A Spoonful of Murder Page 5

  ‘Good evening, sir!’ I said politely, bowing. ‘May I introduce you to my friend, Daisy Wells?’

  ‘Hm,’ said Mr Wa Fan. ‘So, you are back.’ He spoke to me in Cantonese, ignoring Daisy. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Daisy’s ready smile falter. She wasn’t used to being overlooked.

  ‘For Ah Yeh’s mourning,’ I said, nodding. I had to speak in Cantonese as well, of course, otherwise it would not have been right.

  ‘Good girl,’ said Mr Wa Fan. ‘You are a dutiful granddaughter.’

  My stomach twisted. ‘But I ought to have been here,’ I said. ‘When it happened.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ said Mr Wa Fan, frowning at me. ‘It was not your fault you were away. It was your father’s.’

  I blinked. ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘But—’

  ‘Your father thinks that Western school is the answer to everything,’ said Mr Wa Fan, his face wrinkling up more than ever. ‘But it is not. Your father ought to think harder about what he really owes to his community and his family. If he does not, there will be consequences.’

  I was puzzled. I didn’t know what to say to that. Hearing my father calling to us that it was time to leave was the most enormous relief. I gabbled my goodbyes to Mr Wa Fan, who was glaring between me and my father fiercely, and backed away, tugging at Daisy’s arm.

  ‘We must get home,’ my father was saying to the gathering. ‘My son has his appointment at the doctor’s tomorrow at noon!’

  Teddy again! I thought, frustrated. I couldn’t bear it. I rushed out of the room, so quickly that it was almost not polite. Daisy had to hurry to keep up with me, and I knew, with a feeling that was both delighted and nervous, that my father would not be pleased with my behaviour.

  It was not until we were out in the warm night, my mother’s maid Assai bringing us our wraps, that I noticed my hair falling down against my collar in a thick coil. I reached up and patted my head – and felt nothing. My pin was gone!

  It was a horrid realization. I had only just been given it, after all, and by Ah Yeh. How could I have lost it already? I knew I could not tell my parents. I hated the thought of disappointing them any more than I already had this visit.

  So I kept silent about it, all the way home. But as I walked into the main hall and Ping came out to meet us, she exclaimed, ‘Your pin!’

  ‘Shh!’ I hissed. ‘I dropped it. It must be back at the party – please don’t tell Father and Mother!’

  ‘Oh, Miss Hazel!’ said Ping, looking distressed. ‘Wo can fetch it tomorrow.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, simply desperate to stop talking about it.

  And that was the last time I thought about the pin until the next afternoon. If only I had remembered to get it, things would be very different now. But I did not know that yet.

  1

  It was raining on Monday morning – Hong Kong rain, which is as warm and thick as blood compared to thin, cold English drizzle. I opened our bedroom window and leaned forward, reaching my hand out, palm up to catch the drops. Laughing, Daisy leaned beside me, so far out that she almost toppled over. Ping, folding our clothes, looked up and gasped.

  ‘It’s all right!’ I said. ‘She won’t fall. She has good balance.’

  Ping opened her mouth, closed it again and looked flustered. ‘Please make her stop it, miss,’ she said. ‘I don’t want her hurt.’

  ‘Daisy,’ I said, nudging her. ‘Come back in.’

  Daisy sighed, and drew her shoulders back inside. ‘I never would have thought that in Hong Kong you have to be even more ladylike than in England,’ she said. She had noticed the tight-dress feeling too.

  At breakfast that morning, everyone seemed on edge. I don’t think I’m simply remembering it that way because of what happened later – everyone really was jumpy and out of sorts.

  Daisy had tried congee for the first time and was not enjoying it. She stared at her bowl, muttering, ‘This is absolutely not like rice pudding at all,’ with a betrayed expression on her face.

  My mother had a headache (which she often gets when it rains, or when my father has done something she does not approve of), and was sipping tea with a most sour expression on her face.

  May was sulking in her chair, because she had been caught throwing oranges against the hall ceiling to soften them and her mui tsai, Ah Kwan, had made her drink castor oil as punishment. Rose was teasing her about it. I poked Rose with my chopsticks.

