House of Trembling Leaves, The (20 page)

‘‘I am aware of that. But I find it strange you have not accused them of anything. Some rumours that they are involved in political crime?''

Lu See blinked. She knew what type of game was being played here. She had to be careful. ‘‘My family's issues with the Woos are all in the past. My late husband was from the Woo clan. We have no axe to grind now. As I said, the Woos are loyal supporters of Tenno Heika.''

‘‘Your late husband? Is that so?''

‘‘Yes, o-colonel-sama.''

‘‘You are on friendly terms with them.''

‘‘Ever since my child was born we have been on cordial terms.''

‘‘They see your daughter often?''

Lu See smiled through unsmiling eyes. ‘‘No.''

‘‘Because they still cannot trust you, even though she has Woo blood. How do you know they have not said anything against you? Surely, there have been times when you have complained about the high cost of living or the worthlessness of our military scrip, or joked about
Nippon-go
? It is only a matter of time before they say such things of you.''

‘‘If they accuse me of such things then I shall deny it.''

He took a sip of whisky. His bald head shone in the candle light. ‘‘If you tell me the Woos are helping to finance the communist hill-people you will be rewarded. In fact any information you can supply of the
genjumin
would be wholeheartedly appreciated. I can provide new clothes for your daughter. I can give her English Canterbury biscuits. She must like Canterbury biscuits, no?''

Lu See felt something quiver within her. The only sweet things Mabel had eaten since the outbreak of war were rambutans and mangoes filched from the forest floor and a coconut sugar birthday cake once a year. She would dearly love to give her a tin of Canterbury biscuits. ‘‘I'm afraid I have nothing to tell you, o-colonel-sama.''

He placed his crystal tumbler down carefully. The tip of his black toothbrush moustache glistened with whisky. For several moments he watched her, studied her mouth and eyes.

Then with a loud suck of his teeth he slapped the air and waved her away. She'd been dismissed for the night.

 

From the day Colonel Tozawa took possession of Tamarind Hill, Lu See was forced to live in a small Chinese-style house by the river which once belonged to the rubber estate's overseer before he was arrested by the Kempeitai. Allowed to take only what she could carry, she stuffed her old eel-skin trunk with anything she thought she could barter and made her way down the hill. The small house had a tiny stone courtyard and a neat roof made of clay tiles, with two bedrooms, a wet kitchen and a teetering porch, which was home to a family of yellow geckos. And because it wasn't connected to the electricity board, candles were used after dark.

It was a pleasant little place, surrounded by shady trees and the call of birds, and there was always a cleansing breeze which cooled the air at night.

Her mother slept in one bedroom and Uncle Big Jowl in the other, which meant that Peter and James claimed the settees in the main room whilst Lu See and Mabel shared a mattress and a conical mosquito net in the wet kitchen. Before the war Uncle Big Jowl lived in Penang but his home was bombed from the air by the Japanese.

There were two wicker chairs on the porch, a large worn one reserved for Uncle Big Jowl's cheroot smoking and a smaller one with a bright red cushion nestled at its heart. Each evening Mabel settled on the red cushion with both hands clasped in her lap waiting for her mother to return home.

Sometimes she ate her stale-rice supper propped high on the red cushion, rice bowl in hand, eyes fixed on the dirt road that led up to Tamarind Hill. Sometimes she ate by the window of the wet kitchen, heaping grains into her mouth with a pair of chopsticks, never allowing her attention to waver. She watched the beaten earth path like a hawk.

‘‘
Chee-chee-chee!
Staring at the road will not make your mother return any faster, little one.''

‘‘I know, Grandma.''

‘‘So why not come inside and relax. You will wear out eyes otherwise.''

‘‘I'm fine.''

‘‘Come, I'll light fresh candles and make banana bread.'' Mabel shook her head no.

As the darkness thickened and the smell of kerosene lamps soured the air Uncle Big Jowl beached himself in the chair by her side. He lit a cheroot and smoked, cupping the cigar in his hand, hiding the crimson glow within his palm. Mabel wondered whether he did this to protect it from the breeze or to conceal it from sight; he was forever telling Mabel that smoking was bad for you. She glanced at him momentarily then continued her vigil.

