Manager He blew out the spirit lamp. “It is time to talk about the greatest of all honours. Can you imagine what that might be?”
“Erm …”
Manager He stood up and gazed at the portrait of Deng Xiaoping on his wall. “I’m talking about the honour of leadership.” I glanced around for Chairman Mao’s picture but it wasn’t there.
“Worker 2204,” he said, beckoning me to his side, “I’ve brought you to my office because I am going to make an example of you.”
His hands were very warm on my shoulders. His breath smelt of peppermint. I swallowed purposefully, trying to suppress the urge to hiccup brought on by the sudden tension.
“What, no reply?” he said.
“I … I don’t know what to say. If there’s a problem with my work, then I promise to correct it. I can’t afford to lose this job.”
“Eh?”
“You said you were going to make an example of me.”
“I have no intention of firing you – quite the opposite.”
Manager He took a flask from his drawer and poured himself a cup of peppermint tea. He also produced a tin of candies, removed the lid and offered me one.
I salivated.
“Let me speak more directly,” he said.
The candy dissolved slowly – ever so slowly – on my tongue.
“As you know, Line Leader Zhen is no longer able to assist with my project and so I have been on the lookout for another helper – someone brand new to factory life.”
My ears pricked up at the mention of Zhi. She had never mentioned any project.
“I have great plans for our factory, Worker 2204. A strategy that will bring glory to the city and make us a shining star in our nation’s future.” His eyes widened with a new, effervescent energy. “By this time next year, I expect our 4x4 model to be sold all over the West. Imagine it, thousands upon thousands of Europeans – Americans even! All driving Forwood 4x4s.”
He scraped back his hair. Standing beneath the light, I could see his velvet coat was, in fact, a dressing gown and that Manager He wore pyjamas. I tried not to gawp.
“May I ask how Line Leader Zhen helped you?”
He recoiled. “She’s no longer of any importance. The girl was too untrustworthy, too scheming and greedy –”
The old man jumped in his seat as if he’d fallen from a mountain ledge in his dreams.
“Worker 2204, let me speak candidly. Our best chance of success in Europe currently hangs in the balance. In a few months, an important businessman will arrive at the factory, one we must impress. His name is Herr Schnelleck. When he comes, Schnelleck must see first-hand that all workers are at the peak of their productivity.”
I nodded, aware that the old man held a pen in mid-air and seemed to be measuring my physical proportions like a master draftsman – or a mother-in-law.
“Your task is to motivate the workers, 2204. You’re to be a beacon of light, shining the way to a brighter future. Do I make myself clear?”
“Erm …”
“Just do what I say and everything will be fine.”
“I’m not sure I understand, are you saying Zhi’s been fired? That you want me to replace her?”
Manager He huffed.
“Promise me I’ll see her again,” I said.
“Only if you do what’s asked.”
The thoughts of not seeing Zhi, or finding out why she’d lied to me, were too much and I nodded.
“Good. Now take this.” Manager He held out the tin of candies. “What’s the matter, don’t you like them?”
I swallowed back the saliva that had pooled in my mouth, my hunger immediate. “Yes, I do.”
“Then take the whole tin, they’re yours to keep. Think of this as a sign of what’s to come, 2204. A little treat. One day, I’ll make you wealthier than all the others. Then they’ll see that hard work, efficiency and diligence are rewarded.”
“But I’ve only just started. I need to master the processes, the English words …”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. I see your newness as an advantage. I’ll work out the details: the checks, the time analysts et cetera. Soon you’ll get a day off. I want you to go with the other girls into the city and buy new clothes, make-up, shoes, music – anything that will make them jealous. Until then, you should work your hardest. They have to believe you’ve been rewarded.”
“What about Xiaofan? She’s too fast. I can’t work harder than her.”
“Listen to me, 2204, she’s an old school pace setter. You belong to the future. Remember, I’ve seen your figurines. These hands are capable of creating great beauty.” Manager He reached out and closed his hands around mine as though they were the winning tiles in a multi-million yuan game of mahjong.