  ‘Hazel!’ said my father irritably. ‘May! Rose! Control yourselves!’

  I felt cross. I have always been the big sister and they the babies. We are not usually lumped together. But now, of course, we were all the big sisters, and Teddy was the baby. We all had to behave better, because he could not.

  ‘Where are the farms here?’ asked Daisy. She said it innocently, but I knew she was doing it to distract my father. ‘I mean – why isn’t there more milk?’

  ‘This isn’t England, Miss Wells. There isn’t much need for it. But there’s a farm in Pok Fu Lam, and on Lantau the monks make cheese. In fact, talking of Lantau, I have been thinking that it might be almost time to take Teddy there. He hasn’t been on the yacht yet, after all.’

  My heart sank again.

  Yacht visits to the island of Lantau are something that my father and I share. It is unusual for a girl to go. I know I am very lucky (so lucky that I swallow my hatred of boats, cling on tight and pretend to be enjoying myself). I cannot go into the monastery itself, for I am a girl, but the journey across the blue and green water to the great green hummock of Lantau Island is a time that is just for my father and me, with no business, or little sisters, to worry about. The two of us sit side by side beneath a canvas awning and read our books (or at least my father reads, and I try to hide my seasickness). The air smells salty, and there is salt on my top lip when I lick it, and the sun strikes up from the water onto the pages of our books. When we come home, my mother is always annoyed, because the sun on the water makes me brown.

  But now my father wanted to share that with Teddy? It wasn’t fair. No matter that I used to wish my father would take someone else. Lantau had been mine, and now I was losing it. I glared across to where Teddy was sitting on Su Li’s lap. I wished him anywhere else in the world. I wanted him gone from our house.

  Writing that now makes me feel ill.

  Teddy beamed at me, showing pink gums. ‘Teddy is quite young for a boat journey!’ said Su Li quickly.

  ‘I believe I give the orders,’ said my father coldly. ‘And I would never do anything that might harm my son.’

  Su Li ducked her head until it was almost touching Teddy’s. ‘Yes, sir,’ she said. ‘Apologies, sir.’

  ‘Now, Hazel, it’s Teddy’s appointment with Dr Aurelius today,’ said my father, turning to me. ‘As your mother is unwell, I thought that you might be able to accompany him – you and Miss Wells.’

  He was peering over his glasses at me, eyebrows drawn together, and I knew that this was the sort of request that was not a request at all.

  ‘Hazel does not need to go! Su Li ought to be able to do her job without supervision!’ said my mother crossly.

  ‘Hazel ought to begin behaving like an older sister! She should want to accompany her baby brother!’ said my father at once.

  ‘Hazel, I am glad you are home, to help like this,’ said Jie Jie. She spoke quickly, looking between my father and my mother.

  It is often Jie Jie who has to act as the peacemaker. I understood that she wanted me to help her, and so it was for Jie Jie, not my father, and certainly not for Teddy, that I said, ‘All right. I’ll go.’

  ‘Excellent,’ said my father, nodding at me. ‘Maxwell, do we have those papers for the Liu contract? Bring them over to me.’

  And that was the end of the conversation.

  2

  In Deepdean, the doctor’s office is the San, where Mrs Minn is always waiting to soothe you and bandage you up and give you a biscuit. At Fallingford, Dr Cooper comes whenever he is called with his little l
eather case and his round, bald head. But in Hong Kong the Western doctors are kept away from the rest of the city, high above the busy streets, on the upper floors of banks and office buildings that are cool and pale and polite. They are the other side of life from the Chinese doctors my mother goes to who smell of gingko and liquorice, where things that you do not exactly want to look directly at float in bottles.

  I used to be dragged back and forth by my father and my mother, between the Western doctors who tapped my knee and pressed their cold, round stethoscopes against my chest and told me not to hold my breath, and the Chinese doctors who stuck me full of needles like a pincushion and told me that this remedy would stop me blushing so much. I know both sides, and now that I have lived in England they feel like a perfect metaphor for the different parts of my upbringing, English and Chinese.

