Mr Ma and Son (24 page)

‘I’m happy, Mary!’ Mrs Wedderburn forced a smile. ‘You take these presents to the study with the Mas, Mary, while I go and feed the dog. Be with you in a minute.’

‘Come on, Ma Wei.’ Mary picked up her and her mother’s presents, and walked out of the room.

Ma Wei glanced at his father, gave a gloomy smile and absently picked up their presents and walked out.

Mr Ma blinked. He’d noticed something amiss with his son, but could think of no way to comfort him. Picking up his wine glass and pouring himself another glassful, he slowly sipped it beneath the mistletoe-hung light.

As Mrs Wedderburn came back into the room, he hastily put the glass down. She glanced at Mr Ma, glanced at the mistletoe, blushed, stepped back two paces, then suddenly stiffened her graceful neck, went even redder and rushed at him, clasped his face in her hands and kissed him smack on the lips. Mr Ma’s face immediately went purple and his whole body quivered. He gave her a numb, gormless smile, and rushed upstairs.

Mrs Wedderburn waited a moment, then she, too, went upstairs.

That night when she went to bed, Mrs Wedderburn lay there clutching her husband’s photograph and kissing it again and again, tears falling. ‘I’ve done you wrong, darling. I couldn’t help it. I was so lonely, and Mary’ll be gone soon, and there’ll be nobody to keep me company. Forgive me, darling. My love, I held out all these years, but I couldn’t bear it any longer. I was lonely. On my own, and so miserable. Forgive me . . .’

And she went to sleep, hugging the photograph to her.

O
N THE
morning of Boxing Day, the ground was spread with a layer of white frost. The sun appeared, peeping from thin clouds, and the sunshine brought everybody out. Those who had eaten too much over Christmas, fathers, sons and brothers alike, all bare-legged, went off for a run in the countryside, a bit of cross-country being preferable to indigestion pills. Others took their wives and children to see their parents, the children all looking very odd and awkward in their new clothes. Some people had gone to bed very late the previous day, and were still lingering under their bedclothes at noon with nasty hangovers. Others rose very early so as to have lunch in good time and go to see a play or film, or a conjuring performance, or a music-hall show or a circus . . . Whatever their choice, they were simply determined to enjoy themselves.

Mrs Wedderburn and her daughter were up early, and just as they finished breakfast, Li Tzu-jung arrived.

His nose was frozen bright red, and the brim of his hat bore flakes of frost that had drifted down from the trees. There was some dirt on his overcoat, as he’d worn the new shoes Mr Ma had given him, and had slipped up as he was leaving his house. Luckily, tumbling head over heels was a common occurrence for him, and he’d not even bothered to dust himself off when he scrambled to his feet again. He’d come out so early partly because the watch that Ma Wei had given him was gaining more than twenty minutes a day. So now he carried both old and new watches on him, to compare their times. Anyway, time was a human construction, so why not let it go a bit faster? It could only make life seem busier and fuller. Don’t imagine that by ignoring time and walking slowly, you’ll avoid reaching life’s end . . .

‘Right, Ma, old mate, let’s go,’ said Li Tzu-jung, not yet even through the door.

‘Come in and sit down for a while, old Li!’ said Ma Wei at the door.

‘I won’t come in. If we’re going to see a play, we’ll have to go and buy the tickets early. If we don’t manage to get a ticket, we can always go and see a circus, or watch a film. If we leave it too late, though, we won’t get in anywhere. Let’s go – hurry up.’

Ma Wei stepped back into the hallway, put his overcoat on, stuck his hat on his head and left the house.

‘We’ll go to Piccadilly and buy the tickets first,’ said Li Tzu-jung.

‘All right,’ replied Ma Wei, but with a frowning brow and gloomy face.

‘What’s up now, old Ma?’ asked Li Tzu-jung.

‘Nothing’s up. Ate too much yesterday.’ Ma Wei thrust his hands in his overcoat pockets and marched straight on.

‘I don’t believe that,’ said Li Tzu-jung, looking at Ma Wei’s face.

Ma Wei gave a shake of his head, wishing Li Tzu-jung were elsewhere. Admirable, Li Tzu-jung, and affable . . . and sometimes most obnoxious!

Seeing that Ma Wei wasn’t going to say anything, Li Tzu-jung felt a bit irritated. An affable young bloke, that Ma Wei, but sometimes so obnoxious. (Neither actually disliked the other, but their mutual affection made it sometimes seem that they did.)

‘It’s that Miss Wedderburn affair again, I suppose, eh?’ Li Tzu-jung enunciated his words in a singularly unpleasant tone.

‘None of your business!’ Ma Wei’s tone was even less pleasant.

‘I’m making it my business!’ said Li Tzu-jung, and gave a broad grin. Then as Ma Wei didn’t utter a word, he continued. ‘Ma, old mate, the shop’s at long last looking up, and now you’re off on that same old track again. Are you planning to throw out your career and other obligations, all your hopes and aspirations, just like that?’

