Dragon Land

by Maureen Reynolds

  I knew Margaret’s friend had said someone had taken Peter away before Margaret’s fall, but as I sat looking out the window I had terrible thoughts. Why had Margaret been on the beach when she fell? Had she taken Peter to play on the sands and had he run off into the water? Was that why she had fallen? Had she been running after him and had he been washed out to sea?

  I stood up. I had to try to banish these awful thoughts from my mind. Was this how parents of missing children felt? Did they imagine terrible scenes until they could no longer contemplate living without their child and went slowly mad?

  I asked myself if this is what my mother had gone through when Dad was missing, and I realised that she had. At the time I hadn’t understood her obsession with maintaining he was still alive, but now that I was in the same situation it was tearing me apart. All through the journey to get back home I had thought that Peter and Margaret would be here and that we would be reunited, but instead I had these nightmarish visions and was wondering where he was and if he was safe.

  The next morning I went to the hospital and Margaret was discharged. I was worried about my financial situation in addition to everything else, but I managed to get a taxi to take us back to Carnoustie.

  Margaret looked normal as she sat looking out of the window, but when she saw the sea her eyes lit up. ‘We’re going home, Beth,’ she said, turning to me, then frowning. ‘You’re not Beth.’

  ‘No, Margaret. I’m Lizzie, your niece. Don’t you remember me?’

  She didn’t answer, and I saw the driver give me a puzzled frown in his mirror.

  Thankfully we soon arrived at the house and I ushered her in. I had put the fire on before leaving and the room was lovely and cosy. I put her in her chair and went to make some tea and toast. When I came back, she said, ‘Yes, it’s Lizzie. I thought you had died.’

  My heart soared. Maybe she was getting her memory back.

  ‘No, Margaret, I didn’t die. I left Shanghai, but Jonas, my husband, is missing. Did he contact you?’

  ‘Jonas, Jonas … No, I don’t know anyone called Jonas.’

  I let it pass, as it would take some time for her to remember everything. She enjoyed her snack and said she would have a lie-down, as she felt tired. It was so sad, because Margaret had never been tired in all the time I’d known her. She had been my rock, but now she was frail. I realised she was an old woman with a failing mind.

  I was writing my letter to Jonas’s father when she came through. She was holding a teddy bear that had belonged to Peter. It was threadbare now, but he had loved it as a baby.

  ‘Peter’s teddy, he forgot to take it with him.’

  I leapt up. ‘Yes, Margaret, where did Peter go when he left his teddy behind?’

  She frowned, as if thinking hard. ‘Jonas took him to his uncle’s house. He told me Lizzie was dead and he needed his family to take care of Peter, but I don’t think he wanted his teddy.’

  I was almost delirious with joy. Jonas was here in Scotland and he had Peter. Although I knew the address of the farm, I didn’t know the telephone number and so had to go out and find it.

  Margaret had never put a telephone in the house, so I said to her, ‘I have to go out to make a phone call. I won’t be long.’

  I knew there was a phone box in the main street and I made my way there. A large directory hung from a chain, but it only listed the numbers for Dundee and district, so I made my way to the post office in the hope they could help me.

  Thankfully the postmistress was on duty behind the mesh screen and not the young woman who hadn’t been any help previously and didn’t seem to know anyone. I explained my problem and she kindly looked the number up for me.

  ‘You can use my telephone, as I know your aunt very well.’

  It seemed ages till I was connected, but after a few rings it was answered by a man. His was a voice I loved so much and thought I would never hear again. It was Jonas.

  I was crying but just managed to blurt out, ‘Jonas, it’s Lizzie,’ before I had to sit down.

  The postmistress took over the call, and I heard her crisp, business-like voice tell him that I was phoning from Carnoustie and that I had turned up a few days ago and was now with my aunt.

  She put the phone down. ‘He’s coming straight away with your son and will be here as soon as possible.’

  I ran to her side and gave her a hug. ‘Thank you so much,’ I said with tears streaming down my face.

  When I got back to Margaret, I said, ‘Jonas and Peter are coming here, Margaret. Isn’t that wonderful?’

