I blinked at her.
‘Daisy!’ I said. ‘Are you worried about going to Hong Kong?’
‘Of course not!’ said Daisy, her blush spreading. ‘I only want to make sure I’m fully prepared. Now, Hazel, tell me all about your family. You have two little sisters called—’
‘Rose and May,’ I said. ‘They’re … eight and five now, I suppose.’
‘And then there’s your father, who of course I know. And your father’s, er, two wives.’
I could feel myself blushing too, at that. My father does have two wives: my mother, June, and his second wife, whom we call Jie Jie. Jie Jie is not her real name – it’s a pet name that means something like sister – but, after so many years of calling her that, I cannot think of her as anything else. I had only mentioned Jie Jie in passing to my English friends, and I had always thought that not even Daisy had truly taken it in. It’s almost impossible to explain to someone from England, where a husband is supposed to have just one wife (and if he has more it’s bigamy, which is a crime), that my father’s two wives know each other and actually live in the same house.
‘You don’t mind, do you?’ I asked anxiously.
‘Hazel, it doesn’t bother me in the slightest,’ said Daisy. But – as I looked at her – I thought I saw a little nervous twitch at her jaw. And I felt, as never before, the gulf between her idea of family and my own. I had thought that Daisy would take to Hong Kong as she has always taken to other new places we have visited – but I had forgotten that all those places were in Europe. We were beyond the edges of Daisy’s world now, into my own, and Daisy had realized it, even if I had not.
Over the next few days I began to think more and more of my family. When I am in England, I try not to, because it hurts too much, but now I let myself do it. I thought of my father, looking down at me through his glasses and handing me a book. I thought of Jie Jie, catching me up in a hug and kissing my cheek. I thought of Su Li, my own mui tsai (this is a sort of young maid in Hong Kong), giving me cakes when I passed a test at school and tickling me until I cried with laughter. I thought of my sweet, funny little sisters, Rose and May. And I thought of my mother.
This last gave me a worried feeling. I hadn’t seen my mother in more than two years, and, unlike my father, I had heard almost nothing from her. I only had the parcels with letters she made the chauffeur Wo On write, full of cakes from Ng the cook and terse little notes. Before I went away, I was always rather nervous of my mother. Although I know she’s fond of me, she is so strict, and so beautiful, that she makes me feel small and dull. We have never had much in common. She didn’t approve of my going away to school in England, and she let everyone know it. My mother bears grudges, and likes to punish people she is angry with. I was quite sure that she was still cross with me. That was why I had asked my father about her.
What if my mother did not want me to come home?
4
The SS Strathclyde finally pulled in to Hong Kong, Kowloon docks, on the 15th of February, thirty days after we had left England. My heart skipped to see the wide curve of Victoria Harbour, the Peak rising up green behind it under a blue sky. It was spring here, still cool by Hong Kong standards, but warmer and brighter than any English spring would ever be.
As the ship drew closer to the dock, I could smell the city floating out to meet us.
‘Oh!’ said Daisy, wrinkling her nose. ‘Is that normal?’
I breathed in the green heat and the dirt and the cooked-bun smell that is Hong Kong to me. ‘Yes,’ I said, and I could feel myself smiling. ‘It smells like home.’
‘Not my home!’ said Daisy, sniffing bravely and trying not to use her handkerchief. ‘But – well, I suppose this is an adventure. I must just get used to it!’
‘Do you mind being here?’ I asked suddenly. I realized that I wanted Daisy to love Hong Kong – wanted it absolutely desperately.
‘Hazel Wong, don’t be a chump,’ said Daisy. ‘There is nowhere else in the world I would rather be. This place will be utterly different to England, but that makes it utterly fascinating. I would be no sort of detective at all if I turned round and went home just because I didn’t like a smell! This is going to be marvellous, Hazel. All we need now is—’
‘Don’t say it!’ I said quickly. ‘Not here. We’re in Hong Kong for my grandfather, Daisy, that’s all.’
‘Spoilsport,’ said Daisy, and she stuck her tongue out at me. I tried to keep my face serious.
