For those few days, time took on a different dimension as past and present fused. We found ourselves gathered at Johnson, Stokes & Masters for the reading of Father’s will. The last time we were all together was forty years ago in Shanghai. I sat bolt upright in my chair with my black skirt pulled primly over my knees, half expecting some maids to appear bearing a few dishes for dinner. At the head of the table, Niang and the young solicitor conferred gravely in hushed tones.
Lydia sat glumly on my left with her healthy right arm draped affectionately around me. Gregory’s eyes were still swollen and red. There was a film of perspiration beading James’s brow as he nervously clasped and unclasped his hands, while his wife Louise looked elegant in her simple black dress. Edgar’s features were set in their familiar scowl, magnified by grief.
When the young solicitor read out the first page of Father’s will and then announced that there was no money in Father’s estate, a collective gasp was audible. We sucked in our breath and looked up at Niang. She calmly glared back at us one by one. Her expression was a combination of triumph and disdain as in a cold but distinctive voice, she announced that Father’s will was meaningless because he had died penniless.
Although we knew that she had transferred all of Father’s cash to her own private account, we were staggered to learn that she had taken everything else as well: two tons of gold bullion in Switzerland, stocks and shares, condominiums in Monte Carlo and Hong Kong, industrial buildings in Cha Wan, the leased office at Swire House, land in Florida… Father had died penniless and may have been penniless for some time.
Years ago, in 1950, Father had taken Gregory to visit a renowned fortune-teller in Hong Kong, nicknamed Iron Abacus because of the accuracy of his predictions. Foremost in Father’s mind was the all-important question: ‘Is Gregory, my eldest son, going to be a wealthy man?’
Mr Iron Abacus was noncommittal. ‘Wealth is so relative,’ he told Father. ‘To the rickshaw coolie, one hundred Hong Kong dollars is a very large sum. To you it is nothing. Your eldest son will lead a very comfortable life.’
That wasn’t good enough for Father. ‘What I want to know is, will my son be richer than I?’
Mr Iron Abacus did some more calculations, then exclaimed, ‘Yes! Yes, Mr Yen! Your son will be many, many times richer than you. Of that I am absolutely certain.’
Father was very satisfied. As the years passed and Gregory’s career failed to blossom, Father would shake his head and mumble that Mr Iron Abacus enjoyed a false reputation. Tu jiao gui mao, you ming wu shi (Like rabbits’ horns and turtles’ hair, the fortune teller had the renown but not the substance).
As we filed out of the granite lobby of Johnson, Stokes & Masters, I nudged Gregory and muttered, ‘Mr Iron Abacus has scored another bull’s eye!’
And Gregory whispered, ‘I always told the Old Man to give me time.’
That night Niang wished to go to bed early. Lydia telephoned and said that Niang’s chauffeur would drop her off at our hotel. She wished to spend the night with me.
After dinner, Lydia and I returned to my hotel room. We changed into our nightdresses and got into our respective twin beds, side by side.
By the night-lamp on the small table separating our beds I could see her expression, a sort of dogged determination, a fury of concentration. The bitterness of her life came pouring out in a torrent of words.
She began by blaming me for not helping her daughter, Tai-ling. I was miserly and should have given Tai-ling the same amount of money that I had given to Tai-way. ‘Besides,’ she added coldly, ‘you only helped Tai-way because he’s young and handsome.’
‘And what do you mean by that?’ I demanded angrily.
‘Draw your own conclusions!’
I was utterly bewildered by her outrageous accusations, totally unexpected and contrasting so dramatically from her previous outpourings of love and gratitude. Soon we were embroiled in a battle of words. I was plunged into a vortex by this strange, unhappy woman. My every response brought on fresh venomous onslaughts.
‘What’s happening between us? What’s the grievance you have against me?’ I asked pathetically.
‘These days you behave like a queen and treat me like a maid.’ So she went on, relentlessly.
Eventually, I had had enough. It was after three in the morning and I was exhausted.
‘If this is how you truly feel about me, then let’s put a stop to it. I’ve done my best to help you, your son and your daughter. But for reasons best known to yourself, you seem to bear a grudge against me. The solution is simple. ! Yi dao liang duan! (Let’s sever this kinship with one whack of the knife!)’
