The Orchid Tree (18 page)

I was on my way back from the orphanage. My taxi halted at traffic lights, and I stared out of the window. A man was striding up a rough track leading to a steep hillside on the far side of the crossing, swinging his arms like Charles did. I told the driver to stop, and paid the fare. I had to see him again. If it was him. I’d spoken to him on the phone a couple of times, but it wasn’t the same as being with him face to face. He’d asked me about James Stevens, and I’d told him James was just a friend. I couldn’t help feeling pleased Charles loved me enough to be jealous.

I set off at a brisk pace, walking past coolies carrying heavy bundles on their shoulder-poles, and rickshaws laden with packages. Then I came to a flattened area, almost a plateau at the top of the path. Built in close proximity stood thousands of huts made of thin wood, corrugated iron, and old packing cases. A whole city had risen from bare ground. People turned and stared at me.

A bare-bottomed toddler, his lower lip quivering, nose running with phlegm and tears streaming, hid behind his mother’s legs. The woman, a baby slung from her back, picked up her child and ran off down a narrow alleyway. Everywhere washing hung out to dry. Where did these poor women get the water to wash their clothes? There was a standpipe down by the main road; they must have to carry buckets all the way up here. Obviously there were no sewerage facilities and a stench in the air reminded me of Stanley.

I looked around for Charles. He’d disappeared and I doubted it had been really him that I’d seen. I was out of place here; it was so different from my usual haunts. And I was frightened. Not of the people, who seemed more scared of me than I of them, but of the poverty. I started to trace my steps back down to Waterloo Road. Someone tapped on me on the shoulder, and I turned around.

‘What are you doing here?’ Charles asked.

‘I could ask the same thing of you,’ I said, smiling.

‘My uncle has built cheap blocks of flats on some land he bought. I was getting the names of people to re-house. It’s a drop in the ocean, though. There are far too many refugees.’

Charles offered me a lift home, and I walked with him to where he’d parked his car in Kadoorie Avenue, breathing in the faint citrus smell of him, intensely aware of his physical presence, his broad shoulders tapering to a slim waist. ‘It’s turned out to be a gorgeous afternoon,’ I said, falling into the safe refuge of small-talk.

Bright sunshine had cleared away the humidity that had clung to me like a blanket while I’d been at the orphanage. I pointed at two magpies, perched in an orchid tree. ‘One for sorrow, two for joy.’

Charles took his keys from his pocket and led me to an MGA Coupé parked in front of his uncle’s house. ‘Shall we take the car hood off?’

‘What fun.’ I glanced back at the tree, remembering the one in Stanley. Had Charles made the same connection?

‘How about a spin?’ he said.

We crossed the harbour in the vehicular ferry, headed through the mid-levels, skirted Happy Valley, went over the gap and down towards the south. Charles turned right onto Island Road, the MG’s engine making a purring sound, and we motored towards Aberdeen fishing village.

‘This was the fragrant harbour that gave Hong Kong its name,’ he said. ‘In the last century the British would stop off and get fresh water from a waterfall. The fragrance came from the scent of the joss sticks traded here.’

‘I always thought the name referred to Victoria Harbour, which isn’t fragrant at all.’

Charles seemed to relax behind the wheel of his car, sure of himself as he drove me around the back of the island. I was so aware of him it hurt - his thigh long and lean on the other side of the gear stick, his strong, capable hands on the steering wheel.

‘I’ve just rented a flat in Bisney Road,’ he said. ‘Moved in yesterday. Would you like to see it?’

The apartment was on the second floor of a new three-storey block. There were staff quarters and three bedrooms, but so far he’d only furnished one of them. I stood at the door to his room and stared at his bed, a flush spreading through me. Turning abruptly, I collided with him.

He took me in his arms and kissed me. My body fused to his and I kissed him back, real kisses, the years of longing unravelling like a dropped stitch. He lifted his head and his eyes sought mine. ‘Kate?’ His voice cracked with emotion.