  She gave me a blank stare and said, ‘Jonas: do I know him?’

  I could only offer up a prayer of thanks to whatever god looks after us. Margaret had had a lucid moment prompted by the appearance of the teddy bear and my life was wonderful again.

  It was as I stood up that I realised I had been clutching my jade pendant all the time from the ordeal of the telephone box up to now, when I was back in the house.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Wang, wherever you are now,’ I said.

  Margaret said, ‘Do I know a Mr Wang?’

  ‘No, Margaret, but you would have loved him if you had.’

  I was still waiting later that day and even went to stand outside in the street. I heard a train go past and I hoped Jonas and Peter would be on it. I had no idea how long it would take them to come from Dumfries, but I was counting the minutes.

  I was on the verge of going back inside when I saw two figures walking up the road, and I ran down to meet them. Jonas took me in his arms and we both hugged Peter. We were crying and Peter joined in, but I kissed him and said Mummy was back and not to cry. He was clutching a toy car, and never in my life had I thought I would experience such joy.

  As we walked back to the house, Jonas said he never thought I had died. ‘You’re a survivor, Lizzie, but I had to face the likelihood that you had drowned in the typhoon.’

  I said we would talk about it later, after we put Peter to bed.

  Margaret was waiting for us and she seemed to recognise Peter. He ran to her and wanted her to pick him up, which she did.

  ‘Do you want me to read you a story, Peter? Well, go and get one of your books from your room and I’ll read it to you.’

  I was amazed how quirky memory could be, as one minute Margaret looked blank and the next she was holding a conversation. I suspected it was words and objects that triggered her memory and made her remember.

  Jonas gave her a hug and she responded. He took a bottle of whisky from his bag and said, ‘I think we all deserve a drink to celebrate Lizzie’s return.’

  Margaret said she wanted a gin and tonic. I found the bottle in the kitchen cupboard and we sat at the fire while she read Peter a story. Later we had a lovely meal and put Peter to bed.

  Margaret said she was also tired, so she left the room. Jonas and I sat on the sofa with our drinks.

  ‘I thought you were also dead, Jonas,’ I said. ‘I left you a letter when Zheng Yan, Ping Li and I left to go to Hong Kong. Did you get it?’

  He said he had. ‘Alex and I went to Peking as planned, but the Japanese air force was bombing it and it was a terrible sight: fires everywhere and dead bodies lying in the streets. We were both shocked by the brutality of the attacks, but after Alex filmed the carnage while I wrote my notes we decided to leave. The roads were blocked by thousands of refugees fleeing the city and we took ages to travel a few miles. It was when we stopped for a break that a Japanese aircraft flew overhead and dropped more bombs. The poor people on the road didn’t have a chance and entire families were wiped out. The grandparents, parents, children and babies … It was terrible. I was hit by a piece of shrapnel and lost a lot of blood. Alex saved my life, Lizzie: he made a tourniquet from his scarf and tied it around my thigh. He drove for a few miles till someone said there was a Mission hospital in one of the villages that had escaped the bombing. The doctor was a man called Crawford who had come out to China from Aberdeen. Well, he managed to stem the flow of blood,
but he said I couldn’t travel on the pot-holed roads as I would start bleeding again. We stayed there for over two weeks and then set off. There were more air raids and we had to take our time. We gave a lift to one young girl and her baby and took them to Shanghai, but by then the Japanese were also bombing the city and there were lots of dead people lying about.’

  He stopped and wiped his eyes.

  ‘Then Alex found out about Sue Lin and he almost went out of his mind. He went looking for her, but the dead people at the amusement park had been buried and he couldn’t find her grave. Then I saw your letter and was grateful that you had all got out alive. I told Alex I was going to Hong Kong to find you and he said he was leaving as well, as there was nothing left to keep him in Shanghai. I cleared out our bank account and packed a few things while Alex packed his photographic equipment and all his negatives, and then we set off.