Lydia abruptly turned her back, pulled the bedclothes around her and started to cry. I watched her heaving shoulders and, as her tears soon turned to snores, I realized that the reason she came tonight was for the sole purpose of making a break with me.
Two days later, I flew home to Los Angeles absolutely drained and full of premonition.
CHAPTER 26
Wu Feng Qi Lang
Create Waves Without Wind
Despite my quarrel with Lydia, Tai-way stayed in constant touch, with us. In March 1989, we received an invitation to Tai-ling’s wedding in St Paul, Minnesota. Bob advised me not to go. ‘Not after all those nasty things Lydia said to you in Hong Kong.’
Then Tai-way phoned from Stuttgart. He pleaded with me to attend. ‘My parents have come all the way from Tianjin for the occasion. Won’t you join us and make it a real family reunion?’
He would be staying in the US for a month after the wedding and was planning to visit us in California. We were delighted. ‘Mother is worried that you might still be angry at her. But I told her you’re not the type to go on sulking. Will you please come to the wedding as a special favour to me? I know it will also mean a lot to Tai-ling and my father. Besides, I’m sure it can all be cleared up when you see Mother face to face.’
We flew to St Paul the night before the wedding. At church the next morning Lydia, Samuel and Tai-way greeted us very warmly. It was as if our quarrel had never happened. I was the only member of our family to have made the trip, Lydia said, and had given her a lot of face. She would never forget this kindness.
It was the first time we had seen Tai-ling since our brief meeting at Beijing airport nine years ago and we barely recognized her. When we presented her with a large cheque as a wedding present, she handed it carelessly to her Caucasian bridegroom, Alan, and told him to ‘put it somewhere’. Her hostile tone was puzzling.
After the ceremony, we drove Lydia and Samuel to the reception in our rented car. The subject of our quarrel in Hong Kong came up. ‘Both of you are our guests for dinner tonight,’ Lydia said. ‘I shall explain it all to you then.’ I asked whether Tai-ling was angry at us. ‘If you really want to know,’ she answered after a long pause, ‘she’s not happy with you because she felt you should have given her the same help as you gave Tai-way.’ I reminded her that Bob’s friend, Professor Leland, had procured a full scholarship for Tai-ling and she wasn’t in want of anything. ‘That’s not the same thing at all,’ Lydia replied with asperity. ‘Tai-ling believes that it is your duty as an aunt to give her the same amount of money as you gave Tai-way. She felt discriminated against.’ At this point we arrived.
Tai-way approached us with a wide smile and glasses of champagne. He enthused over his work as an accompanist at an opera house in Munich. He thanked us both for giving him and his whole family ‘that essential ingredient for happiness… known as hope’. He went on to confirm arrangements for dinner later that evening ‘when Mother will explain everything about Hong Kong’.
‘You know we’d never have come if you hadn’t insisted,’ I told him. ‘Tell me, truly, is your mother really pleased that we made the trip?’
‘Of course she is!’ Tai-way exclaimed. ‘Let me tell you something in confidence. Niang ordered Mother not to invite you to Tai-ling’s wedding but Mother disobeyed her.’
When I heard h
is words, a warning sounded. It wasn’t so long ago that I had been severely rebuked by Niang for helping Tai-way leave China. There had been nothing but animosity between the two women for over thirty years. Now that they were reconciled, why would Niang be counselling Lydia not to invite me to Tai-ling’s wedding?
A gong announced that luncheon was served. Bob and I were placed at Samuel’s and Lydia’s table. There were speeches, toasts and a piano recital by Tai-way. I couldn’t concentrate. Tai-way’s words echoed in my brain. I pushed my food back and forth across my plate. There was a lull in the speeches. I leaned across Bob towards Lydia and whispered, ‘Tell me, is it true that Niang advised you not to invite me to Tai-ling’s wedding?’
Lydia was silent for so long that I wondered if she had heard. My question seemed to freeze her. At last she said in a hoarse little voice, ‘Yes. Tai-way must have told you. I’ll explain everything at dinner tonight.’