  I had thought that we would be going to the doctor’s office where Rose and May and I had been taken for years – but we were not. Our family doctor, Dr Aurelius, had moved to new offices on the auspicious eighth floor of that huge new white building I had seen from the ferry, the headquarters of the Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank. I got a nervous feeling as I realized that, although I didn’t quite know why.

  At 11:40 Teddy’s car, another gleaming black Rolls-Royce, was brought up to the front door of the house, driven by Wo On in spotless livery. Su Li, looking immaculate as usual, carried Teddy (wrapped in fresh white swaddling clothes) to the car. Daisy and I followed her, and Ping followed both of us, puffing rather. That morning, Su Li once again would not look at me. She gazed down at Teddy, adjusting his blankets and cooing at him. I told myself that she was only doing her job – but that made me realize all over again that, if this was true, I had only been a job to her as well, one that was now over. I had adored her, but I must have been wrong about how much she loved me back.

  It had stopped raining just after eleven, but the air was still damp. I felt little beads of moisture at my temples, under my hair. I looked back up at the house as I was about to step into the car and saw my mother’s face staring out of one of the upstairs windows. She was watching us, and when she saw me she jerked away suddenly. I could tell she was still angry that I had agreed to accompany Teddy, and my stomach crawled. To make my father happy, I had disappointed my mother even more.

  ‘Hurry, Miss Hazel, or we’ll be late!’ said Wo On from the front seat, and I scrambled into the car.

  Down the hill we drove, past the guarded gate and out into Hong Kong. The big houses of Mid-Levels gave way downwards to the steep, busy streets of Central, pawnshops and fishmongers’ and furniture stores and warehouses with coolies going in and out, sweating in the sun, heavy loads weighing down their bamboo poles. The sea was to our right, and, as we drove, the buildings around us became more ornate, their colours brighter, their signs more beautifully painted. We drove parallel with the main tram route, and for a while with one of the trams itself. It rattled along, dinging brightly, its windows crammed with hot, tired-looking people in the white and black clothes of servants, and the vivid colours of shopkeepers and housewives.

  Su Li was bouncing Teddy on her lap, singing him a nursery rhyme.

  ‘You used to sing that to me,’ I said, unable to stop myself.

  Su Li’s head snapped up, and she stared at me. ‘Yes, Miss Hazel, I did,’ she said quietly. ‘I remember fondly.’

  I didn’t know what to say to that. It seemed almost kind, but I did not believe in Su Li’s kindness any more.

  Then the car made a right turn at the seafront, sweeping round to face the Peak. I saw that we were pulling up to the bank building at last. It rose above us like a white pyramid, a mountain in front of the real mountain, cutting out the sun.

  3

  ‘Oh golly!’ gasped Daisy. ‘Isn’t it impressive up close?’

  Wo helped us out of the car. I could smell the sea behind us, and feel a breeze stirring my hair. We walked into the shadow of the bank. Like most Chinese buildings the closed brass doors in front of us were flanked by two enormous brass lions, glinting in the sun. One, on the left, was yawning wide, while the other’s mouth was closed politely. They made me smile, for they were so unexpectedly sweet and Western, although they were in Hong Kong.

  ‘Stephen,’ Wo On said to me and Daisy, pointing at the yawning – or roaring – one. ‘And that is Stitt. You rub them for luck.’

  I got rather a jump at that, and tried to hide it.

  Teddy peeped out from Su Li’s arms, his eyes crinkled up as he stared about at the entrance. ‘Ah!’ he said, and he forced one of his small, fat hands out from his swaddling blankets to make a fist at Stephen. Su Li carried him over, and he paddled his fingers against Stephen’s metal mane. He was only waving his hands, as babies do, and I was annoyed to see Su Li look delighted, as though he had performed a trick.

  ‘One day you will own a bank just like this,’ said Su Li, laughing down at Teddy.

  I hung back next to Wo. He turned to me and in Cantonese said, ‘Go and pet them too. You need some good luck, Miss Hazel. It is difficult for you. You know that Su Li—’

  ‘She’s very proud of Teddy,’ I said through gritted teeth.

  ‘That isn’t quite what I was going to say,’ said Wo. ‘But it is true. He is a good baby, Miss Hazel.’

