The Language of Threads Read online

  The botanical gardens were on Upper Albert Road. Ahead, Pei could already see a cluster of green among the concrete roads and houses. She began to walk more quickly, promising herself the cool shade of the trees once she had arrived. Song Lee had told her that the sisters would wait on the grass just to the right of the entrance.

  Near the gardens, Pei stopped and caught her breath. She liked sweet-voiced Song Lee and hoped for the best in dealing with the other sisters, but Pei remembered all too well the different personalities that had affected her life, first at the girls’ house, then at the silk factory and sisters’ house. Dealing with so many people was often like playing a game of chess. There were so many pieces, all moving in different directions. It was always wise to guard all sides against capture.

  The sisters were waiting right where Song Lee had said. From the distance they resembled a flutter of black-and-white birds in their black trousers and white tunic tops, not unlike the clothing of the silk sisterhood. For a moment, Pei felt she could be back in Yung Kee. She took a deep breath and dusted off her own white trousers.

  “Ah, Pei, you’ve found your way.” Song Lee ran over to meet her. “I hope you didn’t have any trouble.”

  Pei smiled, a bead of sweat running down her forehead. “No, your directions made it easy. I just didn’t realize how steep the hills are.”

  Song Lee laughed. “You’ll get used to them. You’ll have no choice, going up and down to the market and picking up the little ones from school.” She took Pei’s arm and led her back to a small group of women waiting by a shady boulevard, surrounded by flower beds. “Don’t worry,” Song Lee whispered, “they won’t bite.”

  Of the six or seven women gathered there, Pei could only remember the names of two: Luling, who was roughly the same age as herself, and a younger-looking sister who preferred to be addressed by her newly adopted English name, Mary. The others greeted her, poured her tea from a thermos, and handed her rich-tasting almond cookies, whose flaky crumbs tickled her throat as she tried to answer all the sisters’ questions.

  That night, as Pei lay in her cot next to Ji Shen’s, she thought of what a different impression Lin would have made that afternoon. Although she was shy, Lin would have spoken eloquently, made them listen to her and recognize her gifts. But Pei felt as if all her words had been short and dry, falling to the ground like stones. Hong Kong is hot, big, crowded. Yes, I can cook, wash, dust.

  Pei shifted on the uncomfortable cot. She felt the slight ache of her strained leg muscles, and winced again at recalling Ji Shen’s excited, happy voice when she returned.

  “What did they say?”

  “They wanted to know how we like it here in Hong Kong,” she answered wearily.

  “Have they found you a position yet?”

  “I’ve only just met them.”

  “When they do, will we live there?”

  Pei forced herself up the stairs. “I don’t know,” she said, her voice barely audible.

  Two days later, Pei went downstairs to find a note from Song Lee waiting for her. She turned it over in her hands, as Ji Shen urged her to hurry and open it. When Pei finally did, she read:

  We have found you a good position in the Chen household. Be at the address below at two o’clock tomorrow afternoon. Use the back entrance.

  Song Lee

  Pei studied the address on Po Shan Road. She wondered if it was like one of the big brick and stucco houses she’d passed on the way to the botanical gardens, whether it had many rooms with the same thick, soft carpets she’d seen in Lin’s house, and a view of the harbor. She kept the note tucked safely in her pocket all day.

  For dinner, Pei and Ji Shen went to the nearby Star Village Restaurant to celebrate their good fortune. That night, Pei was too excited to sleep. Her heart raced. Their new life in Hong Kong would begin tomorrow. Pei inhaled the musty air, tried to find a comfortable position on the sagging cot, and then closed her eyes against all her fears.

  Chapter Two

  1938

  Pei

  The house on Po Shan Road was larger than Pei had expected. It stood grand and imposing behind a black iron fence that isolated its wide green lawn from the rest of Hong Kong. Beyond the gate was a long gravel driveway that led to its front door. Even from a distance, the house appeared enormous—three floors of white stucco with massive white columns gracing a large veranda, which wrapped around the house like protective arms. Pei stopped at the gate to catch her breath. All the blinding whiteness made her want to turn and run away, even as her hand pushed against the sun-warmed metal and the gate whined open.

