Читать книгу Red Phoenix - Kylie Chan - Страница 9
ОглавлениеI met my friends April and Louise for lunch in the Thai restaurant in Wan Chai. It had been a long time.
April was a lovely Australian Chinese who I’d met working at Kitty Kwok’s kindergarten before I went to work full-time for John. Her pregnancy was already well along and she had a cute bulge in front, accentuated by her lime-green maternity dress. The dress was an awful concoction of frills, bows and ruffles, and made her seem bigger than she was. Her face had filled out with the pregnancy, but she looked healthy and happy.
Louise was still herself, blonde, bony, and full of freckles and mischief. We’d shared an apartment in Sha Tin before I’d moved in to work as a live-in nanny for John, and I hadn’t heard from her since we’d run into the White Tiger while having lunch at Sha Tin shopping centre and she’d fallen for him on the spot. I’d ferociously warned him off her otherwise she would have ended up as a member of his extensive harem.
‘When’s the baby due, April?’ I said.
‘September. Mid-September,’ April said. ‘It’s a boy.’
Louise glanced up from her menu. ‘You had it tested already?’
‘Sure,’ April said. ‘Every month, when I visit the doctor, I have an ultrasound. They found out last appointment. Andy’s very happy. He says he wants to keep it now.’ She leaned back and smiled with satisfaction. ‘We’re a family. I knew it would all work out.’
‘That’s so wonderful, April,’ I said. ‘So you’re all together now?’
‘Yes, but not living together. He doesn’t have time, he needs to be on the Island to be close to work. So he lives on Hong Kong Island, and I’m at Discovery Bay with the domestic helper. He comes and sees me once every few weeks, and tells me how happy he is.’
‘What about the other wife?’
‘She doesn’t matter,’ April said with a dismissive wave of her hand.
Louise and I shared a look.
‘Is he still in the same work, April?’ I said, carefully not mentioning Andy’s underworld connections in front of Louise.
‘He says he’s not involved any more,’ April said, obviously happy. ‘He’s working in Aunty Kitty’s business. Mostly in China.’
‘I’m pleased for you,’ I said, and I meant it.
Louise looked up from her menu. ‘Soft-shell crab. Want some?’
‘Can’t eat crab while I’m pregnant,’ April said.
‘Why not?’ I said.
‘It will make the baby a criminal. Scuttle sideways, like a crab.’
‘What else can’t you eat?’ I said, trying to keep the disbelief from my voice.
‘Lots of stuff,’ April said. ‘Have to be careful. Not make my blood too hot or too cold. The Chinese doctor keeps an eye on me. I drink Chinese medicine, to stay strong. Aunty Kitty is looking after me very well, she has doctors who are looking after me.’
‘Kitty Kwok?’
‘She says she misses you from the kindergarten, Emma. She says you should go and visit her at her house. She keeps asking me to take you over there.’
I didn’t say anything. Kitty Kwok still called me, and approached me at charity functions, and I still carefully avoided her. I was sick to death of the woman. But at least she was helping April with the baby.
‘I’m not going through that when I have a baby,’ Louise said grimly.
‘What?’ I hesitated. ‘What?’
‘Oh, didn’t I tell you?’ Louise said with an evil grin. ‘I’m off to get married at the end of the month. Say bye bye, ladies, I’m marrying a king.’
‘No!’ I shouted, and heads snapped around to look at me. I lowered my voice. ‘Don’t you dare go off with that bastard!’
The waiter approached and we ordered quickly.
After he had gone I turned to Louise. ‘If you go off with him nobody’ll ever see you again. For God’s sake, Louise, don’t do this!’
‘A king?’ April said, trying to keep up.
‘Yep,’ Louise said with satisfaction. She eyed me sideways. ‘Watch this, Emma, this is really good.’ She turned back to April. ‘I’m marrying an Arab sheik. A king. Filthy rich. I’ll be moving to the Middle East at the end of the month. Say ta-ta.’
