Monsoon (38 page)

Growing up there'd never been a hint of another woman. It was Anna as a teenager who'd encouraged Kevin to ‘date'. He'd had a few lady friends at the club, played golf with another, but that had been it. He'd never pushed her to embrace her mother's heritage, other than when as a little girl it had happened naturally in their blended family.

He talked in general about Thu but he made it clear that when Anna decided, he'd share whatever she wanted to know. Mentally Anna had put her mother in a box marked ‘Private' and had tucked it away. Suddenly she felt she owed her dad.

First she'd talk to her father and then to Sandy. This had been a momentous morning, but she knew she wasn't going to tell Carlo. She didn't know how to explain what had happened to bring about this urge to embark on a family quest. But did she want Carlo to ridicule or sabotage the idea. Already she was making plans. Once they'd finished at Barney's she'd enlist Sandy's help to travel to wherever it was in Vietnam that her mother had left when she'd fled all those years ago.

Anna was sleeping in a deck chair when Carlo and Hung returned to the junk.

‘How about a beer, Hung?' said Carlo. ‘Celebrate a good morning.'

Anna opened her eyes. ‘You're back. How was it?'

‘Terrific. Interesting,' said Carlo.

‘Really?' Anna sat up, surprised at his enthusiasm, as Hung handed Carlo a beer and gestured to Anna. She shook her head. ‘No, thanks.' She lay back and closed her eyes. After a moment she said, ‘My morning was good too. Really special.'

‘Great,' said Carlo with little interest. He reached for his small backpack. ‘Brought you a present.'

‘Oh, how sweet of you, Carlo.'

‘Well, it's only something of interest, not a proper gift,' he added, handing Anna a chipped blue-and-white plate.

Anna looked at the pattern and turned it over, trying to make out the markings on the back. ‘Is it real? I mean this looks like one of those that were at the potter's. And in the antique shop at The Royal. Where did it come from?'

‘That's what I'd like to know. I just bought it from a little girl in the village selling shells.'

Hung joined them. ‘You are interested in such things?'

‘Not really. Anna and Sandy are into antiques. It looks kinda old. I'm a businessman,' said Carlo.

‘The plate is no good: it is broken,' said Hung.

‘Yeah. Though it's amazing that these so-called hard-to-find old dishes are floating around. Anna says people pay big bucks for this kind of stuff.'

‘Only in mint condition,' said Hung. ‘This one no good. Throw it away.'

‘I can't throw it away; it's a gift,' said Anna.

Carlo glanced at Hung. ‘You know about antiques?'

‘What sort of business do you do?' Hung asked Carlo.

‘Import–export. I'm looking to export ceramics, those big garden pots and anything else of interest that will turn over some dollars.'

‘The ones made in Bat Trung and at the factories further out?'

‘Yeah. You know about them?'

Hung nodded. ‘Yes, but antique porcelain get more money than garden pots.'

‘For sure. But finding rare plates isn't so easy. Unless you know a source?'

Anna stared at Hung. ‘Do you think there are more of these plates somewhere?'

Hung shrugged. ‘There are fakes around, but they are easy to pick. I hear people talk. There are stories.' He waited as Carlo sat listening, giving the young Vietnamese man a steady look.

‘How would you sell them, if you came across a cache of old blue-and-white plates? Like this, but in mint condition?' Carlo held up the broken plate. ‘I mean, really old, not made twenty years ago.'

‘Carlo, you don't know anything about antiques,' interrupted Anna.

‘Listen, I'm in sales. There's a market for everything.'

‘Of course there's a market for antiques. But you have to know people. The right people, surely,' said Anna. ‘What do you think, Hung?'

Hung lifted his shoulders. ‘I'm just a boat boy. I would find a dealer. Someone who makes a business of selling things. Not in a shop. But to special people,' he said casually.

‘You mean private collectors?' said Anna.

