Pei smiled. “Neither can I.”
It had been nearly a year since Pei had watched Mrs. Finch, calm and strong as always, walk away from them and surrender to the Japanese authorities. What Pei hadn’t told Ji Shen was how afraid she was that Mrs. Finch might no longer be the same person they’d come to love. Since the beginning of the occupation, Pei had witnessed countless acts of brutality. Men and women were slapped and beaten, made to grovel and eat dirt for no more than an errant look, or for wearing the wrong color. The Japanese would stop at nothing to break a person. And Mrs. Finch was just the kind of person who might try to challenge their authority.
Pei had voiced her fears about Mrs. Finch only once, just days after they’d moved onto the sampan. She had asked Quan, “Do you think Mrs. Finch will survive the internment camp?” Precious grains of rice sifted through her fingers as she washed their small allotment in a wooden bucket.
He shrugged and looked away, then stood up and threw the fishing net over the side of the sampan. “There’s always hope,” he answered. But his eyes avoided hers.
Pei’s heart had raced. There had to be more than hope, she’d thought to herself. Mrs. Finch was still strong and healthy, and if she just avoided confrontations she’d be able to survive, to start a new life after the occupation. Pei had shoved her hand deeper into the bucket, her knuckles scraping the bottom.
Just then a white van with a bright-red cross painted on its side turned the corner and slowed down. “There he is!” Pei said, picking up her pace.
Mr. Ma, the driver of the van, was short and slender, the opposite of his big-boned wife. He jumped out of the van, pocketed the money Pei handed him, and opened the back door for the women. “It’ll be safer if you ride in the back,” he said.
Pei leaned forward and strained to peer out through the grimy front window. They sat between boxes that rattled and clinked as the van bumped along the cratered streets. Ji Shen peeked into a box and pulled out a brown bottle filled with clear liquid, with the dark letters “A-L-C-O-H-O-L” on the label. Pei motioned for her to put it back, just before Mr. Ma turned around and smiled at them.
When the van paused, a long black car pulled alongside. Pei’s heart skipped a beat when she recognized the woman sitting next to the Japanese officer in the backseat. She craned her head to get a better view. She looked harder, once . . . twice . . . The woman was older and heavily made up, but she was Fong.
The black car roared ahead. It wasn’t until the van finally left the city and began rounding the mountain curves that Pei loosened her grip on the door handle, her head still spinning at the sight of Fong.
Stanley village was teeming with people. Had it not been for the Japanese soldiers who patrolled the area, Pei would have thought the place had somehow gone untouched by the war. Song Lee had cautioned her to be careful, and not to draw attention to herself as she made her way to the prison camp. “Those devils have eyes in the back of their heads,” she warned.
Pei arranged to meet Mr. Ma at the van in a few hours. Then she and Ji Shen followed the dirt path that led along the cliffs to the camp. The sun was warm against the top of her head and the rush and roar of the waves below were mesmerizing.
Ahead of her was a group of young boys; an old man in the village had told her to follow them. “They sell to the prisoners,” he said, sucking air from his pipe. “They’ll lead you right to the camp.”
Pei and Ji Shen followed the boys, just far enough back to hear their low chatter. As the path gradually descended, she could see the camp in front of her, dominated on one side by the concrete walls of Stanley Prison. From a distance it looked relatively harmless. The barbed-wire fence wrapped the large compound like a neat package. Several three-story buildings were flanked by smaller bungalows. Pei’s heart beat faster. Which building was Mrs. Finch staying in? Would she be able to find her? She and Ji Shen hurried to keep up with the group of boys, watching to see how they made contact with the prisoners.
At the bottom of the path, instead of taking the dirt road that led to the front gate, the boys moved, silently now, in the other direction. Behind one of the tall buildings ahead, Pei saw a group of prisoners gathered by the fence to wait. They greeted the boys like old friends, reaching through the barbed wire to wave them forward.
“Did you get the cigarettes?” she heard one man ask, as the boys began pulling goods from the cloth bags they carried.
