Spilled Water (6 page)

‘Half an hour I said, Lu Si-yan. Half an hour, then clear the table. That was forty-five minutes ago. Your lunch is cold,
you will have to go without. When you have finished washing these dishes, you will find the sewing waiting for you in the
study.’ She smiled then. ‘I’m sure things must improve.’

‘Please, Mrs Chen, please can I send a letter to my mother and tell her where I am?’ I begged.

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, Lu Si-yan,’ she replied. ‘Your mother doesn’t want you. That’s why you’re here.’

I didn’t stop for a moment for the rest of that first day. When Xiong Fei arrived early that evening, he found me polishing
silverware at the kitchen table. I was so relieved to see him that, to my embarrassment, I burst into tears. He closed the
door and leant against it so that no one could come in, then called me over to him. I pressed my head against his chest and
sobbed.

‘What’s the matter, little sparrow?’ he asked, stroking my hair.

‘Swallow, not sparrow,’ I spluttered through my sobs.

‘You look like a drab little sparrow at the moment, rather than a sleek and shiny swallow. Has the wicked witch been nasty
to you?’

‘She won’t let me write a letter to my mother.’

‘Then write it and I shall send it for you,’ said Xiong Fei.

‘But you’ll get into trouble.’

‘Only if I’m caught.’

A movement of the door handle made him grab my arm and pull me across the kitchen to the sink, where he turned on the tap
and began to splash my face with water.

‘What were you – what on earth are you doing?’

I swivelled my head to catch Mrs Chen staring at us in absolute astonishment.

‘Lu Si-yan rubbed her eyes and got silver polish in them. I’m just trying to wash it out.’

‘Are you indeed? How very kind of you, Xiong Fei.’ The voice purred but the lips were pursed. ‘Now perhaps you’d like to prepare
our meal, which is what we pay you for.’

‘Yes, Mrs Chen.’

‘As for you, Lu Si-yan – be a little more careful, will you, so as not to disrupt the rest of the staff?’

‘Yes, Mrs Chen,’ I replied, water running down my face from my sodden hair.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Xiong Fei shook with stifled laughter.

‘Did you see her face, Lu Si-yan?’ Then, more serious, he said, ‘Don’t ever let her see you cry, little sparrow, for she’ll
know she’s broken you then. Cry on my shoulder or alone in your room, but never in front of her.’

I nodded and thanked him for his kindness.

We worked in silence for a time. I could hear men’s voices drifting along the hall from distant rooms. Was I about to meet
the boy I had been told I was to marry? Yimou? I wanted to ask Xiong Fei to take me away with him when he left so that I would
never have to meet this Yimou. I crept into the dining room to set the table, then crept out again as quickly as I could,
back to the safety of the kitchen.

‘Tell me to mind my own business if you like,’ said Xiong Fei, looking at me quizzically, ‘but how old are you?’

‘Eleven,’ I replied quietly.

‘And are they paying you to work here?’

I glanced towards the door, praying that Mrs Chen wasn’t listening in on us, for I was sure that this constituted more than
just gossip, and that we would suffer the consequences. I bit my lip and shook my head. How could I explain that Mr Chen owned
me, that he had bought me from my uncle, that I was his to do what he liked with, that this was my family now?

‘It’s disgraceful,’ exploded Xiong Fei. ‘If they don’t pay you, they’re treating you like a slave. I shall tell them so. I
shall put a stop to it.’

I shook my head vehemently. ‘No, Xiong Fei, no. There’s nothing you can do. It’s not like that.’

In my heart I felt it was worse than that. Far worse to be bought, shaped and moulded as the perfect obedient future daughter-in-law,
than simply to work for no pay. Was that what Mrs Chen was doing?

‘Then what is it like?’ asked Xiong Fei gently. ‘Why aren’t you at home with your mother?’

‘She didn’t want me to go, I know she didn’t want me to go, but she couldn’t afford to keep me, not on her own, not once Li-hu
was born and Father died and she was ill and there was the drought. Uncle said it was the only way for Mother and Li-hu to
survive.’

I could feel myself becoming tearful again. Don’t let Mrs Chen see you cry, I said to myself.

‘Mr Chen bought me from my uncle. When I’m old enough, I’m to marry their son. It’s been agreed.’

Xiong Fei stared at me in total disbelief. ‘But you’re just a baby,’ he said. Then, as we heard footsteps, ‘Write that letter,
Lu Si-yan. I’ll post it to your mother if it’s the last thing I do.’

Chapter Fourteen

A River of Hope

I didn’t meet Yimou that evening, nor at any time during my first few days. I heard him sometimes – I think it was him – laughing
rather too loudly, breaking something precious judging by Mrs Chen’s screams, knocking on my bedroom door then disappearing
at the chilling sound of his father’s voice. I tried to conjure up a picture of him, but it was never flattering. I didn’t
want him to be attractive, didn’t want him to be kind and caring – that way it would be easy to hate him. I wanted to go home.
I would rather have remained unmarried for the whole of my life and be with my mother, than become the daughter-in-law of
Mrs Chen.