  ‘We arrived just after the typhoon and there were hundreds killed in it. I had no idea when you had left, but when there was no sign of any of you in the colony and when I found out the shipping office had no booking for you and neither had the British Consulate, I had to face the fact you had all perished at sea. The school was closed and Mr Wang was dead, so I had no one to ask about you. Alex and I decided to come back here.’

  ‘How is Alex?’ I asked.

  ‘He’s just the same. Consumed with grief. He went to see Sue Lin’s parents in Glasgow, but he’s now in London working as a freelance photographer. He works night and day, and he says it’s the only way he can cope with losing Sue Lin. I said I was the same, but I had Peter to look after so I couldn’t let myself go mad with grief. I came here, as I knew Elsie was bringing Peter here. Margaret couldn’t believe you were probably dead and she was grief-stricken. I told her I would take Peter to my uncle’s house in Dumfries, but told her I would be back with him after my uncle and his family leave to go back to Ireland.’

  ‘Are they leaving the farm?’

  ‘Yes, they are, and they leave this week. I didn’t know about Margaret’s accident, otherwise I would have come back sooner.’ He turned and looked at me. ‘Now what happened to you and Zheng Yan and Ping Li?’

  I told him of the terrible voyage during the typhoon and how we ended up in Macao.

  ‘You ended up in Macao?’ he said incredulously.

  I said we had and related the whole story before finally saying, ‘Zheng Yan and Ping Li are staying there with the Alveres family and they are happy and settled, Jonas.’

  He sighed. ‘I’m so glad about that.’ He lay back on the sofa. I looked at the clock. It was three o’clock in the morning.

  ‘Come on, Jonas, it’s time for bed.’

  We lay in each other’s arms and said we were so happy that we were together again. Then Jonas, with his usual romantic streak, fell sound asleep while I gazed out of the window and listened to the sound of the sea.

  The next morning Margaret looked much better and her memory seemed to be improving. After breakfast, Jonas, Peter and I went for a walk along the beach.

  ‘I don’t know what your plans are for where we will stay, Jonas, but I don’t think I want to leave Margaret alone.’

  He smiled. ‘I was intending to stay here anyway, Lizzie, so this will be our home. That’s if Margaret wants us to stay.’

  ‘Oh, I think she does. She’ll just love all your stories of adventure and she’ll tell you all about her times in foreign countries.’

  50

  A VISIT TO CORK

  I couldn’t believe how easy it was to slip back into a normal life again. Jonas was in contact with Alex, as they were planning another book on their experiences in Peking. He would travel down to London every few months to stay with his friend in his flat in Holland Park. I missed him terribly, but I had Peter to look after and Margaret for company.

  I hadn’t realised that a lot of Margaret’s friends had either died or were now living with their families, which meant she didn’t have a great social life like she used to, but she said she was quite happy at home.

  ‘When you get to my age, Lizzie, going out and about doesn’t hold the same pleasure, and I’ve had a lot of memories to look back on from when I was married to Gerald.’

  ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t with you when he died, Margaret. It must have been a shock.’

  ‘Yes, it was, but then I realised he had died doing what he enjoyed, and he did say should he die in another country he wanted laid to rest there, so I obeyed his wishes.’

  If the weather was good, Margaret and I would take Peter in the pushchair to the shops, where she liked to browse, especially the chemist in the High Street, where she would buy scented soaps. ‘It’s always been my one luxury,’ she said as the assistant handed over the fancy box in a paper bag.

  I wrote letters to Milly and Elsie, and Elsie said she would be coming for a visit. I was dying to meet her again and to thank her for looking after Peter. One day I took Peter into Dundee to buy him new shoes, and after leaving Birrell’s shoe shop in the Overgate we made our way to the Hawkhill to see Irene and Wullie. I hadn’t seen them since coming home but had written to Laura, who had written back with the news that she was now married to her teacher boyfriend. She said her mother had sent on my letter.

  Irene’s close was still as I remembered it and the memories came flooding back of my many visits to the house. Irene opened the door and looked surprised. ‘Lizzie, how wonderful to see you.’ She bent down ‘And this must be Peter.’

  Peter responded by hiding behind my back, and she laughed. ‘Are you normally a shy little boy?’

  ‘Sometimes he is, Irene, but not all the time.’

