As I reached for the handle, I heard arguing coming from inside.
“… And another thing, she can’t save you if that’s what you’re thinking. She won’t last much longer and he’ll get rid of her, just like her rotten cousin.”
It was Xiaofan. What was she doing away from her dorm, arguing with Ren so late at night?
“What’s it to you?” said Ren, “You’re only jealous because he isn’t interested in you anymore. As for her saving me, you don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t need saving, I can look after myself.”
There was a sharp slap, a gasp from Ren, followed by silence. I stepped back from the door and crouched between the nearby boxes.
Ren was silent on the other side of the door. I imagined her face, slapped and humiliated. She had been faithful to me, after all. I waited until Xiaofan left, then crawled out and hurried back to the dorm, leaving Ren to finish her work.
For another hour or more, I lay awake listening to the sounds of the dorm. Fatty muttered to herself then tossed over. The girl by the window screamed intermittently in her sleep.
I grappled for the loose floorboard to find Ren’s notebook. A lot of it was boring: mainly slogans from around the factory, things like Don’t eat excessive food, don’t talk excessive talk, and A little dirt is good for your system. She had doodled squares that looked like prison bars. There was nothing in the notebook about me. I closed it, feeling disappointed.
Then I heard Mr Nie whispering from inside Ren’s tin box.
What is it? I asked, lifting him out.
Bad leg, he said, bad leg …
The patina of his little wooden face caught the half-light.
What about her bad leg?
Bad leg, bad leg, he repeated.
But I was so tired I could hardly keep my eyelids open anymore, and Mr Nie’s warning faded into oblivion.
Mrs Nie
The next morning, Ren wasn’t in her bunk and I hurried to the line to find Xiaofan.
“What have you done to her? Was it you who blocked the corridors near the bonding room?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Get your hands off me,” said Xiaofan, pulling on her work gloves.
“I’m talking about Ren. I heard you arguing in bonding. Why did you slap her? She’s not in her bed. What have you done to my friend?”
“Friend!” laughed Xiaofan and leaned over the conveyor belt. “Nobody here believes you’re a star, 2204. They all know you and him are having some kind of pathetic fling. It won’t last and then you’ll be out on your ear just like your slutty cousin.”
I grabbed the pincer tool, forgetting the rules, and was about to jab her when suddenly there was a crashing noise at the far end of circuitry. Manager He had tripped on the stairs and fallen flat on his face.
“See how pitiful he is? You really think he’ll come running to help you when the Chief Executive finds out? You’re not a star; you can’t even do 60 boards an hour.”
“At least he still wants me. I’m not an old has-been. He said you were like a car that groans and moans and eventually packs in. Face it, Xiaofan, you’re history. You’ve lost your chance.”
The smirk fell from her superior face, and I rushed over to Manager He.
“Get off.” He pushed me away and scrambled to his feet as a bell rang out. It wasn’t the usual bell, it was louder, more persistent.
“Everybody, stop what you’re doing,” he cried.
“Manager – what is it? What’s the matter?”
The ringing made me push my fists over my ears.
“We’ve got to get out,” Manager He shouted.
I hurried back to my station to tidy away my tray. “Leave it, Mai Ling.”
“I don’t understand. What’s that bell?”
Fatty grabbed me by the hand. “It’s the fire alarm!”
I glanced over to see Xiaofan’s chair kicked over. She had run for the door.
“Don’t just stand there, Mai Ling,” shouted Manager He from the door. “Quickly! We must all get to the courtyard. Leave your equipment. Come at once. Come on, girls.”
Manager He flung open the door and immediately the acrid smell of burning plastic hit us. The corridor was full of smoke.
“Back,” cried Manager He, coughing, “you all have to go back.”
“We can’t stay here,” somebody wailed above the noise of the alarm. “It’s not safe.”
“Try the manager’s exit,” said another.