There was bustle all around as the ship began to dock, ropes flung between us and the land, porters bringing our luggage and piling it up around us. I remembered the last time I had been on this boat, when we docked in England two years ago. I was bigger now, inside and out – but suddenly all that time telescoped away. It didn’t matter where I had been, or what I had done. I was home.
The gangplank rattled down, and all the passengers cheered. There was a chaos of shouting and shoving on the shore, men in ragged vests hoisting their green and red rickshaws, waiting cars honking, coolies with heavy loads swinging on their poles and uniformed porters with sedan chairs. I pointed it all out to Daisy joyfully. I knew this place, and I knew its people.
The first-class passengers began to disembark, their luggage carried ahead of them. Europeans in linen suits and pith helmets, Chinese in cheongsams and long jackets, Indians in robes and saris. I had changed out of my black Western mourning dress into a white one (in Hong Kong, you see, white is the colour of death). There was a wide white hat on my head and my hair was in a plait down my back. Daisy was all in white as well, her gold hair glinting under her hat and her cheeks pink.
Down the gangplank we went when it was our turn. I looked about for Su Li, and the car that would take us to Hong Kong Island, and my heart beat even faster as I wondered if my father would be part of the greeting party. For a moment I forgot to be sad about Grandfather. I was only excited to be back.
But what if we were being met by my mother instead? That thought made my heart beat faster for a different reason. Was I ready to face her displeasure?
Then I recognized the long black Daimler that I used, with Wo On, the chauffeur, beside it. He was waving at me, and I realized that Mother had not come, and neither had Father. The only person standing next to Wo On, bowing deeply and wearing the Hong Kong servants’ uniform of black trousers and long white jacket buttoned up the side, was a maid. But it wasn’t Su Li. It was one of the younger mui tsai, little round-faced Ping, who blushed as easily as I did and was only a few years older than me. She was taller than I remembered, but she looked just as shy and awkward as ever. I couldn’t think why she was there. Where was Su Li? If any mui tsai was going to be here to greet me, it should be her. I was confused. My good mood faltered.
‘There,’ I said to Daisy. ‘That’s our car. We have to get in it to go on the ferry.’
‘Oh!’ said Daisy. ‘Where are your parents? Is that girl wearing trousers? Is she … a maid? Is she your Hetty?’
‘Father must be busy. He’ll be at home,’ I said doubtfully. ‘And everyone wears trousers here! Yes, she is a maid, but … not like Hetty. Remember I told you about Su Li? She must be waiting for us at home too.’
‘I knew that about the trousers!’ said Daisy, reaching up to fiddle with the brim of her hat, looking for all the world like a cat afraid of getting its paws wet. ‘I read it in one of those books.’
Daisy nervous enough to lie was obviously a sight I never thought I would see – and yet here it was.
We walked towards Ping and Wo On, arm in arm, and I could feel Daisy’s fingers digging into me.
‘It’s all right!’ I said encouragingly. ‘Come on, Daisy, it will be all right!’
‘It’s just so fearfully new, that’s all,’ muttered Daisy. ‘And the day is so hot!’
‘Are you nervous?’ I whispered. ‘Daisy Wells!’
‘I am not nervous!’ hissed Daisy. ‘I am merely adjusting to my surroundings. Give me a moment, please.’
I
had imagined my homecoming plenty of times – but somehow this reality was nothing like any of them.
5
‘Miss Hazel!’ said Ping, as soon as we were near enough. She spoke quickly, in Cantonese, and I could see her trembling with the effort to say the right thing. ‘I am sorry for your loss.’
‘Thank you,’ I said automatically. ‘But where is Su Li?’
Ping ducked her head, as though she was embarrassed. What was wrong? I wondered. Could Su Li have … left our family?
‘There has been – that is, things have changed. Su Li has another position in the household now. I am sorry to tell you this, Miss Hazel. Your esteemed father has given me to you and Miss Wells while you are here, and Su Li – you will see. Your father apologizes that he could not be here. He is awaiting you at the house with the rest of the family.’
