House of Trembling Leaves, The (44 page)

The Zenith radio blared, rattling the windows. Lu See and Mabel were in the back courtyard. An electric fan spun behind a thick block of ice, driving cool air into their faces. As usual, tablecloths hung on lines of string, drying in the heat. Scrub boards leaned against walls and the dogs lay out in the shade, hidden from the afternoon sun. Cries of ‘Younis!' and ‘Yasmine!' flew across from the neighbour's compound.

‘‘
To recap the international headlines for November 20, 1960: President Dwight D. Eisenhower to authorize the use of US$1m to resettle Cuban refugees arriving in Florida. South Vietnamese President Diem survives another coup attempt. The funeral of actor Clark Gable takes place in Hollywood
 …''

Lu See allowed the news of Clark Gable's interment to brew for a while before taking up the scissors again. She thought of Sum Sum and how she had once adored the King of Hollywood. ‘‘For goodness' sake, keep still, Mabel, stop twitching like an anxious bride.''

‘‘I never asked to have my hair cut.''

‘‘Your head looks like a chrysanthemum. Hospital regulations state that all scrub nurses must keep their hair short, above the shoulder line.''

‘‘… 
and the International Red Cross estimate that 90,000 Tibetans lost their lives in the recent uprising against Chinese occupying forces.
''

Lu See darted into the kitchen ‘‘What was that about Tibet?'' She felt a panic strike her gut like a hot stone.

Mother appeared with a dog by her feet. She shooed it into the back garden. ‘‘There's been fighting in Tibet. Many dead,'' she said matter-of-factly.

‘‘But what about Sum Sum? I have to do something.''

‘‘Do what?'' Mother said, scratching her palms. ‘‘Go rescue her?'' She snorted. ‘‘Like a blind monkey, swinging from tree to tree?''

Lu See pursed her lips.

Dungeonboy said, ‘‘Maybe you ask boss-Stan to help. Pow-lice always good at finding people.''

Lu See didn't reply, but Dungeonboy could guess by her expression what she thought of his suggestion.

‘‘
And now it's time for Malay Woman's Hour,
'' said the radio presenter in a tinny voice, ‘‘
where our own Dr Chow and Mrs Gangooly will be discussing whether bananas cause constipation
 …''

Mabel shouted from the courtyard: ‘‘Please hurry up. I have to clock in at the hospital before five for the evening shift.'' Her head gave an involuntary twitch.

‘‘Surely you can be a few minutes late, Mabel?'' said Lu See.

‘‘Of course I cannot. You know how things are since the British left. A Chinese person has to work three times as hard to get recognition.''

Lu See nodded. Under the new constitution the Malays got the best jobs.

‘‘
But first we give you a musical interlude with
 …''

Lu See returned to her barbering duties. ‘‘Keep your head straight, please.'' Mabel, balanced on a tall stool amongst the pots of rosemary bushes, adjusted her bib for the hundredth time.

‘‘It's causing maximum anger amongst the Chinese and Indian staff.''

‘‘… 
Elvis Presley's new hit song
‘
It's Now or Never'.
''

‘‘Dungeonboy! Please turn it down in there!''

From the depths of the kitchen, Dungeonboy tweaked the volume control but remained glued to the Zenith's black dial.

‘‘Knock, knock! Aahh!''

The voice was unmistakable. Lu See, Mabel and all the dogs swung their heads round in unison. Uncle Big Jowl leaned against the outer door frame. ‘‘Any chance of a plate of
char siu faan
?''

‘‘I'm just finishing off here, take a seat inside.''

He slapped his tummy with delight. Moving with hippopotamus stateliness, he turned heavily, swaying from side to side as he walked.

Mabel shook the bib free and swept hair from her clothes. She caught up with Uncle Big Jowl and helped him into a blackwood chair beside Pietro. Pietro pinched the brim of his fedora and raised it. ‘‘
Buona sera
,'' he said, sipping a glass of lime juice with his little finger held in the air. He was eyeing the nearby table which bore a smoky glass case of rosemary shortcakes.

Yanking at the creases of his trousers the big man slumped down heavily.

‘‘The freight train has landed,'' observed Pietro.