‘You’re marrying one of them? You have to wear those veils and things, you know,’ April said, explaining. ‘You can’t go out in public. And they sometimes have more than one wife. If he’s really rich it might be worth it, but if he’s not then it’s a waste of time.’
‘Oh my God, you are so mercenary sometimes, April.’ I leaned forward to speak intensely to Louise. ‘This is such a bad idea. You do know how many wives he has already?’
‘They’re great. I’ve met some of them,’ Louise said. ‘They came with him to explain. They all help each other, look after each other, great friends. Can’t wait.’
‘Don’t let his . . .’ I hesitated. I chose my words. ‘His prowess cloud your judgement, Louise. Once you’re over the novelty, you have to live with him, and share him.’
‘You know him too, Emma?’ April said. ‘He has wives already?’
‘Prowess?’ Louise said still grinning. ‘Wouldn’t know, the guy hasn’t touched me.’ The grin widened. ‘He is a perfect gentleman; you have to marry him and go with him before he’ll do anything. Like I said, can’t wait.’
I put my head in my hands. ‘Oh God.’
Louise dropped her voice to a low purr. ‘Soft white fur.’
I folded my arms on the table and dropped my head on them. I wanted to bang my head on the table. ‘Oh God! I am going to kill that bastard when I see him!’ I glared up at her. ‘He promised me he’d stay away from you!’
‘Oh, that explains it,’ Louise said. ‘I had to chase him around for ages. Took a long time to finally make him give in.’
I buried my head in my arms. ‘I am going to kill him.’
The waiter came back and I lifted my head. He placed four jelly coconut milk drinks and a pineapple rice on the table, and turned away.
I stopped him. ‘We didn’t order this.’
He froze, then his face stiffened. He picked up the drinks and the rice with disdain and stomped away.
‘What did your family say when you told them?’ I said.
‘They’re not speaking to me.’ She changed her voice so that she sounded very stern and spoke down her nose. ‘I cannot tell you how disappointed I am.’ She grinned. ‘Makes it easier, really.’
‘You’re throwing your whole life away to be one of a hundred,’ I said.
‘One hundred and seventeen. But the first fifty or so are really old and ugly. No competition. He just keeps them around ’cause he has to.’ Her eyes sparkled. ‘Like you can talk, anyway. I hear yours has scales. Yuck.’
‘What are you talking about?’ April said, completely bewildered.
The waiter came and plonked some dishes onto the table. He glared at me. ‘We ordered some drinks too,’ I said. He stomped off.
‘Scales?’ April said softly. ‘You have a man, Emma? Not this Chen man, is it?’
‘Yep,’ Louise said with satisfaction. ‘Engaged to him.’
‘You going to marry John Chen?’ April turned away. ‘Lucky you. When’s the wedding?’
‘Not for a long time, April. A lot of problems. May never happen at all.’
‘Lighten up, Emma,’ Louise said. ‘The Tiger says it’ll happen.’
I didn’t say anything.
‘Why did you say he has scales?’ April said.
‘He’s a turtle,’ Louise said with relish.
I glanced up quickly. April inhaled sharply, her eyes very wide.
‘You say that about Emma’s man? You insult Emma too? What a horrible thing to say!’
‘What?’ Louise said, not understanding. ‘What did I say?’
April leaned across the table towards Louise. ‘You said he’s a turtle,’ she hissed.
‘That’s a shocking insult, Louise,’ I said.
‘Is it? No wonder the Tiger says it all the time.’ Louise grinned. ‘What does it mean?’
‘Man who cannot satisfy wife,’ April said, very softly. ‘Wife turns to other men.’
‘Cuckold,’ I said.
‘Whoa.’ Louise’s eyes widened with delight. ‘Cool. Good one.’
‘Same thing as wearing a green hat,’ April said.
‘Why turtle?’ Louise said. ‘Why is that particular animal the insult?’
I didn’t want to discuss it. ‘I have no idea.’
‘I don’t know either,’ April said. ‘Just turtle is very offensive animal. Lot of insults attached to it.’
