The Orchid Tree

by Siobhan Daiko

  ‘Hello. I’m Kate Wolseley.’ The Englishwoman smiled at Sofia. ‘Chun Ming and I grew up together.’

  Sofia took a step back and touched her throat. Dizziness spread through her. She grabbed hold of the side of the chair. Her legs folded beneath her and she slipped to the floor.

  36

  I took a taxi to the Ferry. The cymbals and high-pitched song of Cantonese opera were playing on the radio and the cab stank of stale cigarette smoke. Outside, though, Hong Kong shimmered in shades of green and blue. The humid clouds of summer had given way to the lucidity that only happened at this time of the year, when it truly became a place of mountains, sea and sky. But the sound of pile drivers echoed in the air. Such a shame that so many hills were being bulldozed down to fill in parts of the harbour and make room for unrelenting construction work.

  Poor Sofia. I’d rushed forward to catch hold of her and help her to sit on a chair when she’d nearly fainted. Her face was greyish and perspiration shone on her forehead. Ah Ho grabbed a glass and filled it from the water jug on Chun Ming’s bedside table. Sofia resolutely refused to see a doctor. What an incredibly beautiful woman she was, with her thick dark-brown hair and large grey oriental eyes, not to mention an almost perfect figure (perhaps her chest was a bit flat). No wonder James had fallen for her . . .

  I was furious with him. Between them, Chun Ming and Sofia had told me the whole story. James should have persuaded K C Leung to find another way to repay Leo Rodrigues. People had died as a result of Leung’s so-called ruse.

  Leaning back, I shut my eyes. Charles had responded to my call from the hospital’s reception desk with a swift agreement to meet me at the Peninsula Hotel. If anyone could help Jimmy, Charles would be that person. He said he had a client to see in Kowloon beforehand. That suited me fine; I’d combine meeting Charles with confirming the final details of the ball, which was due to take place the day before my twenty-third birthday.

  I found a seat on the top deck of the ferry in the covered central section. The sides were open to the view and a sampan floated past with an old man holding a fishing line, his long grey goatee flapping in the breeze. All around us vessels weaved and crossed, passed and turned, like a pool of carp in a feeding frenzy.

  On Kowloon side, as everyone always called it, I walked for five minutes until I arrived at the Peninsula. It was here that the Governor had surrendered to the Japanese on Christmas Day, 1941. Japanese officers had occupied the hotel, which became their headquarters. Now it was “the finest hotel east of Suez” again. A sudden sensation of loss spread through me; Mama used to bring me here and treat me to a milkshake sometimes after school.

  A fountain played in the forecourt and I climbed the steps, glancing upwards at the horseshoe-shaped structure. Two bellboys in white uniforms opened the double doors. I crossed the marble floor to the manager’s office, where I confirmed the menu for the ball and made sure all the arrangements were in place.

  Thanking the manager, I stepped into the lobby. A string quartet on the corner balcony was playing Greensleeves. There was Charles in an armchair at a table across the room. I drank in the sight of him: his broad shoulders, lean body and long legs. He looked up and smiled his wonderful smile, making my pulse race.

  Last week we’d gone to the pictures together and had seen the film Easter Parade, starring Judy Garland and Fred Astaire, but that had been the only time we’d managed a date since dinner with Charles’ relatives. I’d loved the Irving Berlin soundtrack and had been humming Stepping out with My Baby so much I’d been driving my school colleagues mad. In the cinema, Charles and I had kissed in the darkness. He’d held me in his arms and I’d felt the hardness of his chest against my breasts. How I longed to make love with him again . . .

  The clink of cutlery mixed with the murmur of conversation as Charles pulled out a chair and gave me a peck on the cheek. ‘How wonderful to see you, darling,’ he said. He signalled the bow-tied waiter. ‘Indian, Earl Grey or Jasmine tea?’

  ‘Indian, please.’

  Charles gave our order. Then he placed the tips of his fingers together. ‘Tell me, my love, why did you want to see me so urgently? Purely business, you said. What business?’

  ‘The Catalina sea plane.’

  A frown creased his forehead. ‘What’s that got to do with you?’

  ‘Not me. My old amah’s son.’

