Gold Mountain Blues (64 page)

Six Fingers could not help laughing ruefully. “And how did you get so much knowledge into that little head of yours?” “Mr. Auyung told me. He knows everything.” Mr. Auyung Yuk Shan taught Chinese and was greatly admired and respected by Kam Sau, Ah-Yuen and the other students whom he taught. “When your father was young, he knew a Mr. Auyung Ming. He knew everything too. I wonder if it's the same family,” said Six Fingers.

As they talked, it gradually grew light and the cocks started to crow. “Are you hungry?” Six Fingers asked. Kam Sau shook her head. “Just wait till I've heated the braised pigs' trotters in ginger,” said her mother. “Then you'll be hungry.” At the mention of pigs' trotters in ginger, Kam Sau's appetite was suddenly whetted, making her mouth water and her stomach rumble in anticipation. She got out of bed and looked out the window. In the courtyard outside, she saw an older man and a younger one seated on stools by the well cleaning the family's guns. It was Mak Dau and his son, Ah-Yuen.

Mak Dau was a gun fanatic and was always urging Six Fingers to buy more. They were expensive but Six Fingers, a thrifty woman in everything else, did not bat an eyelid when it came to guns. They had started with an antiquated rifle, then added a carbine rifle and a revolver. Two months ago, Mak Dau purchased a Browning. Now they had two long-barrelled guns and two pistols.

Mak Dau spent every spare moment cleaning and polishing them. And as soon as Ah-Yuen could walk, he had taught the boy how to take a gun to pieces and how to reassemble it. Six Fingers had reprimanded him for teaching a little boy such things, but Mak Dau said: “When I'm too old to heft a gun myself, who else will you get to protect the
diulau
?” Six Fingers had no answer to that. After that, Mak Dau was permitted to teach Ah-Yuen about guns—but only in the courtyard. They were not allowed indoors in case of an accidental discharge.

Ah-Yuen had grown tall, sprouting like new grass after a spring shower. Seated next to his father, he clearly took after him, though he was much thinner. He shared his father's love of guns and knew all the foreign and local makes. Mr. Auyung lent him books to read on armaments too. Mr. Auyung compared China to a lion with a festering boil on its body. If the boil did not heal in time then the lion would never get to its feet again. What was to be done? Mr. Auyung asked his students. Open a school and educate all the people so that they wake up, everyone answered in unison. Everyone, that is, but Ah-Yuen.

Ah-Yuen said running a school was a long-term project, like administering Chinese medicine to someone with an acute disease. If the medicine was too slow-acting then the lion might die first. A quick surgical operation, such as Western doctors performed, was what was needed in order to save the lion, according to Ah-Yuen. Military might was the only way to expel Westerners and Japanese and put China back on its feet. Ah-Yuen excelled in his studies and always came first in every subject. But when he engaged in heated discussions he was full of bravura, a quality which Kam Sau found both attractive and alarming at the same time.

Ah-Yuen's father had lived with the Fongs for many years, so many that he had carried Kam Shan and Kam Ho around on his back as babies. He used to call the boys the “young masters” until Six Fingers had finally persuaded him to address them by their given names. When the Fongs' first steward, Ha Kau, died, Mak Dau took over responsibility for the house and farm. He was, however, still a servant; he and his family ate with the other servants, and they washed their laundry in a different pool from the Fongs.

Ah-Yuen, born the son of a servant, should have remained a servant too, according to the old way of doing things. But Six Fingers had, with a
slight nudge, set his life on a different course: she had sent him, as well as her daughter, to the best school for miles around. Six Fingers' decision opened the boy's eyes to the big, wide world beyond the narrow confines of their home village. Ah-Yuen was actually more mentally agile and shrewder than Kam Sau. Where she scurried along, he raced ahead, showing Kam Sau the way.