  Pei’s quick steps crunched through the gravel up to the house. The grounds were well-manicured, with bauhinia, chrysanthemums, and pink and purple azaleas blooming neatly in place. Only when Pei had climbed the steps and reached the intricately carved front door did she remember she was supposed to go around and enter through the back.

  “Can I help you?”

  The voice startled Pei. She turned around to see a man in his fifties dressed in a baggy shirt and pants, wearing a straw hat and holding a shovel in his hands.

  “I’m looking for the back entrance,” Pei answered.

  The man squinted and smiled. “Then you’ve found just the opposite!” He pointed to a flagstone pathway that twisted around the house. “Just follow that walk,” he directed with a wave of his hand.

  Pei shifted from one foot to the other, trying to smile despite the heat. “Thank you.”

  The man nodded. Pei turned, nervous, and hurried down the steps to the stone path that led toward the back of the house.

  “Oh, missee,” he suddenly called after her. “Be sure you ask for Ah Woo. Ah Woo will take care of you.”

  “Thank you.” Pei relaxed and smiled. “I will.”

  With its faded brown color and unornamented wood, the back door might as well have been attached to another house. Pei looked around as if she were in yet another world. Not far from the door near a stone well, a large wooden washtub lay on its side. A cluster of chairs and baskets sat beneath a large willow in the near distance. Unlike the front yard, the back was spare and devoid of flowers.

  Pei knocked lightly on the door, then harder still when no one answered. Her heart was beating so fast she couldn’t catch her breath, and after a moment, she hurried over to the well for a sip of water.

  Just then the door swung open and a voice, sharp and stern, filled the yard. “Yes, what is it you want?”

  Pei looked up, still clutching the wooden ladle in her hand, water dripping from her chin onto her tunic. The woman who glared at Pei was no older than she, dressed in a white tunic and dark trousers, her hair pulled back in a chignon. “I’m here to see Ah Woo about a position in the household.” Pei quickly replaced the ladle in the wooden bucket. “I was sent here by Song Lee.”

  The woman studied Pei closely, her three-cornered eyes narrowing as they searched Pei’s face. “Wait here,” she finally said, and disappeared back into the house.

  Pei stood by the door, feeling hot and uncomfortable at the cool reception. She wondered if all the servants in the Chen household were as hostile as this woman with the dark, piercing eyes.

  The door swung open again and another voice sang out. “Ah, you’ve arrived! I’m Ah Woo. Song Lee told me you would be coming. It’s hot outside. Why in the world didn’t Fong have you wait inside? Come in, come in!” Her round, open face appeared ageless around her warm smile.

  Pei followed Ah Woo into the cool, cavernous kitchen, which smelled of garlic and green onion and something slightly foreign. Just being out of the sun brought her relief. When her eyes had adjusted to the dim light, Pei saw a large, open room with unlit charcoal fires for several woks set in a wide, concrete counter. On top of the counter a swath of long-leafed mustard greens and turnips lay beside a freshly killed chicken. To one side of the room was a round wooden table with the remains of lunch—the thin translucent bones of a steamed fish, some bits of ground pork with pickled ve
getables, a few hardened grains of rice clinging to the sides of bowls. Pei’s mouth watered. She wondered if the Chen family had just finished eating.

  “Please sit, please sit,” Ah Woo said. “Leen, please take some of these bowls away!”

  At that, a gray-haired woman barreled through the door and began to clear the table of bowls and cups. “Always Leen,” she mumbled to herself as she stacked the bowls.

  Ah Woo paid no attention to this complaint, but poured Pei a cup of tea. “I’m sorry for all this mess. We’ve just finished eating.”

  “Not the family?” Pei let slip.

  “Oh no, not in here!” Ah Woo laughed, high and shrill. “I can’t imagine Chen tai ever sitting at this table.” Her round hand lay flat against the worn, scarred surface.

  Pei blushed at her mistake.

  “Don’t worry,” Ah Woo said reassuringly. “You’ll soon learn the ways of the household. When I first arrived, I had no idea one family could ever live in such a big house. Why, back home, my entire village could live comfortably here!”

  “How many are there in the Chen family?” Pei asked.

