by Sarah Webb
“Mum, they’re waiting for us,” I tell her as she stuffs raincoats into our suitcase, along with more swimming costumes.
“I thought it was supposed to be hot,” I add. “And I’ve already packed my togs. I don’t need another pair.”
Dad beeps the horn again.
“OK, OK,” Mum mutters. “I’m coming.” She shuts the final suitcase and I wheel it outside while she locks up the house.
Dad gets out of the jeep to load up the boot. “Do you have the passports?” he asks her.
Mum looks anxious for a moment, then rummages in her handbag, pulls out her pink leather travel wallet and opens it. “All here. Plus the tickets and the visas.” She tucks everything safely back into her bag.
“And I have plenty of Hong Kong dollars, Chinese yuan and my credit cards.” Dad gives her a hug. “Stop worrying, Nadia. If we’ve forgotten anything, we can buy it over there.”
It takes nearly two hours to get to Cork airport and then it’s another two hours before we arrive at Heathrow in London, where we will catch the plane to Hong Kong.
The boarding area at Heathrow is brightly lit, with a lot of glass and steel. And it’s so busy! There are people everywhere, bustling along with wheelie suitcases, dozing on the seats, or hunched over playing games on their iPads, or reading.
I spot a Chinese family with a daughter who looks just like Min, although she’s a bit younger, I think – six or seven. I catch the girl glancing at me and Min and then at Mum and Dad. In Ireland, it is me and Min that people stare at because we’re the ones who look different, so it’s funny for Mum and Dad to be examined so closely. To this Chinese girl we must look like a strange family unit, with our two pale-skinned Irish parents. I wonder if she has worked out that we’re adopted.
No one else in my family has noticed the girl. They’re not as observant as me. Being quiet and slipping into the background has its advantages.
Min’s moaning breaks into my thoughts. We haven’t even got on the plane for Hong Kong yet and she’s already complaining loudly. Unlike me, she’s not afraid of making a scene. She’s lying with her head on Mum’s lap and sighing every few seconds.
“This is really boring,” she moans. “When will they let us on the plane?”
Mum strokes her head. “Soon, pet,” she says. “You’re just tired. It’s way past your bedtime. Hopefully you’ll sleep during the flight.”
Min sits up. “Are you crazy? I’m much too excited to sleep. I can’t wait to see all the skyscrapers and the lights. What’s the first thing we’re going to do when we get to Hong Kong?”
“Rest after all the travelling,” Mum says.
Min fakes a yawn. “Boring. No, I mean, the first fun thing?”
“As soon as we’ve checked into the hotel, we’re going to take you to our favourite noodle bar in Hong Kong,” Dad says. “Lucky’s. Then we’ll visit the city on the mainland, Kowloon, and The Peak on Hong Kong Island. The Peak is where we used to live. It’s really pretty around there. The hotel we’re staying in is near the harbour, but it’s not far from our old apartment. Then we’ll do lots more sightseeing and finally, on our last day, we might visit Shenzhen and the orphanage – but that’s Sunny’s choice.”
“What about me?” Min asks. “How come she gets a choice about what we’re doing and I don’t? It’s not fair.”
“This is Sunny’s birthday trip, Min,” Mum says. “You’ll get your own trip another time.”
“It better be a good one,” Min says.
Mum frowns at her. “Min Sullivan, stop being such a madam. Why don’t you play your DS until we board?”
While Min is busy with her new Pokémon game, I pull my sketchbook out of my rucksack, open to a fresh page and start drawing Puggy. Since meeting Rosie, I’ve been sketching him quite a lot and I’ve got much better at capturing his funny sticky-out left ear and his paws. I use the side of my pencil lead to shade in his soft velvety fur. I begin to add a cherry tree beside him, but then I stop and rub it out. No! I don’t want to remember anything about the orphanage. Instead, I draw our old home, remembering the musty smell in the lift of the tower block and its flickering light. And the cats. Lots of silky grey cats. They didn’t live in our block, though. I can’t recall exactly where I saw them or who owned them, but I have a feeling that they weren’t strays.