‘‘Bloody troublesome knees.
Ai-yoo
!'' He winced. ‘‘So,'' he growled, squinting at Pietro with suspicion. ‘‘Lu See says you a tip-top diplomat, aahh. Tell me, what makes a good diplomat?''

Pietro, looking pristine as ever with a knotted silk cravat at his throat, fluttered his eyelids. ‘‘A good diplomat is someone who always remembers a woman's birthday, but never her age.''

Uncle Big Jowl puffed out his cheeks, made them as round as dumplings. ‘‘Oh, by the way, Lu See, aahh, your brothers, have come to see you.''

‘‘Peter and James are here?'' exclaimed Lu See. ‘‘Where?''

‘‘Up in your rooms. James is wearing his maddo homespun clothes.''

‘‘Bra-haa! Is that who it is?'' cried Pietro. ‘‘I thought Gandhi had made an appearance.''

‘‘Apparently they have come from Butterworth for a Jehovah's conference.''

‘‘Dishy fellow nonetheless – he'd look fabulous in polka dots.'' With an imperious tilt of his chin, Pietro watched Lu See race up the stairs. He stretched a flaccid wrist in the direction of the smoky glass case of rosemary shortcakes but Mother slapped his hand away.

Through the open door Lu See could hear a deep-throated mantra. She found her brother James meditating between a stack of old books and the dressmaker's mannequin. Attired in a white toga-like shawl and silk-lined slippers with socks held up with garters, he sat cross-legged, chanting, with a palm branch in his fist. ‘‘
Om, om, Rama … Om, om, Hare om.
''

She knocked on the doorframe and his eyes sprang open. There was the look of the zealot about him; his gaze bright yet glassy like a radical priest with a drug addiction. ‘‘I thought you were a Jehovah's Witness.'' She smiled. ‘‘What's with all this Buddhist chanting?''

‘‘That's what I said,'' exclaimed Peter. He was dressed in his usual baggy shorts and shirt, examining an old walking stick.

‘‘In these troubling times, I'm hedging my bets, God Shiva allowing.''

‘‘I don't know what the elders will say about this.'' Peter waved the cane at James.

‘‘Please get that stick out of my face.''

‘‘It's not in your face, it is in my hand.''

‘‘Precisely.''

Lu See interrupted them. ‘‘Why on
earth
are you dressed like a sadhu from the Batu Caves?''

‘‘I'm in shirt and tie all week at the Postal Department, trussed up like a chicken. This is my way of letting off steam.''

‘‘And who's this?'' said Lu See, suddenly noticing a stranger hovering by the shower room.

James got to his feet. ‘‘May I introduce Dr Rafit Patel.''

She studied the little man, her eyes guarded. He wore a navy blue suit and had a pointy chin. He removed his silver pince-nez as he stepped forward to take her hand.

‘‘Birth certificate says Rafit Patel, but please call me Ralph,'' the doctor said in a voice as clear and shiny as a diamond dipped in ghee.

‘‘Whose idea is this?'' Lu See asked, her face beginning to purple slightly.

‘‘Mine.'' Mother was standing at the door, fists on hips.

‘‘I've already seen several doctors.''

‘‘All useless,'' barked Mother. ‘‘Last time you vomited blood, you spent three days in hospital and still they scratch their heads. Dr Rafit is – ''

‘‘Please call me Ralph,'' he insisted.

Mother shot him a withering look. ‘‘Dr
Ralph
is an expert in his field.''

The doctor approached cautiously, hands folded like a priest. ‘‘I would like you to come in for some tests.''

‘‘I've had all the tests and they were inconclusive. They said it was probably ulcers.''

‘‘What harm then to come in for a few more?'' His tone was gentle and coaxing.

‘‘I've been poked and prodded and clucked over quite enough.''

Everybody looked solemn. Lu See walked up to the window and pressed her forehead to the glass.

James shut his eyes. ‘‘
Om, om, Bhadaraya … Om, om, Rama
 …''

‘‘Quiet, James!'' scolded Mother.

‘‘Just a couple of blood and urine tests,'' the doctor said, cajoling now. ‘‘To put your mother's mind at ease.''

Lu See felt the colour drain from her face. She hated having her blood taken. ‘‘Will it be just the one blood test?''

‘‘Two at most,'' he conceded.

Mother came to stand by her side. ‘‘What are you thinking, Lu See?''