We retreated to the far exit, Fatty still clutching my overalls. She grabbed a couple of soft cloths, used for dusting the LCDs, and held one to her mouth. The other, she pushed into my hand. “Take it,” she said, her eyes wide.
Manager He fumbled for his keys to open the door.
I lurched towards him.
“Let him do it,” said Fatty. “Or we won’t get out.”
“Hurry up!” cried a worker.
A hand pushed me to the floor and I crawled after Fatty towards a rectangle of light, out into the cold bright daylight. Some workers were already huddled in the courtyard, outnumbered by the white blouses and grey skirts of personnel. Everyone stared up at the main building in gripped disbelief. Above us the sound of breaking glass attacked the air like gun fire. A loud explosion sent smoke spewing from an upstairs window. The upper part of the bonding room where Ren worked was completely ablaze. Flames gobbled up the air.
Another almighty crack and girls scrambled to their feet, screaming shrilly, “It’s going down!”
I looked up to see a blackened part of the upper wall tilting in the wind. It seemed to sway forever until it eventually succumbed to gravity and the whole wall collapsed in a gush of choking smoke that enveloped everyone, including me.
I rolled into a tight ball and closed my eyes, fearing it was my time to die. For a while all was black. But death never came and eventually I heard someone calling out for me.
“2204? 2204? 2204?” My number was getting louder.
“That’s me,” I croaked, my throat clogged with the taste of ash.
A personnel worker knelt over me with a clipboard. I turned my head to the side looking for Fatty. Instead, there were bloodied faces, some charred, others with gashes. The woman closest to me wailed indescribably. Two of her fingers were missing from the knuckle, lacerated to the bone by a large shard of glass still wedged in her hand.
A personnel worker clenched the woman’s blood-soaked hand. “The ambulances have arrived, the doctors are coming.”
“Where’s Fatty?” I asked, meekly.
“Can you confirm your department?”
I shook my head, which felt leaden. Then I felt myself being lifted up. At the head of the stretcher was a familiar face. My head fizzed, and there was Yifan and then there was nothing.
The fire was still out of control when I came to. I was surrounded by row upon row of women, their charred faces still and unmoving. The stench of the dyes used in bonding filled the air completely. Maybe I was close to Ren, after all. I rolled over onto my knees and tried to haul myself up, desperate to find her. But someone pushed me back to the ground.
A sketchy outline of a young woman towered over me.
“You’re supposed to be dead,” she said.
Xiaofan.
“Where’s Manager He … and Ren?” I mumbled.
“Forget them, 2204, half the factory’s burnt to the ground. Your sweetheart left you to perish. You’re all alone now – like the rest of us.”
Xiaofan’s shoe dug into my shoulder and I began to blubber. “It was you … You started it? You left Ren to burn!”
Xiaofan started to kick me and I fell back, with the overwhelming urge to sleep.
Later Fatty woke me saying she was sorry over and over, which was strange, because she’d done nothing wrong. It was all Xiaofan’s fault. She nudged something wooden and familiar into my hands, Mr and Mrs Nie.
“We can’t find her,” said Fatty, whispering a name. “We can’t find Ren an
ywhere.”
She cradled me, sobbing.
It took three days for the last embers to be put out on account of an exceptionally blustery north wind which had destroyed large sections of the factory. Electronic circuitry was one of the few areas relatively unscathed. Manager He’s bureau was covered in fine black ash, but still standing.
Our dorms were also in tact and we were told to return to sleep amidst the soot as if nothing ever happened. Other workers joined us from different departments and took the beds of girls who were missing. A younger, less experienced Bei mei slept above me in Ren’s bed. I could barely understand her northern accent.
When the girl was out, I climbed onto her bed and butted my leg against the wall as Ren used to. I still expected to see her hobbling towards the breakfast pipe or perching on our bunk. Some nights I heard her calling out for Du. Once, I saw her standing by the shutters, holding her notebook and learning to read.