I nodded.

Charles steered me backwards and we toppled onto the quilt. My hand slipped under his shirt and I caressed his smooth chest. He undid the buttons of my blouse, reached behind, and unclasped my bra.

His mouth explored my breasts. ‘Oh Charles . . .’ I was losing myself to the pleasure. I couldn’t think of anything but him. My one and only love. He pulled down my panties, and I unbuckled his trouser belt.

It was my first time and I’d expected discomfort. But all I wanted was to keep him inside me forever. Exquisite sensation filled my body.

Oh Charles, oh Charles, at last.

The pleasure built and built and I was melting with it. Then something happened, something I’d read about yet never imagined could be so extraordinary, and I let out a low shuddering moan. Charles quickly withdrew. ‘I love you so much,’ I said, turning to smile at him.

‘And I love you too, my darling.’ He stroked my cheek. ‘I want you here with me, you know I do, but we have to be patient. So I think it’s time I got you home to your father.’

I wanted to shake him and tell him Papa didn’t matter. But something stopped me. Of course my father mattered. Hands trembling, I put on my panties, buttoned up my blouse, and picked up my handbag. ‘Let’s go, then.’

All the way back up to the Peak, I maintained silence. I’d made love with Charles, I should have been bubbling with happiness. Instead, though, my insides were tied up in knots.

Charles dropped Kate off at her front gate. He watched her marching away from him, and an invisible hand squeezed his heart. She’d been so quiet in the car. Too quiet. Should he run after her? Charles grabbed the door handle. He pushed down, then stopped himself. He had to be cautious, otherwise he’d make mistakes and he wouldn’t achieve his goal. Kate meant the world to him; her happiness was paramount.

He drove back to his flat. Thankfully, his amah had been out at the market when he’d brought Kate here earlier. Tittle-tattle spread around the colony through the servants’ grapevine and God forbid Kate should be the subject of the latest gossip.

Stepping into the hallway, he called for Ah Tong and requested an early supper. Emotions drained, he collapsed on the sofa and sipped a beer, listening to his amah’s clattering in the kitchen. Shame he had little appetite, but he had to give Ah Tong face and do honour to the meal.

The sweet and sour fish eaten, every bite an effort, he drew a bath. Lying back in the tub, he remembered the first time he’d met Kate. She was sitting in the cemetery, unaware he was watching her twirl her plaits like a little girl. Later he’d fallen in love with her sweet face, her amber eyes and irrepressible giggle. She’d been young for her age and he’d loved her innocence, probably the result of her sheltered upbringing. Kate was the apple of Henry Wolseley’s eye, anyone could see that. And she reciprocated her father’s adoration. If Charles were to cause a breach between them, it would affect Kate for the rest of her life. He couldn’t do that to her.

***

The following evening, he drove towards the car ferry terminal through streets lined with four-storey buildings, their flimsy wooden balconies festooned with washing strung on bamboo poles. The poor of the city lived here in sub-standard housing. Most of the flats had no bathrooms, no toilets, no courtyards and only one kitchen for about twenty families. Far worse than Stanley. The apartments were divided into eight foot square cubicles shared by five or more people. Charles had experienced overcrowding, but this was on a much greater scale than in the internment camp.

Filthy pavements were lined with stalls selling everything from congee to cans of cola, and in between stretched the mats of the street sleepers - whole families who hadn’t been able to find anywhere to live. He opened the window and reeled at the stink of human ordure, rotten fruit, decaying vegetables and cooking oil. Strident Cantonese voices filled the air - shouted conversations interspersed with the cries of the hawkers. Rain pummelled the roof of his car and ran down the windscreen. Charles wound up the window.

On the ferry he stayed in his MG. He thought about Kate, as Kowloon emerged from the mist with its hills and teeming tenements. Perhaps they shouldn’t have made love, they weren’t married yet, but it had been just how he’d dreamt it would be. When they’d melted into each other, he’d pulsed with such love for her he could have died at that moment and felt fulfilled.