My room became my sanctuary. I dreaded leaving it in the morning, couldn’t wait to rediscover it in the evening. I spent hours
standing by the window, watching the mist and smog spiralling lazily round the grey tenement blocks lower down, hoping for
a gap to appear so that I could see beyond.

Then, suddenly, after nine days, it cleared. Watery yellow sunlight seeped through the thinness of my curtains, rousing me
before my wake-up bell. I leapt from my bed to gaze out on a brilliant blue sky. I was amazed to discover that, far below,
beyond the graveyard of fallen dwellings, a river, much much bigger than the one at home, was leading its own life. Boats
of all shapes and sizes were travelling up and down, ant-sized people were busying themselves on the shores, an endless stream
of vehicles was carrying produce to and from the boats.

In some curious way, that river spelled freedom. It came from somewhere and it went somewhere. It was my river of hope. As
long as I could see it, the door of my prison would stay open.

I was delighted to learn that Mrs Chen was going out that afternoon. She gave me an impossibly long list of duties, and locked
the door behind her, but she couldn’t dampen my spirits. The moment she left I set about my work with renewed vigour. Even
the thought of the criticism I would undoubedly suffer later couldn’t spoil my mood. I sang as I worked, all the songs I used
to sing with my father. I danced around with a damp cloth, stood on the broom and seesawed backwards and forwards, polished
the top of the sideboard with a flourish of the duster.

A slight movement by the door caught my eye. I stopped, rigid with fright.

‘It’s good to see you enjoying your work, Lu Si-yan.’

The voice as smooth as silk. Mrs Hong, in her wheelchair, eyes sparkling with amusement.

‘I’m sorry, Mrs Hong. I hope I didn’t disturb you.’

‘Apology not accepted,’ said Mrs Hong. ‘There’s not enough singing in this household. Now, dear, what about making us a nice
pot of tea, and then you can read to me.’

‘But what about the dusting, Mrs Hong? Mrs Chen said –’

‘I shall tell my daughter-in-law that the dust would wait but I wouldn’t. I shall be in my room, whirling around like an impatient
child, so be quick with our tea so that I don’t exhaust myself.’

She grinned at me mischievously before she spun away down the hall, leaving me holding the duster and wondering whether it
would be all right to do as she asked. I decided that I couldn’t refuse her and would just have to hope that Mrs Chen would
not be angry with me. Besides, I was curious to explore the other wing of the apartment, to discover where Mrs Hong spent
her time.

I walked carefully along the pale, intricately patterned silk carpet, carrying a tray with the pot of boiling hot tea and
two delicate porcelain bowls, scared stiff that I might spill some. Mrs Hong heard the bowls rattle and opened her door wide.

‘Bless you, child. Come in and put the tray on the table, then sit yourself down while I pour. I’m not totally useless, you’ll
see.’

‘Of course not,’ I said, feeling very awkward and shy. ‘I’m sure you can do lots of things.’

‘If I’m allowed to,’ grimaced Mrs Hong. ‘Everyone fusses so. My legs gave up years ago, and my eyesight’s not so good – which
is why I would like you to read to me – but the rest of me is in full working order.’

As if to prove her point, she picked up the teapot with a flourish, began pouring, then raised it to a great height above
each bowl and lowered it again while pouring all the time. She didn’t spill a drop and looked thoroughly pleased with herself.

‘I’ll teach you how to do it one day,’ she said. ‘Now, drink up, then tell me a little about yourself. My son says that you
are an orphan, poor child, and that your uncle has asked us to train you in domestic service until you are old enough to seek
work for yourself. It was lucky for you that we had a vacancy. So strange that Mrs Wu left so suddenly.’

I was dumbfounded. Not only had Mr Chen kept the truth about Mrs Wu’s departure from his mother, but he had lied to her about
me. I wasn’t an orphan. How dare he say that my mother was dead? She wasn’t dead. I was going to go home to her. She wasn’t
dead.

‘You are very pale, Lu Si-yan,’ Mrs Hong said quietly, ‘and so very young. I hope you will turn to me for help if you have
any worries.’

That silky voice wrapped itself comfortingly, coaxingly round me. I looked up at her kindly face and wanted to share everything
with her there and then, but how could I, without revealing that her son and daughter-in-law had lied to her.

I nodded my head and said simply, ‘I shall enjoy reading to you, Mrs Hong. I used to read to my father.’

‘Then after we have finished our tea you shall choose a book and we shall begin.’

I asked Mrs Hong about the river down below. When she told me it was the Yangtse, I realised just how far from home I had
travelled.

‘What are all the fallen buildings?’

‘That’s the old town,’ Mrs Hong explained. ‘It is being pulled down because it is liable to flood when the level of the river
rises. This new town was built and everyone was rehoused here. Those who farmed the land further down have been given jobs
in factories.’

‘My father was a farmer,’ I said. ‘He would have hated to work in a factory.’

‘So should I, my dear, so should I. But the youngsters, well, many of them prefer it. It can be easy money compared to toiling
on the land.’