  I was sitting with a cup of tea when she went to get Laura’s wedding photos. They had been taken in a photographic studio in Lindsay Street and Laura looked lovely in a pale-coloured suit, while Pat looked uncomfortable in high-heeled shoes. The groom was not much taller than Laura. He had dark hair and was wearing glasses. He also had a serious look on his face, while Laura was smiling, and Pat, dear Pat, was trying to look like she was wearing comfy old slippers instead of toe-pinching new shoes.

  ‘Laura wrote to you in China, Lizzie, to tell you about the wedding, but there was no answer. John was a teacher at the Morgan Academy, but he got a deputy headmaster’s post in a school in Newcastle. He asked Laura to marry him so they could both go, and she’s also working in another school in the same town. When your letter arrived, I sent it on to her.’

  ‘I did explain that I had to leave China in a hurry and I never got her letter. It’s probably lying in my post box in Bubbling Well Road.’

  Irene looked delighted by the name of the road. ‘It sounds much better than the Hawkhill, doesn’t it?’

  I said no, it didn’t. I hadn’t gone into any detail about my life after leaving Shanghai and I didn’t want to mention it now, so I said, ‘It’s so good to be back, Irene, and will you tell Laura to keep in touch and I’ll send her a wedding present.’

  Irene went to take the cups away and I looked at the photo again. John was an average-looking man, just like Jonas, and I couldn’t help smiling at our younger selves when Laura and I used to swoon at the Hollywood film stars and tell each other they were going to be like the men we married. It was all fantasy, of course, and real life was nothing like it. Falling in love was all that mattered, and having a happy life.

  When Irene returned, I asked, ‘How is Pat?’

  ‘She’s still teaching in the same school in Kirriemuir and living with her parents. Between you and me, Lizzie, I don’t think she’ll ever get married – she’s not interested in having a boyfriend.’

  ‘I see you still have your piano, Irene. Do you still play it?’

  ‘Yes, I do, but not so much now.’

  I stood up, ready to go, and took Peter’s hand. ‘Please tell Wullie I’m asking after him, and I’ll hopefully see you soon.’

  She came to the street to see me off and waved while I walked to the station to catch my train.

 
Margaret was reading the paper when we got home. She was now wearing reading glasses, but it always amused me to see her with a large, round magnifying glass, which she used to read the small print.

  She saw me looking and she laughed. ‘It’s a real burden when you get old, Lizzie.’

  ‘You’re not old, Margaret. Maybe a bit well preserved, but not old.’

  She burst out laughing. ‘You always had a way with words.’

  Later that year, Jonas suggested going to see his father in Cork and I said it was a great idea. We had been writing to one another since we’d come back to Scotland, but this would be my first visit to Jonas’s family home.

  Margaret was also excited because she said she had never been to Ireland before. ‘I’ve been all over the world, but I’ve never been there.’ That made two of us.

  We set off in the summer, but I had a moment of panic as I stepped aboard the ferry. I still had nightmares now and again about the typhoon, but they were getting better. Now it all came back to me. Jonas must have felt my body stiffen as we boarded, and he clutched my hand tightly.

  ‘It’ll be fine, Lizzie. The weather forecast is for light winds and the Irish Sea should be reasonably calm.’

  I nodded and felt so embarrassed by my panic attack. As it turned out, the sea crossing was a pleasure, and when we reached Dublin we caught the train to Cork. My father-in-law’s farm and horse stud lay a few miles from the city and I couldn’t get over how everything was so green.

  We were made so welcome, not only by Jonas’s father but also by his uncle and aunt, Sean and Kathleen, who had a farm not far away. Kathleen was slightly younger than Margaret, but they got on famously with one another.

  Jonas’s father was the same height as his son and had the same colouring. He was very thin and wiry, with strong-looking arms, which he laughingly said came in handy when controlling the horses.

  The farmhouse was just as I imagined it, with a big, cosy kitchen with a log fire, and tiny bedrooms under the eaves. Jonas, Peter and I were in his old bedroom, while Margaret’s bedroom overlooked the garden.