I quivered.
“This is strictly between us,” he said.
The old man, who’d been occupied with his artwork, gave a manic laugh. “Ha-ha! Truly, this pear is ripe for eating, He-Chuan.”
Manager He smiled awkwardly and led me onto the staircase. I fumbled with the tin of candies. The atmosphere had altered and I had a fleeting suspicion that he was going to kiss me on the cheek, but he didn’t. He drew the rope of his dressing gown more tightly around his waist and shuffled backwards into his bureau.
“Make sure you’re early for work tomorrow, 2204,” he added.
Inside the bureau, I could hear the tac-tac of the old man’s lips followed by the whistling of his pipe.
I ran my tongue behind my teeth, where the sugar hadn’t quite dissolved. The candies were sweet and pink and soft. I couldn’t help but wonder if Manager He’s lips might taste the same.
“She won’t come in. Lie back down,” Stuart said.
Jen pulled on a vest top and perched on the edge of the bed. “I can’t, not when they’re all downstairs.”
“The hawk’s always downstairs. Can’t we go somewhere?”
“Like where? The golf club bushes?”
“But I need you,” he clutched his crotch. “If we don’t do it soon, I’m gonna be ill.”
She slipped on her trackies. Stuart was right about her mum being a hawk; she’d know, the minute they had sex.
“Do it yourself.”
He hesitated briefly, “If you’re sure?”
She shrugged, unsure about everything to do with their relationship, and hurried to the bathroom to fetch Stuart a loo roll. Afterwards, he lay very still, satisfied enough. But what about the next time? She couldn’t keep fobbing him off if she wanted to stay his girlfriend. Did she want that? She wanted chocolate, she wanted to pass her GCSEs, she wanted to go to China; she wanted to die of embarrassment every time her mum called her “clever girl” in front of Ricki.
Jen switched on the desk lamp and sifted through her mock exam papers. “I can’t believe May got mowed down at a golf club! In Altrincham, of all places. What kind of bastard would leave her lying in the street?”
Stuart opened one eye; the candlelight caught the blush of acne across his forehead. “Maybe she was looking the wrong way? They drive on the right, don’t they, in China?”
She blew out the tealights and flung open the window, sickened by his smell. Stuart’s ignorance was beyond.
“Now what’s got into you? First you give me a hard-on the size of Beetham Tower, then you go cold. I don’t know where I am half the time. Like at your party, why did you leave me in the bushes like a perv? I just want to have sex with my girlfriend.”
Jen busied herself at the desk. Her exams were six months away. She felt pressured to get a GCSE results card dotted with stars. May was always telling her she could do more, more, more! Jen, Jen, Jen. How you going to be top international businesswoman if you not practising Chinese? Work harder, be better, excel … Her mum must have thought she’d struck gold when she found May; the only woman who could nag more.
“I’m going downstairs. You’d better come, she’ll be getting suspicious.”
In truth, she liked Stuart best when they wer
e hanging out with his petrol head friends; she felt safe, it was okay for him to feel her up and make claims about their non-existent sex life – it never led to anything. Turning him on amused her, made her feel confident, proved she wasn’t frigid, if only to herself. It also gave her an edge. Swots and bad boys weren’t supposed to mix. Stuart fitted the criteria of badness perfectly, having dropped out of school and been cautioned by the police more times than Jen liked to dwell on. But doing it with him? Stuart Crisp being the first man to put his thing inside her!
One of the last things May said to her at the party was, “I know you not loving him in here.” She had pointed to Jen’s heart.
Jen left Stuart to clean himself up and went downstairs. In the living room, Ricki was arguing with her mum – again. She’d become totally emo since hanging out with the dropouts from Afflecks.
“I don’t believe you. You’re lying,” Ricki cried.
“Sweetheart!”