  I explained about my hospital visit and we both expressed surprise that Derek Higgins had also been involved in the catastrophe. ‘It would mean so much if you could help,’ I said. ‘Not just to me. Ah Ho must be worried sick about Chun Ming.’

  A bicycle bell rang, as one of the pageboys walked past us, holding a small blackboard aloft to page someone. Charles leant forward. ‘Where did you say the plane went down?’

  ‘Beyond the Soko Islands.’

  ‘Have the police interviewed Chun Ming yet?’

  ‘No. They’ll wait until you can be there.’

  ‘Good. I’ll get my secretary to make the arrangements.’

  Our waiter arrived and placed a silver tray on the table, laden with a typical English afternoon tea: wafer-thin sandwiches, sponge cake and scones. I lifted the silver teapot and poured.

  Charles offered me a cucumber sandwich then took one for himself. ‘Tell me more about James’ involvement.’

  ‘Sofia said he was working secretly for Special Branch. Apparently, James brokered a deal with Leung for information about local banks smuggling the Consortium’s gold into Hong Kong.’ I sipped my tea. ‘Leung also provided details of a new group of Triads from China who are setting up here. In return, Special Branch agreed to let him get away with the robbery.’

  ‘Right. That will make it easier. Special Branch won’t want this to get out.’

  I crumpled my linen napkin, stiff with starch. Charles was looking at me intensely, bathing me in the warmth of his regard. ‘Jessica and I are organising a charity ball here to coincide with the Mid-Autumn Festival next week,’ I said. ‘Would you like to buy a ticket? It’s Fancy Dress and the theme is China.’

  ‘Why not? What are you wearing?’

  ‘The cheongsam I’m having made. I’m going as Madam Chiang Kai Shek. I bought the material with your aunt yesterday.’

  ‘So glad you two are getting on. Auntie will convince Uncle, you’ll see. He always comes round to her way of seeing things in the end.’

  We lapsed into silence while Charles ate his way through all the cake and sandwiches. Putting my napkin down, I pushed back my chair. ‘Well, I’d better be off. I took an afternoon’s leave of absence from school to visit Chun Ming, and my headmistress will be cross if she gets reports that I’ve been seen having tea at the Pen. Are you going back to Hong Kong side now?’

  ‘Yes, my love, I’ll take the Ferry with you.’

  I held his hand and we walked past the bus station to the concourse. I didn’t care if any of Papa’s chums saw us, and Charles didn’t seem to mind either. A stiff breeze was blowing and I held onto my hat with my other hand. We went through the turnstile then up the ramp to the ferry.

  ‘Did you know a tropical cyclone is headed our way?’ Charles said. ‘The Royal Observatory has launched typhoon signal number one. I’ve heard the storm won’t be here for a couple of days, but do take care, my darling.’

  ‘I wondered why it has turned so windy. Don’t worry, I’ll be safe on the Peak. Papa has perfected the art of organising typhoon shutters.’ A sudden thought occurred to me. ‘I’ve just had a brilliant idea. We can tell Papa you’re helping Jimmy, I mean Chun Ming. That will be a perfectly legitimate excuse for us to see each other. Then, once he gets used to you being around, we’ll inform him we’re in love.’

  A doubtful expression crossed Charles’ face. ‘Something tells me it isn’t going to be that simple.’

  ‘Well, have you got a better plan?’

  ‘No,’ he said, taking my face in his hands and kissing me.

  ‘Good. I’ll tell Papa about you helping us.’
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  37

  Charles dialled Kate’s number. He wanted to fill her in on developments in Chun Ming’s case, but her houseboy answered the phone and said she’d gone to the Children’s Home in the New Territories. Apparently, she went every Sunday.

  He put down the phone. Why hadn’t Kate told him that’s what she did on her day off? It was a marvellous thing for her to do. Except, it was so like her not to tell him; she wouldn’t want him to think she was boasting. They’d spoken only yesterday and she’d said her father hadn’t batted an eyelid when she’d explained he was helping Chun Ming. Charles was under no illusions, however. Expatriates and locals always worked well together as far as business was concerned. It was only in their personal lives that they didn’t mix.