She bobbed her head again, her face flushed. I felt as though I was still on the ship, feeling the ground move beneath my feet. I was bewildered and rather annoyed. What was I not being told?
‘Come into the car, miss,’ said Ping, trying to be soothing. ‘It will be all right.’
‘Hazel!’ whispered Daisy behind me. ‘Hazel! Are you speaking Chinese? What did you say?’
I realized with rather a shock that Daisy had never heard me speak anything but English and a bit of French. ‘Just – hello, really,’ I said, blushing. ‘Nothing very interesting.’
‘That was much more than hello!’ said Daisy, eyes wide. ‘Hazel, I never knew you were so clever!’
I smiled at her, and for a brief moment my mood lifted. Daisy does not give out compliments lightly.
But then I climbed into the car and breathed in its smell of leather and the oranges that I used to eat on its back seat. I got a wave of sorrow in the back of my throat. Oranges were Ah Yeh. I could no longer ignore why I was here. I looked up at Wo On and saw him staring back at me sympathetically through the rear-view mirror.
‘I’m sorry for your loss, Miss Hazel,’ he said, his broad, sunburned face wrinkled up with compassion. ‘It’s hard, I know.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, and hoped as I wiped my face with my handkerchief that Daisy would simply think I was hot.
The car started up with a roar. Ping was in front with Wo On, and Daisy was in the seat next to me, her skirt tucked around her, peering out at the bustle and brightness of the docks. I reached out and squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back.
We had to drive onto the ferry with seven other sleek black chauffeured cars, and chug across the water of Victoria Harbour to Queen’s Pier. I stared out of the car window as we went, breathing through my nose and trying not to be ill.
Junks and sampans bobbed around us in the churning water, their red sails like wings, and behind them, as we came closer, I could see tiers and tiers of white and brown buildings. I blinked. There were new buildings I did not recognize, and behind Queen’s Pier was one that was huge, with dark stripes of windows down its front and two side wings like lion’s paws.
‘What’s that?’ I asked.
‘The new Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank,’ said Wo, turning back to look at us. ‘Very impressive.’
It looked to me as though it ate up the skyline. And it was not the only one. All the places I knew, including the Post Office and the five-storey headquarters of Wong Banking, seemed smaller next to these. I had grown while I was away – and so had Hong Kong.
We drove out in the shadow of the Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank, into the wild bustle of Hong Kong Central, and I leaned forward in the car as it jolted through the streets. I was grieving, but all the same Hong Kong was all around me, and that was thrilling. Chinese New Year decorations were still up everywhere, and the city looked wonderfully festive. I pointed out all the sights I knew to Daisy, and Wo joined in when I was at a loss. He also shouted at the other cars in the road, and the people in the street, in a way that I could see shocked Daisy. When he swerved to avoid a tram, Daisy gasped, and her face looked rather strained as we swerved to the right to dodge a bundle of bamboo poles that were being unloaded from a cart. I laughed out loud. I had almost forgotten Hong Kong traffic – now I remembered why I always found British driving so dull.
All around us were tall buildings, half of them unfinished, with workmen balancing on narrow scaffolding as they worked, dust flying. We drove past jewellery stores and teahouses, and pavements filled with people in jackets and robes and cheongsams, all in a Hong Kong hurry. It was hot in the back of the car too. I puffed air out of my bottom lip to cool my face. Everything was so familiar and yet so strange. I stared and stared, trying to learn this new Hong Kong all over again.
There was the sort of Chinese medicine store my mother loves, done up in red and gold, with great glass bottles of dried and powdered things – leathery skins and brittle shells and bones. I could smell the ginseng, even through the car window, and also the hot, full stink of rubbish in the gutter, being nosed at by two brindled pi-dogs. A group of coolies squatted on the street, eating rice out of a pot, and a rickshaw rushed by, dodging round the dogs.
