“Shut up, you stupid man,” said another bystander in an exaggerated whisper that was meant to be heard. “Can’t you see? You are talking to the very one you said is not here. She is the wayward daughter.” He gave Shao Peng a spiteful look.
Shao Peng could feel a flush of heat in her cheeks. She ignored him and pushed her way forward, holding Li Ling’s hand in hers.
“Is this where you live?” Li Ling asked, wide eyed. She hurried after Shao Peng. “Why are all these people lining up to go in?” She had not expected Shao Peng to live in such a grand house. She looked up at the tall gates. Garlands of white cloth hung suspended from it. The keening from within the compound became louder and louder. Startled, Li Ling drew back.
Shao Peng licked her lips. They were parched. She could feel her heart thumping. From the garlands of white, she knew that there had been a death and, judging from the unkind and vicious remarks of bystanders, it was her father’s. But how could it be? She had been away for just three months. He had seemed in rude health when she left. They pushed through the throng of people. Ah Sook, her father’s old retainer, saw them and came rushing out. He bobbed and bowed, his white skullcap stuck to his head. Sweat rolled down his face.
“Young mistress, your father ... your father passed away. We waited and waited for you. This is the seventh day of his passing. Thank goodness you are back. Tonight, his spirit would return to visit us. At least you are here now. Big mistress needs you. Come, come with me,” he said hurrying them into the front courtyard and towards the main door.
“How, how did he die?” Her voice broke. She could hardly take in the news. Up until then, she had held on to the hope that it was all a mistake and that the mutterings of the crowd were not true.
“Mistress will tell you.” Ah Sook guided them past a marquee set up in the courtyard. Shao Peng turned in shock to stare. Within its confines, several gaming tables were laid out for mahjong. People were playing the coloured tiles as though it was any ordinary day. Snap, clack; tiles were thrown into the centre of the table and fresh ones drawn and reassembled.
“What’s this?” she asked. Her amazement was followed quickly by anger. She would have shouted and yelled at them but for Ah Sook.
Without breaking his stride, Sook hustled them into the house. “They are playing a game to while away the time. It helps keep them awake so that they can guard your father and protect him from evil spirits. It is not easy for them to stay awake for so many days. Come, come!”
He did not give her any opportunity to protest. He beckoned her to follow him. There, in the centre of the big hallway, was the coffin, rested on four stools. It was uncovered. A feast was laid out on the altar: dishes of chicken, roast pork, boiled rice and oranges accompanied by rice wine in little porcelain cups covered the altar table. Incense and smoke from joss sticks filled the room.
It was surreal. But all Shao Peng could think of was her father lying within the coffin. She dropped Li Ling’ hand and rushed to the coffin. She fell on her knees. Immediately, she felt guilty. She asked herself if this was against her new religious instruction. Yet she felt that it was the most natural thing to do. She told herself she was not doing anything un-Christian; she was not praying to her father. She had no inclination to light joss sticks. She did not believe in the importance of food offerings to those in the other world. She felt only the need to kneel and ask for forgiveness. Surely that could not be wrong? All through the journey she had planned to confront her father and make him change his mind about her marrying Jack. She had thought only of herself and her selfish needs. She sobbed. Now there was no opportunity to seek forgiveness and reconciliation with a father whom she had loved with all her heart, yet with whom she had so many differences. She sobbed until her eyes burned. How could it happen? Why?
She felt a hand on her shoulder and then someone was drawing her up. She turned to see her stepmother.
“Wear this,” Rohani said, handing her a black robe and a shroud made of sackcloth. “Your brother will be out soon. He is conferring with one of the managers.”
Rohani watched on while Shao Peng struggled into her sackcloth. “For now,” she added, “it is best that you light up joss sticks in offering to your father.”
Shao Peng shook her head to protest.
“People are waiting and watching. I know you hold a different faith. So do I. Do it even if it is just to appease them and keep the peace. It will help stop their tongues from wagging.”
