The Orchid Tree

by Siobhan Daiko

  ‘As long as your father doesn’t mind.’

  ‘Of course he won’t mind. He thinks we’re just friends. Friends have supper together, don’t they?’

  ‘We should be able to tell him we’re more than friends soon, my darling. Your plan might just work . . .’

  38

  Sofia unlocked the front door of Father’s villa (she’d never think of it as Leo’s) and strode across the tiled hall to the sideboard. She rang for the houseboy. ‘Is my brother home?’

  ‘Yes, missy.’

  ‘Please tell him I’m here.’

  Within seconds, Balthazar at his heels, Leo stood in front of her and folded his arms. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘I’m very well thank you, how are you?’

  ‘Sarcasm will get you nowhere,’ Leo said, his mouth turning up at one corner. ‘Why are you here?’

  ‘I have your money.’ She handed him an envelope containing a banker’s draft.

  ‘How did you manage that?’ Leo slid out the cheque. ‘You haven’t received your inheritance yet.’

  ‘I went to the biggest bank in Hong Kong and they were quite happy to lend me the money, secured on the factory and its machinery.’ James had helped organise the loan once his partnership in the business had been confirmed.

  ‘Fair enough. You win, little sister. For now.’

  ‘Here are my house keys. I’m leaving Macau for good so I won’t need them anymore.’

  Leo frowned. ‘Tell your uncle I know he was involved with the seaplane catastrophe. Someone has talked. Leung had better watch his back.’

  ‘What are you on about?’

  ‘I think you know perfectly well.’

  ‘I know nothing of the sort. And there is no way you can connect my uncle with that tragedy.’

  ‘He was seen with a man known to have trained as a pilot in the Philippines.’

  ‘You’re just making this up, Leo.’

  ‘The Consortium has lost nearly thirty thousand American dollars. That’s a lot of money by any reckoning, over one hundred and forty thousand Hong Kong dollars in fact. Strangely enough, roughly similar in value to your bank draft.’

  ‘Only a coincidence. I’ll go upstairs now and pack the last of my things.’

  Dratted Leo. He’s too clever by far. Too, too clever.

  ***

  Sofia took the afternoon steamer. Whenever she left Macau for the bright lights of the British colony, it was as if she were being jolted from the nineteenth into the twentieth century. In Macau, time seemed to have stood still and nothing had changed in decades. Many of the buildings in the beautiful old terraces were crumbling into decay, and the whole place had a feeling of decadence. She was glad to be on this ship, with her trunk of clothes in the hold and her jewellery in a bag by her side. Finally, she was getting away from Leo and everything to do with him.

  Apparently, Derek Higgins had been able to manufacture fire-crackers in Macau, whereas in Hong Kong factory regulations would have made his methods impossible. Derek’s workers had caught terrible illnesses by inhaling poisonous vapours. Some had even blown themselves up. No questions had ever been asked by the authorities. People had done the work because they’d been desperate for employment. They would find other, healthier jobs now, hopefully. She wasn’t sorry Derek’s body hadn’t been found. He’d been a shark and he’d ended up a shark’s dinner, for sure.

  As for Leo, no doubt he’d continue his trajectory to become the most powerful man in Macau. Almost certainly, he would be running the place in a few years’ time. She was well out of it. If she’d stayed he would have involved her in no end of shady dealings; it was the way he operated.

  Her future lay with the factory. She and James would develop it into a profitable, legitimate business together. She had to build security. Not just for herself, but for her child. She was pregnant; she’d found out from her doctor yesterday, although she’d suspected it since nearly fainting at the hospital. After each lovemaking session with James, she’d douched with Chinese herbs, the advice she’d read in one of Uncle’s books. Not the right advice, as it had turned out . . .

  Sofia looked out of the porthole. The colour of the sea had changed from muddy to turquoise blue, so they must have left the Pearl River Estuary. Soon, they passed Lantau Island and entered Hong Kong’s Victoria Harbour. Here was her future. Here was James, the man she loved. Here she would bring up their child.