  The wireless blared from the kitchen. Yesterday, typhoon signal number three had gone up and winds had strengthened throughout the day, but by early this morning it seemed the storm had turned away. Charles glanced out of the window; the trees were bending in an alarming fashion. A news flash came on and he jumped to his feet. The typhoon had turned around and was heading straight for Hong Kong!

  Wendy, as the storm was known, was expected to pass near the colony late that afternoon at the same time as the predicted high tide. There were fears of a tidal wave in Tolo Harbour.

  Good God! That’s close to the Children’s Home . . .

  Charles grabbed his car keys, ran downstairs and jumped into his MG. The wind whipped the trees by the side of the road and sent rubbish flying up into the air, buffeting his small car. He had to use all his strength to keep it on the road.

  At the Ferry a policeman stopped him. The boats had all gone to the typhoon shelters. He wouldn’t be able to get across.

  Charles drove frantically round to the back of the Hong Kong Club, found a space, reversed into it, and ran to the pier.

  There was a man in a walla walla motorboat, his craft cresting the waves like a roller-coaster. ‘You wan’ go Kowloon side?’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘Fifty dollar!’

  ‘Too much!’

  ‘Fifty dollar!’

  Charles looked around; there weren’t any other boats. He climbed down the ladder and jumped into the vessel. Warm rain drenching him, he sat next to the boatman and held on for dear life as the walla walla jerked, plunged, and pitched its way across the harbour.

  On Kowloon side Charles clambered ashore, found a phone booth, and dialled the Wolseleys’ number. Henry answered.

  ‘I’m on my way to the New Territories,’ Charles said. ‘Have you heard from Kate?’

  ‘I can’t get through to the orphanage. The phone lines must be down. Very grateful to you if you’d check on my daughter.’

  ‘I’ll try my best.’

  ‘Just make sure she’s all right!’

  Charles got into the back of the only cab prepared to take him to the Sha Tin. Rain sheeted horizontally across the road, broken glass flew in the air and shop signs swayed. The streets, normally crowded with people, were eerily empty.

  Half an hour later, the taxi skirted the edge of the rising waters and pulled up outside the gates of the orphanage. Charles paid the driver. The man told him he lived locally and was heading home anyway, but that didn’t stop him from charging thirty dollars.

  Charles ran up the steep driveway to the front door. It was swinging on its hinges. A corridor spanned the front of the building and he went into the first room, a dining room with long tables down the centre and a smell of burnt rice. No one. Next he strode into a sitting room boasting chintz-covered sofas and rattan armchairs. Empty. Three children’s dormitories with unmade beds made up the rest of the rooms. Where was Kate? There was a door at the end of the corridor, and he pushed it open.

  There she was, in a large schoolroom, mopping up rainwater that had come in through the shuttered windows. She stared at him. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘God, Kate! Why didn’t you tell me this is what you do with your time?’

  ‘Well, now you’re here, you can help,’ she said with a wry smile. ‘Sorry I’m not more welcoming, but I’m exhausted.’ She handed him the mop, and waved towards a frizzy-haired European woman sitting with a group of children in the dry patch at the far end of the room. ‘Miss Denning, this is Charles. Looks like he’s come to give us a hand.’

  ‘Good. You stay here with the little ones, Kate, and I’ll go and find Mary. I think she’s with the amahs and the older children.’

  Charles gazed out through a crack in the shutters. The fields below, a short time ago sodden with water, were now completely submerged. People had moved up to the green-tiled roofs of the nearby walled village, clutching their possessions; some had even carried up pigs, chickens and dogs. The orphanage was on a hill, but it was a small one. Would the waters reach them here?

  He mopped up as much as he could, then went over to Kate; she was sitting with a small girl on her lap.

  ‘Who’s this?’

  ‘Mei Ling.’ Kate kissed the girl on the cheek.

  He lowered himself to sit cross-legged next to her. The child regarded him suspiciously. ‘I don’t suppose she sees many men,’ he said, unable to keep the emotion from his voice. He really admired Kate for what she was doing, but couldn’t find the words to say so in front of the children.

  ‘Why don’t you read Mei Ling a story? She likes The Three Little Pigs.’

