a café every day to eat.’

  Ping Li wasn’t with us that day, and as Elsie left, I turned and began to walk home. I had hardly gone a hundred yards when I heard the sound of running feet behind me. I turned and saw Elsie trying to catch up with me. She was crying.

  I was alarmed. ‘Is everything all right, Elsie?’

  She shook her head and wiped the tears from her eyes. ‘I spoke to the manager and he told me that Ronnie hadn’t been into work for over a week.’ She caught hold of my hand. ‘It was so embarrassing, Lizzie. The man thought I knew he wasn’t working, but when he saw how distressed I was he was so sympathetic. I feel such a fool. I should never have gone in.’

  ‘You weren’t to know. Have you any idea where Ronnie has been going instead of work?’

  Her eyes grew hard. ‘Oh, I have an idea, all right. He’ll be at the American Café or the gambling tables somewhere. Another thing: when he came home last night, he left his shirt to be washed and it had lipstick on it and was smelling of perfume.’

  I didn’t have an answer to that. Instead I said, ‘Let’s go home, Elsie.’

  ‘Home, is that what I call it?’

  We walked in silence all the way back, but when we reached my house she said she wouldn’t come in but would see me later.

  I didn’t realise how wonderful yet so demanding a new baby could be. The days seemed to pass in a daze. I spent that summer looking after Peter and Jonas, and writing letters and sending photographs to Margaret, Laura, Pat, and Marie and Sandy. I also got in contact with Jonas’s father and uncle, and I was pleased when they wrote back with congratulations about Peter. I think Jonas was pleased to hear from his father, and I was grateful that we were in touch with his side of the family. As usual, Laura was miffed that I had beaten her in the motherhood stakes and she complained that her latest boyfriend didn’t appear to be the marrying type.

  I had asked her about Mike, but she said he had gone to a job in England after leaving university and although they still wrote to one another she felt they were drifting apart:

  I’ve met this teacher who teaches at the Morgan Academy. His name is John and he is really very clever, but at the moment we are just friends. At least that’s what he wants to be. Just friends.

  I wrote back and said just to give him time, or that maybe Mike would come back to Dundee, as I knew he seemed really keen on her when they first met. I didn’t tell her that her trouble was her impatience, as she wanted everything to happen right away.

  Elsie never said anything more about Ronnie. I thought about how difficult relationships could be and was thankful I had met Jonas.

  Alex was another one who was suffering from unrequited love, as Sue Lin, although she was always affectionate and friendly with him, was a true career woman who loved the life she was living. Some days she would dash in, give Peter a quick kiss and tell him what a lovely boy he was before drinking a cup of tea and rushing out again to follow up some story or other.

  ‘I have to write up the latest incident with the Japanese. They were saying a delegation was insulted by Chinese civil servants and it’s going to lead to a diplomatic row,’ she said.

  Ping Li had been sitting listening to her and she shook her head. ‘That girl should learn to slow down and not rush about like that. One day it will be the death of her.’

  ‘Jonas told me she’s always been like that. I feel sorry for Alex, because he worships her.’

  When I mentioned this to Alex, instead of laughing it off or shrugging his shoulders at her impetuousness, he became serious. ‘This is what the Japanese government are doing: causing diplomatic incidents in order to take over more territory. I wouldn’t trust them, as they are a dangerous lot.’

  At that moment Peter started to cry, so I didn’t answer him, but the remark hadn’t gone unnoticed and I was worried about the serious expression on his face.

  After his initial bouts of crying in the hospital, Peter became a placid baby and I couldn’t h
elp noticing how much he resembled my mother. Perhaps it was the colour of his eyes and hair, which were like hers, but sometimes I also caught an expression on his childish face that strengthened my belief.

  I mentioned this to Ping Li, who said, ‘I resembled my mother when I was a child, but now I’m not sure who I look like.’

  Zheng Yan, who was sitting on the veranda with us, said fondly, ‘You look like my wife, Ping Li.’

  It never ceased to amaze me how simple the Chinese people were in their speech. To Zheng Yan, it didn’t matter who Ping Li resembled. In fact, she could have looked like one of the dragons that fluttered on banners around the city; to him, she would just look like his wife.