‘‘
Ai-yooo!
'' he wheezed, half-slumbering with his arms hung slack. ‘‘I used to have a dog like you. She used to hunt for squirrels, watching every tree branch like it contained a bar of gold. Speaking of gold, next week is end of durian season. Remember never to mix durian with alcoholic drink, can cause bad reaction you know.''

‘‘What time is it, Uncle?''

Uncle Big Jowl rubbed the top of his head with cheroot ash to ward off the mosquitoes. His short grey hair was unevenly pruned as if cropped by a goat. With a languid lift of his wrist he checked his watch and then replaced his hands on his melon-bellied gut. ‘‘Two minutes later than when you last asked me, aahh.''

Mabel blinked into the darkness, listening to the sounds of the jungle. Straining to hear footfalls amongst the sounds of the tree frogs, she stared beyond the tangle of vines dangling from the mass of trees. And then, craning forward like a chipmunk spotting a stray nut, her back flinched and her throat tensed and before you could call her name she was bounding from the porch and along the road. ‘‘Mama, Mama, Mama!'' Running with her arms outstretched she hopped over a pothole and threw herself into her mother's embrace.

 

Since the start of the occupation both Peter and James worked as Post Office inspectors at the former De La Rue printing press in Butterworth, reporting to a Mr Miyagi. Each day they cycled to Juru station and boarded a train, returning each night in time for supper.

As Lu See entered the candle-lit kitchen she heard Peter say, ‘‘Today, on my way back from the presses, this Japanese lorry almost ran me off the road. I was lucky not to lose control of my bicycle and end up in a ditch.''

Lu See saw them sitting with her mother, in the centre of the room, around a table laid with a bowl of bananas. Mother plucked one free and waggled it at her son like a pistol. ‘‘You a mouse or man! There's plenty of room on the roads. Where's your backbone?'' Lu See half expected her to reach over and twist his earlobe.

‘‘You should have seen how close he was,'' he exclaimed. ‘‘Jehovah be my witness, it brushed my sleeve.''

‘‘
Cha!
'' said Mother.

‘‘It's true,'' challenged Peter.

Mother shot him one of her looks. James rose to do the dirty dishes, moving cautiously as if there was a sleeping tiger sprawled across the floor.

Removing a deck of withered playing cards from a drawer, Mother gave her thumb a lick. ‘‘Gin Rummy?''

‘‘We're not allowed to gamble!'' her sons replied in unison. Both men looked almost identical with boyish clean-shaven features and slightly protruding eyes, which gave them an air of perpetual bewilderment.

Mother gave an exhausted sigh. ‘‘What did I do to deserve sons like you? No matter how many years go by I never-never get used to this Jehovah's Witnesses business. And both unmarried to boots.''

James rolled his bulbous eyes. ‘‘Not this again.''

‘‘I mean, take you for example, Peter, you always hated going to church as a child,'' she continued. ‘‘You had tantrum in the pews. The whole congregation turned and stared.''

‘‘That was James.''

‘‘I was four,'' argued James, cradling a bible in his lap.

‘‘You were seven and you wet your front side,'' Mother counteracted.

‘‘He was scared of the priest,'' said Peter. ‘‘Something about his red hair, wasn't it?''

James shut his eyes as though to block out the memory.

‘‘Now you turn into religious fanatics,'' huffed Mother.

In unison: ‘‘We are not religious fanatics!''

‘‘I'm relieved,'' said Mother, sounding not the least bit relieved.

In the ensuing silence a variety of winged insects knocked and pinged against the bare ceiling bulb. Lu See cleared her throat.

Mother looked up from her deck of cards, which she'd fanned across the kitchen table. ‘‘What the matter? What is wrong?''

‘‘Nothing's wrong.''

‘‘You only clear your throat like tree frog when something is wrong.''

‘‘Nothing's wrong. I just put Mabel to bed.''

Mother rose from her chair and moved to replace the kettle on the stove, bare feet padding across the floor. ‘‘You want tea?''

Lu See declined the offer.

‘‘A slice of banana bread maybe? Or peanuts, nah, we have plenty of peanuts.'' Mother nodded her head encouragingly. ‘‘Come, eat.'' This, Lu See knew, was her way of showing love – showering food on her children.