Against her own inclination, Shao Peng took the joss sticks. She agreed with her stepmother. She could feel people’s eyes on her. Clasping the joss sticks firmly with both hands, she knelt and raised them up high and then bowed three times, lowering her forehead to the floor. She could almost feel the imperceptible sigh from spectators in the background as if they were waiting for this moment to commend or to condemn her, the errant daughter. Then she placed the joss sticks into the urn on the altar. Tears continued to fall unchecked down her face.
“Come,” said Rohani, “let’s go to your room where we can talk. You are not allowed to look at your father’s face. They have covered it with a piece of yellow silk. So there is little point in staying here with the crowd. Your brother will take care of the town people coming to pay their respect to your father. They have been flooding into the house every day. Meanwhile I’ll ask one of the servants to take the girl up to your room. You’ll have to tell me about her later. I don’t even know her name or why she is here.”
***
“Your father just keeled over,” said Rohani in a matter of fact voice. “There were no warning signs. He seemed perfectly fine. We just had lunch and Siew Loong was coaxing him to eat some mandarin oranges, when he placed a hand over his heart, turned a deathly pale and then fell. His head landed on the bowl on the table and sent it crashing onto the ground. Then it was mayhem.”
The shadows under Rohani’s eyes told of sleepless nights but other than that there was little emotion on her face. Shao Peng wondered why. She had expected her stepmother to be desolate. Perhaps she had already wept for seven days and there were no tears left.
“Was he still cross with me?” asked Shao Peng looking more closely at Rohani.
“What with? Your wish to become a Catholic nun and do good deeds or your refusal to marry the man he chose for you?”
“Both. I need to know for I cannot bear that I had in any way contributed to his death. I am so, so sorry for the hurt I caused him.”
‘Dear girl, let it go. Yes he was angry. It was more with himself, at least when he had time to think it over. He said that your crazy ideas took root when he left you under the care of an Englishman when you were young. He felt it was a natural progression for you to fall in love with an Englishman. He also blamed himself for your conversion to Christianity. He said he was the one that put you in contact with the nuns. After all, it was he who supported the nuns in their quest to start their school. If he had not done that, you would not have met them.”
Shao Peng hid her face in her hands. She gave vent to her sorrow and allowed her grief to brim over.
Rohani looked away. She gazed out of the window. Outside the sky was bleached white with rolling clouds skittering across the blue. “Your father said harsh things to you on the spur of the moment. When you were absent, he spoke of you every day. It is a testament to his love for you. Unlike his love for me. He left me little that shows it.”
Shao Peng raised her head. Her stepmother’s voice and words shook her out of her own misery. She sounded bitter. Shao Peng sensed that something was wrong. Taking her stepmother’s hands in hers, she asked, “Are you cross with father? What had he done?”
“I’ll tell you another day. Tell me about your aunt. And who is the girl that you came home with?” she asked.
***
That night Shao Peng kept to her room. Numb with grief and stricken with guilt, she blamed herself over and over again. She went through in her mind every minute detail of her quarrel with her father.
Her head throbbed. Outside, the chanting of Buddhist scriptures went on the whole evening, accompanied by loud clashing of gongs and bells to help the deceased cross over the river of death to the other world. Near the marquee where an all night vigil was led, prayer money was burned to ensure that the deceased would be amply provided for in the after life. The smell of joss sticks seeped into the room. Curls of grey smoke permeated the air.
Li Ling huddled closer to Shao Peng.
“Sleep! I am with you so don’t be frightened,” said Shao Peng.
“Is it true what they say? That your father’s spirit will be back tonight?”
“No,” replied Shao Peng tucking the thin cotton bedcover over her charge.
“Do you not believe what they say?” The girl crept closer, turning on her side to face Shao Peng and drawing her knees up to her chest in a tight ball. She had heard her mother say the same when the farmer in the next field lost his mother.