  Gradually, the child’s eyes lost their mistrustful look. Charles enjoyed reading to her; it reminded him of the times he’d read to Ruth when she was Mei Ling’s age. The girl’s eyelids closed and she drifted off to sleep.

  Outside, the wind bellowed and rattled the windows. What was happening to those poor people in the village below? He couldn’t bear to think. And what would happen to them if the sea rose further?

  ‘You didn’t explain why you came here,’ Kate whispered.

  ‘I wanted to tell you that Chun Ming will be sent back to China when his leg is out of plaster. He won’t stand trial in Hong Kong.’

  ‘Good!’

  ‘Yesterday I spoke to the senior partner in my firm and he confirmed my belief that, because the plane came down in Chinese waters, the colony won’t have jurisdiction. I contacted James Stevens, and he got in touch with Special Branch. I found out he’d done the deal this morning.’

  ‘I wonder what will happen to Chun Ming when he’s in China . . .’

  ‘He’ll probably receive a hero’s welcome from the communists. They’re poised to take Canton and he’s an ardent party member. Also, he fought with them during the occupation, didn’t he?’

  ‘Of course. That should make it easier for him.’

  ‘When I interviewed him yesterday morning, he told me he knew Fei, the fierce young man I met at the end of the war who got me through Japanese lines. I was glad to have been of help to Chun Ming, my love. I don’t condone what he did, though. It was misguided to say the least.’

  ‘What did James have to say for himself?’

  ‘Nothing much. I got the impression he didn’t want to talk about it.’

  ***

  In the late afternoon, the wind died down and the rain abated. There was nothing more he and Kate could do here, as Miss Denning had returned and taken charge. They said goodbye to the children and walked down the slope towards the village. Kate cried out in dismay at the devastation: debris everywhere, people wailing and frantically digging in the wreckage as they searched for their loved ones, torn-up vegetation strewn across the road, a large fishing junk tossed up on the land. Dead animals floated on the receding waters, and the shanty town he’d seen by the main road had been reduced to splintered planks of wood. It was incredible that so much damage could have happened in such a short time. Charles put his arm around Kate and she burrowed into his shoulder, sobbing.

  Sirens shrilled and three fire engines arrived, followed by five ambulances and a police car. There was little he and Kate could do to help, other than comfort the grieving. In the early evening, Charles
found a taxi and took Kate to the Ferry. She was silent throughout the journey, her face pale with apparent shock and tiredness. They arrived on Hong Kong side, and he walked with her to his car.

  ‘Thank you for getting Chun Ming off, my darling,’ Kate said. ‘I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but you could have waited to tell me tomorrow, couldn’t you?’

  ‘I was worried about you. Also, when I phoned your father to find out if he’d heard from you, he asked me to make sure you were all right.’

  ‘Then please come in for a drink when we get to my place.’

  ***

  A gardener was sweeping up leaves, and repositioning flowerpots at the edge of the driveway. Charles parked to the side, steering clear of a couple of amahs taking down the typhoon shutters.

  ‘This is quite a house,’ he said.

  Kate led him through the front door. ‘I suppose it is a bit big for the two of us. I’m longing to get away, but you know how difficult it is to find somewhere. You were lucky to have your uncle’s contacts to get your flat, weren’t you?’

  She was right; he would have found it impossible if Uncle Phillip hadn’t been a friend of his landlord. Waiting lists for accommodation were notoriously long.

  In the sitting room, Henry Wolseley got up from his armchair and held out his hand to Charles. ‘Dashed grateful to you.’ Henry went up to Kate and hugged her. ‘Bally typhoon. Wasn’t supposed to change course like that. Are you all right?’

  ‘We’re fine,’ Kate said. ‘But lots of other people aren’t, I’m afraid. We could do with a drink.’

  ‘Of course.’ Henry rang a hand bell. ‘Where’s Ah Woo? Ah! There he is.’

  Charles asked for a San Miguel and Kate a brandy soda. Their drinks arrived, and Kate led him to the veranda to admire the view. The typhoon had cleared the air and, from this height, it was possible to see the mountains of China on the distant horizon behind the Kowloon hills.

  ‘You’ll stay for supper, won’t you?’