The Yellow Papers (27 page)

There had been no phone, gas and electricity since Tuesday, and spasmodic firing could be heard toward Hungjao. Though barely dawn, shopkeepers were frantically scraping off anti-Communist posters from their shop fronts and putting up new ones praising the People's Liberation Army and Mao Tse-tung. The Red Army had taken City Hall and the police headquarters without a single shot being fired, though along the Bund Communist troops were still fighting the Nationalists embedded in the gardens beneath the Jardine offices. In the Hongkew area Nationalist deserters were reported to be stripping off their uniforms and offering all their money in exchange for any civilian clothes.

‘Many of us hid jewellery in all sorts of places,' Abel Goldman said as he dipped the narrow, bony end of a ham in melted wax. He checked that the diamonds were no longer visible and waited for the wax to harden. ‘Some sewed them in the lining of their clothes, but it was the first place the Germans looked.' He checked the wax once more and dipped it again. ‘But I think you'll be safe with this.'

Some days ago, after Abel Goldman had bribed officials for exit permits, and bought his and Ming Li's train ticket to Hong Kong on the black market, he'd walked along the Bund. It was then he'd noticed that some travellers in the pushing, shoving crowd carried a ham. He'd realised it was a traditional peasant farewell gift, though nowadays somewhat exorbitant in price, and he thought it would be the perfect place for Ming Li to hide her diamonds. While Westerners fleeing Shanghai were allowed to take their personal belongings with little question, it was a different matter for the Chinese. Many who tried to smuggle out their valuables had their tickets torn up and their passage cancelled. Abel Goldman had offered to carry her diamonds over the border, but Ming Li had refused, worried in case the rules changes and they caused him some trouble. So for the first time in his life Abel Goldman bought a ham – a small one, so as not to arouse envy – then presented it to Ming Li.

He dipped the end of the ham in wax one more time, and when set wrapped it in newspaper then tied it with string.

‘I wish you'd reconsider coming to America.'

Ming Li shook her head. ‘I can't. I shouldn't even be going to Hong Kong. The way things are with MeiMei, I want to stay close.'

Abel Goldman nodded. He'd been present that last time MeiMei had visited her mother. Ming Li had confided in him some time ago that MeiMei's husband was becoming more and more aggressive, and although she didn't believe he'd resorted to physical violence, now that MeiMei was pregnant Ming Li was sick with worry. Then, on this last visit, there had been an angry bruise on MeiMei's cheekbone.

‘You have to go,' MeiMei had told her mother. ‘Feng is telling everyone Father collaborated with the Japanese. That you're a landlord. He says you belong to the enemy classes and you don't care about the nation.'

‘I'm not leaving you until the child is born,' Ming Li had argued, but MeiMei had taken off her coat and shown her mother further bruises on her arm.

‘Look! Look at these. He calls me the daughter of the bourgeoisie. The daughter of traitors. It's because of you! You and your ideas! You think more like a Westerner than a Chinese—'

‘Leave him—'

‘No. He didn't mean it. He does love me, you know. He was so sorry afterwards … But I can't handle him if you're around, Mā. If you're gone, I know I can—'

‘You shouldn't have to “handle him”! Come away with me. We'll start again—'

‘And go back to starving on the streets? No thanks. Please, Mā! I'll be all right. I can handle him. But you have to go.'

‘No. Not without you.'

‘Then I'll denounce you. I'll tell everyone Feng is right. I'll never come here again, and you'll never see your grandchild.'

Though Ming Li had not shown it, Abel Goldman had guessed how much MeiMei's words wounded her. But then MeiMei's expression had softened.

‘Go, Mā, please! Go to Hong Kong. If things don't work out – if I decide to leave him – I'll join you there.'

So at last Ming Li had agreed to leave Shanghai. She did vow, however, never to go further than Hong Kong unless MeiMei was with her.

‘Are you ready?' Abel Goldman asked, coming back to the present.

Ming Li looked around the kitchen one more time, then picked up her small suitcase and took the ham from her friend. She nodded. It was time they went.

Ming Li kept a firm grasp of Abel Goldman's arm. Her friend looked ill and she didn't want to lose him in the panicked multitude as they pushed their way towards the railway station. The road was littered with abandoned vehicles and the crowd so dense that it was almost at a standstill.

At the railway station the panic intensified. People clutched cardboard suitcases or bedrolls, whilst others clung to children who cried and whimpered as they were crushed by the crowd. Soldiers in Nationalist uniforms beat civilians and pulled them off the trains to climb on instead. The crowd moved as one giant organism.

When they reached a vestibule Abel Goldman reached out and grabbed the handrail then pulled himself onto the footplate, but the action caused Ming Li to lose her grip on his arm.

‘Grab my hand!' he yelled as the throng carried her away from him. Ming Li fought against the crowd. Her fingertips touched his then she was pulled up into the carriage.

‘My ham! I've dropped my ham!' but it was too late. Already more people had pushed their way in. The train whistle blew and a chuff of steam increased the panic of those still on the platform. The train pulled away but still many ran beside it, clinging desperately to the hands of those on board.