Ah-Yuen was always attentive to Kam Sau but never humble in the way that his father was. Kam Sau knew that her mother wanted Ah-Yuen as a live-in son-in-law and was smoothing the way forward for him, enabling him to walk tall, so that by the time he went in through the door of her bridal chamber he would be a respectable young gentleman. To move into the bride's house may have lowered him in the eyes of society but not in the eyes of his future mother-in-law. Six Fingers was infinitely clever. What she wanted, she made sure she got.

By the time Kam Sau got downstairs, her mother had lit the stove and was gently reheating the pigs' trotters of the night before. As the jelly softened and melted, the most delicious smell wafted through the house. While Six Fingers waited for the dish to be ready, she felt in her pocket for a bamboo comb to do her daughter's hair. She undid the braids and Kam Sau's gleaming thick hair tumbled over her knees. The sharp teeth of the comb cut through the hair as easily as butter, and the steady strokes gave Kam Sau a feeling of languorous pleasure.

She rested against her mother and asked idly: “Are you giving my sister-in-law a bowl of the trotters?” She meant her brother Kam Ho's wife. “Huh, she can come down on her own two feet, can't she? A hungry rat will find its own food.” There was a giggle from Kam Sau. “You've really got it in for her, Mum,” she said. “She's carrying the next Fong grandchild. Whatever happens, I'm going to treat her well,” said her mother, “but have you ever seen anyone as dumb as her? The tree in the courtyard has more life in it than she does. When Kam Ho left to go back to Gold Mountain and we all took him to the entrance of the village, even Mak Dau's wife said: ‘Write to us, Kam Ho, when you arrive so your mum doesn't worry.' But that dope did not even open her mouth until the very last moment, and then what she said was complete crap.”

Kam Sau burst out laughing. “You never used to talk like that, Mum! You're worse than the servants now.” “You know what she said?” Six Fingers continued. “She blurted out that her brother needed to fork out for a dowry at the end of the year. If that isn't crap, I don't know what is. Your brother sends home every cent he earns in Gold Mountain to support the rest of us, and she wants him to support her family as well.”

“Well, dumb or not, you chose this daughter-in-law. My brother had never even seen her when he led her into the bridal chamber. You've only yourself to blame.”

Out of the whole family, only Kam Sau dared to be so blunt with Six Fingers. Her mother could only sigh in response: “She looked like a steady young woman in the photo, and when we visited their house, she was polite though she didn't say much. Who would have thought that she would turn out so dumb? There was no point in her learning to read. The few characters she learned went in one ear and out the other.”

“What about ‘marriage for love,' like Mr. Auyung's always talking about?” said Kam Sau. “If my brother had got to know her first, he would never have settled for her.” “Well, men have nothing to fear, do they?” exclaimed her mother. “If they don't like this one, they can find another one to marry. But women have to stick with what they've got, whether the man's good or bad.” “That's the old way of thinking, Mum,” said her daughter. “Even the Imperial concubine Wen Xiu fought for a divorce from the emperor Xuantong, so why can't other women?”

Kam Sau raised her head to begin braiding her hair and saw shadows settle on her mother's face. She smiled: “Did you and Dad really marry for love?” she asked. “My great-auntie says that Dad broke off his engagement to another girl for you, and had to pay her off with all the goods he'd brought back from Gold Mountain. Is it true?”

There was a long pause, then Six Fingers finally said reluctantly: “He paid by giving up a few Gold Mountain suitcases, but I nearly paid with my life, so we were even.” “So you and Dad married for love!” said Kam Sau with a triumphant smile. “But you wouldn't let my brother marry for love. Mum, you're a tyrant!”

Six Fingers didn't understand what Kam Sau meant by “tyrant” but the rest was clear enough. “So what's so great about marrying for love?” she
demanded. “I was only eighteen when I married your father. In more than thirty years, he's only visited three times. The last time he left, you were still in my belly. He's over sixty now, and he refuses to come back to me without digging out that last gold ingot. Even if he was to come back tomorrow, all the sweet nectar's gone, dried up. What's the point in that, eh?”

