The Concubine's Daughter (61 page)

As she spoke, his clear eyes were watching her mouth in a way that secretly thrilled her. She felt her cheeks burn under his gaze, telling herself that it was the freshness of wind over water.

“One day,” he said, his arm tightening around her, “you must tell me of these amazing adventures of yours. Nothing you could say would surprise me.” He drew the jacket closer around her throat. “You are quite the most unusual young woman I have ever met.” Once again they were thrown together by the pitch and roll of the ferry. His arm tightened, and this time held her fast with no thought of letting go.

O
n the Kowloon side
, they joined the swarm of passengers disembarking on the wharf beside the Ocean Terminal. Sing trusted Toby so completely she did not even ask where they were going until they were settled in a taxi.

“I am taking you and Ruby to a quiet hotel for tonight; it is better that you are on this side of the harbor and away from Wan-Chai. I have been making inquiries about your father, and his business seems to have vanished. There is an acquaintance of mine, however, who once owned a small restaurant in Macao. She knows everyone and everything in this part of the world. We will meet with her tomorrow morning, but not too early; she does not receive visitors before eleven.”

A wave of exhaustion washed over Sing, and she was grateful to sink into oblivion in the comfortable room he had found for her and Ruby on an obscure side street.

In the morning, she awoke much refreshed, to find that Ruby was up before her, clearly relishing her regained freedom. “I never expected to leave the Nine Dragons again,” she said to Sing and Toby. “Thank you for taking me with you.”

The ladies were amused by Toby’s apparent nervousness about introducing them to his old friend. “She may be a surprise to you, as she always is to those who do not know her. Her name is Lily Chu-Tin, known in Kowloon as Firecracker Lily, because everything about her seems to go off with a bang, although some say it is because of her explosive temper.”

He turned to Sing with a quick grin of devilry. “Others say she earned it in bed when she was younger. Whatever the truth, she makes a wonderful friend but also a powerful enemy. Lily owns a dozen bars on the Kowloon side. No madam holds more power or is paid more respect. Even the
sai-lo
are careful in their dealings with her.”

They were riding in a taxi along Nathan Road, a wide thoroughfare parallel to the waterfront flanked by massive buildings. The most imposing of these, Toby pointed out, was the famed Peninsula Hotel, the spectacular fountains at its entrance as splendid in their changing colors as a morning sky above the lake. He pointed out the military barracks a few blocks north, a high-walled enclosure entered by huge iron gates bearing the royal coat of arms.

“I use an office there, from time to time. We sometimes visit the local bars for a beer or two, so I am quite well known in certain places.”

Shortly beyond the Peninsula Hotel was a teeming side street with a sign over its entry reading HANKOW ROAD. Even before noon, they could see the neon signs ready to flicker to garish life: PINK PUSSYCAT, BOTTOMS UP, SEVEN SEAS, CAVE BAR, FIREHOUSE, YELLOW BRICK ROAD, WELCOME SAILOR, COLD BEER AND A FREE MASSAGE. Most spectacular of all was a gigantic butterfly that stretched its rainbow wings from one side of the road to the other.

“Welcome to Hankow Road and the Happy Butterfly … the center of the universe,” he said.

Firecracker Lily was indeed formidable. Built like a wrestler and standing only five feet tall in absurdly high-heeled shoes, she wore a wig that climbed in tier after tier of ringlets until it resembled an immense beehive. She greeted Toby like a loving mother. “Where have you been for so long? Why haven’t you come to see your Lily?”

When she saw Sing and Ruby, she pushed him away in playful rebuke. “Why do you bring girls from the Hong Kong side? There are plenty of girls here waiting for you.” Instantly, a dozen girls smiled and called out greetings from the bar’s shadowy cubicles, where they read, knitted, sewed, or dressed each other’s hair in readiness for the evening trade.

Toby was suitably embarrassed by the boisterous welcome, but
embraced Lily with equal gusto. Sing smiled within, seeing enough in this gaudy little barroom to tell her more about Captain Toby Hyde-Wilkins than he could ever attempt to explain. A few minutes later, Lily led them upstairs to her private apartment overlooking the bedlam of Hankow Road. Seating them in her best armchairs and producing the inevitable pot of tea, she listened as Toby explained the purpose of their visit. When she inspected the photograph of Ben Devereaux and his wife, she nodded her head.

“Yes, I remember Di-Fo-Lo. When he was a young man, he and his partner, Indie, came many times to my restaurant in Macao. I haven’t seen either of them in a long time, though.”

She sat thinking, then said suddenly, “I know who might be able to help you. He was once a big doctor on the Shanghai side, and was a friend of your father’s; they used to go to the racetrack together.” She lowered her voice. “He once said Di-Fo-Lo sold guns to the Kuomintang to fight
yut-boon-jai
… very big business.”

Sing knew “
yut-boon-jai
” meant “the Japanese boy”—the hated soldiers of the rising sun that were China’s oldest enemy. Sing leaned forward and asked Lily, “Where can we find this friend of my father’s—what is his name?”

“Nobody knows his real name; he’s an American, but the girls call him Shanghai Smith. He drinks a little too much, but he’s a good doctor and he takes care of the girls. I give him free meals or a drink or two.”

She smiled happily. “You were right to come to the Happy Butterfly. It’s eleven o’clock; he’s probably sitting down to breakfast in the bar right now.”

When Lily introduced Shanghai Smith, Sing’s first thought was that he must have been truly handsome as a young man. His angular jaw was close shaven, his graying hair carefully trimmed and combed, his long-fingered hands well manicured. He was dressed in a baggy suit of crumpled white linen, a cream shirt brightened by a colorful hand-painted necktie, his two-tone shoes buffed to a high polish. He rose politely and
kissed Ruby’s and Sing’s hands with the air of a man who had known many attractive women and never lost his respect for them.

