The Orchid Tree (20 page)

Sofia lay in the cabin of her uncle’s launch. The nausea had subsided, but she’d spent the two hours since they’d left Kowloon going to and from the heads and vomiting. She ran a jerky hand through her hair. It had to be some kind of tummy bug. She swung her feet slowly to the floor and went up to the bridge.

‘I don’t know what came over me,’ she said to James. ‘I’m feeling a lot better now.’

‘That’s good.’ He put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. ‘I was worried about you. You still look a bit pale, though.’

‘I’ll be all right once I’ve eaten something.’ She kissed the pulse beneath his ear. ‘Come down to the lower deck for some lunch. The plane won’t be here for a while yet.’

At the stern of the launch she sipped a soda water and munched on a cream cracker. They were motoring past Siu A Chau, the northernmost of the dozen or so islands making up the Soko group south of Lan Tau - Hong Kong’s largest island. She eyed crystal-white sands and lush green vegetation rising up to a small hill. Supposedly there was a hamlet hidden there somewhere, but otherwise the place was uninhabited. A small shrine nestled by the shore, painted bright red, and rocks at the far end stood up like ninepins.

The Catalina seaplane would touch down between Siu A Chau and Tai A Chau, the largest of the Sokos, just within the colony’s territorial waters. She glanced upwards and caught sight of Lantau Peak - a broad cone to the north.

Once they’d put masks on to conceal their identities, she and James would secure the Catalina and its prisoners with the help of Chun Ming and Uncle’s pilot, Wing Yan. Then they’d pick up the gold and head back to Kowloon by way of the dumbbell-shaped island of Cheung Chau, where it had been arranged for them to leave Uncle’s men in a safe house. The Marine Police would be tipped off by Special Branch as soon as the plane took off. By the time their boats arrived, Sofia and the others would be long gone.

Staring at the island across the short stretch of sea before them, she said to James, ‘Have you heard the story of Cheung Po-tsai, the famous pirate?’

‘Can’t say that I have.’

‘According to legend, he had a fleet of over one thousand war-junks equipped with cannon and over ten thousand men at his command.’

‘How long ago was that?’

‘The last decades of the eighteenth and beginning of the nineteenth century. Apparently, he had an English concubine and he lived with her in a sumptuously furnished cavern on Cheung Chau.’

‘Strange he should meet an Englishwoman in those days.’

‘She fell in love with him after he’d captured a British clipper and held her for ransom.’

‘Just like I’ve fallen in love with you.’

‘I’m not a pirate,’ she said, laughing.

‘Ah, but your uncle is. This whole malarkey smacks of piracy, in my opinion.’

Ignoring his remark, she pointed ahead. ‘They say the Englishwoman’s grave is on that island.’

***

After they’d eaten, she went back to the bridge with James. The rumble of an engine, and she shaded her eyes. The seaplane had levelled out over Lantau, but instead of starting its descent, it was tossing from one side to the other. Sofia clapped her hands to her cheeks. It had overshot its intended landing spot.
Holy Mother of God!
The plane had gone into a nosedive.

James swung around. ‘What the hell?’

In the distance, the Catalina plunged into the sea.

‘Oh no!’ Sofia felt sick again.

‘Bugger!’ James grabbed the charts, hung onto the table, and ran a finger down the map. ‘She’s ditched about ten miles away, I reckon,’ he said, his voice a pitch higher than usual. ‘We must go there straight away.’

They approached the crash site at high speed. Within minutes, it seemed, although it probably took longer, they spotted jetsam bobbing on top of the waves. Sofia looked around for the plane. Nothing. Suitcases floated on the surface and coldness spread through her.

James caught hold of her arm. ‘Look!’

She followed his gaze and there was someone, a man, clutching a piece of wreckage.

James grabbed a lifebuoy and threw it to the man. Sofia went to fetch a blanket while James and the boat-boy lifted the survivor onto the deck.

Chun Ming lay stretched out, his face white and heavily bruised; he was shaking and his leg dangled limply - obviously badly broken. ‘What happened?’ Sofia wrapped the blanket around him, but he stared at her as if he had no idea who she was.

James made radio contact with Gerry Watkins. Sofia listened to the brief conversation, trembling. ‘Fair enough,’ James said to Watkins. ‘We’ll take him to Queen Mary Hospital.’

‘He’s washed his hands of the matter,’ James said, pacing the deck. ‘We’re off the hook because of the deal with your uncle. But the plane has crashed, and the police are in the know, so Chun Ming will be investigated. There’s no chance of recovering the gold, I’m afraid.’

Sofia cradled Chun Ming’s head in her lap. She didn’t care about the gold. All she could think about was the plane’s final moments as it went down, taking everyone on board but Chun Ming with it.

***

Two days later, Sofia stood by the foot of Chun Ming’s hospital bed. He was sleeping, his face serene against the white of the sheets. His pyjamas had been buttoned up wrongly and she longed to re-button them, but she didn’t want to disturb him. His leg was in a pulley and covered in bandages. She sat down on the chair by his bedside.