‘I know all that!’ Ma Wei reddened, and he shot a sideways glare at Li Tzu-jung.

‘She doesn’t love you! What’s the point of trying to squeeze blood from a stone?’

‘I know that!’

‘What
do
you know, might I ask?’ Li Tzu-jung wasn’t letting him get away with anything. Guessing Ma Wei’s thoughts, he relentlessly pressed home his point. ‘I’m just a silly young fellow, and all I’m capable of is silly things, but I could never sacrifice my vocation and career for a woman. Take a look at the facts; yes, look at the facts! Stare them in the face! If you don’t keep at it with the shop, then you and your father have had it! Can’t you see how obvious that is yet?’

‘Yes, you
are
silly! You can’t see how important love is.’ Ma Wei looked up at the sky, where the sun was still visible through the clouds.

‘You may be right, but catch me loving a girl who didn’t love me!’ Li Tzu-jung threw himself body and soul into that statement, lunging forwards violently, and, the soles of his new shoes being so stiff and slippery, he nearly went head over heels again.

‘All right! That’s enough. Don’t talk about it any more.’

‘What do you mean, enough? Since we left the house you’ve been as much fun as a wet blanket; you haven’t said a decent word to me. I like that! Enough!’

‘You make me sick, Li Tzu-jung!’

‘And the same to you, Ma Wei!’ Li Tzu-jung grinned.

‘It’s no good. I’ll have to tell you.’ There was a tiny smile on Ma Wei’s face. ‘It’s like this, old Li: she’s got engaged to someone else.’

‘And where do you come into it then?’

‘I’ve never been able to forget her; I can’t. I’ve been trying these last few months. When I meet her, I deliberately look the other way. But it doesn’t work . . . just doesn’t work. She’s always there, lurking at the back of my mind. I know all about my vocation and my duties. And I know she doesn’t love me. But that doesn’t mean I’m capable of forgetting her. Now she’s engaged, I feel just about heartbroken. I know being heartbroken won’t do me any good. Oh, I know that, but . . .’ His eyes stared at the ground, and he gave a bitter laugh and stopped speaking.

Li Tzu-jung didn’t say anything either.

They walked on for quite a way before Li Tzu-jung gave a smile and spoke up. ‘Look here, old Ma, I appreciate how awful you must be feeling, and I know it’s no good my trying to persuade you to see things differently. It’s not that you haven’t made the effort. You’ve tried to forget her, I know. But it’s all been to no effect, and I can’t do anything to help, either. How about moving, so you don’t see her any more?’

‘Yes, I’ll have to have a word with my father about that.’

The two young men went round the Piccadilly theatres to try to buy some tickets. They went to quite a few but couldn’t get a single ticket, as it was the first day’s performances after Christmas and most shows were already sold out. So the two of them had a bite to eat in a restaurant, then hurried to
Olympia
to watch the circus.

Li Tzu-jung found everything entertaining – the monkeys riding horses, the lions jumping through hoops, the bears riding bicycles, the little donkeys dancing . . . all struck him as amusing. But seeing no trace of a smile on Ma Wei’s face, he didn’t feel comfortable laughing out loud, so kept his laughs in his belly.

After the circus, the two of them had a cup of tea before parting ways.

‘Ma, my lad, you’ve got to pull up your socks and stick at it!’ said Li Tzu-jung. ‘Things are looking up, so what’s the point of ruining everything by backsliding again? You’ve had one go at defeating the depression through hard work – why not give it another try? You haven’t a hope now anyway – she’s engaged. Anyway, thanks for today, old Ma. Be seeing you.’

‘See you, old Li.’

When Ma Wei got home, Mrs Wedderburn was sitting talking with his father in the study.

‘Hello, Ma Wei,’ she said with a smile. ‘What did you see? Was it good?’

‘We went to watch the circus. It was very good,’ said Ma Wei, sitting down.

‘You know, we must go and see it, too. It’s a really excellent circus this year.’

We?
Ma Wei mused to himself.
No more ‘Mr Ma’? Bit odd.

‘We’ll go on Friday, so we can take Mary, shall we?’ suggested

Mr Ma with a smile.
There we go again: that same sort of ’we’,
Ma Wei noted.

‘Dad, how about us moving somewhere else, eh?’ asked Ma Wei.

‘What for?’

‘No special reason. Freshens you up, a change of scenery.’

Mr Ma put two more lumps of coal on the fire.

‘If you don’t want to, Dad, forget I ever mentioned it. Makes no great difference whether we move or not.’

‘We’re very comfortable here, I think, so what’s the point of uprooting ourselves again for some wild whim? And we’d waste more money, too. Anyway, Mrs Wedderburn . . .’ Instead of continuing, Mr Ma gave a couple of simulated coughs. Father and son gave up speaking. Downstairs, Mary began to sing. She was playing the piano very badly, but her voice was wonderfully sweet and clear. Ma Wei stood up, and paced to and fro a few times.

‘Ma Wei,’ said Mr Ma in a subdued voice, ‘that ring your uncle left you . . . Will you let me keep it?’ His hand was in his pocket, clutching the little brocade box.