“That’s a good lad.”
“Ah, soap!” a woman exclaimed.
Pei looked from face to face for Mrs. Finch.
“What have you got there, honey?” a woman asked Ji Shen, who turned to Pei for help.
“Mrs. Finch?” Pei said.
“Who?”
“Mrs. Finch!” she said, louder this time. “Caroline Finch.”
“She’s looking for Caroline,” another voice piped up. “Anyone seen Caroline?”
“I think she’s still inside the Indian Quarters. One of you lads go fetch Caroline Finch,” a woman commanded a group of English boys, who were in the midst of lively bargaining for chocolate bars.
“Three chocolate bars for this pen!” A boy waved a green pen in the air, then passed it through the fence toward reaching hands.
A Chinese boy examined the pen and turned it over slowly in his hands. “I’ll give you two chocolate bars for it.”
“It’s a deal!” The English boy reached through the fence and grabbed the chocolate. “Thanks, mate—bring more at the end of the week.”
Watching the transaction, Pei couldn’t help but wonder if the boys would ever talk and laugh in the same way once the internment was over. She waited nervously while one of the English boys finally ran off, then returned to say that Mrs. Finch would be there shortly. She and Ji Shen stood aside from the bartering voices and waving hands. Then, in the distance, she saw Mrs. Finch limping toward them.
“There she is!” Ji Shen pointed.
The way Mrs. Finch’s flowered print dress hung from her body made it painfully obvious that she had lost weight. It took her only a moment to realize who was standing by the fence. She broke into a smile and paused to smooth her dress, then hurried over.
“Dear God, is it really you?”
Pei pressed closer to the barbed wire. She reached through the fence and tightly grasped Mrs. Finch’s hand.
“It’s so wonderful to see you. We wanted to come sooner, but we didn’t know how we could. There hasn’t been any transportation out this way.”
“However did you get here?”
Ji Shen swung the cloth bag down. “Pei arranged a ride on the medical van.”
“That’s my girl!” Mrs. Finch said. She smoothed back her hair. “I must look a mess.”
“You look wonderful,” Ji Shen said quickly.
“And you lie very well.” Mrs. Finch laughed. “How have you two been?”
“We’re fine,” Pei answered. “We were staying with Quan’s family after you left, but now we have a room of our own in Wan Chai. Song Lee and other silk sisters are also living there.” Her words came out in one overflowing waterfall.
“Thank God. I’ve been worrying about you both, though I should have known you’d do just fine.” She gave Pei’s hand a hard squeeze.
Pei let go long enough to pick up the cloth bag and slip it through the barbed wire. “A few things we thought you might need.”
“Bless your heart.” Mrs. Finch peeked inside. “I’ll throw a party in your honor.”
“You’ve lost weight,” Pei couldn’t help but say aloud.
“Bloody white rice and little else, though I’ve regained my girlish figure. Don’t worry, we’ve just planted a garden. There should be more to eat in the days to come. Are you both getting enough to eat?”
Pei nodded. “We would have never gotten by without the money you gave us. At enormous prices, you can get whatever you want.”
“Ah, I see Hong Kong has survived without us.”
“Just barely,” Ji Shen whispered.
>
“We’ll bring you more next month,” Pei said. “Is there anything you need? I’ll find a way to get it.”
Mrs. Finch smiled. “Just seeing you both again is all I need.”
“We have to go, Caroline,” another woman interrupted. “The soldiers will be patrolling this area any moment now.”
Mrs. Finch grabbed Pei’s and Ji Shen’s hands. “You can’t know what your visit means to me. You behave yourself,” she said to Ji Shen, “and I might teach you to waltz when I get out of here!”
Pei held onto Mrs. Finch’s thin hand as a rush of words moved through her mind, but all she could say was “We’ll be back to visit next month.”
Mrs. Finch backed away slowly, clutching the cloth bag, her eyes filling with tears. “I love you both.”
