The Language of Threads (4 page)

“Because we have come from a working background, and we've proved to be stable and reliable,” Song Lee answered.

“Will I be able to work, too?” Ji Shen asked. It was the first time she had uttered a full sentence since Song Lee had arrived.

Song Lee smiled at the girl. “I'll have to talk to some of the other sisters, but I'm sure we can find you a place—”

“No,” Pei quickly said. “I'm sorry to interrupt, but I would like Ji Shen to finish her education.”

“But—” Ji Shen began.

“You're still young enough to choose another path. It's important to me,” Pei continued, lowering her voice seriously. “In a few years, you can do whatever you want.” Then, turning back to Song Lee, she said softly, “For now, I'm the only one who will need to find a position.”

Song Lee nodded. She sipped the slightly bitter tea, then adjusted the collar of her tunic, which was getting too tight. Perhaps she had been wrong; this tall sister's strength was not so quiet after all.

Three days later, Pei followed the directions Song Lee had given her to the Bing Tao Fa Yuen, the botanical gardens across from the governor's palace. She had thought about hiring Quan to take her up, but decided she should learn the streets of Hong Kong as fast as she could. Walking would assure her of a quick challenge. After making sure Ji Shen would be comfortable staying with Ma-ling, Pei set off to meet Song Lee and the other sisters who would help her seek work.

“Come meet some of the other sisters on the committee,” Song Lee had said. “It is important to make as many connections as you can here in Hong Kong. You can never know when you'll need them.”

Pei nervously agreed, wondering if she'd even be competent to do domestic work. With the help of Song Lee, she had no choice but to enter this new world, of which she knew so little.

A crush of people enveloped her as soon as Pei rounded the corner from the boardinghouse. She suddenly became acutely conscious of her surroundings. The sour smells of sweat and urine, the oily odor of Chinese doughnuts frying, the heady fumes from the many motorcars, the high-pitched voices of vendors. In the quivering afternoon heat, even the bright daytime blend of garish color was jarring. Pei had never seen so many big, dark motorcars, which roared and raced at her from every direction. “Metal monsters,” she muttered under her breath as she dodged across a crowded street.

The crowds thinned and Pei's panic calmed as she left the noisy streets of Wan Chai and began the upward climb along paved streets toward the gardens. Beautiful brick and stucco houses stood large and imposing on each side of the street. Pei felt the muscles of her legs pull as she walked briskly up the
incline. The flat, open space of Yung Kee had had almost no hills; climbing the streets of Hong Kong left her hot and breathless. As the streets grew gradually steeper, she tried to imagine making her way back down again. One slip, and she might roll all the way back to Wan Chai!

When she was high enough to see the shimmering blue-gray water below, Pei paused and turned around. Ships dotted the harbor. Across from it rose the dark landmass that was Kowloon, and beyond Kowloon lay China. Pei was amazed by all she could see. She swallowed the dull pain of wishing Lin were there with her.

At a soft shuffling of footsteps behind her, she turned around. An old woman dressed in a servant's dark tunic and trousers, carrying a bulging bag in each hand, walked slowly downhill toward Pei. She seemed to stare at her with disdain, mumbling under her breath. Pei made out the words “young and strong” and “take our positions,” as the old woman quickened her steps down the hill.

The botanical gardens were on Upper Albert Road. Ahead, Pei could already see a cluster of green among the concrete roads and houses. She began to walk more quickly, promising herself the cool shade of the trees once she had arrived. Song Lee had told her that the sisters would wait on the grass just to the right of the entrance.

Near the gardens, Pei stopped and caught her breath. She liked sweet-voiced Song Lee and hoped for the best in dealing with the other sisters, but Pei remembered all too well the different personalities that had affected her life, first at the girls' house, then at the silk factory and sisters' house. Dealing with so many people was often like playing a game of chess. There were so many pieces, all moving in different directions. It was always wise to guard all sides against capture.