Lu See dug her nails into her palms. She didn't say anything for a long time. ‘‘I'm thinking I don't want to know. Whatever's the matter with me, I'd rather not know.''

‘‘Often it is the not knowing that makes people worse,'' said Dr Ralph. ‘‘The anxiety builds and builds. I can give you peace of mind.''

Breathing rapidly, Lu See said, ‘‘And what if it is bad news? How does that offer me peace of mind?'' She stared at her mother but she was talking to the doctor.

‘‘Well, that is where medical science comes in.'' His voice soothed her. ‘‘Please,'' he said. ‘‘Come with me now to my clinic.''

He held his hands out to the sides, palms upwards.

‘‘Come, dear madam,'' he said, shifting his weight forward.

Lu See followed the doctor down the stairs and into the glare of Macao Street.

It was late afternoon and the muezzin called the faithful to
Asr
prayer. Lu See muttered a quiet incantation to herself, as children, stripped to the waist, played with a rattan ball, running around in circles chasing the sunlight on their backs. For the first time in many years she felt scared of what the future might bring.

Lu See climbed into Dr Ralph's car. Twenty minutes later, he motioned for her to sit in a chair in front of his desk. She sat very still and tense.

He spread out a number of diagrams on his desk, anatomical drawings of the human body, showing the digestive tract, the stomach, the large and small intestines, the rectum and anus. The major organs such as the heart and lungs and liver were coloured red. The intestines were shaded green.

Lu See pointed her eyes at the ceiling, as though there was something exceptionally interesting up there. She was so nervous she hid her gaze from the doctor's.

‘‘Once I examine you, I will have a finer idea. First, we will analyse your blood and urine for anaemia and inflammation. After that we can talk.''

He led her to a small surgery where a female assistant waited by an examination bed. There were instruments laid out in metal trays.

 

After about an hour Dr Ralph said, ‘‘Let's talk in my office.'' His voice was calm. Lu See settled into the same chair as before. ‘‘What I am about to tell you is not easy to hear.'' He took a breath and adjusted his pince-nez. ‘‘Our tests confirm that you are suffering from anaemia, which indicates to me that you may be bleeding within the intestines. I will wait for the urine samples to confirm this. I will need to proceed with further tests but your symptoms are compatible with a most uncommon illness.''

Lu See's mouth went dry. ‘‘Is it cancer?''

Dr Ralph frowned. She waited for his response, scared his words might snap her in half.

‘‘At this stage, I would say no, but I cannot rule it out.'' He set his lips in a grim line. ‘‘However, the abdominal cramps, the fevers, the weight loss and nausea are all consistent with deep ulcers in the intestines. These ulcers puncture holes in your bowels resulting in fistulae and abscesses.'' He pulled a file towards him and looked at her over the top of his silver pince-nez. ‘‘Medical reports from your hospital stay last year have you diagnosed with Sprue, a digestive disturbance caused by an allergy to gluten.'' He clasped his hands together tightly. ‘‘But I believe you have an advanced form of Crohn's disease.''

Lu See stared at him. She had never heard of such a thing. ‘‘And what does that mean?''

The doctor took a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his pointy chin. ‘‘It means you have a disease with no known cure.''

Lu See swallowed. ‘‘Is it serious?''

‘‘Ordinarily, it is not regarded as life-threatening.'' The doctor removed his eye-glasses and rubbed the skin where the clip made a mark. ‘‘But in your case, you've vomited blood on two occasions. So I would have to say that it is serious.''

‘‘Are there pills I can take? Can you remove the ulcers?''

‘‘The disease is difficult to diagnose because the symptoms appear only gradually. To be absolutely certain I will ask you to come to the hospital for a barium sulphate X-ray. No, please, dear madam, do not look so alarmed. It is not as frightening as it sounds. Do not worry your brain over it. You simply drink a mixture of barium sulphate, tannic acid and gelatin, after which we X-ray you. The solution acts as a contrast medium in X-ray photography, meaning it will show up white in the images.''

Lu See did not say anything.

The doctor asked, ‘‘Have you endured a lot of stress in your life?''

‘‘Well, let's see. My husband died a few months into our marriage. I miscarried. My home was taken over by the Japanese. My father shot himself in the head. My daughter ran away for months to fight in the jungle.'' She paused. ‘‘I'm sure there's more.''