By Friday the 27
^th
of May it was all over. The Red Army had taken Shanghai with only minimal fighting. On the 1
^st
of October 1949, Mao Tse-tung stood high above the crowd on the Gate of Heavenly Peace in Beijing and proclaimed the People's Republic of China, while Communist troops sealed the borders of China to the world.

21

Chen Mu looked around the paddocks of Walpinya Station, touched to have been invited to Charlotte's wedding, pleased to have the opportunity to see the place again. Since the war ended, nearly five years ago, he didn't get around as much as he used to. The country no longer needed air raid wardens, and much younger men now delivered telegrams – not, as he had done, on a bicycle, but in one of the new Australian cars, the Holden.

He remembered how dry these paddocks had been for many of the years he'd spent here. But these past two years Australia had received the highest rainfall on record, and the release of myxomatosis last year had killed off many of the rabbits, so that now the paddocks and surrounding hills were lush with growth. He'd never seen the station so green this late in the year.

He accepted Edward's help to get up from the wicker armchair that had been placed for him under a tree – he wasn't as supple as he'd once been.

‘It will be strange to think of Walpinya Station in someone else's hands. There must be a lot of memories here for you, Master Edward.'

He took up his cane and the two men walked slowly towards the river.

‘For you too, I should imagine. But it was the right time to sell.'

Chen Mu nodded. ‘You won't miss it?'

Edward recalled how willingly he'd have sold Walpinya if it had meant more time with Ming Li. But it would have made no difference, and now he'd sold it anyway, allocating some of the proceeds to Charlotte and her new husband to help them set themselves up.

‘I probably will, but the Walpinya I'll miss will be the Walpinya of my childhood, I think. Not all the memories here are good, you know. With Charlotte moving to New Zealand, there didn't seem to be any reason to keep it. This was my grandfather's dream really, not mine. I had thought, at one time, that Charlotte might take it on …'

‘I think I'm going to miss her …'

‘She'll write. Even come back for visits, if I know my daughter. She's very fond of you, you know.'

Chen Mu smiled. It was at her insistence that he'd been invited to her wedding, though he'd noticed a few raised eyebrows on his arrival.

‘I've asked her to contact you if anything should happen to me,' Edward continued.

‘Thank you. You've made up your mind, then?'

‘It's not like I was given a choice. At least it'll be different this time – I won't be on the front lines.' Then Edward laughed – no, he wouldn't be on the front lines. He'd just be behind Korean enemy lines.

‘I'm sorry …'

Edward nodded. There was really nothing to say.

During this last war, the US, China and Great Britain had promised Korea independence from the Japanese, but this had never eventuated. Instead, the country had split into two separate regimes, the Democratic People's Republic in the north, and the Republic of Korea in the south. Since then tensions had continued to mount and border conflicts had escalated, until only a few months ago, on the 28
^th
of June 1950, Seoul, the capital of South Korea, had fallen. Then China had sent troops to help North Korea. Now Australia and other parts of the world saw this war as the beginning of the Communists' attempts at world domination. Maybe even the beginning of World War III.

So when the Brigadier he'd worked under as part of Tulip Force paid him an official visit, Edward hadn't been that surprised. He knew things were not going well for the UN forces stationed there. Then the Brigadier told him news that had not appeared in the papers – as the UN retreated from Chinese Communist forces to the outskirts of Seoul, the wide bridge over the Han River, and the thick layer of ice on the water, had been blown up in an attempt to prevent South Korean refugees from choking the southbound roads needed for military traffic in retreat. However, it had been blown up prematurely while still chock-f of panicked humanity, so that hundreds of people, soldiers and civilians alike, had been killed.

‘The river was so full of bodies, you could have crossed it without getting your feet wet,' the Brigadier told Edward.

‘But where do I come into it?'

‘The UN and South Korean forces are trapped on the north bank. The Chinese have encircled them. Poor buggers – they haven't a chance. They're being wiped out. The few who survive are been taken prisoner.'

‘So much for MacArthur's “home for Christmas” promise …'

‘Exactly. We're getting together with Security Intelligence to form secret detachments – organise some undercover frontline crossings. That's where you come in. You speak Chinese, and with your experiences in Tulip Force … You're an essential addition, I'm afraid.'

At 45, Edward had thought he'd avoid Korea, but the Brigadier had made it clear he had little choice. Edward had, however, insisted on not going until after Charlotte's wedding.

When they reached the river that formed one of the borders of Walpinya Station, Chen Mu slowly lowered himself to the ground, took off his shoes and socks and pulled his trouser legs up to his knees. He dipped his feet in the water and smiled. Soon small bush flies covered their backs and hovered around their faces. A dragonfly flittered over the water.

‘I used to swim here once. Every evening. Over there, where the water's deeper.'

Edward nodded, picked up a stone and skipped it on the water. Then another. And another.

‘Something is bothering you, apart from Korea.'

Edward picked up another stone and skipped it even further. Watched the rings it made.

‘The woman? Ming Li?'

‘No, not Ming Li. Oh, I do worry about her. Constantly. But there's nothing I can do from here. I've tried writing, but I don't even know if my letters get through.' He sat on the ground beside Chen Mu.

‘From what you told me, she's a survivor.'

‘That's the problem. She's just too stubborn. If she'd listened to me, if she'd left Shanghai when I told her to …'