I studied them. April: living in dreamland, believing she had a family when she only saw her man every few weeks. Louise: willing to share a man with more than a hundred others. And me.
I was probably the most pathetic of us all.
‘Will I still be able to see you, Louise?’ I said.
‘Since you know all about it, you might be able to talk to me occasionally,’ Louise said, still obviously happy. ‘Don’t count on anything; usually when we go there we’re gone for good. Never seen again.’
‘What?’ April said. ‘You don’t mean that, do you? I don’t understand.’
‘Your poor family,’ I whispered.
‘Thoroughly worth it.’ Louise glanced down at the dishes. ‘Is this what we ordered?’
I looked at the dishes as well and sagged. ‘Nope.’
‘The economic downturn hasn’t affected this place at all,’ Louise said as she tried to catch the waiter’s eye. ‘They still act as if they’re doing us a favour by letting us eat here.’
‘I’m glad everything turned out for all of us,’ April said. ‘We’ll all be happy married women.’
I really did feel the need to bang my head on the table.
I tapped on John’s office door and opened it a crack. ‘Free to talk?’
‘Just let me save this file,’ he said, studying the computer, then turned and leaned his elbows on the pile of papers on his desk. ‘What?’
‘It’s May fifth. The festival’s started. And you haven’t done anything.’
‘Aiya,’ he said, and I giggled. ‘What?’
‘That’s an extremely Cantonese sound coming from you,’ I said, still smiling.
‘I’ve heard you say it too. You can pick people who have lived in Hong Kong for any length of time, even expats. They all say it.’
‘Cheung Chau,’ I said, bringing him back to the point.
‘Aiya,’ he said again. ‘It’s already started?’
‘The buns are up, John. The three effigies have already been built.’
‘When’s the big day?’
‘Three days from now. May eighth.’ I sighed with exasperation. ‘Why don’t you ever look in your diary?’
‘I have a secretary and I have you,’ he said. ‘I don’t need to.’
‘You forgot your own birthday, Pak Tai.’
‘You know it’s not my birthday,’ he said impatiently. ‘It’s the Buddha’s birthday. They just lumped me into the holiday because it was convenient.’
‘Did you know him?’
‘Who?’
‘The Sakyamuni Buddha.’
He hesitated, watching me, then, ‘No.’
‘What about the teachings?’
‘What about them?’
‘Are they true? The Buddhist Precepts?’
He sighed. ‘You know better than to ask me that, Emma. You know you have to find your own way.’
I shrugged it off, it was worth a try. ‘Okay, so when’s your birthday?’
‘You know I have no idea,’ he said. ‘After four and a half thousand years I’d challenge anybody to have an idea. I doubt if I was ever actually born, anyway. I just am.’
‘Well then, Eighth Day of the Fourth Moon it is. May eighth this year. Three days from now. Thursday.’
He leaned back and retied his hair. ‘Aiya.’
‘I’ve already cancelled all your classes, and booked the boat to take us over. We leave at ten in the morning. Okay?’
He grinned broadly. ‘You already arranged it?’
‘Of course I did. You don’t think I’d leave it to you, do you?’
Cheung Chau was a dumbbell-shaped island about an hour’s boat ride from Central Pier. The island was only three hundred metres wide at its narrowest point and hardly any height above sea level. The two ‘weights’ on the dumbbell stretched to either side, and were slightly higher.
The island was completely packed with people for the festival. John carried Simone so that she wouldn’t be crushed.
The air was full of the noise of shouting, drums and gongs, and the smells of food and sweat. A thick pall of incense smoke hung over the entire island.
We stopped for lunch at one of the small restaurants near the pier before we went anywhere. The restaurants usually specialised in live seafood, held in tanks next to the kitchen. Diners could select exactly which fish and shellfish they wanted, how they wanted them served, and the restaurant would oblige. But for the week of the Bun Festival the entire island of Cheung Chau went vegetarian in Pak Tai’s honour. The butcher shops closed for the holidays.