  ***

  She passed through immigration. James was waiting for her. She went up to him, her heartbeat quickening. How would he react when she told him about the baby? When would she tell him? He came up and took her hand luggage. ‘Where’s this trunk you warned me about?’

  ‘Over there.’ She pointed.

  ‘Good thing I organised a lorry, then,’ he said, laughing. ‘It’s enormous.’

  They clambered into the front cab, and the vehicle made its way to the car ferry. Crossing the harbour, they got out and stood on the foredeck.

  James hooked his arm around her waist. ‘How did things go when you paid off Leo?’

  ‘He’s not stupid, you know.’ She leaned against him. ‘He suspects Uncle set up the robbery. He can’t prove it, but we need to be aware we have a dangerous enemy.’

  ‘How far does his influence extend? Surely not to Hong Kong?’

  ‘He’s only a big fish in the small pond of Macau. But, don’t forget he has connections with the Triads here.’

  ‘I haven’t forgotten. I’ll make sure Special Branch keep me informed if they hear anything. What news of Chun Ming?’

  ‘The only people who know of his involvement are us, his family, Kate Wolseley and Charles Pearce. Let’s hope it stays that way. If Leo gets wind of his participation in the robbery, it’ll be difficult to keep him safe. I wonder if we can get him back to China before his leg is out of plaster . . .’

  ‘I’ll have a word with Gerry Watkins.’

  They returned to the lorry and disembarked. After twenty minutes they arrived at their hotel, the one they always used. Only this time they’d booked a suite to tide them over until they found a flat. James had given up his lodgings in Kowloon Tong when he’d resigned from Holden’s Wharf.

  James took off his shoes and stretched out on the bed cover. She sat next to him and took his hand. ‘There’s something I need to tell you.’

  ‘Oh,’ he said with a frown. ‘Something good or something bad?’

  ‘Something good. At least, I think it is.’

  ‘Well, then, tell me.’

  ‘I’m pregnant,’ she said, meeting his gaze.

  A smile spread across his face. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I saw my doctor yesterday. You’ll be a father next April.’

  ‘Sweetheart, that’s wonderful. I was going to do this in a more romantic setting, but there’s no time like the present, as they say.’

  ‘What were you going to do?’

  ‘Ask you to marry me. Will you, Sofia? You’ll make me the happiest man alive.’

  ‘Yes. Oh, yes,’ she said, her heart singing.

  ‘We can get a special license. Do it as soon as possible to avoid any scandal. You know what this place is like.’

  She lay next to him. ‘It will be scandalous enough you marrying me without the extra gossip about when our baby was conceived.’

  He held out his arms. ‘I love you, Sofia Rodrigues, and I’ll love you as long as I live.’

  ‘I love you too, James. In this life and the next.’

  39

  I was looking for some scissors. Spread out on my desk were the pictures painted by my class of eight-year-olds; I wanted to cut them out and paste them onto a frieze. I’d searched everywhere in my bedroom; I must have left the wretched things at school. How annoying! I ran downstairs to Papa’s study and leafed through the papers on the top of the desk. Nothing.

  I checked the top drawer. No luck.

  Then I tried the bottom one. Locked.

  Is it worth all this bother for a
pair of scissors? One last try . . .

  I opened the top drawer again. A key was sticking out from under Papa’s writing folder. I picked it up and inserted it in the bottom drawer.

  Success!

  I slid open the drawer and rummaged through it. Why aren’t there any damn scissors here, for heaven’s sake? I’d have to try the kitchen. As I began to shut the drawer, I caught sight of envelopes tied up in string.

  Sucking in a quick breath, I picked them up and peered at the post-marks. London. I flicked through ten letters sent between October 1945 and October 1946. Someone had scribbled out our address on the Peak and had forwarded them to Sydney.

  Charles’ handwriting. I’d know it anywhere.

  I struggled with the knot, fingers shaking. Eventually it loosened and the letters spilled out onto the desk. I picked them up and stared at them, one by one. Hands trembling, I opened the first envelope and started to read.

  Dearest Kate

  I miss you so much, and the past eighteen months have been such hell . . .