He opened his eyes and smiled weakly.

A Chinese nurse, a wisp of black hair poking out from her cap, busied around arranging the red gladioli Sofia had brought. After plumping up Chun Ming’s pillows and helping him take a sip of water, the nurse left the room.

Sofia took hold of Chun Ming’s hand. ‘How do you feel?’

His face wore a pained expression. ‘I’ll be all right.’

‘What happened?’

‘I can’t remember much.’

‘Do you think you can piece things together if I prompt you?’

‘I’ll try.’ Chun Ming grimaced. ‘Well, a few minutes after take-off, I think it was, Wing Yan put a gun to the pilot’s head. He demanded the controls, but the pilot refused.’

‘What happened next?’

‘Let me think . . .’ Chun Ming stared at the opposite wall for what seemed like an age, his forehead wrinkling. ‘I know. I ordered the co-pilot and Derek Higgins, who was carrying the gold for your half-brother, and the other passengers to move to the side of the cabin so I could cover them with my gun.’

‘And then what?’

‘The plane hit a patch of turbulence and Higgins drew his own gun.’

‘Did he fire it?’

‘No. Higgins lunged at Wing Yan, who lost his balance. Both guns went off and a bullet hit the pilot in the back of the neck.’

‘How terrible!’

‘The pilot’s body fell forward onto the flight controls. The plane veered left, then right, and then nose-dived. Everyone was screaming and I managed to jump out the door just before we hit the sea.’

‘There’s no easy way to tell you this, Chun Ming, but you’ve got to know.’ Sofia leaned forward. ‘There’s a policeman outside this room. Now that you’ve regained consciousness, he will want to interview you.’

‘Why?’

‘They knew about the robbery and they’ve recovered the pilot’s body.’

‘I didn’t shoot him.’

‘I know. But you’re the only survivor.’

‘I’m sorry about those who died. I never expected this outcome.’

‘I’m sorry too about them all, even Derek Higgins.’ She glanced down at the bed sheet.

‘I agree. He was very unpleasant, but I didn’t want him to die.’

‘Uncle will send some money to his parents,’ Sofia said, patting Chung Ming’s hand. ‘He has great respect for family.’
As if that will make it all right!

‘What about the factory?’

‘You’re not to worry about that. The main thing is you will get better. We’ll find you a good lawyer. In fact, I don’t think that policeman can interrogate you until you have one.’

A trolley rattled past the door and she stood up. ‘I must go, but I’ll be back tomorrow.’

She picked up her handbag. Two Chinese women were coming into the room. The Englishwoman, the one she’d seen with James, followed them.

‘Li! Ma!’ Chun Ming called out.

‘Hello. I’m Kate Wolseley.’ The Englishwoman smiled at Sofia. ‘Chun Ming and I grew up together.’

Sofia took a step back and touched her throat. Dizziness spread through her. She grabbed hold of the side of the chair. Her legs folded beneath her and she slipped to the floor.

I took a taxi to the Ferry. The cymbals and high-pitched song of Cantonese opera were playing on the radio and the cab stank of stale cigarette smoke. Outside, though, Hong Kong shimmered in shades of green and blue. The humid clouds of summer had given way to the lucidity that only happened at this time of the year, when it truly became a place of mountains, sea and sky. But the sound of pile drivers echoed in the air. Such a shame that so many hills were being bulldozed down to fill in parts of the harbour and make room for unrelenting construction work.

Poor Sofia. I’d rushed forward to catch hold of her and help her to sit on a chair when she’d nearly fainted. Her face was greyish and perspiration shone on her forehead. Ah Ho grabbed a glass and filled it from the water jug on Chun Ming’s bedside table. Sofia resolutely refused to see a doctor. What an incredibly beautiful woman she was, with her thick dark-brown hair and large grey oriental eyes, not to mention an almost perfect figure (perhaps her chest was a bit flat). No wonder James had fallen for her . . .

I was furious with him. Between them, Chun Ming and Sofia had told me the whole story. James should have persuaded K C Leung to find another way to repay Leo Rodrigues. People had died as a result of Leung’s so-called ruse.

Leaning back, I shut my eyes. Charles had responded to my call from the hospital’s reception desk with a swift agreement to meet me at the Peninsula Hotel. If anyone could help Jimmy, Charles would be that person. He said he had a client to see in Kowloon beforehand. That suited me fine; I’d combine meeting Charles with confirming the final details of the ball, which was due to take place the day before my twenty-third birthday.

I found a seat on the top deck of the ferry in the covered central section. The sides were open to the view and a sampan floated past with an old man holding a fishing line, his long grey goatee flapping in the breeze. All around us vessels weaved and crossed, passed and turned, like a pool of carp in a feeding frenzy.

On Kowloon side, as everyone always called it, I walked for five minutes until I arrived at the Peninsula. It was here that the Governor had surrendered to the Japanese on Christmas Day, 1941. Japanese officers had occupied the hotel, which became their headquarters. Now it was “the finest hotel east of Suez” again. A sudden sensation of loss spread through me; Mama used to bring me here and treat me to a milkshake sometimes after school.