This gallant gesture was accompanied by a strong blend of fragrances that contrasted with the bar smells of stale beer, tobacco smoke, and burning joss sticks. When Sing commented on this, the doctor gave a slight bow of ac knowledgment, speaking with a broad American accent. “Florida water for the skin … Californian Poppy for the hair, and lashings of Lifebuoy soap.” He rubbed his hands together vigorously. “I trust you do not find it too overpowering; one is often tempted to be a little heavy-handed in matters of hygiene when reduced to practicing on Hankow Road.”

Sing returned his friendly manner with a smile.
I like him
, she thought.
He smells nice and has good manners and makes me feel important. I think he will help me if he can.

“It is an honor to meet you, sir. We are grateful for your precious time.”

He invited them to join him in his corner booth, bearing a brass plaque elaborately engraved with shanghai smith, md. He made sure that the ladies were seated before sliding into the seat facing them. “I can recommend the full English breakfast,” he said, shaking out a napkin. “There are few establishments on the Kowloon side that serve a better one than our Lily. But,” he turned to Sing and Ruby, “if you would prefer, Lily also serves an excellent rice congee.”

He exchanged business cards with Toby. “Now, what can I do for you and these lovely young ladies, Captain?”

The doctor’s face lit up when Toby explained their mission. “I was privileged to know Ben Devereaux very well indeed.” He paused as Lily bore down on them with a tray loaded with tea things.

“
Gnow-lie-cha
—cow’s-milk tea for you, and
ching-cha,
green tea for the ladies,” she said. “One Bombay oyster for our good doctor.” She set before him a tall glass, a bottle of ice-cold beer, and two eggs, then bustled away to the kitchen.

Smith poured the beer into the tilted glass with the precision of a pharmacist dispensing a critical potion, cracked the raw eggs into its
foaming head and drank the concoction with relish. “A hair of the proverbial dog. I find it an indispensable start to the day.” He signaled to Lily for his first gin and tonic, then turned to them seriously. “Now, what is it you wish to know about Ben Devereaux?” He inspected the photograph, listening carefully to Sing’s account of her circumstances. After a moment or so, he reached across the table to lay his hand on hers.

“We could talk for hours about your father, and I would be delighted to do so in time to come. But you are wondering where to find him now. Sadly, it has been many years since he and I last shared a drink in the long bar of the Shanghai Club, or placed a bet at the Happy Valley racetrack.”

He finished the drink, which was immediately replaced by another. “You should seek out Indie Da Silva, who used to be Ben’s partner in the Double Dragon Trading Company. They were like father and son.” He toyed with the swizzle stick mounted by a glass butterfly. “Indie took your father aboard his trader when Ben arrived in Shanghai as a boy, and I was a bright-eyed student at the American College of Tropical Medicine. I became a surgeon, while they sailed the rivers of China together for a few years before Ben decided to command a vessel of his own… . Several years later they became partners in the double-D shipyard.”

Smith took a long pull at his drink, the ice clinking in his glass as he set it down, glancing at Toby to see if he should continue.

“It is said he destroyed a statue of Kuan-Yun, goddess of mercy, when he found your mother …” The American doctor hesitated. “They say that he searched for you in every way he could, through the corridors of colonial power and the underbelly of the triad. He got help from neither.” Again, Shanghai Smith reached across to cover Sing’s hand. “The only certainty is that he turned his back on Hong Kong and those who had turned their backs on his terrible grief. He swore never to return, and he never did.” He twisted his glass, tracing beads of condensation down the glass. “But Indie can tell you more of these things than I can.”

Sing bowed her head to him. “I am very grateful for your help. Can you direct me to this man?”

“The last I heard of Indie Da Silva, he was said to be living among the Tanka boat people in Silvermine Bay on Lantau Island. He had gambled every cent in his pocket and run out of credit in the bars on both sides of the harbor.”

“Lantau is an hour or so by launch,” said Toby. “I know the sampan village in Silvermine Bay. If he is there, we will find him.”

He looked at Sing, who could feel his concern for her as surely as his touch, then turned to Shanghai Smith. “How can we repay you, sir?”

The doctor held up his empty glass. “My dear fellow, you have repaid me with such delightful company. Another of these and we’ll consider it quits.” He stood as they made to leave. “If you find Indie, come back and tell me what you learn about him and my old friend Ben.”

Toby obtained the use of a Maritime Services launch, which cut cleanly through the dark green water at a steady fifteen knots. The morning was almost windless, the occasional cat’s-paw of light winds ruffling the surface. They had left at 6:00 A.M., the perfect, bright orange orb of the sun hardly lifted from the China Sea. Toby had given the coxswain an unexpected day off duty, and sat at the wheel with Sing beside him. Ruby had accepted Lily’s invitation to stay at the Happy Butterfly; she said she wished to enjoy her newfound freedom, but Sing recognized her friend’s tact in sending her and Toby on the journey alone.

The huge mass of Lantau Island, its highest peak still shrouded in mist, loomed a little larger with each moment. Junks near and far drifted beneath batwing sails. To Sing it was one of the most important mornings of her life.

With Toby beside her, the sunlight in his hair lighting his face with its glow, she again felt the thrill of his closeness. He wore white shorts and a white shirt, its sleeves rolled up to reveal sunburned forearms. She found herself fascinated by the light gold hair that glistened from the back of his hands to his elbows. She reached out and touched it lightly, causing him to turn and smile at her.