  ***

  How could Papa have kept them from me all these years? Didn’t he realise how unhappy I’d been? With heavy arms, I dragged myself up the stairs and flung myself onto the bed, clutching the envelopes to my chest. The front door slammed and I rushed downstairs. Papa had already sat in his armchair, lit his pipe, and unfurled his newspaper. ‘My goodness, you look as if your feathers have been well and truly ruffled, dear girl.’

  ‘I’ve found Charles’ letters.’ I lifted my chin. ‘That was a bit remiss of you, don’t you think? It would have been safer to have destroyed them.’

  Papa was silent for a moment. ‘Would have been against the law,’ he said, sucking on his pipe and putting down The South China Morning Post.

  ‘And not giving them to me wasn’t?’

  ‘I would have given them to you eventually. When you’d settled down with a proper chap.’

  ‘And Charles Pearce isn’t a “proper chap”? Is that it? How could you?’ I curled my lip. ‘You let me think he was dead.’

  ‘I believed there could be no future for the two of you in Hong Kong. I didn’t want my daughter excluded by society and made unhappy. Time is a huge healer. I thought you’d forget all about him.’

  ‘What a horrible cliché! In any case, time hasn’t healed anything,’ I spat. ‘You broke my heart and I’d be grateful if you no longer interfered in my life.’

  I turned on my heel and bounded back up to my room. Determinedly ignoring Papa knocking on the door, I read through the other nine letters. Charles wrote about how he’d started a law degree at King’s College. He described his course and his fellow students, his life in London and how Ruth and his parents were getting on. Each letter pleaded for a response until the final one stated he would no longer be writing; it was clearly a useless exercise.

  The knocking continued. ‘I’m sorry,’ Papa said. ‘It was wrong of me. Can you forgive me?’

  ‘It’s not just me who needs to forgive you. Charles and I are in love. If you won’t accept that then I’m afraid you’ll lose me. The truth is, I can’t live without him.’

  ***

  ‘Can you do up my buttons, please?’ I asked Ah Ho. She’d come back to work for us after Chun Ming and his wife had left for China yesterday. My amah and I were in the room I’d taken for the night at the Peninsula Hotel, and I was putting on my dress – the cheongsam I’d had made at Aunt Julie’s tailor’s.

  ‘Aiyah! Missy, you very beautiful,’ Ah Ho said, smiling her gold-toothed smile.

  I glanced down at my figure: the green silk clung to my breasts, my stomach and my hips. ‘Ah Ho, what are you calling me missy for? I’m Katie.’

  ‘Now you grown up, you missy,’ Ah Ho huffed, folding her arms.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said, giving myself a mental kick for making her lose face.

  I stole a glance at Ah Ho: her hair was thinning more than ever and there were new wrinkles in her cheeks. The worry about Chun Ming had aged her. Of course Ah Ho would visit her son in China, but she was probably missing him already. It must have been a huge wrench seeing him off at the train station. Everything had happened so quickly. One minute he was in the hospital and the next he was leaving, still on crutches, Li by his side. I’d got there just in time to say goodbye.

  Ah Ho fastened my last button. I looked down at myself again and blushed; I should have asked the tailor not to make the slits up the side of my legs so high.

  A knock at the door. I slipped on my mask and stared at the apparition in the doorway. Jessica’s face was heavily made up with white powder, thick black eyebrows and ruby red lips; a black wig covered her hair. ‘What a marvellous Empress of China you make, Jessica!’

  ‘How did you know it was me?’

  ‘The masks only cover our eyes. It will be easy to recognise people, won’t it?’

  ‘Just a bit of fun. And we’ll be taking them off before supper, won’t we? Come on! Time to get the show on the road, as they say.’

  I hugged my amah. ‘Thank you for helping me, Ah Ho. George will take you home now.’

  I picked up my evening-bag and made sure my dance card, lipstick and powder were inside. Then I followed Jessica down the corridor to the lift where Tony, dressed as the Emperor of China, was waiting.

  All the way down to the mezzanine floor, I worried. What if we didn’t sell enough raffle tickets? And what about Charles? Tonight I would tell him my father had hidden his letters. He’d been right all along . . .

