The Secret Mandarin. Sara Sheridan

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СКАЧАТЬ admit I did not take to Sing Hoo. He had been poorly treated and unlucky in seeking his fortune, that much was clear. But he had a shifty look about him as if he was always sizing up the possibilities. When he finished his tea he tapped the side of the porcelain surreptitiously as if checking its quality. When he realised I had seen this he shifted uncomfortably.

      ‘The Chinese will not meet a woman’s eye,’ Robert commented sagely for he had not noticed Sing Hoo’s action—only seen my stare and the Chinaman turn his head away.

      I said nothing.

      Over the following day or two Robert listened to everything Sing Hoo had to say about tea. He had been brought up on a smallholding and had grown tea plants there since his childhood.

      ‘Can you take me there? Can you show me this?’ Robert asked each time a particular process was detailed.

      Interspersed with more general questions of horticultural interest, Robert took copious notes of everything, any detail about the soil, the weather or the farming of the tea plant. When Sing Hoo explained the process of drying the picked leaves, heat levels used or aromas added, Robert drew what he understood—a drying rack or a mixing bowl, and Sing Hoo hooted with laughter, grabbed the drawing paper and amended the sketch.

      After two or three days the man lost his hungry look, but my view was still that his eye was to the main chance. When Robert opened his maps and called Sing Hoo to help plan the expedition he became vague and uncooperative. Distrustful, I expect that if he told what he knew he might no longer be needed. Robert’s face showed his frustration as he tried to find details of jurisdictions and journey times, navigating the strange interior at a distance to foresee as much as he could. I knew he was finding ways to send home seeds and plants no matter what might happen to him once he crossed the forbidden boundary into China’s interior.

      I passed my time walking out. I felt an affinity with the island. The freedom to wander was most welcome after the confinement of the ship and Hong Kong felt like a vast and exciting half-discovered world—an alien dream that entranced me with its lush greenness. There was plenty to see. Splashes of vibrant colour burst from the foliage—an abundance of fascinating, angular pink, red and orange flowers I did not know the names for. I never asked. I did not want Robert to launch into an explanation that would diminish their exotic magic with details of pollination or water systems.

      I liked the calm water of the bay in contrast with the bustling dock. I liked the stacked baskets of chickens and the sheen of the brightly coloured satin displayed in its bales. The toothless ancients outside the little temples fascinated me, their bodies like stick insects, angular and dry as they sat in the shade and begged alms. Dusty-skinned Chinese children hovered nearby their fathers who had fought in the war. There were many missing an arm or a leg and others with scars on their faces where hand-to-hand combat had torn their skin to pieces. Still-eyed, bony and eager they watched me as I passed. Their children, fingers twitching, all set to cut my purse should the chance arise, the bolder ones circling at a safe distance like birds round a fishing boat, ready to swoop. With my heart racing at the thrill of my proximity to something so foreign and dangerous, I hovered only on the fringes of their territory, never entering the fetid shanty town itself. I peered down the narrow, hot streets that ran with stinking, steaming excrement over the beaten earth and came as close as I could. It was like holding an entrancing but venomous snake that might strike at any moment. I was fascinated, but I kept it at arm’s length.

      It was on one of my expeditions I encountered Wang. Abandoning my attraction to the shanty for the day, I had decided to hike up the hill to take in the view of the bay. It was a difficult climb with only a muddy pebble track but I was sure it would be worth the effort. The top of the Peak was very high and the outlook undoubtedly spectacular. Robert had gone to the other side of the island to sell some of his plants and had no need for or interest in my company. After lunch I set off with only a flask of boiled water to sustain me.

      I started fine. The road was not too steep but as I climbed higher the gradient increased dramatically. I was not a third of the way up when I decided that this was not an expedition for a solitary lady. My boots stung and I was perspiring furiously. I found a large rock to lean against and sipped the water.

      ‘I had best go down,’ I thought.

      I did not want to be beaten by the hill, however, and I resolved to try again another day with more appropriate footwear and stays less closely bound. The view was already opening out. To the west I could see smoke rising from a thousand cooking fires down in the grubby settlement and ant-like figures moving along the makeshift alleyways. Every one of them appeared to carry a parcel of some kind either bound to their backs or carried in front. I would come back, I decided to enjoy this view again, and climb even higher.

      The air had been thick all day. Close to the sea my guess was that a refreshing breeze might come off the water, but the weather defied such expectations. We were not in Europe any more. Now, within seconds, a tropical rain shower broke. I pulled myself under a large, flat-leafed tree but it did not afford much protection. My skirt was soaked immediately and I watched horrified as the path I had followed up the hill flooded into a muddy morass and the pebbles that had helped me to keep my foothold became as slippery as polished glass. I had been gone from the lodgings less than an hour. Getting back was going to take far longer.

      In the midst of this I saw large branches suddenly thrashing beside the path, as some creature made its way through. I glanced round frantically, calculating where I could run. My first emotion was a reserved relief when it was a man who emerged. His loose trousers and coolie shirt were thoroughly soaked and a brace of dead pigeons was slung over his shoulder. He was as startled to see me as I was to see him. It cannot have been common to come upon a muddy white woman underneath the dripping trees. I backed away, noticing a sheathed knife slung through a scarf of material binding his waist. There was no one around for at least a mile. My breathing became shallow as I contemplated bolting despite the treacherous path ahead.

      Then Wang said something in Chinese. I did not understand so he pointed first at me and then down the hill, motioning me to follow. He smiled a brown-toothed grin and did not make for his knife. I weighed it up for a moment and, heart in my hands, I decided to go. Getting down by myself would be too difficult.

      Far more slowly than he would have made the journey without me, I am sure, we picked our way through the trees. It was the natural way to descend the slope when it was so wet. Roots bound the earth together and there were branches to hold. But the jungle was very overgrown and if you did not have your bearings it was easy to get lost. Wang led me sure-footedly down. We emerged near the town.

      ‘Um goi,’ I said. Thank you.

      He seemed so competent I doubted he was hungry but he had done me a good turn and I wanted to reward him. I motioned him to come with me this time. Back at the house I could give him a coin or two. Now we were in the city he walked behind, the sodden game still over his shoulder, splashing whenever it hit his body. The pigeons were as effective as sponges.

      ‘This way,’ I said.

      By the time we entered the front door Robert had returned. He strode out of the drawing room in a bad temper.

      ‘Where in the devil have you been?’ he snapped. ‘Look at you.’

      ‘This man brought me home through the storm,’ I explained.

      Robert fumbled in his pocket, gave Wang a small coin and directed him to the kitchen for some food.

      ‘I think I shall go up,’ I said.

      It was odd Robert had not pushed me for an explanation of where I had been or СКАЧАТЬ