Pei and Ji Shen stood and watched until Mrs. Finch turned around again and waved one last time before she disappeared behind the building. In the distance Pei could hear gruff Japanese voices sending a shiver through her body. She and Ji Shen stood a moment longer in the blazing sun before following the group of boys up the dirt path and back to Stanley village.
Ji Shen
Ji Shen sat in the doorway of the boardinghouse and waited for Quan. For the past six months, he’d picked her up every morning; together, they walked to the Central Market or down to the harbor, the most profitable areas to buy and sell. Only if Quan accompanied Ji Shen would Pei agree to let her go. Ji Shen felt a flush of anger rise up in her. Lately, it seemed as if Pei and all her rules were suffocating her.
A hint of wind brought some relief from the relentless heat. After an unusually cold winter, the oppressive summer heat slowed everything to a standstill. As the occupation headed into its third year, even the few Japanese soldiers who still patrolled the streets appeared tired and faded. Ji Shen could only hope Mrs. Finch was doing all right and finding more relief by the ocean. Ji Shen anxiously awaited their next visit, which wouldn’t be for another ten days.
“You and your young man would make much more money if you worked for Lock,” a voice broke into her thoughts.
Ji Shen raised her hand and shaded her eyes against the sun. Standing before her was a woman in her forties, whom Ji Shen recognized as a regular peddler on the streets.
“Who’s Lock?” Ji Shen asked.
“My name is Ling.” She smiled widely, exposing crooked teeth. “And Lock’s a businessman I work for. He supplies all the goods and gives you a cut of each product you sell for him. Half the work is already done!”
Ling usually had an entire box of canned meat against the paltry few cans Ji Shen and Quan were able to barter for. When she’d once asked Quan where the woman had gotten all her stock, he had answered curtly, “It’s not a part of the black market you want to enter.”
“Lock’s willing to help anyone who’s honest and hardworking,” the woman added.
Ji Shen stood up, her cotton trousers sticky against her legs. She was tired of just getting by. She looked quickly around for any sign of Quan, then moved to the side, allowing the woman to step into the shade of the doorway.
“Tell me more,” Ji Shen demanded.
Ji Shen clutched Lock’s address in her hand. He lived no more than four blocks from their boardinghouse, yet when she turned onto his street, it felt stark and foreign. The bombed-out shell of an apartment building still stood as a reminder of the heavy damage caused by the Japanese bombings. The sidewalk buckled and rose to a small peak; a group of laughing children ran up one side and down the other. During the two years of occupation, the Japanese government had done little to help Hong Kong recover from the devastation its armies had inflicted. Each day Ji Shen saw the city grow sadder and poorer, as everyone struggled harder to survive.
Ji Shen glanced again at the address, then hurried up the stairs of an old stucco building. Lock’s apartment was on the third floor and down the hall, according to Ling. Ji Shen’s heart raced as she knocked on the door and waited. Nervousness and guilt lay heavy in the pit of her stomach. She had lied to Quan—told him she wasn’t feeling well and would stay in today. If only he hadn’t reacted so kindly, she might have felt better. He had reached out and touched her forehead with the palm of his hand. When he pulled his coolness away, she felt a sudden loss.
“Do you need anything?” His voice was serious and full of concern.
She shook her head. Her mouth felt dry and bitter from the lie.
“I’ll be by tomorrow. Try to get some rest, and you’ll feel better.”
Ji Shen watched Quan walk away and wanted to call him back, wanted him to go with her to Lock’s apartment. But a voice inside her said, No, don’t. He’ll never let you go.
The door pulled open with a jerk. A young man with closely cropped hair and bad skin eyed her up and down. “What do you want?” he asked bluntly.
“I’m here to see Lock,” she managed to squeeze out. “I was sent by Ling.”
His eyes lingered on her a moment longer before he stepped aside and let her in. The shades were pulled down, but once her eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room, she saw it was crowded with boxes.
“Wait here,” the man said, leaving her standing amidst the sea of boxes.
Another door opened and closed. Ji Shen heard voices before the door opened again and a second man approached her. He moved straight to the window and gave the shade a quick tug, so that it wound up with a snap.