  Jonas and Alex had been busy on their new book and by the end of the year it was published. The title was The Beating Heart of the Dragon and it was a wonderful story about the ordinary people of China as they went about their daily lives, sometimes in the harshest of conditions and environments. Alex had taken stunning photographs to illustrate the people getting on with their work and leisure. Like their first book, it was a mixture of beautiful, placid scenes and horrendous places.

  I was so proud of the both of them, and both the Chinese and foreign populations queued up to buy it.

  One day Jonas said quite casually, ‘Alex and I have to go to Hong Kong to do some signings. Would you like to come with us?’

  ‘Yes, I would, but can we take Peter with us?’

  Jonas didn’t look happy. ‘Do you think Ping Li could maybe look after him, as we’ll only be gone a week or two. It will mean a sea voyage and he might not like it.’

  I said I wasn’t sure, but I would think about it.

  Ping Li was delighted when I mentioned this, but I didn’t want to be separated from my son, although I didn’t say so.

  Jonas was pleased that I was going with him, but I wished I had an excuse not to go. It was strange how being a mother had made me so protective about our son. Before he was born I would have leapt at the chance to go with Jonas on a sea voyage, but the idea didn’t seem so tempting this time.

  I had our bags packed and we were planning on leaving the next day when Peter began crying through the night. When I picked him up, he had a fever.

  ‘I must call the doctor out, Jonas,’ I said, and he agreed.

  The doctor came round and said Peter’s temperature was over a hundred degrees. ‘Just keep him cool by sponging him down with tepid water and I will call back in the morning.’

  I stayed up all night and Peter slept in my arms.

  Jonas tiptoed through. He looked worried. ‘I think you should stay here with him, Lizzie.’

  I nodded. Much as I loved my husband, there was no way I would have gone away, leaving Peter like that.

  At dawn, Alex came round and Jonas said goodbye to us. He hesitated at the door. ‘I think we’ll postpone the trip, Lizzie, as I don’t want to leave you both here on your own.’

  ‘Honestly, Jonas, we’ll be fine. The doctor will be here soon and I think Peter’s temperature is down.’

  By now Peter had fallen asleep, and although his face was still flushed he didn’t seem to be so hot. I stood at the window and waved the two men away. Part of me wanted to go with them, but another part didn’t. I knew I was responsible not only for myself but also for this small child who was now in his cot.

  The doctor arrived at nine o’clock, but by then Peter seemed to be back to normal. I apologised to him. ‘I’m sorry to have called you out through the night, but I was worried.’

  The doctor said it was all right. ‘Children do run these high temperatures. Sometimes it’s serious and other times it’s not. Peter seems to be fine now, but bring him to the surgery if he becomes unwell again.’

  When Ping Li came in, Peter was playing with his toys and she looked disappointed at not having to look after him.

  I said, ‘Maybe you can look after him today, Ping Li?’

  Her face broke into a smile as she picked him up and carried him to her house. She started to sing to him and he gave her his wide-eyed look, while I thankfully went back to bed.

  43

  THE CHRISTENING

  Jonas had never mentioned getting Peter christened, but I broached the subject one morning. ‘I’m thinking of asking the Reverend David Miller if he will christen Peter. What do you think, Jonas?’

  He looked up from reading the morning paper, which was delivered by a small Chinese boy who was as thin as a stick and had spindly little legs that seemed to buckle under the weight of his paper bag. I always gave him a few coins as an extra, and he would place the paper on the veranda as if it was a precious relic, smoothing it with a thin hand and placing a rock on top to keep it from blowing away in the breeze.

  I repeated myself. ‘What do you think about the christening in the Mission church?’

  ‘I don’t mind, Lizzie, and I think it’s a good idea.’

  ‘We will have to have godparents. Have you anyone in mind?’ I asked.

  He put the paper down. ‘Well, I would like Alex and Sue Lin.’

  I wrote this down. ‘I thought of asking Elsie and Ping Li. Do you want to come with me to the Mission church?’

  He stood up. ‘Let’s go now, as Alex and I will be very busy with the book, so we’d better get the christening done as soon as possible.’