After lunch we wandered through the packed streets to the Pak Tai temple. The bun towers stood proudly outside the temple, enormous ten-metre-high bamboo cones held by a bamboo scaffold. The buns were strung around the outside of the cones.
The tradition was that at the end of the festival, after midnight on the final day, young men would climb the towers to retrieve the buns for the crowd; a good-luck race. But in 1978, one of the towers had collapsed and some of the bun racers had been killed. Since then the buns had been distributed to the island’s residents by the clergy of the temple.
John wouldn’t talk about what had happened in ’78. Apparently he hadn’t been present that year; normally he would have been there to make sure that nobody was injured. But in ’78 he hadn’t been able to make it, and wouldn’t say why. It may have had something to do with him losing the Serpent about that time, but with a creature as strange as him it was impossible to tell.
Three enormous effigies had been constructed out of bamboo and brightly coloured paper, about five metres tall. They were of a black-skinned demonic-looking deity with horns; a benign elderly scholar with a flowing white beard and traditional robes; and another demonic-looking red-skinned figure. They were Dei Ching Wong, Ruler of the Underworld; Do Dei Gang, the Kitchen God; and Shang Shan, the God of Earth and Mountains.
There was no effigy of Pak Tai; he was far too awesome to be shown like that. But he would have his chance later.
After we’d lit some incense at the temple and John had bought Simone a brightly coloured good-luck pinwheel, we wandered back to John’s house on the island. No motorised vehicles were permitted on Cheung Chau, so the streets could be very narrow.
We stopped at a plain concrete three-storey village-style house on the main thoroughfare. John pushed the door open.
The lower floor of the house was paved with pale green tiles and had bare concrete walls. The living room was minimally furnished with old-fashioned rosewood furniture and a stained coffee table, with a folding mah jong table. A set of rusting metal bunk beds with faded silk quilts folded at the feet stood against the wall on one side. It appeared to be a typical island village house, like many rented out for holiday weekends. John led us up the stairs to the second floor.
The second floor was plushly decorated with smooth cream Italian floor tiles and textured wallpaper. A comfortable leather lounge and a wide-screen television stood to one side and a rosewood six-seater dining table to the other. A well-fitted kitchen was at the back of the house, and Monica was already busy in there.
John opened the French doors onto the balcony. The balcony overlooked the main street of Cheung Chau, a perfect location for watching the parade. John gestured for me to sit at the outdoor table there, on one of the comfortable plastic chairs. Simone climbed into John’s lap and leaned on the railing. Monica brought us iced lemon tea; the day was already very warm and humid.
A lion dance led the procession, with three lions: one gold, one black and one red. The drummer did his best to bring down the houses, banging for all he was worth. A martial arts troupe followed, performing acrobatics as they passed us on the street.
‘Any of them ours?’ I said.
John shook his head.
A small altar followed, carried by four proud young men. I peered down to see inside; it held an effigy of a god seated on a throne with his hands on his knees, his black robes flowing around him and his long hair over his shoulder. His face was square and dark, and his bare feet perched on a snake and a turtle.
John squeezed Simone. She whispered in his ear and he nodded. She leaned back to stare at him, incredulous, and he nodded again. She collapsed over his lap laughing.
John and I shared a smile.
About twenty people followed, all holding lanterns with good-luck characters on them.
The next altar contained a serene goddess sitting on a lotus flower, wearing flowing white robes and holding a small bottle in her hand.
‘Aunty Kwan!’ Simone yelled, pointing.
‘That’s right,’ John said.
The next altar contained a goddess with colourful flowing robes and a benign smile. She wore a hat with a square brim with beads that hung in front of her face.
‘Tin Hau?’ Simone said, naming the Goddess of the Sea.
John nodded.
‘Do you know her?’ she said more softly, barely audible over the noise of the drums and gongs.
John nodded again.
Simone turned back to the parade and jiggled with excitement in John’s lap.
The final altar contained Guan Di, the red-faced God of Justice, holding a huge halberd and glaring fiercely.