And then I sketch our funny old neighbour Mama Wei, with her wrinkly brown face like a walnut. When Mama died, Mama Wei looked after Min during the day and collected me from school when Papa was working in the factory. She was strict but kind and she cooked great noodles. She used to let Puggy stay with us in the afternoons. She understood that having Puggy around to hug and curl up with helped me to deal with how much I missed Mama (Min was too small to remember Mama). Puggy loved snuggling.
“Are you sure we’re supposed to be in this bit?” Min whispers, after the air steward has shown us to our seats in business class. “We’re not posh business people. We’re just kids.”
“Anyone who can pay for the seats is welcome in business class,” Dad says. “Trust me.”
“It’s a lovely treat, isn’t it, girls?” Mum says. “I for one am looking forward to lying down. I know we only left the island this afternoon, but it feels like we’ve been travelling for days.” She yawns, making me yawn too.
The seats are really cool, much bigger than normal ones on aeroplanes. They fold down into mini-beds too, and they have their own built-in movie screens. The air steward brings us chicken and noodles to eat with a choice of real metal cutlery or chopsticks. We all choose chopsticks. Then Mum makes us put on our pyjamas and do our teeth in the tiny loo.
Min falls asleep almost as soon as she lies down. So much for being too excited to rest! Dad’s been snoring away since the minute they dimmed the lights – he never has any problem sleeping – and Mum has just dozed off too. So it’s only me still awake. I’m lying here with my eyes closed, trying to get to sleep, but my mind won’t let me. Behind me, the Chinese girl from the boarding area is being settled down.
“Close your eyes now, little one,” her mum is telling her in Cantonese.
“Can I have a song, Mama?” the girl asks.
Her mum starts to sing very softly, a song about a little bird:
“Once I saw a little bird come hop, hop hop.
And I cried, ‘Little bird, please stop, stop, stop…’”
I know that song! Mama used to sing it to me and Min every night. I close my eyes and try to imagine that it’s Mama singing to me.
Mama.
I have a photo of her tucked into the back of my sketchbook. In it she is about ten years old. She’s wearing a traditional red-and-blue silk tunic dress over matching trousers. She is small like Min, with paintbrush plaits and bright eyes. I also have a photo of Puggy – his coat all shiny and black. And a photo of Mama and Papa’s wedding day. Papa’s in a smart black suit and Mama’s wearing a red silk dress with a gold dragon twisting down the front. Her hair’s tied up in a bun and there’s a red flower tucked behind her ear. She looks beautiful.
The final photograph that I have is of my whole Chinese family: Mama, Papa, me and Min. It was taken just after Min was born and she is all wrapped up like a caterpillar in a white blanket. Mama is holding her tight against her chest. Papa is next to Mama, his bald head shining in the light, just like his eyes. I am standing in front of them both, looking a bit serious, and Papa has his hand on my shoulder.
Mum and Dad don’t know I have these photos and I’ve never shown them to Min. They’re the only thing I still have from my old life and I want to keep them a secret, just for me – my own special link to China. Usually they live in a shoebox at the bottom of my wardrobe with my other special things, but I put them in the back of my sketchbook before we left the house this afternoon because I wanted to bring them with me.
I check that Mum is fast asleep and then I slide out the wedding photo and study it. Mama smiles at me with dark laughing eyes. Papa’s smiling too. He’s
holding Mama’s hand, his chin tilted up proudly. I hold the photo in my hand, drinking them in, before slipping it away again.
Finally I drift off to sleep, Mama’s bird nursery rhyme running through my head and my sketchbook still firmly clutched in my hands.
Chapter 12
China! We’re finally in China. I feel a rush of excitement as I wait to step off the plane. Mum is standing beside me. Dad and Min are in front of us. Min asked the air steward if she could be the first person off the plane, because she’d been born in China and this was the first time she’d been back. I was mortified and Mum seemed a bit embarrassed too, but Dad thought it was hilarious. The air steward said he’d make sure of it. He asked me if I wanted to join Min, but I shook my head and stared down at the floor.