  Ah Woo sat down. “There are six members of the immediate family, though three of the four children are away at boarding school. Only the youngest, twelve-year-old Ying-ying, is at home right now. But she is a handful all alone! And Chen tai’s sister often comes to stay. Let me tell you about the position we need to fill.” Ah Woo sat back in her chair as the old servant Leen reached over and cleared away the last of the bowls from the table.

  “I . . . I don’t have much experience doing domestic work,” Pei admitted.

  Ah Woo smiled. “Many have come from the silk work, especially now with the Japanese devils swallowing up Canton. Nothing you’ll learn here is harder than your life at the silk factory. If you can loosen threads from cocoons and unwind their silk in boiling water, surely you can draw a hot bath or launder a few clothes. Why, when I first came to Hong Kong, I thought I wouldn’t last an hour.” She shook her head. “It wasn’t an easy life. But there’s nothing here you can’t learn to do within the first week. We’ve all had to start at the beginning. You’ve already met Fong, who came here less than a year ago from the silk work.”

  Pei swallowed the discomfort she’d felt with Fong, and asked, “Are there many servants in this household?”

  “Too many! But Leen and I have been here the longest. We’re too old for them to kick us out now. Chen seen-san is a very wealthy man, and can afford to have an amah to take care of his family’s every need.” Ah Woo paused. “I’ve seen many faces come and go over the years, but usually there are eight or nine servants working here continuously. The three of us live in the house full-time, while the others go home to their own families in the evening.”

  Pei was astonished at the number of people it took to care for the Chen household. Even at Lin’s house in Canton, there were only two old servants who had long been part of their family.

  “And would I stay here?” Pei asked.

  Ah Woo nodded. “Chen tai is a very busy woman. She’s often invited to social events and her cheongsams must be ready and waiting for her. You will be the saitong, the wash-and-iron amah. Fong cares for Ying-ying, and Leen is the cook amah. Then there are the two drivers and Wing, the gardener. Two girls come in to clean every week, and I make sure the general running of the household continues smoothly”—Ah Woo smiled—“which is sometimes more difficult than you can imagine!”

  Pei nodded, weighing another question. “There’s something I need to ask you.”

  “What is it?”

  “I have a younger cousin whom I care for,” Pei began, thinking her request might carry more weight if Ji Shen were a family relation. “She has to come with me.”

  Ah Woo’s smile disappeared as she shook her head. “I’m afraid Chen tai won’t be happy with the situation.”

  Pei stood up, feeling the job slip through her fingers. “Then I’m sorry to have taken up your time,” she said.

  Ah Woo placed both of her plump hands on the table and pushed herself up. “Let me see what I can do,” she said. “You wait here.” She gestured for Pei to sit back down and finish drinking her tea.

  By the time Pei had walked back to Ma-ling’s boardinghouse, her head throbbed and her legs felt weak. She stopped in front of the herbalist store downstairs and wondered if he carried the white-flower and snake-tongue-grass tea that Moi used to brew at the girls’ house when one of them couldn’t sleep. Pei hesitated, then pushed the door open. It was cool and dark inside, the musty aroma of herbs and dried abalone immediately enveloping her. Leaves in muted black, brown, and green, dried orange-red berries, roots, and gnarled branches lay in open wooden barrels. Behind the crowded counter, rows and rows of small drawers stood against the wall. And in one of the dusty jars on the counter, Pei recognized two bear paws floating in a cloudy liquid.

  “Hello?” she called out softly. Her voice echoed through the room and back to her. She felt a whisper of wind brush against her neck, and was just about to turn and leave when an old man appeared from behind a curtain.

  “Yes, how can I help you?” His slight, wiry build and kind eyes put Pei at ease.

  “I need some tea,” she said.

  “Yes, yes, I have all kinds of tea. Medicinal or for drinking pleasure?”

  “To help me sleep.” Just saying the word made Pei suddenly weary.

  “Ah.” He slipped behind the counter and opened several drawers that Pei knew contained his magic. “Here we are,” he said, measuring different dark leaves into a white piece of paper. “And just a dash of chrysanthemum. You will sleep like a child.” He folded the paper and wrote “Dream Tea” on it in Chinese characters, then pushed the small package across the counter.