My sadness for Ren was only surpassed by my longing for Manager He. He was rumoured to be alive, recuperating in hospital, but I couldn’t be sure. I stopped eating. Food seemed irrelevant. The conveyor belts no longer operated. With so much machinery and equipment wasted, we worked at making the place clean and safe. I found comfort in this and used every last scrap of energy in the clear-up operation. Without Manager He, it was my duty to keep things going.
Fei Fei never showed for work in the weeks that followed and we heard she was amongst the hundreds convalescing in the recovery quarters. Fatty did her best to comfort me. We played cards; she taught me Rummy and Quick Fix, a game from her village, which involved slight of hand. I wasn’t very good, I couldn’t concentrate for long. Sometimes we talked about Hunan, about our families – who felt like ghosts. Fatty told me she had worked hard and stuck to the rules because she had planned to bring her sister-in-law to Nanchang. We agreed it was better than housework. We laughed and cried, sorry for all that we’d lost.
We never really talked about the fire, or our injuries, except once I thanked her for bringing me my figurines. She could not have known our dorm was untouched by the fire and had hurried to salvage what she could. She said it was nothing. She said the real saving work was done by the ambulance men and doctors. The events were already so vague and muddled, but I knew it was his face, his gentle eyes – Yifan had saved my life.
Once, when the wick of the candle was burnt almost to nothing, I confessed to Fatty that Manager He was my first love.
“I don’t know how long I can keep going without him. I have to believe he’s coming back.”
“I’m sure he’ll be alright,” she said, “try and stay strong. He will come back, you’ll see.”
Secretly, I worried what he might look like and whether the fire had disfigured his beautiful features and soft hands. I shivered inside at the thought of him touching me with hands like stumps. Immediately, I felt guilty.
Fatty sighed, unsure how to comfort me. I didn’t know either and hoped sleep might blot out the pain.
Personnel were less harsh with us for a while. They didn’t fine us for talking as we worked and we were allowed to keep the radio on all the time. Chen and Ting never showed up again, which distressed me. I was desperate to have Manager He get rid of Xiaofan. I couldn’t even bear to look her in the eye.
Manager He would be incurably frustrated, away from his work, away from his great plans and from Schnelleck. Would he still make a deal? If there was even the remotest chance, Manager He would find a way.
It was half past two on Thursday afternoon when personnel sent a message that Manager He was alive. My fighter had survived again! All thoughts of what he might look like, his injuries, flew out of my mind. Dizzying joy soaked through my body. I wanted to say, “Ha! You failed!” to Xiaofan. He would be returning to the factory.
That evening, in the dorm, I unfolded my crumpled suit with a renewed sense of purpose. I had a second chance at happiness. Fatty said I looked as powerful as one of the top dogs in personnel, wearing shoulder pads like that.
“Good enough to be his wife?” I asked.
There was no answer in the darkness.
Our reunion in his bureau was just like old times. He poured me a glass of baijiu and offered me candy. His face was unblemished, apart from a small cut on his forehead which I discovered whilst stroking his hair. He was a little stiff, having fallen in his hurry to escape the factory, but I was very gentle with him. The subject of his leaving me, of not making sure I was safely out, was never mentioned. What point was there in upsetting each other?
I told him over and over how much I missed him as I planted little kisses over his face and neck. I waited patiently for him to undress, and slid off my overalls to make it easier. For the first time ever, Manager He was concerned to give me what I wanted. He nuzzled at my ear and stroked me with tenderness.
“Tell me how,” he murmured. “Here?”
He spent a long time holding my feet, rubbing his face against them, he put my toes inside his mouth and his tongue darted like a fish. It reminded me of wading barefoot in a warm river. The bureau was nicely lit; the spirit lamp gave off a steady glow.
He kissed between my legs. It was a feeling of becoming taller, the dragon waking. I tugged Manager’s hair for him to stop, before it was too late, but he kept going. I put my hand in my mouth and bit hard. He watched me.