The sisters were waiting right where Song Lee had said. From the distance they resembled a flutter of black-and-white birds in their black trousers and white tunic tops, not unlike the clothing
of the silk sisterhood. For a moment, Pei felt she could be back in Yung Kee. She took a deep breath and dusted off her own white trousers.

“Ah, Pei, you've found your way.” Song Lee ran over to meet her. “I hope you didn't have any trouble.”

Pei smiled, a bead of sweat running down her forehead. “No, your directions made it easy. I just didn't realize how steep the hills are.”

Song Lee laughed. “You'll get used to them. You'll have no choice, going up and down to the market and picking up the little ones from school.” She took Pei's arm and led her back to a small group of women waiting by a shady boulevard, surrounded by flower beds. “Don't worry,” Song Lee whispered, “they won't bite.”

Of the six or seven women gathered there, Pei could only remember the names of two: Luling, who was roughly the same age as herself, and a younger-looking sister who preferred to be addressed by her newly adopted English name, Mary. The others greeted her, poured her tea from a thermos, and handed her rich-tasting almond cookies, whose flaky crumbs tickled her throat as she tried to answer all the sisters' questions.

That night, as Pei lay in her cot next to Ji Shen's, she thought of what a different impression Lin would have made that afternoon. Although she was shy, Lin would have spoken eloquently, made them listen to her and recognize her gifts. But Pei felt as if all her words had been short and dry, falling to the ground like stones. Hong Kong is
hot, big, crowded
. Yes, I can
cook, wash, dust
.

Pei shifted on the uncomfortable cot. She felt the slight ache of her strained leg muscles, and winced again at recalling Ji Shen's excited, happy voice when she returned.

“What did they say?”

“They wanted to know how we like it here in Hong Kong,” she answered wearily.

“Have they found you a position yet?”

“I've only just met them.”

“When they do, will we live there?”

Pei forced herself up the stairs. “I don't know,” she said, her voice barely audible.

Two days later, Pei went downstairs to find a note from Song Lee waiting for her. She turned it over in her hands, as Ji Shen urged her to hurry and open it. When Pei finally did, she read:

We have found you a good position in the Chen household. Be at the address below at two o'clock tomorrow afternoon. Use the back entrance
.

Song Lee

Pei studied the address on Po Shan Road. She wondered if it was like one of the big brick and stucco houses she'd passed on the way to the botanical gardens, whether it had many rooms with the same thick, soft carpets she'd seen in Lin's house, and a view of the harbor. She kept the note tucked safely in her pocket all day.

For dinner, Pei and Ji Shen went to the nearby Star Village Restaurant to celebrate their good fortune. That night, Pei was too excited to sleep. Her heart raced. Their new life in Hong Kong would begin tomorrow. Pei inhaled the musty air, tried to find a comfortable position on the sagging cot, and then closed her eyes against all her fears.

1938

The house on Po Shan Road was larger than Pei had expected. It stood grand and imposing behind a black iron fence that isolated its wide green lawn from the rest of Hong Kong. Beyond the gate was a long gravel driveway that led to its front door. Even from a distance, the house appeared enormous—three floors of white stucco with massive white columns gracing a large veranda, which wrapped around the house like protective arms. Pei stopped at the gate to catch her breath. All the blinding whiteness made her want to turn and run away, even as her hand pushed against the sun-warmed metal and the gate whined open.

Pei's quick steps crunched through the gravel up to the house. The grounds were well-manicured, with bauhinia, chrysanthemums, and pink and purple azaleas blooming neatly in place. Only when Pei had climbed the steps and reached the intricately carved front door did she remember she was supposed to go around and enter through the back.

“Can I help you?”

The voice startled Pei. She turned around to see a man in his fifties dressed in a baggy shirt and pants, wearing a straw hat and holding a shovel in his hands.

“I'm looking for the back entrance,” Pei answered.