‘That's right,' Carlo jumped in. ‘You'd have to find someone who's not going to rip you off. As the supplier you end up being the bottom of the food chain. Maybe I should look into this, eh? What do you think, Hung? Could you help me find a source of these old things?'

‘Ah, then I would be the bottom of the food chain,' smiled Hung.

‘It's gotta start somewhere,' said Carlo smugly. ‘If you had a stack of these things, you could walk into a gallery or an antiques shop and sell them for a tenth of what they're worth. Or, you can set yourself up in business, but you have to be an expert to know what's what, plus you have to have credibility, prove where you got them – expensive. Better to move merchandise quickly, take the money and run. Move on to something else.'

‘Carlo, you're not selling cars or biscuits,' said Anna.

‘Baby, don't tell me how to do business,' said Carlo.

‘You could give them away to a museum,' said Hung innocently.

‘Would you?' asked Carlo.

Hung laughed. ‘No.'

‘Rick told me this country was trading ceramics way, way back. I told you that you should have come to the show at the Fine Arts Museum,' said Anna to Carlo. ‘So it's natural there'd be plates like this still around.'

‘They do not make them like this anymore. They are rare and worth a lot of money,' said Hung. ‘If you could buy a small shipment and send them to Australia, you would do very well, eh?'

Carlo eyed him. ‘Like what? How many?'

Anna looked from one to the other. There was a match between them, unspoken information being batted back and forth. ‘What are you saying, Hung? Do you know where there are more of these? In good condition?' asked Anna bluntly.

‘There could be pieces available. But it is business between us. Not to be spoken about with others,' said Hung.

‘Carlo . . .' began Anna.

Carlo hadn't broken the look he held with Hung. ‘Hey, business between men. How many pieces?'

‘Maybe two dozen. Plates, bowls and a few dragon jugs. All good quality. Very old. Worth many, many thousands of US dollars.'

Anna gasped. ‘So much money! Where are they from? Are they stolen? Carlo, you don't want to get mixed up in anything . . . illegal,' said Anna.

Hung shook his head. ‘Not stolen. Been in the sea. Shipwreck. A big old junk off here.' He pointed out to sea. ‘Maybe five, six hundred years ago.'

Carlo took a sharp breath. ‘Shit. Really? Who knows about it? Where is it? I'd have to raise a lot of money. What's the wholesale price? And who's involved?' he asked quickly.

Hung shrugged. ‘The fisherman who found it has disappeared and the cargo gone. Maybe hidden somewhere.' To quickly re-establish his position he added, ‘The government takes anything dug up or found like this. These pieces are in, er, storage. I can deliver to you.'

‘What about paperwork? Guarantees that they're the real thing? Got to have all that in order to export them,' said Carlo. ‘And I'd have to see the merchandise first. Arrange its shipment and disposal. That is, provided it's genuine and my, ah, investors agree. It will take a little time.'

‘Carlo! Where are you going to get that kind of money?' exploded Anna. ‘You're mad.'

Carlo spun and said to her, ‘Anna, baby, this is business. And you don't know anything about it, so just butt out. Okay?' He turned his attention to Hung. ‘Where is the transaction to take place? There must be out of the way places here? Your village?'

‘The cargo is not here,' said Hung.

‘Where is it?'

‘It is safe.'

‘Safe! Where?' demanded Carlo. ‘Why doesn't anyone give you a straight answer in this country?'

‘I need to talk to others,' answered Hung.

‘And the price?' persisted Carlo.

‘Maybe I show you. Very nice antiques,' smiled Hung.

‘Carlo, I want to see them too!' said Anna. ‘Imagine, they've been in the sea, all these years . . .'

Carlo was after money thought Anna. That's all. Wherever they came from didn't matter. Anyone really interested in buying the pieces would have been begging to see the beautiful old objects rescued from their sleeping place in the sea for so many years. Carlo wanted the deal and wanted to make money. He'd have to talk to his father as soon as possible and convince him he'd really found a goldmine that needed capital.