  “Thank you,” Pei said as she paid the herbalist.

  “After you’ve eaten. Before you go to bed,” he instructed.

  Pei nodded. Then, as she walked out, he added, “If the tea fails, let me know. Every person is different. Fortunately, there are as many teas as there are days of the year.”

  Outside the shop, Pei found Quan and his rickshaw parked near the doorway of the boardinghouse. Ji Shen stood by the door speaking to him, curling the end of her braid around her fingers. When he heard Pei approaching, Quan turned and blushed.

  “Hello, missee, I came by to see if everything was all right.” He smiled.

  Pei smiled back. “Everything’s fine. We’re getting settled here.”

  “Anytime you would like a quick tour of Hong Kong, I’d be glad to take you.” He glanced at Ji Shen. “Free of charge, of course.”

  “I’d like to see Hong Kong,” Ji Shen said enthusiastically.

  Pei saw the flash of anticipation in their young faces. “Thank you, Quan,” she said, reaching out to touch his thin arm. “We’ll arrange something very soon.”

  Quan grinned, then backed away slowly and picked up the wooden handles of his rickshaw. “I’d better go. Anytime—you just ask for Quan and I’ll get the message,” he said, turning the rickshaw and gliding down the street before they had a chance to say another word.

  Ji Shen’s excited voice filled the air even before Pei closed the front door behind her. “What happened?”

  “Let’s go upstairs.”

  Ji Shen followed her. “Did you get the position?”

  Ma-ling greeted her at the top of the stairs. “I hope it went well,” she said.

  Pei nodded, but led them to the sitting room before she’d say more. In the comfort of the old room she sighed, then looked at the two eager faces before her and forced a smile. “I begin work at the end of the week.”

  Pei felt a gentle breeze stirring, the first bit of relief she’d felt from the heat since arriving in Hong Kong. She and Ji Shen always left the window open in their small cubicle, despite the drunken voices, loud yet indistinct, and the sudden staccato bursts of music erupting from some Wan Chai bar. The past few nights the air had been so heavy, Pei thoughtthey might su
ffocate in their sleep. She had hardly slept, her pillow damp from sweat, straining to hear Ji Shen’s short breaths keep a steady rhythm.

  Tonight, even after she had drunk the herbalist’s dream tea, Pei’s wandering thoughts kept her awake. The prospect of her move in a few days to the Chen household and her new job as a saitong left her more anxious than excited. She glanced again at Ji Shen, whose pale skin glistened in the darkness as she slept. Pei would never forget the look of disappointment on Ji Shen’s face when she found out that only Pei would be moving to the Chen household.

  “I’ll be good,” Ji Shen had pleaded.

  “I know you will, but it’s not possible,” Pei replied. “The Tai tai doesn’t have room for both of us.”

  Ji Shen stared silently, straining against tears. “What will happen to me?” she finally asked, a tinge of fear in her voice.

  “You must go to school. You’ll stay here with Ma-ling. Just until I can earn enough to get us a place of our own.”

  Ji Shen had swallowed and nodded. For the rest of the evening, no matter how hard Pei tried to keep the conversation going, a dull haze surrounded them.

  What Pei hadn’t told Ji Shen and Ma-ling that afternoon was that Chen tai had agreed to let Ji Shen come stay as long as she also worked for her room and board. “Not heavy work. Just some cleaning and running errands,” Ah Woo had said eagerly. Pei felt the blood rush to her head. She needed the work and had little choice but to agree—but instead, she found herself saying, “There might be another place she can stay while I work here.” Pei was determined that Ji Shen have an education, and Po Shan Road was too far away from any public school. She felt certain that once Ji Shen was settled in school, they could work out a feasible schedule to see each other regularly.

  Pei breathed deeply and swallowed the guilt of having lied to Ji Shen, the only family she had in Hong Kong. She watched the flickering lights and shadows dance against the walls, then closed her eyes. “It’s a start,” she heard Lin’s voice whisper in the night—a slight, cooling breeze against her cheek. Before Pei’s thoughts wandered further, she was asleep.