‘I like to be out in the fresh air,’ I said, and wondered when I might be allowed to go outside and explore.

The books in Mrs Hong’s room, unlike those in the study, were dog-eared and inviting. I chose one at random, sought Mrs Hong’s
approval, then sat down to read. I was nervous at first, certain I would not be up to the task, but as the story unfolded
and Mrs Hong nodded encouragement, closing her eyes to listen more attentively, I relaxed and began to lose myself in the
story. Page after page went by, my voice the only sound to break the peace.

A clock struck suddenly. Mrs Hong opened her eyes.

‘You read very well, Lu Si-yan. Mrs Wu was a trifle monotonous, bless her. We will do this again, but now I am going to help
you with your dusting.’

I was amazed that Mrs Hong would even consider helping me. She had reached her door before I could attempt to stop her, and
began hurtling down the hall as though in a race. Just as she reached the door to the apartment, it opened and she crashed
into it, causing it to rebound into the shopping-laden Mrs Chen. I was so shocked, and at the same time the scene struck me
as so comical, that I hooted with laughter. A brief, hysterical hoot, but it was noted even in the confusion. For a moment
Mrs Chen stood thunderstruck. Then she dropped her shopping, pushed past Mrs Hong and made a grab for me.

‘How dare you mock me!’ she shrieked. ‘Who gave you permission to enter this area of our apartment the minute my back was
turned?’

‘You know very well it was me,’ said Mrs Hong calmly. ‘I am to blame, so please don’t take it out on the poor child.’

‘‘‘The poor child” has been nothing but trouble since she arrived. She needs to understand her place here, while you, dear
mother-in-law, need to understand that old women do not go racing around in wheelchairs with the servants.’

‘You, dear daughter-in-law, need to understand
your
place here. I am the head of this household and if I wish Lu Si-yan to read to me then so she shall.’

‘We’ll see about that,’ fumed Mrs Chen. ‘Go to the kitchen now, Lu Si-yan. I shall expect to find that you have done everything
I asked.’

She took hold of the arms of the wheelchair, turned it round and pushed Mrs Hong back to her room.

Chapter Fifteen

A Prisoner

A month went by, a month in which I began to feel like a prisoner. Apart from the shopping trip on my first morning, I hadn’t
left the apartment. Mrs Chen filled every minute of my day with chores, appearing from nowhere time and again to check that
I was doing as she had asked and doing it properly. Her criticisms were endless and soul-destroying.

My only lifeline was Xiong Fei. His arrival three times a day lifted my despair. Mrs Chen clearly suspected as much, and kept
a careful eye on us, flirting more and more outrageously with him, while doing her best to make me look like a foolish little
girl. We laughed in turn at her arrogance and stupidity, laughter which kept me going from one mealtime to the next.

During that long first month, I saw neither Mr Chen nor Yimou. They left the apartment immediately after breakfast, and disappeared
when they returned in the evenings into the rooms that were out of bounds to me. I felt that perhaps Yimou was being kept
away from me deliberately. And then, on the fifth Saturday after Uncle had taken me to market, Mrs Chen informed me that from
the next day, and every Sunday onwards, I was to cook for the whole family, all three meals, and serve them as well.

‘Your uncle assured Mr Chen that you can cook, so now you can prove it,’ she said, smiling, as though setting a test in which
she was sure I would fail.

She gave me strict instructions on every aspect of what I was to cook that first Sunday, when it was to be served, how it
was to be served and what was expected of me. I was aghast. How could I possibly do it all on my own? My mind froze as she
spoke, unable to take in the bombardment of minute details. And then, worse – as she left the room, I realised that I was
bound to meet Yimou for the first time.

Xiong Fei’s arrival that Saturday evening did little to cheer me up. He talked me step by step through the preparation of
the dishes I was to cook, muttering angrily about Mrs Chen’s spitefulness in setting me such a task. He was also furious about
the fact that, without any warning or discussion, he was to lose a whole day’s work.

‘She just uses people, then spits them out when she no longer has any need for them. Now she asks you, an eleven-year-old,
to do the work of an experienced chef. She’s using you like a slave, Lu Si-yan. Have you written to your mother yet?’

I shook my head miserably. ‘I can’t tell her, I just can’t. She can’t take me back, Uncle made that clear. How can I worry
her when there’s nothing she can do to help?’

‘Then give me your uncle’s address and let me write to him. He’s your family. He should be looking after you.’

‘Uncle hates me. It was his idea to send me away in the first place.’

‘But how can you stay here, Lu Si-yan?’

‘I have no choice,’ I replied.

I have no choice, I said to myself over and over again in my room later that evening, as I gazed out of the window only to
discover that the river had disappeared once more beneath a thick blanket of mist. I had thought about escaping, just simply
running away, but I had no money, Mrs Chen was careful to keep the apartment door locked, and where would I go, anyway? My
future looked as bleak as the shadowland below, my determination to go home to my mother faltering when little more than a
month had passed.