Shao Peng brushed the hair out of Li Ling’s eyes. “Not really.” she said softly. “I went through the rites because I was expected to. If I did not, the people gathered today would think that I am disrespectful, and worse, that I did not love my father. It has nothing to do with my belief.”
Sliding down the bed, Shao Peng took a pillow, plumped it up and tucked it under her head. “I don’t think my Church would really object,” she said more to herself than to her charge. She was filled with guilt because she had given in to the lighting of joss sticks. “I am neither a Buddhist nor a Taoist. I am not even sure if my father was one or the other. He was very relaxed as far as religion was concerned. My stepmother, for example, keeps another faith and she holds it close to her heart. My father never objected. He wouldn’t have minded if I had not lit joss sticks for him. I did it because of the other people.”
She rolled over and took Li Ling’s hand. “Do you understand what I am saying? It is important for the family and community, and in a way for myself, that I show esteem for my father. I loved my father. I regret, with all my heart, the harsh words I said to him. I have not been a dutiful daughter and, in our custom, that is a major sin. I did what I did to say I was sorry.”
Outside the loud chanting had diminished to a monotonous murmur. Li Ling had fallen asleep. Shao Peng pulled the sheets to her chin and closed her eyes. She was now once more Shao Peng. In this house, no one would call her by any other name. Mary did not exist as far as her family was concerned. Her mind drifted over the events of the past month. The journey had opened her eyes. She was no longer sure of her feelings, even of her desire to be a nun. Was it a form of escape? She recalled the words of the people she met in Guangdong, their antagonism to all things foreign and to Christianity. The villagers had protested when she visited them with Dr Elizabeth. They had called the Mission a seat of hypocrisy. “First,” they hissed, “they ensnared us with opium then they called us immoral degenerates to be converted and saved.” She recalled the scene at the dockyard. The dockworker had pointed blatantly at the cargo—crates filled with bibles unloaded alongside crates of the opiate. Her mind reeled; nothing was clear anymore. She had set out to China with such clarity of mind and returned with such confusion.
She turned on her side and tucked both hands under her cheek. It was wet. Was Jack still in Malaya? She wondered. Did he know of her father’s death? Was he waiting for her as he had promised when she last saw him? With a sigh filled with self-loathing, she turned over pulling the sheets with her. How could she be thinking of Jack when she was mourning her father? What kind of daughter was she?
Next to her Li Ling slept on; her breath interspersed with little cries of distress.
Poor girl, thought Shao Peng. She was torn between worries for herself, regret and sorrow over her father’s death and compassion for her charge.
Chapter 7
THE SUN STREAMED through the open shutters and a light breeze lifted the curtains. It brought into the breakfast room a lingering scent of joss sticks from last night’s vigil. There was no escape from it. Shao Peng and Li Ling took their seat at the table, next to Rohani.
“Good morning,” they said.
Rohani nodded in response and gave them a grim tiny quirk of a smile. It did not reach her eyes. Her hands lay listless on her lap. The room fell silent, a heavy silence that hung like a hot damp curtain that smothered the air. No one, it appeared, wished to talk. It was strange, Shao Peng thought, that they were seated down to breakfast; that the mundane act of living continued in the midst of death. She turned to take a closer look at her stepmother. She saw her swollen eyes and her pallor. She understood them; they were marks of grief. She wondered, however, why her stepmother should look so bitter? The corners of her mouth were turned down. What could have caused it? Her stepmother’s reticence and comments last night about her father troubled her.
If Rohani sensed being observed she did not show it. She made no attempt to look up or respond to Shao Peng’s overtures.
The silence dragged on while they sat waiting for Siew Loong. The servants loitered by the sideboard moving bowls of congee around, as though moving them would stop it from congealing. Breakfast would not be served until he arrived. He was the new master of the house and despite being years younger than Shao Peng, she knew that she had to give him the respect that their father had previously commanded. She remembered her father saying to her when she first set eyes on her brother. “He will be called Siew Loong, little dragon,” her father had explained, “and when I die, he will assume the role of tai loong, the big dragon.” So now even Rohani, his mother, had to give him precedence.