After lunch a reception was held at the home of Alan’s mother, who lived alone near by. We helped her set out refreshments and were chatting merrily when Lydia interrupted our conversation and took us aside. Samuel was feeling unwell and she asked us to drive them back to Alan’s house where they were staying. We were to meet later for dinner. She had made reservations at the ‘best Chinese restaurant in St Paul’s’ and would call to give us directions at six thirty.
The phone rang at six thirty in our hotel room. Bob answered. It was Tai-way. Bob appeared perplexed. ‘But why?’ he asked. Next I heard him say, ‘You’d better tell your aunt yourself.’ He put the phone on hold and turned to me. ‘Tai-way says the dinner is cancelled. He couldn’t give me any reason.’
I sat down on the bed and picked up the extension. I was prepared for a long conversation, but it was not to be.
I heard the stilted voice of my nephew curtly repeating the message. I pressed him for a reason. After a long pause, he replied in Mandarin, ‘It has something to do with your childhoods. This is all too complicated for me to understand. In any case, the dinner is cancelled.’
‘May I speak to your mother?’ I asked.
Again there was silence. Finally he said, ‘She cannot come to the phone. She doesn’t want to speak to you.’
‘What about your father?’
‘My father!’ He sounded incredulous, as if his father was the last person I should wish to consult. ‘He doesn’t know anything! He can do nothing about it. Besides,’ he added, ‘my father doesn’t want to speak to you either.’
‘And you,’ I asked, ‘do you also have nothing to say?’
‘I’ve no right to say anything to you.’ His voice became even more guarded. ‘I do have to tell you that I will not be visiting you in California.’
‘I suppose this is goodbye,’ I told Tai-way, feeling baffled and hurt. My nephew said nothing and gently I hung up the phone.
This was how Bob and I left St Paul’s after Tai-ling’s wedding. Afterwards, there was neither a letter nor a phone call from any of the Sungs to clarify matters. However, our bank statement that month revealed that the wedding cheque we gave Tai-ling had been cashed on the Monday following her Saturday wedding.
When I conferred by phone with James, he told me emphatically not to confront Niang on the matter of Tai-ling’s wedding invitations. ‘Don’t wu feng qi lang (create waves without wind). How do the English say it? Let sleeping dogs lie.’
CHAPTER 27
Jin Zhu Zhe Chi; Jin Mo Zhe Hei
Near Vermilion, One Gets Stained Red; Near Ink, One Gets Stained Black
There is a Cantonese saying, ‘When China sneezes, Hong Kong catches pneumonia.’ Momentous events were taking place on the mainland. Tai-ling’s wedding in April 1989 coincided with the beginning of student demonstrations in Beijing, calling for human rights, justice, democracy and the elimination of corruption and nepotism. Encouraged by the western press, 50,000 students marched through Tiananmen square on 4 May. The rest is history.
Hong Kong residents awoke to the fact that 1997 was now only eight years away. In sympathy with Beijing’s students, 40,000 people went on the first march in Hong Kong on 20 May despite torrential rains and howling winds brought on by typhoon Brenda. Next day, 500,000 people took to the streets. Eventually, on 28 May, over a million inhabitants crowded into the downtown area known as Central clamouring for democracy. On the night of 3 June, PL A soldiers opened fire in Tiananmen Square and arrested the student leaders. In Hong Kong the stock market fell by 581 points in one day. A sympathy strike was called on 7 June. People marched in black and white, mourning the dead in western and eastern colours. Riots broke out on Nathan Road while police dispersed the demonstrators with tear gas. Fearful of Communist China, Hong Kong residents demanded right of abode in Britain after 1997.
James and Louise still had no foreign passports. They knew that Niang wanted them to stay on with her in Hong Kong after 1997. She, of course, with her French passport and Monte Carlo condominium, was free to go whenever she chose. If James should decide to emigrate, he knew that Niang would wish to join them in their new country. To broach the subject without inviting her would risk her displeasure and threaten his inheritance. Secretly, James started arranging for his family’s emigration to Canada where income tax concessions were advantageous. He engaged lawyers for the essential paperwork and bought a house in Toronto in the early summer of 1989.