“She never talks,” Min said. “It’s really boring.”
Mum told the man that we’d follow on behind. When he’d gone, she gave out to Min for being mean to me, but my darling little sister went all huffy. “I was just telling the truth,” she said.
She was, but it still hurt.
There’s a crowd of people behind us now, all anxiously waiting for the doors of the plane to open so they can disembark. I can feel their impatience bubbling and snapping at our heels. It’s making me nervous.
Mum leans towards me. “Special day for you, pet. For all of us. First Sullivan family visit to China – the country that gave us our two beautiful daughters.”
I nod.
She presses her lips together, the way she always does when she’s trying not to cry. The last time she was in China was when she collected me and Min from the orphanage. I guess being back here reminds her of all that. I take her hand and squeeze it to say, I know, Mum.
“Thanks, Sunny,” she says. “You’re my best girl – you know that, don’t you? I love you so much.” Tears spring to her eyes.
I give her a Mum, come on! look and she smiles again and wipes her tears away with her fingertips.
“Sorry. Just your old mum getting emotional. Ignore me, sweetheart.”
The plane’s door is wide open now and the air steward waves Min goodbye and wishes her a good trip.
“Ready, Sunny?” Mum asks me.
I nod. My heart is racing, so I take a few deep breaths. As I walk out onto the plane’s steps, a wave of hot air hits me. It smells different to Irish air – metallic, sharp and strangely familiar. I squeeze Mum’s hand again.
“Warm, isn’t it?” she says. “Not like rainy old Cork, eh?”
Then we make our way down the steps and onto Chinese soil.
We walk up towards the airport building. Min and Dad are about ten strides ahead, Min dragging Dad along by the arm. She’s so impatient. I wish she’d wait for us. I always thought we’d share this moment together. Then suddenly she turns around and gives me a big smile and I start to feel better.
Once we’re in the main building, I stop and look out of the window. The sky is bright yet hazy, like there’s a thin grey veil over the sun.
“That’s the smog,” Mum says, reading my mind. “Do you remember it?”
I nod. There’s a surge of bodies behind us, pressing us forwards, and Mum says, “Better keep moving, Sunny. Let’s try to catch up with your dad and Min. Now, do I have the passports or does he have them?” She drops my hand and starts searching in her bag.
I continue walking, gazing out at the tower blocks in the near distance, thinking how strangely familiar everything is starting to feel. The hazy sun, the buildings, the smell, even the smog. And the number of people. In my memories of China, there are always hundreds and hundreds of people, all bustling along.
The next thing I know, I’ve lost Mum. She was just beside me, but now she’s disappeared. I climb onto some orange plastic seats near by so I can study the crowd ahead of me. When I still can’t see her, I start to panic. I have to find her!
A Chinese woman about Mum’s age comes up and asks me if I’m all right. I just stare at her, helplessly. Even the thought of speaking to her makes me more scared. After a while, the woman shrugs and moves on.
I’m afraid I’m going to faint, so I step off the seat and sit down on it instead. What if I can’t find Mum or Dad? I don’t even know the name of the hotel we’re staying in. Tears fill my eyes and I wipe them away.
I look up when I hear someone else say, “Are you all right?” in Cantonese. An official-looking man in a white short-sleeved shirt is standing in front of me.
I shake my head.
“Are you lost?” he asks.
I nod.
“What is your name? You cannot stay there,” he says when I don’t answer. “Do you understand? Please follow me.”
I stay glued to my seat, terrified.
“You must come with me to the office,” he says, irritated. “You cannot sit here on your own.” He reaches down to take my arm, but I shift away from him. I’m finding it hard to catch my breath, so I have to gasp in little puffs of air and my chest is starting to sting, like someone’s squeezing it really hard. I know this is just a panic attack, because I’ve had them before, but it still feels horrible and scary.
“Sunny? Oh, thank God.” It’s Mum.
“Do you know this girl?” the man asks, this time in English.
“Yes,” Mum says. “She’s my daughter. Thanks for your help.”
The man is looking at me curiously. “Is she all right? Does she need medical assistance?”
