The Orchid Tree (21 page)

Charles dialled Kate’s number. He wanted to fill her in on developments in Chun Ming’s case, but her houseboy answered the phone and said she’d gone to the Children’s Home in the New Territories. Apparently, she went every Sunday.

He put down the phone. Why hadn’t Kate told him that’s what she did on her day off? It was a marvellous thing for her to do. Except, it was so like her not to tell him; she wouldn’t want him to think she was boasting. They’d spoken only yesterday and she’d said her father hadn’t batted an eyelid when she’d explained he was helping Chun Ming. Charles was under no illusions, however. Expatriates and locals always worked well together as far as business was concerned. It was only in their personal lives that they didn’t mix.

The wireless blared from the kitchen. Yesterday, typhoon signal number three had gone up and winds had strengthened throughout the day, but by early this morning it seemed the storm had turned away. Charles glanced out of the window; the trees were bending in an alarming fashion. A news flash came on and he jumped to his feet. The typhoon had turned around and was heading straight for Hong Kong!

Wendy, as the storm was known, was expected to pass near the colony late that afternoon at the same time as the predicted high tide. There were fears of a tidal wave in Tolo Harbour.

Good God!
That’s close to the Children’s Home . . .

Charles grabbed his car keys, ran downstairs and jumped into his MG. The wind whipped the trees by the side of the road and sent rubbish flying up into the air, buffeting his small car. He had to use all his strength to keep it on the road.

At the Ferry a policeman stopped him. The boats had all gone to the typhoon shelters. He wouldn’t be able to get across.

Charles drove frantically round to the back of the Hong Kong Club, found a space, reversed into it, and ran to the pier.

There was a man in a walla walla motorboat, his craft cresting the waves like a roller-coaster. ‘You wan’ go Kowloon side?’

‘How much?’

‘Fifty dollar!’

‘Too much!’

‘Fifty dollar!’

Charles looked around; there weren’t any other boats. He climbed down the ladder and jumped into the vessel. Warm rain drenching him, he sat next to the boatman and held on for dear life as the walla walla jerked, plunged, and pitched its way across the harbour.

On Kowloon side Charles clambered ashore, found a phone booth, and dialled the Wolseleys’ number. Henry answered.

‘I’m on my way to the New Territories,’ Charles said. ‘Have you heard from Kate?’

‘I can’t get through to the orphanage. The phone lines must be down. Very grateful to you if you’d check on my daughter.’

‘I’ll try my best.’

‘Just make sure she’s all right!’

Charles got into the back of the only cab prepared to take him to the Sha Tin. Rain sheeted horizontally across the road, broken glass flew in the air and shop signs swayed. The streets, normally crowded with people, were eerily empty.

Half an hour later, the taxi skirted the edge of the rising waters and pulled up outside the gates of the orphanage. Charles paid the driver. The man told him he lived locally and was heading home anyway, but that didn’t stop him from charging thirty dollars.

Charles ran up the steep driveway to the front door. It was swinging on its hinges. A corridor spanned the front of the building and he went into the first room, a dining room with long tables down the centre and a smell of burnt rice. No one. Next he strode into a sitting room boasting chintz-covered sofas and rattan armchairs. Empty. Three children’s dormitories with unmade beds made up the rest of the rooms. Where was Kate? There was a door at the end of the corridor, and he pushed it open.

There she was, in a large schoolroom, mopping up rainwater that had come in through the shuttered windows. She stared at him. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘God, Kate! Why didn’t you tell me this is what you do with your time?’

‘Well, now you’re here, you can help,’ she said with a wry smile. ‘Sorry I’m not more welcoming, but I’m exhausted.’ She handed him the mop, and waved towards a frizzy-haired European woman sitting with a group of children in the dry patch at the far end of the room. ‘Miss Denning, this is Charles. Looks like he’s come to give us a hand.’

‘Good. You stay here with the little ones, Kate, and I’ll go and find Mary. I think she’s with the amahs and the older children.’

Charles gazed out through a crack in the shutters. The fields below, a short time ago sodden with water, were now completely submerged. People had moved up to the green-tiled roofs of the nearby walled village, clutching their possessions; some had even carried up pigs, chickens and dogs. The orphanage was on a hill, but it was a small one. Would the waters reach them here?

He mopped up as much as he could, then went over to Kate; she was sitting with a small girl on her lap.

‘Who’s this?’

‘Mei Ling.’ Kate kissed the girl on the cheek.

He lowered himself to sit cross-legged next to her. The child regarded him suspiciously. ‘I don’t suppose she sees many men,’ he said, unable to keep the emotion from his voice. He really admired Kate for what she was doing, but couldn’t find the words to say so in front of the children.

‘Why don’t you read Mei Ling a story? She likes
The Three Little Pigs.
’

Gradually, the child’s eyes lost their mistrustful look. Charles enjoyed reading to her; it reminded him of the times he’d read to Ruth when she was Mei Ling’s age. The girl’s eyelids closed and she drifted off to sleep.

Outside, the wind bellowed and rattled the windows. What was happening to those poor people in the village below? He couldn’t bear to think. And what would happen to them if the sea rose further?

