The Yellow Papers (25 page)

She watched MeiMei leave, then sat on the floor beside the burning remains of the altar. How upset Xueliang would be! This altar was hundreds of years old – had been passed down for generations. But then, did even an altar really matter, when thousands had lost their lives, and thousands more had had their families torn apart?

She went to the kitchen, found an empty tin and filled it with water to drench the burning remains of the fire. As she watched the steam rise she felt an overwhelming need to cry, and for the first time since before the war allowed herself to do so. She cried for what they'd had to endure these past years, and for Xueliang, who had not yet returned. And she cried for Edward, whom she thought of and missed constantly, but knew, deep down, that she would probably never see again. But most of all she cried for the future.

By the time MeiMei returned, Ming Li had regained control of her emotions.

They spent the next two days scrubbing walls and ceilings and floors, pulling mattresses outside so as to better examine them for bed bugs and lice, washing every piece of furniture, every pan not stolen, until they felt all traces of the Japanese and squatters had been flushed away. Then Ming Li took stock of their situation.

The work she had managed to find – mending clothes for those still able to afford it – barely put food on the table and was too sporadic to be relied on, so that she'd had to sell the rest of her jewellery to pay Cousin Chih-fu's rent. MeiMei was still working at the restaurant, but about to be married. Ming Li knew she'd have to find a better way of earning a living. She paced through the house, noting what was left, thinking. She thought of the squatters and the hundreds now homeless, and realised a new opportunity was at hand. But to make it work she'd need money. She would have to try access any money that may still be in Xueliang's accounts.

She had been queuing for what seemed like hours. At last it was her turn and she stepped up to the teller's window.

‘How do I know,' the arrogant young man asked in a voice loud enough to be heard by everyone, ‘that you are really this man's wife? What proof have you?'

‘Our papers … When the Japanese commandeered our house—'

‘Maybe, but without papers, I can't do anything. And even if you had proof, how do I know what really happened to your husband? How do I know whether he'd allow you to take his money, hey?'

Ming Li left that bank and headed for the Hong Kong & Shanghai Bank, where Edward had opened that account for her before the war. She'd never touched any of it, firstly out of pride, then because she simply couldn't, but things were different now …

Two bronze lions had once guarded the portal of the bank, and people had stroked their paws as they'd passed in the hope that some of the wealth within might come their way. The lions were gone now, probably melted down by the Japanese for the war effort, but the money in her account was still there, though galloping inflation had reduced its value. She withdrew all of it.

With MeiMei's help she moved furniture into the room next to the kitchen that had once been their amahs' bedroom, and made this hers and MeiMei's. The next day she used the money she'd withdrawn to buy extra beds and put locks on all the doors. From the undamaged furniture she made the inner hall into a dining room, and offered all of the other rooms for rent; a risky move, as most Chinese could not afford to rent, and associating with Westerners was more frowned upon than before.

‘A woman like you should remarry. Such a cook you are! What man would not be content with such a cook?'

The men around the table nodded and continued eating. Ming Li smiled. Of all the boarders she'd had, old Abel Goldman was her favourite. He'd lost all of his family in the camps, and was obviously not in good health, but he still managed to see the bright side of every situation. She took some empty plates back to the kitchen and started washing them. Wished she could have more boarders like Able Goldman. With MeiMei now married, and many Westerners leaving Shanghai because of the Communists spreading across China, she had so few boarders she was barely making ends meet. But still, she'd endured much worse …

Ming Li thoughts returned to Abel Goldman. She knew he meant well, so she didn't try to make him understand that as far as she was concerned, Xueliang was still alive. She refused to believe otherwise until given proof. Only last week the woman next door had thought she was seeing a ghost when her son, also arrested by the Japanese some years before, walked into her house and collapsed in her arms. He'd become nothing more than papery skin stretched over bones, and she'd wanted to put him to bed but he'd pushed her away and begged for a bath. So she'd dragged the wooden tub near the fire and he had sat in it until the water turned cold, scrubbing himself with a brush until his skin bled and she'd begged him to stop. Only then had he allowed her to put him to bed, and she'd fed him rice gruel then watched as he slept. It had been a sleep punctuated by screams and terror, and he'd raved about rats and brushed imaginary fleas from his body so that she'd sung to him as if he were still a very small boy and the panic eased, but only for a while. Later he told her he'd been taken to a prison in Manchukuo, and had been released by a local man who'd come to scavenge after the Japanese had fled, but he would not talk of what had happened there.