‘He’s actually a very nice man,’ John said into Simone’s ear. ‘But he doesn’t come for this. This is mostly for me.’
‘Why you, Daddy?’
‘A long time ago, a vicious band of pirates was attacking this island. The peaceful fishing folk here had no defence against them. The pirates attacked again and again. So I came down and had a small chat to them about their behaviour. They went away, and the people of the island built the temple for me, and hold the festival every year.’
‘I heard you cured a plague,’ I said.
‘That too,’ John said, smiling. ‘I’m not sure if any of us remembers the exact origin of the festival. There were a few things. But the talk with the pirates is the one that sticks in my mind the most.’ He gestured over the balcony railing. ‘Here come the Floating Children.’
‘Floating Children?’ Simone squealed, standing to see better.
The five- or six-year-old children wore elaborate costumes and make-up. They were poised on the end of long steel poles, making their feet level with the heads of the crowd. But the poles were invisible, camouflaged by complicated accessories that matched the children’s costumes. The children appeared to be standing, but it was obvious that they sat on chairs inside the costumes.
The costumes depicted traditional mythical characters as well as modern celebrities and politicians. One little boy dressed as a fireman sprayed water into the crowd from his miniature fire hose, making the audience scream with delight. Many of the girls were dressed as fairies and spirits in flowing robes.
‘Uncle Sun!’ Simone yelled, pointing to a little boy who was dressed as the Monkey King.
It was dusk by the time the procession ended. Simone yawned furiously. We moved inside and Monica presented us with a vegetarian meal that we ate at the dining table next to the upstairs living room.
Later, as we shared a pot of tea and discussed the parade, a chorus of thumps echoed on the door downstairs. John nodded to Monica, who went to open it.
John rose and stood to one side, his face fierce. He gestured for me to stand next to him, and I did.
Monica led a Taoist priest up the stairs. He wore the full regalia of a senior practitioner: vividly coloured robes with yin-yang symbols on them, and a high, square black hat. The face under the hat was mid-forties, with a kind, jolly expression, and I liked him immediately.
When he reached the top of the stairs he took two steps into the room and then fell to his knees and touched his forehead to the floor. ‘Man shui, man shui, man man shui.’
‘Hei sun,’ John said, his voice clipped.
The priest rose, then bowed slightly from the waist, very serious. ‘Celestial Highness. Welcome.’
John gestured towards me, still very formal. ‘This is my chosen, Lady Emma.’
The priest bowed slightly to me as well, saluting. ‘Ma’am.’
Simone didn’t bother with the formalities; she ran to the priest and raised her arms. ‘Uncle Ming!’
The priest lifted her, sat her on his hip, and kissed her on the cheek. He reached into the folds of his robe and pulled out a bun for her, which she accepted with delight. It was one of the buns from the three bun towers outside the temple; it had been stamped with a red good-luck motif. He carefully lowered Simone.
John gestured towards the couch and we all sat. Monica brought tea, and the priest poured. John nodded as he was served. Now the formalities were over we could all relax.
‘It’s a tremendous honour to have you back here with us, Highness,’ the priest said. ‘It’s been a while.’
‘Circumstances are quite difficult right now,’ John said. ‘Even worse than ’78. But in a couple of years I will be gone for a very long time.’ He lifted his tea cup and gestured towards me with it. ‘Emma will be Regent.’
The priest was obviously taken aback. ‘The Celestial will permit a wedding in these circumstances?’
‘No. But she will be Regent regardless.’
‘You always were one for breaking the rules, Highness,’ the priest said, shaking his head with disbelief. He smiled at me. ‘Did you have any idea what you were getting into?’
‘No idea whatsoever, until it was too late.’ I shrugged. ‘And now it’s definitely too late.’
‘Kwan Yin herself has sponsored the Lady Emma,’ John said. ‘She is one of the most talented practitioners of the Arts I have seen in centuries. She loves Simone as her own. She is my chosen.’
I glanced at John, but he concentrated on the priest.