‘You didn’t explain why you came here,’ Kate whispered.

‘I wanted to tell you that Chun Ming will be sent back to China when his leg is out of plaster. He won’t stand trial in Hong Kong.’

‘Good!’

‘Yesterday I spoke to the senior partner in my firm and he confirmed my belief that, because the plane came down in Chinese waters, the colony won’t have jurisdiction. I contacted James Stevens, and he got in touch with Special Branch. I found out he’d done the deal this morning.’

‘I wonder what will happen to Chun Ming when he’s in China . . .’

‘He’ll probably receive a hero’s welcome from the communists. They’re poised to take Canton and he’s an ardent party member. Also, he fought with them during the occupation, didn’t he?’

‘Of course. That should make it easier for him.’

‘When I interviewed him yesterday morning, he told me he knew Fei, the fierce young man I met at the end of the war who got me through Japanese lines. I was glad to have been of help to Chun Ming, my love. I don’t condone what he did, though. It was misguided to say the least.’

‘What did James have to say for himself?’

‘Nothing much. I got the impression he didn’t want to talk about it.’

***

In the late afternoon, the wind died down and the rain abated. There was nothing more he and Kate could do here, as Miss Denning had returned and taken charge. They said goodbye to the children and walked down the slope towards the village. Kate cried out in dismay at the devastation: debris everywhere, people wailing and frantically digging in the wreckage as they searched for their loved ones, torn-up vegetation strewn across the road, a large fishing junk tossed up on the land. Dead animals floated on the receding waters, and the shanty town he’d seen by the main road had been reduced to splintered planks of wood. It was incredible that so much damage could have happened in such a short time. Charles put his arm around Kate and she burrowed into his shoulder, sobbing.

Sirens shrilled and three fire engines arrived, followed by five ambulances and a police car. There was little he and Kate could do to help, other than comfort the grieving. In the early evening, Charles found a taxi and took Kate to the Ferry. She was silent throughout the journey, her face pale with apparent shock and tiredness. They arrived on Hong Kong side, and he walked with her to his car.

‘Thank you for getting Chun Ming off, my darling,’ Kate said. ‘I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but you could have waited to tell me tomorrow, couldn’t you?’

‘I was worried about you. Also, when I phoned your father to find out if he’d heard from you, he asked me to make sure you were all right.’

‘Then please come in for a drink when we get to my place.’

***

A gardener was sweeping up leaves, and repositioning flowerpots at the edge of the driveway. Charles parked to the side, steering clear of a couple of amahs taking down the typhoon shutters.

‘This is quite a house,’ he said.

Kate led him through the front door. ‘I suppose it
is
a bit big for the two of us. I’m longing to get away, but you know how difficult it is to find somewhere. You were lucky to have your uncle’s contacts to get your flat, weren’t you?’

She was right; he would have found it impossible if Uncle Phillip hadn’t been a friend of his landlord. Waiting lists for accommodation were notoriously long.

In the sitting room, Henry Wolseley got up from his armchair and held out his hand to Charles. ‘Dashed grateful to you.’ Henry went up to Kate and hugged her. ‘Bally typhoon. Wasn’t supposed to change course like that. Are you all right?’

‘We’re fine,’ Kate said. ‘But lots of other people aren’t, I’m afraid. We could do with a drink.’

‘Of course.’ Henry rang a hand bell. ‘Where’s Ah Woo? Ah! There he is.’

Charles asked for a San Miguel and Kate a brandy soda. Their drinks arrived, and Kate led him to the veranda to admire the view. The typhoon had cleared the air and, from this height, it was possible to see the mountains of China on the distant horizon behind the Kowloon hills.

‘You’ll stay for supper, won’t you?’

‘As long as your father doesn’t mind.’

‘Of course he won’t mind. He thinks we’re just friends. Friends have supper together, don’t they?’

‘We should be able to tell him we’re more than friends soon, my darling. Your plan might just work . . .’

Sofia unlocked the front door of Father’s villa (she’d never think of it as Leo’s) and strode across the tiled hall to the sideboard. She rang for the houseboy. ‘Is my brother home?’

‘Yes, missy.’

‘Please tell him I’m here.’

Within seconds, Balthazar at his heels, Leo stood in front of her and folded his arms. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘I’m very well thank you, how are you?’

‘Sarcasm will get you nowhere,’ Leo said, his mouth turning up at one corner. ‘Why are you here?’

‘I have your money.’ She handed him an envelope containing a banker’s draft.

‘How did you manage that?’ Leo slid out the cheque. ‘You haven’t received your inheritance yet.’

‘I went to the biggest bank in Hong Kong and they were quite happy to lend me the money, secured on the factory and its machinery.’ James had helped organise the loan once his partnership in the business had been confirmed.

‘Fair enough. You win, little sister. For now.’

‘Here are my house keys. I’m leaving Macau for good so I won’t need them anymore.’

Leo frowned. ‘Tell your uncle I know he was involved with the seaplane catastrophe. Someone has talked. Leung had better watch his back.’

‘What are you on about?’