“I’m not your sweetheart … you’re not my mother … you’re …”
Jen entered and saw Ricki’s face misshapen with tears. “Now what’s the matter?” she asked.
“Ask her.” Ricki towered over her mum who’d shrunk back in the recliner. Jen felt like the teacher breaking up a playground fight with the school bully.
“Jen, thank goodness you’re here … you’ll understand.”
“Have you even heard yourself? You’re pathetic. Jen don’t listen to her, she’s lying. She’s a liar.”
“Ricki, what’s got into you?” Not upsetting their mum was one of the unspoken house rules. Why was she breaking it so spectacularly?
“Where’s your envelope, Jen?” said Ricki.
“I dunno. Probably with the other presents.”
“I have it, darling.” Her mum rubbed her temples. Her body looked fragile, like that of an injured bird. “It’s upstairs, in my handbag.”
Ricki charged upstairs and stomped across their parents’ bedroom.
“Mum, what’s got into Ricki? Why’s she calling you a liar?”
Her mother stayed oddly silent.
Ricki thundered downstairs and thrust the red envelope into Jen’s hands. “Read it,” she said. “I’m guessing May never gave you a practice paper like this before.”
Jen took the envelope. It was May’s handwriting. Her characters were wavery like an erratic cardiograph. “It’s her birthday present to me.”
“I’m not stupid. I’m asking you to tell me what it says.”
“It says to my precious daughter …”
Ricki wheezed.
“Listen, it’s not May’s fault we’re Chinese. You shouldn’t hold it against her – or me. We’re both China’s daughters, it’s May’s way of making us feel connected.”
“You must be joking.”
“You don’t need to be jealous,” she said. “When May gets better, you can have lessons too. It’s not a competition. I’m sorry if she gave me birthday money and you didn’t get any. Here, take it.” Jen held out the envelope, “Take the money. I’m really not that bothered.” In fact, she had been saving up for the Olympics in the hope they might all go to Beijing.
“Darling, Ricki already has an envelope.”
“Then why are you so mad, Ricki?”
She glowered. “Mad … I’m mad because …”
“Ricki, stop. Jen deserves to hear this from me.”
“I’m mad because that fucking May woman abandoned us at birth and you didn’t see it and I didn’t see it and all the time our own fucking mother kept it a secret!”
Her mum lunged and slapped Ricki fast and loud, on the side of her cheek. “I told you not to,” she shouted.
Jen managed to grab her sister’s wrist before Ricki struck back. “No. Stop it.”
“Tell her that’s the truth,” Ricki screamed.
“Mum?”
“The day of your party, the day May … went into a coma … I went to her bedsit. All her belongings were there. I only realised when I found her things.”
“She’s lying, Jen.”
“I’m not. I promise. I knew nothing until Sunday. May was the one who lied. Oh God, I’m sorry I hurt you. Ricki, let me see your face, is it bleeding? What have I done?”
The blow had left a red imprint in the shape of a hand.
“When were you going to tell us?” Ricki wheezed, her asthma worsening.
“What are you saying?” Jen interrupted. “That May’s our mother?” She wanted to laugh out loud it sounded so crazy. May was her teacher. Their birth mother was thousands of miles away in China, anonymous, faceless, unknowable.
“When were you going to tell us? Next week, next year? Or were you going to keep up the lies. How convenient that May’s in a coma. I bet it would suit you just fine if she died right now?”
Her mum shook her head. “I didn’t know, I didn’t know.” She covered her face. “I tried to tell you this morning.”
“What do you mean, you didn’t fucking know? We have a right to know about May.”
“You’re not to swear at me like that Ricki. I’ve brought you up better than this.”
Ricki gave a sardonic laugh. “I’m getting out of this nightmare.” She wiped her face with her sleeve where the thickly clotted mascara had streaked her cheeks and hurried out the door. It slammed behind her on its gilt hinges.
“Ricki,” called her mum. “You’ve forgotten your inhaler.”