‘What if I said I would, Father?’

‘Let me have it, won’t you?’

‘Uncle gave it to me as a memento of him, so I suppose I was meant to keep it. But anyhow, what’s so special about a ring? What do want it for, Dad? You wouldn’t wear it.’

‘It’s like this, Ma Wei.’ Mr Ma’s face slowly reddened a shade, and he stammered out his words. ‘It’s like this. You see, I need it. Yes, you see . . . it’s Mrs Wedderburn. I couldn’t help it . . . I’ve let you down. I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it. She . . . You see . . .’

Ma Wei felt like saying a great deal, with the same words that Li Tzu-jung had been using to tell him off. Yes, he felt like giving his father a piece of his mind. But he couldn’t. How could he have the cheek to tell his father off, in view of his own case?

Li Tzu-jung can say things like that, but I’ve no right to criticise anyone. Anyway, some good may come of it if Father marries Mrs Wedderburn. She knows how to cope, and she’s more thrifty than young girls are. She’s got a home and a family, and she might suddenly get a notion to put heart and soul into running the shop. But what about the future, when we go back to China?

At this point in his thinking, he found himself giving voice to his thoughts. ‘Father, if you set up home here, will we still be going back to China some day?’

Mr Ma was stunned by Ma Wei’s question. Good God! How on earth could he have failed to take that aspect into account? He was going to return to China, of that he was quite certain. But taking her with him?
Even if she agreed to go, how could I look after her? To be sure, if I were a man of wealth, it’d be easy to arrange. Buy a big mansion in Shanghai, and keep everything just as it is in England. But I’m not a wealthy man. How would she find it if I took her with me, with no society there for her, and no entertainment, and her not speaking the language, and maybe not able to stomach the food? It’d be too cruel! Going there would be the end of her, beyond any doubt.

What if I didn’t take her back to China but stayed here for good, and was buried in the same place as my brother? No, no. Never! I’ve just got to return to China. I can’t spend my last years in this country, and die here! No good . . . It’s no good, there’s nothing I can do . . .

‘Ma Wei, here, take the ring.’

His head hung low, Mr Ma handed the ring in its box to Ma Wei, then cupped his forehead in both hands, and uttered no sound.

Yes, the elder Ma really was in a fix, and with no one in whom to confide. What about Ma Wei? But how could a father discuss such things directly and openly with his son? What about the Reverend Ely? No, the reverend was in a huff with Mr Ma because he’d not been helping him read Chinese books; if the elder Ma went there, it’d be just asking to be snubbed.

There’s nobody I can tell. Nobody I can talk to about it.
He still lay awake at midnight, his thoughts taking him ever further from any solution to his problems. Yet it was no good not thinking, either. When at last he closed his eyes and fell properly asleep, who should he see in his dreams but his late wife. Women! They won’t even behave themselves when they’ve passed away. Mr Ma was fairly wary of women generally, but being wary didn’t help. Women are women, and even if all of them went to the
Three Immortals convent
and became nuns, this sort of trouble would still be inevitable. Women!

When he rose the next morning, his mind was hazy and confused, like the ragged black clouds in the sky. As father and son ate breakfast, Ma Wei didn’t say a word, just sat there tight-lipped, chewing grimly away at his toast, bent on grinding his teeth to bits. Mr Ma glanced sideways, peering at him over the top of his spectacles, and felt an ache inside him. Quickly looking away, he absent-mindedly stretched out a hand and took a spoonful of salt, which he tipped into his cup of tea.

Mrs Wedderburn and her daughter were engaged in a discussion about the circus, and Mary’s eyes were as blue and bright as rolling azure waters as she stared at her mother’s pointed nose. She’d agreed to go, but when she heard that Mr Ma would be going with them, she tried to back out, first of all saying that Washington had made a date to take her to the pictures, then saying that someone had invited her out dancing. Ma Wei found all this rather unpleasant hearing, and, in a temper, pushed his saucer aside, stood up and marched out.

‘Dear me, what’s the matter with him?’ said Mrs Wedderburn, and her mouth hung open, making her look like a little startled hen.

Mary shrugged her shoulders and grinned.

Mr Ma said nothing, just drank a mouthful of salted tea from his cup. When he’d finished his breakfast, he slipped out of the house, pipe in mouth. The vast majority of the shops in the main streets were still shut, and the town looked exceedingly desolate and forlorn. He hailed a taxi, and made for Alexander’s house.

The front door of Alexander’s house was dark red, much the same hue as Alexander’s face. Mr Ma pressed the bell, and a woman of fiftyish came out. One of her eyes was blind and milky-white, and her nose was enormous, and enormously red, as if she’d had a couple of bottles of ale. Otherwise there was nothing remarkable about her.

Mr Ma didn’t say anything, nor did the old woman. She gave a nod, and her blind eye stirred unseeingly, then she walked into the house, with Mr Ma tagging along behind. The two of them seemed to comprehend one another perfectly, needing no words to communicate.