  We met the Reverend Miller in his little house beside the church and he welcomed us into his study. His desk was awash with papers. ‘I’m writing this week’s sermon,’ he said, scooping them up and putting them on another table by the wall.

  I explained why we were there. ‘I know we should have had him christened before this, but we were unsure about the ceremony in a foreign country.’

  He assured us it was all right. ‘We have our own little bit of Britain here, as well as the other nationalities that go to make up this settlement, and I have done quite a few christenings over the years.’ He took out his diary. ‘I can manage it a week on Sunday, if that’s fine with you?’

  I looked at Jonas, who nodded.

  Reverend Miller beamed at us. ‘Well, I’ll put it in my diary, and may I say how pleased I am that you’ve asked me to do it. Most of the expatriates go to the grander Episcopalian church.’

  I said I wanted Peter to be christened in the Church of Scotland, and the minister beamed again. ‘Right then, that’s settled.’

  I was aware that Peter was no longer a tiny baby – he was coming up to his second birthday – but I was glad it was happening. I hadn’t broached the subject before because neither Jonas or myself were members of any church. I had grown very fond of Betsy and Jeannie but had rarely met their brother, so I was pleased he had been so helpful.

  I had a lot to do in the run-up to the Sunday. Elsie and Ping Li were thrilled to be asked to be godparents, while Jonas said he would ask Alex and Sue Lin. Alex said yes immediately, but Sue Lin was away and couldn’t be contacted, so I said to Jonas I was going to ask Zheng Yan.

  I was amused by Jonas’s attitude. He was a typical man when it came to planning family matters and he was content to leave everything to me. I wanted a quiet baptism, then to have a few of our friends back to the house. I sent a note to Lorna-May and her husband, and she appeared at the door the following morning.

  She was dressed in a very chic-looking dress and looked like she was off to some function or other. ‘Oh no, this is my everyday dress,’ she said when I commented on it. ‘I’m thinking your house will be too small afterwards. Let me book the Racecourse clubhouse, as it’s grander, with lots of room.’

  I didn’t want to hurt her feelings by telling her I preferred my own house, so I made up a little white lie. ‘I’m sorry, Lorna-May, but Jonas has planned it and I don’t think he’ll like his plans changed.’

  She wasn’t happy, but I knew she was the kind of woman who always deferred to her husband, and she wouldn’t want to offend Jonas by telling him his house wasn’t grand enough. I was waiting for her to criticise the church, but she said nothi
ng. Maybe she thought Jonas had also planned this and that silence was the best policy.

  On the Sunday we all made our way to the church. It was a warm, humid day, but the interior of the small church was cool. There was a large congregation, a mixture of expatriates and Chinese residents, and the service, although simple, was lovely. Alex looked so serious as the minister read out a godparent’s duties, but Elsie, Zheng Yan and Ping Li nodded as he spoke.

  I spotted Lorna-May and Conrad in the congregation, as their fashionable outfits made them stand out like exotic flowers amongst the plainer clothes of the parishioners.

  I had hired a couple of young Chinese girls to serve the food and drink, which they did with their usual smiling faces, and the day was a success. During the service I missed Margaret and wished she could have been with us, and I also thought of my mother and Granny and wished they could have been there to see Jonas and Peter.

  Betsy had played the organ for my favourite hymn, ‘By Cool Siloam’s Shady Rill’ and she now stood with her sister and brother, getting their photograph taken with Peter. Alex had started his godparent’s duties right away by offering to take all the photos, and I knew I would treasure this day forever.

  Elsie gave Peter a silver rattle, while Alex handed over a silver teething ring. Lorna-May held Peter for her photo, and her gift was an inscribed silver cup in a satin-lined box. I thanked them all for their generosity and for coming to our family occasion. It was at the end of the afternoon when Zheng Yan and Ping Li were leaving that they handed me the most beautiful parchment scroll with Peter’s date of birth and the attributes of a child born in the Year of the Boar. It was all written in Chinese calligraphy and I hung it up above his cot.

  As we went to bed that night, Jonas and I stood looking down on our sleeping child, and I couldn’t help but think what a very fortunate little boy he was.