Lu See shook her head and drew a hand over her face. She still had the smells of cooking under her fingernails. ‘‘There was some rice left over at the colonel's.''

‘‘But you didn't eat,'' said Mother.

‘‘How can you tell?''

‘‘You loitering and nobody loiters on full stomach. Whole country starving and you don't eat his leftover food.'' Mother brought out a large basin of peanuts. ‘‘Come, help me shell these, will you?''

Lu See took a chair. ‘‘For the record I wasn't loitering.''

‘‘Just skulking,'' said Peter.

‘‘Precisely,'' said James.

Peter pressed a finger to the sky like Moses. ‘‘For they are called labourers and should not be loiterers!''

James smiled. ‘‘Thessalonians?''

‘‘Precisely.''

James began to flick through the pages of the bible on his lap. ‘‘Let me guess. Chapter 15, verse – ''

‘‘
Cha!
Will you two be quiet for once!'' cried Mother. ‘‘Every other minute it's the bible say this, the bible say that, Jehovah said this, Jehovah said that, knick-knick, knack-knack. Can't we have one nice evening together without preachings and bickerings! Why can't you have the quiet grace of your sister?''

Peter frowned.

‘‘You've upset him now,'' said James.

Mother shelled a nut and tossed it in her mouth. ‘‘One harsh word and he fall into a sulk.''

‘‘No, I've not.''

‘‘Peter, you cannot act like a cissy-cissy all your life, especially now that Ah-Ba has gone to walk a new path.
Cha!
Look at you, face like basket of crabs.''

‘‘Colonel Tozawa says he wants me to prepare peppered crab for him next week,'' said Lu See.

‘‘Why must you mention his name?'' challenged Mother. She was forever fearful that her daughter might be sleeping with this non-Chinese, barbarian invader. ‘‘Whatever you do, withstand his advances.''

‘‘Mother, really …''

‘‘They are all rapists.''

‘‘He is a gentleman,'' Lu See said, unsure why she needed to defend him.

Her mother's furrowed brow promised to engulf her entire face.

Sensibly, Lu See changed the subject. ‘‘What are you preparing?''

‘‘Satay dip-dip sauce.'' Lu See felt her mouth moisten at the image of grilled meat skewers and the puddle of peanut sauce she dunked them in. ‘‘But we're using squirrel again instead of chicken, so don't tell Mabel. Come, nah, grab me that bottle of soy, then chop up a half inch piece of galangal with some ginger.'' Mother began pounding peanuts. ‘‘We finish this before bed, no more talk.''

Lu See worked her knife into a gnarl of ginger. She had never been much of a chef before the war, and was far less experienced than the Colonel imagined. But she persevered. With the house and money gone she needed the work – it was a long fall from her earlier intellectual aspirations. Cambridge seemed a lifetime ago. Sometimes she had the sense that she was living in a dream, that her past was made up of imaginary seductions rather than real memories. She looked at the slivers of ginger and felt a sudden punitive urge to slice into her own flesh. A clench of guilt and regret pressed against her chest. It was simply a reflex, an instinct. She winced and waited. Seconds later the urge had waned.

 

The following night, up in the big house, as Lu See stood beside the mahogany sideboard watching Tozawa spoon bubble and squeak into his mouth, he turned to her and smiled.

Nonplussed, she smiled back.

‘‘How old are you, Teoh-san?'' he asked, dabbing cabbage remnants from his moustache.

‘‘Excuse me, o-colonel-sama?''

‘‘Your age. I gather since your husband died you have not remarried, and I am curious about your age.''

Lu See felt herself colour. ‘‘Forgive me, o-colonel-sama, but in all the time I have worked here, you have never asked me about my life.'' Indeed, it was the first personal question he had ever put to her. She was unsure how to respond.

He sucked air through his teeth and grinned. ‘‘Perhaps with this dreaded war drawing to a close I am throwing caution to the wind.''

‘‘I don't understand.'' His words lingered with her. She wanted to ask him exactly what he meant by the war drawing to a close. Were the Japanese on the verge of surrendering? Were they about to withdraw from Malaya? She'd heard rumours that the Allies were closing in, that submarines bringing Gurkhas had reached Malayan shores, but she hadn't dared dream.

A silken smile. ‘‘It is a simple question, Teoh-san. I wish to know when you were born.''