When I called Niang in July it was her amah, Ah Fong, who answered. She said that Niang was in the Hong Kong Sanatorium and remarked how sad it was that no sooner had Father passed away than Niang was struck by illness.
I dialled her room at the Sanatorium. ‘Oh, hello, Adeline!’ She sounded cool and polite. ‘How nice of you to call! How did you get my number?’
Eight thousand miles away, I sat bolt upright in my chair and straightened my skirt. ‘Ah Fong gave it to me when I tried to call you at home. How are you feeling? What happened? Would you like me to fly over?’
In a rather frosty voice she said she had noticed blood in her stools and had undergone a colon biopsy. Then she added, ‘I’m feeling fine and can go home in a few days. There is no need for you to come. I can look after myself perfectly well.’
‘Is James with you?’
‘No. James and Louise are on vacation in Toronto.’
Her symptoms didn’t sound good. I thought of Niang alone, about to face probable bad news in a hospital room not far from the one where Father had languished for seven years. The picture saddened me. I pleaded with her to let me come to look after her. She remained adamant: she was perfectly fine. Besides, she had no time to ‘entertain’ me.
‘Entertain me?! Nothing is further from my mind! I just want to be of some help.’
‘I don’t need your help. Why are you pestering me? I’ve repeatedly said that I would phone if I need you. If you don’t mind, I’m going to hang up now. I need my rest.’
I reasoned that James must be ignorant of Niang’s illness or he wouldn’t have gone to Canada.
James seemed surprised when I called him. ‘How did you know I was in Canada?’ His voice was tense and nervous. ‘Who gave you my phone number?’
‘I don’t remember,’ I teased. ‘Now, was it the CIA, FBI or the Canadian Mounted Police?’
‘Come on! Who was it?’ he pressed me irritably.
‘Calm down! Actually it was Niang who told me you were in Canada and Ah Fong gave me your number.’
He was audibly relieved. I told him that Niang was in the Hong Kong Sanatorium and her symptoms pointed to cancer of the colon. It was obvious he did not know. ‘I offered to fly back to look after her, but she didn’t want me. I can’t understand why Niang has been acting so cold towards me. Have I offended her inadvertently?’
‘It’s probably her illness,’ James replied. ‘I don’t think it’s anything against you personally. I’d better go back myself and see that everything is taken care of. If she told you not to fly to Hong Kong you’d better not go against her wishes. Anyway, I’ll phone you as soon as th
e biopsy results are known.’
But James did not call. I waited for about a week before phoning him in Hong Kong. My diagnosis had been correct. Niang had cancer of the colon and needed surgery. James gave her the option of having the operation in California but she declined.
‘In that case, I’ll fly over to be with her during the operation.’
James hesitated. Then he said quietly but with finality, ‘She doesn’t want you to come just now.’
For a moment I was unable to speak. At the other end I could hear James yelling, ‘Hello! Hello!’ then in Cantonese the equivalent, ‘Wei? Wei? Are you still there?’
I gritted my teeth. ‘Why?’ I asked.
He fielded the question. ‘I thought we’d been cut off,’ he yelled, as if shouting would reassure me. ‘I think we should hang up now. The connection is very bad. Niang has decided on Dr Lim to perform the operation. He was trained at Harvard medical school. She has instructed me to send you a copy of the biopsy report and Dr Lim’s office phone number in Hong Kong. Niang would like you to phone him and check him out.’
‘What’s going on, James?’
‘The poor Old Lady’s sick,’ James replied. ‘Just do as she says.’
‘Right. But what’s going on, James? Why doesn’t she want me to be with her?’
‘You’ll be hearing from me by fax,’ he said, leaving my question unanswered. We hung up.
In a few days I received the biopsy report. The news was terrible. Her surgeon excised the lesions from her bowel, but found two large cancerous growths in her liver. Niang refused to have these operated on or undergo chemotherapy. Her sister, Aunt Reine, had died a few years earlier from cancer of the liver despite massive doses of drugs and radiation which had caused tremendous suffering. I tried in vain to persuade Niang to come to America for a second opinion. Whenever I phoned, the nurse told me that she was resting and could not be disturbed. James even called once to warn me not to ‘disturb her rest’.