Kam Sau's smile faded at Six Fingers' words and she could think of nothing to say. She had never seen her father. To her, he existed only in the photos and dollar letters he sent home from Gold Mountain. But sometimes, when her mother read her father's letters home, she could see him pass like a light over her mother's face.

They heard a heavy tread on the stairs. Kam Sau did not need to look round to know it was her sister-in-law, Ah-Hsien, coming down. She was heavily pregnant and walked as if she was dragging a wooden bucket behind her. By the time she arrived in the kitchen she was sweating profusely. She came to a halt, and asked: “Are the trotters ready?” Six Fingers gave a cool smile. “I assume you're addressing the question to me? I happen to be your mother-in-law. But perhaps your mother didn't teach you any manners.” “Yes, Mum,” said the girl woodenly.

Ah-Hsien was a mess; her eyes were full of sleepy dust, her tunic was buttoned up wrong so that one side of it hung down, and her feet were so swollen they threatened to split her cotton shoes. “Next time, wash your face and comb your hair before you come down, will you? How could you let the servants see you like that?” Ah-Hsien fixed her eyes on the floor and said nothing.

She was puffing and panting like an ox, and Kam Sau brought her stool to sit on. Ah-Hsien sat down heavily and one of the stool legs bent under her. Before she could stand up again, there was a crack and the leg snapped in two, dumping her on the floor like a sack of rice.

Six Fingers and Kam Sau rushed over to help her up, but Ah-Hsien sagged helplessly against them. As the deadweight of her body pulled the two of them down with her, Six Fingers shouted furiously: “Why did you choose the edge of the stool to sit on? Is there a louse waiting to bite your ass in the middle?”
Before she had finished speaking, there was an exclamation from Kam Sau. Her hand trembled like a leaf as she pointed at Ah-Hsien's trouser cuffs.

Something red was trickling down her legs and pooling on the floor beside them.

Blood.

In the early hours of the following morning, Ah-Hsien gave birth to a

baby boy called Fong Yiu Kei. He was the Fong family's first grandson.

Year twenty-three of the Republic (1934)

Vancouver, British Columbia

Yin Ling was awakened by a crash. She had been dreaming of Johnny. She and Johnny were in Miss Watson's etiquette class together.

All fifth graders had to take etiquette classes. Their teacher, Miss Watson, a woman with a face permanently taut with disapproval, was meticulous in her teaching of matters of etiquette, such as how to choose the right item of cutlery at a formal dinner party or an appropriate outfit for a social occasion. She also taught them to dance the waltz, foxtrot and tango. Yin Ling had little interest in her other school work, particularly science and history, and usually managed to doze off in the first fifteen minutes. She was reprimanded so often by her teachers that she learned to fall asleep with her eyes open so as not to attract unwanted attention.

But Yin Ling was an eager pupil in etiquette class.

Actually, Yin Ling was really only interested in one part of the classes—ballroom dancing.

Miss Watson made the girls and boys dance together, and she made them change partners with every new dance. They had had several weeks of her classes and would start tango next week. Each time they exchanged partners Yin Ling ended up with some sissy boy. But she carried on hoping secretly that one day she would get her heart's desire.

Her heart's desire was Johnny.

Johnny was the tallest, most muscular boy in the class. He had corncoloured hair with ungovernable curls, which turned into ringlets when they got wet in the rain. He hardly ever wore his school uniform properly. There was either a length of sleeve hanging down or the shirt would be open at the neck. Johnny was daring in other ways—he would sneak quick smoke during the break when Miss Watson went to powder her nose. When he smoked, he would half close his eyes, tilt his head back and look as if he had the whole world at his feet.

And then there was his guitar. When he played, the sound was like small hand plucking at the heartstrings. It drove all the girls crazy. Yin Ling knew quite well that every single one of them dreamed of taking his hand and dancing the tango. For her, the thought of being held in the crook of his arm while lifting one leg was worth dying for.