When the front door clicked moments later, Jen knew it would be Stuart, escaping from the house as fast as he could. If she wasn’t part of the mess she would do the same.
Jen trudged through to the kitchen and switched on the kettle. She covered the casserole she had made earlier with tin foil and wiped the surfaces mechanically with a J-cloth, picking up bits of leftover food. She sat at the breakfast bar, where she’d shared so many meals with May, and waited for the kettle’s whistle. It didn’t sound so homely now.
A few hours ago, she’d cooked a family meal in the deluded hope Ricki would return and her parents might let Stuart eat with them. Before all this happened, her biggest worry in life – apart from exams – had been how to give her boyfriend a blow job without her mum hearing. Now winter cold crept beneath her skin.
That fucking May woman abandoned us at birth.
Jen looked around her … The Pelican Chinese take-away menu, the lucky dragon fan on the fridge, the cheap lunar calendar. Was China really a warehouse of red tat, made for pence? What about the terracotta army, the Great Wall, the mighty emperors, Confucius … The things May had been so proud of. May was the most genuine part, the most real, living, breathing piece of memorabilia Jen knew. All this, was the fake.
Jen had longed to learn Mandarin: not to please her mother, not to piss off her sister, but to create a space, a language in which to find herself. Could May really be anything other than her teacher, the little, bumbling lady who came every Saturday? May’s English was flawed. How could either of them invent themselves into languages they didn’t fully understand?
It wasn’t until later, when her dad came home, that Jen realised what she’d done. The lunar calendar was scattered in shreds across the floor, there was a burnt smell emanating from the Aga. Her dad opened it to find the cindery remains of the lucky dragon fan.
He didn’t shout, only held her. “It’s all right, love, it doesn’t matter now. The inspector’s here with news.”
The kitchen felt foreign, invaded by the inspector in his fluorescent jacket and stab vest.
“We’ve found what we believe to be the car. It was a 4x4,” he said. “We’re taking it in for forensics. We’ve also got CCTV from the golf club. We’re working on a witness appeal for the media.”
“What can we do, Inspector?” Iain said.
“I need you to confirm May’s details. Tell me, if you would, everything you know about her: date of birth, residence, any friends in Manchester, work colleagues, anyone who might hold a grudge.”
Her mum leant against the doorframe,
her face pale and vacant. “May Guo,” she said. “That’s all we know.”
The inspector’s pen hovered over his notebook. “Excuse me, Mrs Milne, but I understood your friendship extended over several years? That’s what you said, in your statement at the hospital.”
“Yes. She visited us every week for six years.”
“And you only know her name? I find that hard to believe, Mrs Milne.”
Jen wished the floor would open up and the inspector would disappear. His shirt was pristine, she wondered who ironed it, what he looked like when he undressed at night, whether his wife made him happy? She wondered if he had kids and whether they were clever … whether they were his own flesh and blood and not someone else’s cast-offs? She wished he’d leave, go home to his wife and kids. To a family more perfect than hers.
“We’ll be searching May’s residence on Burton Road for more information. We’ve been unable to trace any family members, seems she was something of a mystery.”
“You mean Yifan doesn’t know?” Jen said. “You haven’t called him?”
“Impossible I’m afraid, there’s no number – we’re not even sure of his surname. I understand you have the keys to her bedsit, Mrs Milne?”
Nancy didn’t respond.
“Nancy.” Her dad placed a hand on her knee. “Inspector Meadows needs to see May’s place.”
“I’m sorry. It’s such a terrible mess.”
“Where are May’s keys?” Iain said, more firmly.
Jen felt like shaking her mum, telling her to snap out of it.
“I never expected her home to look so grubby. I imagined her to live in a nice semi on a leafy street. I even pictured her kitchen to be like ours, because she cooked such extravagant food for us. Her cooker was like your mother’s old Belling. Why did she lie to me, Iain?”
The inspector raised an eyebrow.
“A small misunderstanding, Inspector,” said Iain.
The Secret Mother Page 8