We were moving away from the busy middle of the city, and now we turned right on Garden Road and climbed upwards. We were driving up the side of the Peak now, with heavy green trees above us and vines draping from them. White-and-black tiger-striped butterflies darted out of the way of the car’s nose, and I could smell azaleas and see their salmon-pink blooms like splashes of paint. The car tilted upwards again, and we turned right onto our road, Robinson. We passed one wide gateway, and then another, and I saw Daisy gaping at the houses we drove past.
And then we were turning into our compound, and Thomas Baboo, one of our family guards, was waving to us in his red-and-gold uniform, his silk turban glowing white in the sun and his moustache gleaming. Up our long white drive the car climbed, bright ornamental gardens unfolding around us in tiers. We stopped at last in front of our house’s white facade, the three layers shining in the sun. It has wide windows and beautiful pillars, and an open veranda with heavy granite steps up to it. Each one is so high that I could barely climb them when I was little. I remembered Su Li having to lift me up each one, laughing down at me as my face turned red with effort.
The big front doors were folded back against the side of the house, as they always are in the day, and I could see a little way into the cool dark hall, with its columns and sofas and great curving pots that the gardeners fill with fresh flowers every morning.
Daisy sat half in and half out of the car, her mouth open in a most unladylike manner.
‘Hazel,’ she said at last in a very small voice. ‘I see that I have been underestimating your wealth.’
There is a side to me that I can never really show at Deepdean, or anywhere in England. You see, my father is not fadingly rich like Daisy’s, or middling rich like Kitty’s and Lavinia’s, or even new-money, pin-factory rich like Beanie’s.
My father is so rich that we do not have just one car, but a car for each member of the family. My father is yacht rich, eight-maids rich, mansion rich. He is even rich by Hong Kong standards, a city that is all about business. But, if I ever explained that to my English friends, I would seem boastful, and more different than ever. I never wanted to do that.
‘I – I – it looks worse than it is,’ I said.
‘Worse?’ said Daisy, and now she was gazing at me with her most appraising stare. ‘Why, Hazel – it doesn’t look bad at all. But you might have told me at some point during our years of friendship that you are some sort of … princess.’
‘I’m not a princess!’ I hissed at her, because Wo On was coming round the side of the car to usher us out of it. ‘I’m just— I’ll explain later. It’s different in Hong Kong.’
‘I see that,’ said Daisy, and now her thoughtful look was turned inwards. I wanted to ask her what she was thinking, but at that moment someone came out of the interior of our house and stood on the veranda steps.
It was my father, with a most solemn expression on his face, and
at that moment I remembered again that we were here to mourn.
6
Wo On had dropped to his knees on the ground, his head bowed. Ping too bowed low.
‘Hazel,’ hissed Daisy in my ear. ‘You are royalty! Your father is a king! You ought to have told me!’
‘No!’ I said. ‘It’s— The bowing is for Grandfather. It’s part of his mourning. We have to pay our respects to him. Er, so now we have to crawl up the steps to the door. On our knees. I’m sorry.’
Daisy blinked. ‘Crawl?’ she asked. ‘Really? How spiffing!’
‘It isn’t! It’s serious. You can’t look cheerful,’ I said quickly. I knew Daisy, and I knew that this would seem like the most splendid fun to her. I wanted her to understand that, for once, this was not a game.
So Daisy and I dropped to our hands and knees and crawled up to my father’s front door. The granite tiles scratched my hands, and I began to sweat at my temples and at the backs of my knees. It ought to have felt silly. The English schoolgirl part of me was telling me it was silly. Except that, somehow, it was not. Crawling was appropriate, just as hard and horrible as it felt to remember that Grandfather was gone, and he was not coming back.
I climbed the stone front steps, my palms aching, and paused at the top.
‘My Hazel,’ said my father’s voice.
I saw his feet in the slippers that he uses at home. My father always wears Western dress, even in Hong Kong, but when we don’t have guests he likes to put on Chinese slippers. My grandfather would never wear Western dress at all – and the thought of that made me gulp with tears again. I stood up quickly and bowed to my father, and then he put his arms around me and kissed the top of my head.
A Spoonful of Murder Page 2