  ***

  The ballroom, capable of seating eight hundred guests, overlooked the harbour. Pillars with Corinthian capitals lined the doors onto what was called the roof terrace. (Not the top of the multi-storey building, but the roof over the hotel’s entrance.) I walked across the parquet floor, glistening after its daily polish, and glanced up at the slightly domed ceiling, painted rain-washed blue. On a podium at the far end, members of the Filipino swing band I’d arranged were tuning their instruments. I checked the table numbers and verified the names of the guests at each table, making sure Charles and I were placed together with Sofia and James. I’d put Papa at the grandees’ table, with Jessica and Tony, the Governor, the Taipans of the trading companies and their wives. Everything was ready and, within minutes, people began filing in through the double doors.

  ‘Isn’t that Charles?’ Jessica pointed towards a tall man next to the bar, he was dressed as an ancient Chinese warrior, knee high boots and leather armour. My heart skipped a beat; I quickly glanced around at the other guests. There were James and Sofia, in People’s Liberation Army uniforms (how on earth?), standing slightly apart from everyone else.

  I went up to them. ‘I’m so glad you could come,’ I said, squeezing Sofia’s hand. ‘Let’s get ourselves something to drink then we should fill in our dance cards.’

  ‘Already done,’ James said. ‘I’m not having my fiancée dance with anyone else.’

  I made an effort to stop my mouth from falling open; I didn’t succeed. ‘Congratulations!’ I embraced them both. ‘When’s the happy day?’

  ‘Pretty soon, actually,’ James grinned. ‘Needs must, as they say.’

  I stood back and stared at him. What did he mean? Realisation dawned and I smiled. ‘Then let me congratulate you again.’

  ‘We were wondering if you and Charles would be witnesses at the civil service,’ James said. ‘We’ve managed to get a special license.’

  ‘I’d be delighted. But you’ll have to ask Charles yourself.’

  ‘Ask me what?’ Charles said, coming up and shaking hands with James.

  ‘We’re tying the knot. Kate has said she’ll be a witness. We’d be honoured if you’d agree to be one as well.’

  ‘With great pleasure. The City Hall, I presume?’

  ‘Ten in the morning next Saturday.’ James signalled a passing waiter carrying a tray of champagne cocktails.

  I took a glass and lifted it to my lips, my eyes meeting Charles’. ‘Have you got any spa
ce on your dance card?’ he asked.

  ‘I’ve only pencilled in Tony and my father.’

  ‘Please may I have the honour of dancing with you for all the others? That dress is far too enticing.’

  ‘Well, my darling, I can’t dance every dance, you know. I have to make sure our volunteers go round and sell all the tickets for the raffles. And I have to sell some myself.’

  ‘Then let me help you.’

  ***

  During supper Tony performed his role as Master of Ceremonies with aplomb, making the draws for the donated prizes between each course. The meal seemed to go on forever, but money had poured in and there would be enough to begin funding a children’s clinic in one of the squatter areas. It was a small start, but a good one.

  Papa, dressed as a Mandarin, joined Tony on the podium. ‘Ladies and Gentlemen,’ he said. ‘I would like to propose a toast to my dear daughter, Kate, whose birthday it is tomorrow, and who has organised this marvellous ball with the help of Jessica Chambers who has organised this marvellous ball with the help of Jessica Chambers. And thank-you to all who’ve donated prizes. You’ve been hugely generous and I’m sure you’ll agree a splendid time has been had by everyone. Raise your glasses! To Kate and to Jessica!’

  There was a resounding cheer and my cheeks burned. Charles came up. ‘This is my dance, I think. The last waltz.’

  He twirled me closer and closer to the double doors until we were standing on the roof terrace - alone the two of us. Then he kissed me. I felt as if I was swimming underwater as the kiss went on and on and on: delicious, sweet, tender and utterly perfect.

  ‘It’s midnight. Happy Birthday, darling Kate.’

  ‘Thank you.’ I took a deep breath. ‘There’s something I have to tell you.’ The sound of a ship’s horn reverberated in the distance, and I stared at the neon lights reflecting in the harbour. I steeled myself. ‘I found your letters. My father seems to have “forgotten” to give them to me.’