The man squinted and smiled. “Then you've found just the opposite!” He pointed to a flagstone pathway that twisted around the house. “Just follow that walk,” he directed with a wave of his hand.

Pei shifted from one foot to the other, trying to smile despite the heat. “Thank you.”

The man nodded. Pei turned, nervous, and hurried down the steps to the stone path that led toward the back of the house.

“Oh, missee,” he suddenly called after her. “Be sure you ask for Ah Woo. Ah Woo will take care of you.”

“Thank you.” Pei relaxed and smiled. “I will.”

With its faded brown color and unornamented wood, the back door might as well have been attached to another house. Pei looked around as if she were in yet another world. Not far from the door near a stone well, a large wooden washtub lay on its side. A cluster of chairs and baskets sat beneath a large willow in the near distance. Unlike the front yard, the back was spare and devoid of flowers.

Pei knocked lightly on the door, then harder still when no one answered. Her heart was beating so fast she couldn't catch her breath, and after a moment, she hurried over to the well for a sip of water.

Just then the door swung open and a voice, sharp and stern, filled the yard. “Yes, what is it you want?”

Pei looked up, still clutching the wooden ladle in her hand, water dripping from her chin onto her tunic. The woman who glared at Pei was no older than she, dressed in a white tunic and dark trousers, her hair pulled back in a chignon. “I'm here to see Ah Woo about a position in the household.” Pei quickly replaced the ladle in the wooden bucket. “I was sent here by Song Lee.”

The woman studied Pei closely, her three-cornered eyes narrowing
as they searched Pei's face. “Wait here,” she finally said, and disappeared back into the house.

Pei stood by the door, feeling hot and uncomfortable at the cool reception. She wondered if all the servants in the Chen household were as hostile as this woman with the dark, piercing eyes.

The door swung open again and another voice sang out. “Ah, you've arrived! I'm Ah Woo. Song Lee told me you would be coming. It's hot outside. Why in the world didn't Fong have you wait inside? Come in, come in!” Her round, open face appeared ageless around her warm smile.

Pei followed Ah Woo into the cool, cavernous kitchen, which smelled of garlic and green onion and something slightly foreign. Just being out of the sun brought her relief. When her eyes had adjusted to the dim light, Pei saw a large, open room with unlit charcoal fires for several woks set in a wide, concrete counter. On top of the counter a swath of long-leafed mustard greens and turnips lay beside a freshly killed chicken. To one side of the room was a round wooden table with the remains of lunch—the thin translucent bones of a steamed fish, some bits of ground pork with pickled vegetables, a few hardened grains of rice clinging to the sides of bowls. Pei's mouth watered. She wondered if the Chen family had just finished eating.

“Please sit, please sit,” Ah Woo said. “Leen, please take some of these bowls away!”

At that, a gray-haired woman barreled through the door and began to clear the table of bowls and cups. “Always Leen,” she mumbled to herself as she stacked the bowls.

Ah Woo paid no attention to this complaint, but poured Pei a cup of tea. “I'm sorry for all this mess. We've just finished eating.”

“Not the family?” Pei let slip.

“Oh no, not in here!” Ah Woo laughed, high and shrill. “I can't imagine Chen tai ever sitting at this table.” Her round hand lay flat against the worn, scarred surface.

Pei blushed at her mistake.

“Don't worry,” Ah Woo said reassuringly. “You'll soon learn the ways of the household. When I first arrived, I had no idea one family could ever live in such a big house. Why, back home, my entire village could live comfortably here!”

“How many are there in the Chen family?” Pei asked.

Ah Woo sat down. “There are six members of the immediate family, though three of the four children are away at boarding school. Only the youngest, twelve-year-old Ying-ying, is at home right now. But she is a handful all alone! And Chen tai's sister often comes to stay. Let me tell you about the position we need to fill.” Ah Woo sat back in her chair as the old servant Leen reached over and cleared away the last of the bowls from the table.