The woman's story had given Ming Li hope. Xueliang may also be making his way back, and when he returned he'd find her waiting. He had to come back – she was so tired of coping on her own, and there were days when she wished she could simply go to sleep and never wake up.

She poured more hot water into the basin. The kitchen door opened but she took no notice; one or another of her boarders often cleared the last of the dishes and brought them in to her.

‘LiLi?'

Ming Li froze.
Edward?
But Edward wasn't in China. The room swam before her and she grasped the table to stop herself falling. In two strides he was holding her close.

‘Oh God, LiLi, you've gone as white as a sheet! I'm sorry. I should have sent word. I should have let you know I was trying to get back. But I wasn't even sure I'd be able to. It took months – you wouldn't believe the red tape I had to go through … But you're shaking! Here, sit down. It's okay. It's okay …'

Ming Li stared at Edward, unable to speak.

‘I'm such a fool. I should have realised it would be a shock. But all I wanted to do was get here. I didn't know if you were dead or alive. I didn't think …' He stroked her cheek, her hair. ‘I half expected Xueliang to open the door, but I didn't care. Then when this old man opened it instead, I thought you didn't live here anymore. I thought … But never mind that. Look at you – you're so thin! Are you well? I was so worried about you. I tried to get back to Shanghai. Even during the war I tried. You were the only thing that kept me sane—'

‘You shouldn't have come here.'

‘I know, but LiLi, I had to see you. You've no idea how much I looked …'

‘Your house. Your amah—'

‘I know. I saw it today on the way to the hotel from the airport. Nothing but rubble. But that's not important. It's you I want to know about. You didn't write. I thought … Oh LiLi, look at you, shaking like a leaf
_!
Stay here, don't move – I'll make you a cup of tea. Hot and sweet. It'll make you feel better.'

They lay curled together, limbs entwined, their skin slick with perspiration. From across the courtyard came the gentle snore of one of the boarders.

‘You mustn't come here anymore. If anyone should see you …'

‘I'll rent one of your rooms. We'll be together all the time.'

‘No! People would realise. And when Xueliang comes back …'

Edward sighed.

‘LiLi, the Japanese … their prisoners … it's been years now … I don't think Xueliang's coming back …'

‘Shhh …' she quietened him with a finger on his lips. ‘He will. Others are coming back, even now. Xueliang has always been strong. He knows what—'

‘LiLi, listen to me. When the UN went to those jails … those camps … what they found … you've got to accept that he's not coming back.'

‘Maybe. Maybe not. But when he does, he'll find me here. Waiting. Like a good wife should.'

She disentangled herself and turned away from him, curled into a foetal ball. He stroked her shoulder but she shrugged his hand off. He sat up and reached for his cigarettes.

‘Okay, LiLi, we'll do it your way. I won't come here anymore. But I'm back working at the Museum; they're expanding their collection, so I'll be in China as often as I can. They'll only cover so many trips each year, but doesn't matter – I'll sell Walpinya if I have to. It can be like before – we can go to my hotel. We'll be careful.'

Ming Li didn't respond.

‘LiLi, there's something else you should know – I've divorced Julia.'

Still Ming Li didn't respond. Edward butted out his cigarette and stroked her shoulder.

‘So, tell me about MeiMei,' he said, wanting to break this mood. ‘Is she happy? This husband of hers, this Huang Feng, he treats her well?'

For a moment Ming Li didn't answer, but then she too sat up. He put his arm around her and pulled her close.

‘I don't know. She says everything's all right, but I don't trust him.'

‘Why is that?'

‘I think he's two-faced. He's too smooth, too charming. During the war, he would come pick up MeiMei and always bought her gifts. Expensive gifts. Food. Delicacies. Where did he get the money? For me too, though I always refused them and MeiMei called me a fool. She used to tell me I should grab what I could while I could. He should have been offended, but he'd just laugh. ‘

‘Does MeiMei know how you feel?'

‘She knows. But she was set on marrying him anyway. With her father away … Personally I think she just married him because he's got money. MeiMei doesn't handle poverty very well.'