We made love on his bureau floor. I bathed in his weight, so solid, so real – so alive! My hand fell across his shoulder blade.
Afterwards, in a doze, Manager He murmured “performance quotas.”
“What did you just say?” I asked, aggrieved that he should mention work so soon.
“It will please him, my star … my amazing star.”
“What will?”
But he rolled over to sleep and I put it down to him talking gibberish – something which often happened after his climax.
By the time he woke up, I was already seated at the desk, flicking through some recent paperwork relating to productivity, though not really concentrating on the numbers. I was still swooning over the idea of marrying Manager He. I pictured us living in one of those brand new apartments on the outskirts of the city, driving to work in our 4x4.
“Mai Ling,” he said dreamily. “Come here, I want to talk.”
I knelt beside him.
“It’s about Schnelleck.”
“I guess he isn’t coming any more?”
“Yes, of course he is. He doesn’t know anything about the fire, only that I’ve been in hospital. He believes that’s why I postponed his visit. I have no intention of letting him know the truth.”
“Surely he can’t visit a burnt out factory?”
Manager He frowned and his top lip curled in a way I had never seen before. “You mean you don’t believe we can do it? You’ve lost faith in me?”
“No, no, that’s not true. I just don’t know how. I thought you would have made a contingency plan, that’s all.”
“I didn’t waste a minute in hospital. I have it all worked out. You and I will meet him in town.”
“Won’t he want to visit the factory?” I asked. “No foreigner comes all the way to China to meet up and sip tea, even Chinese tea.”
“There isn’t time to explain it all now.”
He was right; it was already five o’clock in the morning. I had stayed longer than on any other occasion.
“I need you to promise you’ll go along with the plan and not question my judgement. Do you understand?”
Manager He’s pupils were deep, endless. I wondered if he was capable of sound judgement after the fire. How could he possibly win Schnelleck over? And how could our factory – blackened and destroyed – be impressive?
“I’m not sure,” I whispered.
He lit a cigarette and stared at the portrait of Deng Xiaoping that now curled away from the wall. The smell of tobacco sickened me so soon after the fire.
“How can I achieve the four modernisations without labourers?” I heard him say,
as though he was making a direct plea to the president.
I hadn’t noticed before, but Manager He’s shoulders sloped terribly. He also had a little hump beneath his neck on account of the long hours he spent stooped over his desk. I felt suddenly repulsed. I had given myself away too easily.
“I will leave you in peace, Manager. You must be very weary, after such a long day at work and so soon after being in hospital.”
“So now you’re deserting me?” he snapped.
I didn’t like his bullish tone.
“What’s got into you, 2204, are you too proud to even answer a straightforward question? Has being a star gone to your head?”
“No,” my voice was sulky, childish. “We should talk more tomorrow.”
“There isn’t time tomorrow, don’t you understand?” he spun around, extinguishing his cigarette on the tin of candies and clutched my face between his hands. I need you more than ever, Mai Ling. Things have gone badly wrong for us … But I’m not going to give up. I’m still holding onto my dream for this factory – which is more than can be said for the other managers. They’re already talking about shutting this place down and moving onto a different city. It’s as if no-one believes in anything anymore. That’s why I need you.” He smothered my face with kisses.
I felt a sudden rush of pity.
“What must I do?”
“Trust in me.”
The sensible part of my brain said it was stupid to trust a flawed plan. Mother always said, “Dishes without salt are tasteless, words without reason are powerless.” But since when did I ever listen to reason? Running away was not playing by the rules. If I had been a good, obedient daughter I would be living in the coffin shop with Li Quifang and his mother, knitting jumpers for our baby and funeral gowns for the dead. Didn’t Father also say, “A craftsman is thirty percent free and seventy percent beholden to his employer”?
“Alright, I’ll do as you say,” I acquiesced.
“And will you trust me completely?”
The Secret Mother Page 18