A fountain played in the forecourt and I climbed the steps, glancing upwards at the horseshoe-shaped structure. Two bellboys in white uniforms opened the double doors. I crossed the marble floor to the manager’s office, where I confirmed the menu for the ball and made sure all the arrangements were in place.

Thanking the manager, I stepped into the lobby. A string quartet on the corner balcony was playing
Greensleeves.
There was Charles in an armchair at a table across the room. I drank in the sight of him: his broad shoulders, lean body and long legs. He looked up and smiled his wonderful smile, making my pulse race.

Last week we’d gone to the pictures together and had seen the film
Easter Parade,
starring Judy Garland and Fred Astaire, but that had been the only time we’d managed a date since dinner with Charles’ relatives. I’d loved the Irving Berlin soundtrack and had been humming
Stepping out with My Baby
so much I’d been driving my school colleagues mad. In the cinema, Charles and I had kissed in the darkness. He’d held me in his arms and I’d felt the hardness of his chest against my breasts. How I longed to make love with him again . . .

The clink of cutlery mixed with the murmur of conversation as Charles pulled out a chair and gave me a peck on the cheek. ‘How wonderful to see you, darling,’ he said. He signalled the bow-tied waiter. ‘Indian, Earl Grey or Jasmine tea?’

‘Indian, please.’

Charles gave our order. Then he placed the tips of his fingers together. ‘Tell me, my love, why did you want to see me so urgently? Purely business, you said. What business?’

‘The Catalina sea plane.’

A frown creased his forehead. ‘What’s that got to do with you?’

‘Not me. My old amah’s son.’

I explained about my hospital visit and we both expressed surprise that Derek Higgins had also been involved in the catastrophe. ‘It would mean so much if you could help,’ I said. ‘Not just to me. Ah Ho must be worried sick about Chun Ming.’

A bicycle bell rang, as one of the pageboys walked past us, holding a small blackboard aloft to page someone. Charles leant forward. ‘Where did you say the plane went down?’

‘Beyond the Soko Islands.’

‘Have the police interviewed Chun Ming yet?’

‘No. They’ll wait until you can be there.’

‘Good. I’ll get my secretary to make the arrangements.’

Our waiter arrived and placed a silver tray on the table, laden with a typical English afternoon tea: wafer-thin sandwiches, sponge cake and scones. I lifted the silver teapot and poured.

Charles offered me a cucumber sandwich then took one for himself. ‘Tell me more about James’ involvement.’

‘Sofia said he was working secretly for Special Branch. Apparently, James brokered a deal with Leung for information about local banks smuggling the Consortium’s gold into Hong Kong.’ I sipped my tea. ‘Leung also provided details of a new group of Triads from China who are setting up here. In return, Special Branch agreed to let him get away with the robbery.’

‘Right. That will make it easier. Special Branch won’t want this to get out.’

I crumpled my linen napkin, stiff with starch. Charles was looking at me intensely, bathing me in the warmth of his regard. ‘Jessica and I are organising a charity ball here to coincide with the Mid-Autumn Festival next week,’ I said. ‘Would you like to buy a ticket? It’s Fancy Dress and the theme is China.’

‘Why not? What are you wearing?’

‘The
cheongsam
I’m having made. I’m going as Madam Chiang Kai Shek. I bought the material with your aunt yesterday.’

‘So glad you two are getting on. Auntie will convince Uncle, you’ll see. He always comes round to her way of seeing things in the end.’

We lapsed into silence while Charles ate his way through all the cake and sandwiches. Putting my napkin down, I pushed back my chair. ‘Well, I’d better be off. I took an afternoon’s leave of absence from school to visit Chun Ming, and my headmistress will be cross if she gets reports that I’ve been seen having tea at the Pen. Are you going back to Hong Kong side now?’

‘Yes, my love, I’ll take the Ferry with you.’

I held his hand and we walked past the bus station to the concourse. I didn’t care if any of Papa’s chums saw us, and Charles didn’t seem to mind either. A stiff breeze was blowing and I held onto my hat with my other hand. We went through the turnstile then up the ramp to the ferry.

‘Did you know a tropical cyclone is headed our way?’ Charles said. ‘The Royal Observatory has launched typhoon signal number one. I’ve heard the storm won’t be here for a couple of days, but do take care, my darling.’

‘I wondered why it has turned so windy. Don’t worry, I’ll be safe on the Peak. Papa has perfected the art of organising typhoon shutters.’ A sudden thought occurred to me. ‘I’ve just had a brilliant idea. We can tell Papa you’re helping Jimmy, I mean Chun Ming. That will be a perfectly legitimate excuse for us to see each other. Then, once he gets used to you being around, we’ll inform him we’re in love.’

A doubtful expression crossed Charles’ face. ‘Something tells me it isn’t going to be that simple.’

‘Well, have you got a better plan?’

‘No,’ he said, taking my face in his hands and kissing me.

‘Good. I’ll tell Papa about you helping us.’