‘I think you know perfectly well.’

‘I know nothing of the sort. And there is no way you can connect my uncle with that tragedy.’

‘He was seen with a man known to have trained as a pilot in the Philippines.’

‘You’re just making this up, Leo.’

‘The Consortium has lost nearly thirty thousand American dollars. That’s a lot of money by any reckoning, over one hundred and forty thousand Hong Kong dollars in fact. Strangely enough, roughly similar in value to your bank draft.’

‘Only a coincidence. I’ll go upstairs now and pack the last of my things.’

Dratted Leo. He’s too clever by far. Too, too clever.

***

Sofia took the afternoon steamer. Whenever she left Macau for the bright lights of the British colony, it was as if she were being jolted from the nineteenth into the twentieth century. In Macau, time seemed to have stood still and nothing had changed in decades. Many of the buildings in the beautiful old terraces were crumbling into decay, and the whole place had a feeling of decadence. She was glad to be on this ship, with her trunk of clothes in the hold and her jewellery in a bag by her side. Finally, she was getting away from Leo and everything to do with him.

Apparently, Derek Higgins had been able to manufacture fire-crackers in Macau, whereas in Hong Kong factory regulations would have made his methods impossible. Derek’s workers had caught terrible illnesses by inhaling poisonous vapours. Some had even blown themselves up. No questions had ever been asked by the authorities. People had done the work because they’d been desperate for employment. They would find other, healthier jobs now, hopefully. She wasn’t sorry Derek’s body hadn’t been found. He’d been a shark and he’d ended up a shark’s dinner, for sure.

As for Leo, no doubt he’d continue his trajectory to become the most powerful man in Macau. Almost certainly, he would be running the place in a few years’ time. She was well out of it. If she’d stayed he would have involved her in no end of shady dealings; it was the way he operated.

Her future lay with the factory. She and James would develop it into a profitable, legitimate business together. She had to build security. Not just for herself, but for her child. She was pregnant; she’d found out from her doctor yesterday, although she’d suspected it since nearly fainting at the hospital. After each lovemaking session with James, she’d douched with Chinese herbs, the advice she’d read in one of Uncle’s books. Not the right advice, as it had turned out . . .

Sofia looked out of the porthole. The colour of the sea had changed from muddy to turquoise blue, so they must have left the Pearl River Estuary. Soon, they passed Lantau Island and entered Hong Kong’s Victoria Harbour. Here was her future. Here was James, the man she loved. Here she would bring up their child.

***

She passed through immigration. James was waiting for her. She went up to him, her heartbeat quickening. How would he react when she told him about the baby? When would she tell him? He came up and took her hand luggage. ‘Where’s this trunk you warned me about?’

‘Over there.’ She pointed.

‘Good thing I organised a lorry, then,’ he said, laughing. ‘It’s enormous.’

They clambered into the front cab, and the vehicle made its way to the car ferry. Crossing the harbour, they got out and stood on the foredeck.

James hooked his arm around her waist. ‘How did things go when you paid off Leo?’

‘He’s not stupid, you know.’ She leaned against him. ‘He suspects Uncle set up the robbery. He can’t prove it, but we need to be aware we have a dangerous enemy.’

‘How far does his influence extend? Surely not to Hong Kong?’

‘He’s only a big fish in the small pond of Macau. But, don’t forget he has connections with the Triads here.’

‘I haven’t forgotten. I’ll make sure Special Branch keep me informed if they hear anything. What news of Chun Ming?’

‘The only people who know of his involvement are us, his family, Kate Wolseley and Charles Pearce. Let’s hope it stays that way. If Leo gets wind of his participation in the robbery, it’ll be difficult to keep him safe. I wonder if we can get him back to China before his leg is out of plaster . . .’

‘I’ll have a word with Gerry Watkins.’

They returned to the lorry and disembarked. After twenty minutes they arrived at their hotel, the one they always used. Only this time they’d booked a suite to tide them over until they found a flat. James had given up his lodgings in Kowloon Tong when he’d resigned from Holden’s Wharf.

James took off his shoes and stretched out on the bed cover. She sat next to him and took his hand. ‘There’s something I need to tell you.’

‘Oh,’ he said with a frown. ‘Something good or something bad?’

‘Something good. At least, I think it is.’

‘Well, then, tell me.’

‘I’m pregnant,’ she said, meeting his gaze.

A smile spread across his face. ‘Are you sure?’

‘I saw my doctor yesterday. You’ll be a father next April.’

‘Sweetheart, that’s wonderful. I was going to do this in a more romantic setting, but there’s no time like the present, as they say.’

‘What were you going to do?’

‘Ask you to marry me. Will you, Sofia? You’ll make me the happiest man alive.’

‘Yes. Oh, yes,’ she said, her heart singing.

‘We can get a special license. Do it as soon as possible to avoid any scandal. You know what this place is like.’

She lay next to him. ‘It will be scandalous enough you marrying me without the extra gossip about when our baby was conceived.’

He held out his arms. ‘I love you, Sofia Rodrigues, and I’ll love you as long as I live.’

‘I love you too, James. In this life and the next.’