Except he hadn’t died, of course, and, hopefully, he and Kate would have a future together. He stared around him. Living here was like living in a human ant colony: people building, toiling, making, striving and always hoping for better days to come. Everyone wanted to accumulate wealth; it was the goal of every person, from the lowly street sleeper to those who were already rich but who had every intention of getting richer. Part of the Chinese character, and he didn’t disapprove. Hong Kong was an amalgamation of east and west, just like he was. Charles sighed. How to break through Henry Wolseley’s prejudice and be accepted as a suitable match for his daughter? The ferry was docking, and Charles started the car. There had to be a way, there just had to be . . .

‘You’ve got too thin,’ Auntie exclaimed, greeting him at the door of the house. Charles kissed her cheek as she dragged him over the threshold. She led him to a tray of
dim sum.
‘You eat,’ she ordered. ‘I’ll go check on dinner.’

Uncle came into the room, dressed casually in an open-necked shirt. ‘Good to see you, Charles. How’re things?’

He talked about his current case, a family dispute about a Last Will and Testament (taking care not to reveal any names). Uncle listened and cracked sunflower seeds between his teeth. ‘Seems you’re already doing well. Isn’t it time you married? In fact, your aunt and I have been looking out for you and we think we’ve found you the perfect wife.’

Surely his uncle wasn’t being serious? ‘Thank you,’ Charles mumbled, his English side taking over. ‘But I’ll find my own wife, if you don’t mind.’

Auntie returned with a tray of drinks and placed it on the coffee table. ‘When do you have the time to meet the right girl? We’ll invite a young lady we know, and her parents, to dinner.’

‘Don’t forget the Chinese are matchmakers and we’re half-Chinese,’ Uncle said. ‘People with the same social status are expected to marry each other. If their families don’t intervene, then how else can they meet?’

‘Seems to me more like a business arrangement than finding a person you love,’ Charles laughed.

‘Love? Very romantic of you.’ Uncle lit a cigarette. ‘Believe me! It’s much better to marry someone from the right background.’

‘Actually, I’ve already met my future wife. Kate Wolseley.’

Uncle sat up straight and blew out a puff of smoke. He coughed. ‘Who?’

‘The girl we met at Stanley?’ Auntie turned to Charles. ‘She’s not for the likes of you.’

‘How can you say that? Excuse me for being blunt, but you’re in a mixed marriage and so is Ma.’

‘We’re women. It’s easier for a Chinese woman to marry a foreigner. But when I say easier, it wasn’t that easy. Our family was against it.’

‘The other way round is very rare,’ Uncle said. ‘Miss Wolseley will be shunned by her circle. You’ll make her very unhappy.’

It was as he’d feared. They didn’t understand. Hong Kong was changing and he and Kate would be at the forefront of that change. ‘Don’t worry! I know what I’m doing.’

Uncle shrugged. ‘I certainly hope so.’

‘Please can I introduce her to you properly?’

‘We’ll invite her to dinner,’ Auntie said.

Charles grinned. Kate would knock them off their feet, he knew she would.

***

Two days later Charles waited with his relatives in the private room of a Kowloon restaurant. He hadn’t seen Kate since they’d made love, and he longed for her so much it was as if he’d been living in a vacuum. Their waiter placed a dish of appetizers on the table. Charles breathed in the aromas of ginger, garlic and sesame oil. The food would be good here; at the entrance he’d spied tanks full of fish swimming about in happy ignorance of their destiny. He couldn’t wait to see Kate again. How would she get on with his uncle and aunt? And, more importantly, how would they get on with her?

The door swung open and in she walked. Her eyes sought his and she gave a tentative smile. Dressed in a pale blue cotton dress, nipped in at the waist with a full skirt, she looked stunning. Charles got to his feet and squeezed her fingers. ‘Uncle, Aunt, this is Kate, my soul-mate.’ He knew he was being corny, but couldn’t help himself.