‘Bloody hell,' said Carlo. ‘Who'd have thought this would turn up? God knows what else is lying around this backward country waiting to be picked up. I'll go and ask Captain Chinh what's for lunch.' Whistling, he swung below to the compact galley.

Anna fingered the old plate, wondering who had used it, what meals it had been present at. She recalled the similar plate on the altar in the pagoda that looked down on them from the top of the peak. Had someone given it to the little nun for her offerings to Buddha? Did they know its value and had it too come from some shipwreck off Halong Bay?

Anna was uneasy about Hung selling the plates to Carlo. She wondered how trustworthy he was. But then, clever as Carlo kept telling her he was about business, she doubted he'd be able to raise the money to buy them. And what on earth did he know about antique porcelain anyway? He'd talked so often of hitting the jackpot so they could marry, buy a nice house, settle down that Anna decided to let Carlo go with this deal and see what happened. She had more important things to think about. As soon as she could, she'd phone her father and tell him the time had come. She wanted to find her mother's family.

12

B
ARNEY'S WAS JAMMED, THE
outside tables full. In the middle of the room a group had gathered around a large circular table to welcome back Barney and Lai. Anna and Sandy insisted they wait on them and Ho and Anna had prepared all their favourite dishes.

‘Man, it's good to be back,' declared Barney. ‘You can keep the weather in Canada.'

‘Rained all the time,' said Lai. ‘But not proper rain like monsoon rain. Misty rain.'

At the large table sat Charlie, Miss Huong, Rick, Jean-Claude, Kim and Cherie – back on duty at HOPE. Sandy, Anna and the two waiters raced between tables and the kitchen. Carlo acted as bartender and was kept busy serving the range of Australian beers that were always in demand from tourists.

Two new arrivals were chatting to Barney. They were middle-aged American Vietnam vets who were members of a bike club. They were riding around Vietnam on old army bikes seeing the places ‘we didn't get to see on our first visit'. Jerry had a grey pony tail, Brad a full grey bushy beard. Both wore lightweight black jackets with the elaborate insignia of their American bikers' club called The Retrievers.

In the kitchen Anna commented to Sandy, ‘Funny that Barney is friends with two vets when you told me he was a draft dodger.'

‘Water under the bridge now, according to Barney,' said Sandy. ‘It's forty years ago. They're all trying to help Vietnam, as well as helping each other through what was a bad time.'

Anna knew what Sandy's next unspoken thought was. ‘Yeah,' she said, ‘be good for your father to come here. Share the pain, as they say.'

When Sandy went back to the table she paused by the two Americans. ‘What does The Retrievers stand for?' She thought that maybe they were a group looking for bodies of men missing in action.

‘Back at home we pick up strays,' explained Brad. ‘People down and out, the homeless, street kids. Take 'em to a shelter we pay for. They get a bed, hot meal, bit of a helping hand – but mostly it's the companionship they come for. One of our buddies has started a similar thing in Saigon.'

‘We thought we'd check it out, see if we can help,' added Jerry.

‘Why there?' asked Rick. ‘Must be plenty of people to look after in the US.'

‘Most of The Retrievers served in 'Nam,' said Brad. ‘We did a lot of damage. Barney told us about what the Aussies were doing in Phuoc Tuy – helping kids and the local villagers, so we thought we could help out where a lot of us served.'

Sandy put a platter of fish cakes and spring rolls on the table. ‘If you're looking for an orphanage to support, you could help us with one near Danang that got hit by a typhoon recently.'

‘You don't say? Sure, we'll take a look at that. Whaddya reckon, Jerry?' said Brad.

‘You betcha. We're heading that way. A few of our guys were round Danang. Give us the details. We might get a few more guys to come over. Sounds just the kinda thing we were looking to do.'

‘I'll put you in touch with the head of the village and the woman running the orphanage. The villagers will help too. It's paying for the materials that's the problem. There's manpower and enthusiasm galore,' said Sandy.