“No, she’ll be fine in a minute,” Mum says. “She’s just having an anxiety attack. We’re good, thank you.”
Mum sits down beside me as the man walks away. My chest is still incredibly tight and I’m gasping for air. “You’re going to be OK, Sunny. You just got a fright. Try to take deep breaths.” I feel Mum’s hand on my back. “Remember your milkshake breathing. Big breath in, and blow it out, nice and slow. Try to follow my voice. In … out. In … out. That’s it, good girl. Keep going. In … out…”
I do as she says, and slowly my breath goes back to normal and the pain in my chest starts to disappear. After a few minutes, I lift my head and look at Mum. I’ve never been so happy to see her in all my life.
“What happened?” she asks. “You were just gone. I’m so sorry I lost you, pet.”
My eyes well up again.
“Oh, Sunny.” Mum starts crying too. “You must have been so scared. Especially when that man came over and you couldn’t talk to him.”
“There you are.” Dad appears through the crowd, with Min riding on his shoulders. “We were wondering where you’d both got to.”
“I lost Sunny for a moment, Smiles,” Mum says. “She was right beside me and the next minute she’d disappeared. It gave me such a shock.”
“Nadia! How could you…?” Dad stops talking when he sees how upset Mum is. Instead he smiles gently at me.
“We’re all together now, that’s the main thing,” he says. “Hong Kong’s a very busy place, girls. From now on we’re not going to let you out of our sight. And if you do get lost, stay exactly where you are and ask someone who looks official for help.”
“Sunny can’t do that, Dad,” Min says.
“Sorry, of course,” Dad says. “We’ll give you a piece of paper with our mobile numbers on it, Sunny, and instructions asking the person who finds you to ring us immediately. We’ll write it in English and Cantonese and Mandarin. Cover all bases.”
I know he means well, but that makes me feel so small. Away from Little Bird and everything I know, I’m as helpless as a baby.
Chapter 13
“I love this hotel,” Min says, bouncing on the super-king-sized mattress of Mum and Dad’s bed while I look out of the window. “What’s it called again?”
Dad frowns at her. “The Four Seasons. And you’re going to break that bed, Min.”
Min stops jumping and flops down belly first on the puffy feather duvet, which gives a gentle sigh underneath her. Mum’s taking a shower in the huge cream marble bathroom before we head out together for our fi
rst dinner in China.
“I want to live in this hotel,” Min says. “For ever and ever. And eat room service and swim in the pools every day.” The hotel has two swimming pools – at two different temperatures.
Dad walks over to stand beside me. “Quite a view, all right. That’s Kowloon over there on the mainland.” He points to the ultra-modern-looking skyscrapers across the water. “We’re on Hong Kong Island now, but we’ll go over to Kowloon tomorrow. Right now, I’m starving. Let’s go and wait for your mum downstairs.” Min’s so full of beans I think he’s worried she’ll wreck the room if he doesn’t get her outside.
* * *
“Small girl with the black hair and the cherry T-shirt,” Dad whispers to Min as we sit in the lobby.
Min studies the girl for a second then says, “Cherry Red. Dedicated to keeping little kids safe from robbers and kidnappers.”
“What’s her super power?” Dad asks.
“Poison. Each of those innocent-looking cherries on her T-shirt is actually a deadly poison-loaded bomb. She can pluck them off and throw them at baddies, killing them instantly.”
“No killing in the superhero game,” Dad reminds her.
“Freezing them instantly then,” Min says. “My turn. Tall man in the suit holding a briefcase. With the glasses.”
“Tricky one.” Dad sucks in his breath. “How about Super Glasses Man? Those are no ordinary glasses. They can see through, um…” Dad’s struggling a bit. “Clothes.”
Min tilts her head. “To look for guns and things? Or to see ladies’ boobies?”
“Min!” Dad looks appalled, but then his expression breaks and he starts to laugh. “No! To look for guns and explosives.”
Min fakes a yawn. “Boring. That’s a rubbish superhero. What do you think, Sunny? Who wins?”