Formalities over, Kate sat down next to him. She beamed at Aunt Julie. ‘I do like your
cheongsam
, Mrs Noble. I wish I could wear one myself, only I’m not sure I have the figure for it.’

‘You’re very slim, so should be no problem. I’ll take you to my tailor.’

Charles clasped Kate’s hand under the table. So far so good. Then Uncle butted in, ‘What opinion does your father have about my nephew, Miss Wolseley?’

Kate blushed. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Uncle,’ Charles said. ‘Do you have to be so outspoken?’

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. Just concerned for you both.’

‘We’re taking things slowly, Mr Noble,’ Kate said. ‘My father will come round to the idea of Charles and I being together eventually.’

‘Do you really believe that? I know of no other Englishwoman involved with someone from our background.’

‘Now, now, Phillip,’ Aunt Julie said. ‘Can’t you see how in love these two are?’

Auntie was practically cooing, but Uncle’s face had taken on a stern expression.

Kate smiled at him. ‘Mr Noble, we’re not rushing into anything.’

‘I don’t want Charles to get hurt.’

‘Neither do I,’ she said, firmly.

‘Good.’ Uncle rang the bell for their waiter. ‘We’ll discuss this no further. Let’s enjoy our meal.’

‘Thank God,’ Charles said, keeping his voice neutral. ‘I was beginning to think we’d never get anything to eat.’ He’d been on the point of making his excuses and leaving the restaurant with Kate. This was supposed to be a social event, not an interrogation.

***

The rest of the meal passed with no major hiccoughs, although it seemed that Uncle ordered specific dishes to test Kate’s resilience: from braised chicken feet to noodles served with one thousand year-old eggs. However, she did Charles proud and tried everything, all the while speaking only when she was spoken to and smiling her sweet smile. He could see she was working her magic on his uncle, charming him into compliance. She already had Aunt Julie eating out of her hand. They’d arranged a shopping expedition to buy the right silk for a
cheongsam.
What would Henry Wolseley say when he saw his daughter dressed like a local? He’d probably have a fit. Charles chortled to himself, then sipped from his cup of Jasmine tea.

Dinner over, he stepped outside with his arm around Kate. A forest of neon signs lit up the night and crowds of people thronged the street, pushing past each other into the open doorways of shops selling Chinese medicines, jade, cameras, and linen. The clack-clack of abacuses totalling up sales echoed down the pavement. Most of the women shoppers were dressed in black: from their baggy cotton trousers to their high-necked jackets buttoned diagonally across their bodies. Charles knew from experience that they only dressed in bright colours on special occasions. He couldn’t wait to see Kate in a
cheongsam.
Turning to her, he said, ‘That didn’t go too badly, did it?’

‘Your aunt was lovely to me. But your uncle still needs convincing, I think.’

‘Just his character, darling. He’s always been cautious. Never does anything without giving it a lot of thought. He’ll come round eventually. How could anyone not love you?’

She laughed and squeezed his arm. ‘And you. We need to tell my father soon. I can’t bear not seeing you every day. And I hate lying to him. He thinks I’m having dinner with James tonight.’

He kissed her. ‘We’ll tell him soon, I promise.’ A bubble of jealousy. ‘We can’t have him thinking you’re serious about James, can we?’

‘You know I’m nothing of the sort,’ she said, kissing him back.

Charles spotted a taxi and lifted his hand. ‘Time to get you back to Hong Kong side, I suppose. I don’t like the thought we’ll have to part for the night. I’d give anything to wake up with you tomorrow morning.’

They settled into the back seat of the cab, and he put his arms around her. She snuggled against him then lifted her chin. His mouth came down on hers, love for her throbbing through him. Kate’s lips parted and he kissed her deeply, his hands cupping her breasts.
God, how I want her.
She gave a soft moan, and he made himself pull away. ‘We’re behaving like a couple of adolescents not wanting their parents to find out what they’re up to.’ He stroked her cheek. ‘One thing is certain, though. I can’t go on like this much longer . . .’