“I’m Lock. You wanted to see me?” he asked.
Ji Shen had thought he’d be an older man, but in the sudden light of the room, she saw that Lock was only in his thirties. He had a thin mustache and his dark hair was neatly combed to the side. He was of medium height and weight, and wore an expensive-looking double-breasted suit. His sweet cologne filled the air and made her dizzy. Ji Shen wanted to turn and run out of the apartment, but instead forced herself to speak: “Ling sent me. She said you were willing to help anyone who was willing to work. Well, I want to work.”
Lock smiled and watched her intently for a moment. “Yes; yes, I can see that you do. You look like a young woman I can trust.”
Ji Shen gathered her courage. “Ling said you would supply the goods for me to sell.”
Lock smiled. “As you see, I can supply you with as much as you can sell. You’ll get part of the profit from whatever is sold. The more you sell, the more money you’ll make. It’s just that simple.”
“Yes,” Ji Shen agreed. Yes, she thought, just that simple. If she worked for Lock, she and Pei could eventually move from the boardinghouse and not worry about putting away every cent. And she’d be able to buy another Victrola for the day when Mrs. Finch was released from Stanley Camp. This was the first good thing to happen in a long time.
“Then let’s give you a try.” Lock smiled again. He stepped closer and extended his hand. “A business deal should be sealed with a handshake.”
Ji Shen looked down at Lock’s pale, delicate hand. She raised her hand and felt it quickly taken into his, a strong, smooth grip closing around hers.
During her first few days working for Lock, Ji Shen saw more than a dozen people stream in and out of his Wan Chai apartment, among them a woman she learned was named Lan Wai. Though they were the same age, Lan Wai appeared years older. She was thin, with a red silk scarf tied around her neck and deep lines already evident across her forehead. Her eyes appeared weary, as if she’d seen a great deal in her twenty years. While most of the people coming and going were street peddlers working for Lock, others were serious-looking men who spoke in low tones. Lock obviously went out of his way to please these visitors.
“Who are they?” Ji Shen had asked Lan Wai.
“They’re from the Triads. Lock works for them, and we work for Lock.”
Ji Shen grew warm and uncomfortable at the mention of the Triads. She wanted to ask more, but refrained; the explanation must be simple enough. Lock was the middleman, shielding them from all the difficulties of the business. She bought and sold, bringing her proceeds back to Lock, wh
o in turn passed them on to the Triads. Everyone came away with a small profit. It was best for her to keep as invisible as possible, to keep her mouth shut and her eyes open.
Lock had sent Lan Wai out with her to “teach Ji Shen the business,” as he said. Lan Wai’s story unfolded as they carried a box of potted meat out to sell near the Central Market. She told Ji Shen she’d been living on the streets since she was ten years old.
“I just turned around one day at the marketplace and my mother had disappeared,” Lan Wai said matter-of-factly, “along with my younger brother, Nai. I guess she was only able to feed one of us, and he was going to be the one.”
Lan Wai looked around the crowded street, then pointed to a corner directly across from them. “Always make sure there’s plenty of street access in case any Japanese soldiers give you trouble. And never carry so much that you can’t grab it all and run.”
Ji Shen nodded. “What did you do after your mother left you?”
Lan Wai put down the box and took out a can of meat. “Never take out more than one can at a time,” she said, then returned to her story. “I started to cry, but no one paid much attention to me, so I just started walking, hoping I could somehow find my mother and brother. I never found them, but an old woman took pity on me and gave me a blanket and a few scraps to eat every night.”
A thin Chinese man with a shaved head wandered over and asked, “How much?” He pointed a bony finger at the can.
“Five Hong Kong dollars or three Hong Kong yen,” Lan Wai snapped, not looking directly at him.
“It’s too much,” the man answered.
Lan Wai held the can up to his face. “It’s made of good ingredients and will fill your stomach much more than what the others will sell you. See, feel how heavy.” She thrust the can into his hand.
The man balanced it on his palm. “I only have two Hong Kong yen.”