Shao Peng fiddled with her hands for want of something to do. It was awkward to sit in silence. There were so many questions she wanted to ask. Deep in thought she did not notice Siew Loong’s arrival until she heard the sharp sound of a chair drawn back. She reached over and took hold of her charge’s hand under the table. She wanted to reassure Li Ling as much as to be comforted herself. When she last saw her brother harsh words had been exchanged. He had chastised her. He had accused her of foolhardiness. He scolded her for what he thought was her disregard for their father, for wanting to go to China against her father’s wishes, for not obeying. She had bridled with indignation, for wasn’t she the elder and by many years? She looked up and saw her brother’s unwavering gaze. She immediately expected the worst. Would he rage at her again? Could she stop herself from answering back? Of course, he had been right. She should not have gone against her father’s wishes. Now she couldn’t even say sorry to her father. Yet, was she wrong in going to China? For not going would mean that she would not have seen her beloved aunt. She could not stand the suspense of waiting to see Siew Loong’s reaction. She stood up; her chair toppled over and hit the floor with a resounding bang. She was horrified that it would be misinterpreted. She looked up from the fallen chair to her brother. With a rush of relief and joy she saw that he was already coming towards her and he did not seem angry. He reached her. They stood looking at each other and then he placed both hands on her shoulder. “Welcome home,” he whispered.
“Am I forgiven?” she asked.
“There is nothing to forgive.” He seemed reluctant to say more. Instead he turned his attention to Li Ling. The girl’s anxious face was turned up towards them, looking from one to the other. He was struck by her soft brown eyes with their fringe of dark lashes. “And who is this?” he asked.
“My charge. Her parents begged me to take her with me. Their warlord had wanted her to be his concubine.”
“Ahhh! My sister! Always the champion of the needy! You get it from father.”
He placed a hand on Shao Peng’s elbow and led her away from the table. He had more urgent worries on his mind than his sister’s concern. He lowered his voice and, casting an anxious eye in the direction of his mother, said, “Father has set aside money in his will for the upkeep of four women. Apparently, he has built a house for them. He left no explanation as to why, probably because he did not expect to die so suddenly. Of co
urse, his actions have sparked off all sorts of rumours and gossip. I give very little credit to them. Mother, however, is devastated.”
“Bodoh! Stupid!” interjected Rohani. She suddenly came alive. She rose to her feet and jabbed her finger at her son. “I am not deaf. Neither am I as easily taken in as you.” She was livid. Her eyes were like fire. “There can be only one reason why he provided for them. They are his mistresses. To think that I trusted him.” Her voice broke and she sobbed. “To think of the years of hardship I went through with him only to find at his death that he had other women! That he had betrayed me! I blame myself for my naivety.” She fell back in her chair, exhausted by her emotions and anger.
“No mother, it might not be true. They might not be his mistresses. There will always be people who would think the worst. You should not give credence to such idle and vicious gossip. Father was a good man. You should not wipe out your good memories by believing in such nonsense. I hear that some of the young women are poor orphans whom he had rescued from a life of prostitution. Perhaps, he felt you would not believe him. Hence he made no mention of them to you. It would seem he is justified in his belief.”
“Of course, you will defend your father.” Rohani’s face was red with anger and exasperation. “His will provides for these women. What about me? He made no separate provisions for me, his wife!”
“You are his wife, my mother. He thinks you will be automatically entitled and cared for by me,” said Siew Loong.
“Brother is right. You will be taken care of. You are still the mistress in this house.”
Shao Peng took her stepmother’s hands in hers. She stroked them gently to stop their trembling. She had never seen her like this. The sharp words were totally out of character. “Remember how father gave a building to the nuns to help them. He did not share their religious belief. He still did it. So in the same way, he could well be looking after the women while not having any untoward interest in them. Why don’t we go and see for ourselves?”
A Flash of Water Page 5