The priest bowed his head slightly to me. ‘I will be honoured to serve you, my Lady.’
John relaxed almost imperceptibly. He’d obviously been worried about the way the priest would receive me, but there didn’t seem to be a problem. I was relieved as well.
‘Come up to the temple after the noise has died down and we’re not so busy,’ the priest said. ‘Say hello to the acolytes. The renovations are finished, as well.’
‘Do they know too?’ I said.
The priest smiled. ‘I’m the only one who knows, my Lady. It is a trust handed down to each senior priest of the temple as they take the post.’
‘One of the most fun parts of the job,’ John said with amusement.
‘Oh, definitely,’ the priest said. ‘My Master took a photo when the Dark Lord revealed his true nature to me, and had it over his desk for a long time.’
‘That was the look I normally get,’ John said.
I was dying to ask about the arrangements that John had with the temple but it wasn’t the polite time to talk business yet. Small talk for a while, still.
‘How go things on the Celestial?’ the priest said.
‘All is well. But,’ John leaned back slightly, ‘there is a particular Demon Prince, number One Two Two, who has decided to make a bid for my head. His human name is Simon Wong.’
The priest’s face went rigid as he thought about the consequences.
‘I will give you an identikit photograph that Emma has created, and we will reset the seals on the temple every six weeks. I don’t want any of you held as hostages.’
‘My Lord,’ the priest said, nodding. ‘How powerful is this particular demon?’
‘Right now, not a threat,’ John said, raising his tea. ‘We will have to wait and see what his plans are.’
Okay, now I could talk business. ‘Exactly what arrangement do you have with the Dark Lord regarding the management of the temple?’ I asked. ‘I’ll be helping out after he’s gone. You said the temple had just been renovated? It looks terrific, they did a great job.’
The priest smiled with appreciation. ‘I think I will enjoy working with you, Lady Emma. Let me tell you about the management of the temple, and what your part will be.’
John sipped his tea, his eyes sparkling over the rim of the tea cup as we talked about administration and funding.
Simone was still heady with excitement as we took the boat back to Hong Kong Island. It was well past midnight, but she was full of nervous energy.
She eventually couldn’t hold it any longer and whispered in my ear, ‘Now?’
I nodded and she wriggled with delight. She went to the galley of the boat, opened a cupboard and pulled out a red-wrapped gift.
She took it to her father and held it out to him.
‘Happy birthday, Daddy,’ she said, very serious, then kissed him on the cheek.
John shot me a delighted glance and then grinned broadly at the gift. ‘I think this is the first time for me.’
‘Open it now, Western-style. We want to see your face,’ I said.
Simone came and sat next to me to watch. ‘Yeah, Daddy, open it.’
I quickly pulled a camera out as John proceeded to undo the tape that held the gift wrap. He pulled the wrap away, held the box up, turned it the right way up, then stared at it with shock.
I took a photo just as he lit up with a huge delighted grin and then roared with laughter. Got it.
‘Do you like it, Daddy?’ Simone said. ‘You can put it on your desk next to your computer monitor.’
‘Was this your idea?’ John asked Simone, still grinning broadly.
Simone glanced at me then back to her father without saying anything.
John turned the Ninja Turtle figure around so that we could see it. In Hong Kong the Ninja Turtles were called the Hero Turtles; the word ‘Ninja’ had too many unpleasant connotations. It meant ‘assassin’ in Japanese and was associated with stealthy murderers with no honour, completely at odds with the Western image of the powerful Ninja fighter.
‘Two swords,’ he said. ‘I only have one sword.’
‘You have two,’ Simone said. ‘Seven Stars and Dark Heavens.’
‘I suppose I do.’ He turned the box back around and studied the turtle figure. ‘It looks just like me.’
‘That’s the idea.’ I couldn’t hold it any more. Simone let go as well and we clutched each other and giggled with delight. That photo was very, very precious.
The minute we were home John took the turtle out of the box and put it carefully next to his monitor. It stayed on his desk, guarding his mess, for a long time.