  ‘Miss Hazel, are you coming up with us?’ called Su Li. ‘We must hurry, or we’ll be late for Dr Aurelius.’

  ‘I won’t,’ I said. She had sounded hopeful, and I suddenly wanted to spite her. I knew that my mother would not have gone with them, if she had been here. ‘Miss Wells and I will stay downstairs.’

  ‘If you wish it, miss,’ said Su Li, sounding almost sad. ‘We’ll only be twenty minutes.’

  We all walked through the main doors, past the liveried doorman. To our left was a great curving staircase that led up to the main hall of the Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank. In front of us were three lifts, their golden doors open, that went up to the doctors’ floors. Their three operators were waiting for passengers within.

  Coming out of the middle one was someone I recognized. Mrs Fu, the teahouse owner, went rushing towards the main stairs. Her head was turned away from us as she stuffed something into a slim handbag, her shoulders set.

  The lift operators, in red uniform with gold trim on their lapels and smart caps on their heads, all bowed to us as we approached. Two were rather old, scrawny men, but the middle one was younger, with a twinkle in his eye and a handsome jut to his jaw. ‘Come on in!’ he called to us. Wo On motioned Su Li towards the middle lift, and the lift operator bowed and gestured.

  Su Li had paused. I turned and saw her face change. For a moment she looked … nervous? Afraid? I wasn’t sure, and it vanished too soon for me to catch properly. She walked slowly to the lift.

  ‘Eighth floor, if you please,’ she said to the operator. ‘The child has an appointment.’

  The lift operator nodded back politely – but there was a funny look in his eye too. It was almost eager. He stepped aside to allow Su Li and Teddy into the lift, then closed the metal grille and the door after them. The dial above the lift began to tick upwards. Second – third – fourth – fifth—

  ‘Come on, Daisy,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘Let’s look around the bank.’

  4

  Together, Daisy and I climbed the stairs and stepped through the arched doorway. With Ping following us nervously, we found ourselves in the main bank hall. I had to hold back a gasp. It was so grand – so unbelievably high and big and gold. On both sides of the room, men in neat black suits worked busily at rows of imposing, marble-topped desks, and above their heads, far above, hung an enormous gold mural.

  It was beautiful, I thought. Hong Kong was beautiful and exciting and important. If only – if only Teddy wasn’t here. If only I could enjoy it.

  Why did he upset me so much? He was not ugly the way May had been as a baby, all screwed up and raging. He was not sickly like Rose, who had been born early and little. I had sat outside her nurse
ry for weeks, pretending to read, listening to what the nurses were saying to each other. But Rose and May had not changed the shape of my family the way Teddy had.

  I felt a nudge in my side, and came to myself to see that Daisy was nodding towards one of the desks.

  ‘Hazel!’ she hissed. ‘Mrs Fu just came past us again from one of those tellers. She rushed out of the bank as though it was on fire. And now there’s Mr Svensson as well, coming out of one of the side rooms! Isn’t that odd? We saw them both last night – and here they are again! I thought Hong Kong was a big city?’

  Daisy sometimes has a tendency to see mystery where there is none. We were in a bank. It was natural that businessmen and -women should be here.

  ‘Daisy!’ I said. ‘Don’t point, or it’ll be obvious.’

  ‘Why shouldn’t I be obvious?’ said Daisy, with a very obstinate look on her face. ‘I’ve nothing to hide. I’m simply in a place I have been sent to by the father of my best friend, Hazel Wong. I wonder what Mr Svensson’s excuse is.’ She raised her gloved hand, waved it frantically and called across the echoing space, ‘Mr Svensson! Hello! Fancy meeting you here!’

  Mr Svensson turned with a start, his large attaché case swinging and his big shoulders and chest making his expensive new suit strain against him. His face flickered. He seemed alarmed – which could, I told myself, be simply because he hadn’t expected to be accosted by his acquaintance’s daughter in the middle of a working day. But there was something in his expression, quickly buried, that the detective in me noticed. He looked – briefly – concerned. Almost as if he didn’t want to see us here. But that was silly, I told myself. I was being silly again: what I had seen in Su Li’s and the lift operator’s faces had simply been my imagination, and so was this.