Falling Leaves: The Memoir of an Unwanted Chinese Daughter Page 26

  ‘Put Father in an apartment in Kowloon? That’s so ludicrous that it’s laughable! Why would I want Niang to do that? And you believe that’s the reason?’

  ‘I don’t know who or what to believe. I’m merely repeating what Niang told me. I loathe confrontations. Though I hate to admit it, I’m getting on and life doesn’t go on for ever. I don’t want a fight that goes on and on in the law courts. It’s important to me to enjoy in peace whatever years I have left. Remember,’ he added, ‘I’ll be the executor of the will. If you decide to file a lawsuit you’ll be fighting me. If you should go to court I’ll be your adversary.’

  As he spoke, I felt a chill that penetrated into the marrow. I was listening to a cautiously prepared speech. This was not the spontaneous outburst of a concerned brother.

  Bob, who had been sitting silently in the back seat, leant forward and put his hand on my shoulder. ‘Don’t you see that this is breaking her heart? At this moment she feels deserted, cheated and violated.’

  ‘Don’t give me all those fancy words!’ James burst forth violently. ‘It’s money you’re after, isn’t it? Money I can help you with. Tell me, how much money do you want?’

  I glanced at my brother slumped behind the wheel, tense and unhappy. His face was flushed and swollen with embarrassment. ‘You and I, James, we have gone through so much together. Has it come down to this? Surely you, of all people, should know that it’s not about money. It’s about family and fair play and our common journey in search of a mother.’ Neither James nor Bob said anything. ‘I still can’t understand why Niang disinherited me while playing me for a fool. Tomorrow,’ I continued, ‘I shall go to the funeral in the morning. But the will reading at four o’clock… that will be unbearable. I shall wait for you in my hotel room. Will you come and tell me when it’s all over? And please bring me a copy of her will.’

  The will was read at four o’clock and at six thirty James arrived with my copy. There was drink on his breath and he was in a tremendous hurry to get away. They had gone directly from the solicitor’s office to the Mandarin Hotel’s Clipper Lounge to celebrate. A dinner was planned later that evening at the Shanghai Club. Susan, I and our spouses were not invited.

  ‘I am a man of my word,’ James announced. ‘This is your copy of Niang’s will, but I can’t stay very long. They’re all expecting me for dinner. I’m the host.’

  ‘What does it say?’

  ‘Gregory and Edgar each get 20 per cent. I get 50 per cent. Lydia gets 10 per cent. Susan gets nothing. You get nothing.’

  I flipped through the papers, scanning the pages rapidly until I found my name. ‘Adeline Yen Mah,’ I read aloud to Bob. ‘In no event is my daughter, Adeline Yen Mah, to receive any portion of my estate.’ My voice cracked. ‘Why, James, why? Why did she loathe me so? “In no event”, it says here. “In no event”!’

  James, who had remained standing all the time, suddenly walked over to our mini-bar and poured himself a large whisky. He drank it in one gulp.

  ‘Don’t take it so much to heart,’ he began. ‘Look, let me give you something. What about Niang’s flat? Why don’t you take that? Remember, if you go to court, only the solicitors will win. Besides,’ he added, ‘you’ve got enough money already – 10 or 20 per cent more isn’t going to alter your lifestyle. Look, I’ve got to go. Dinner is at seven thirty and I still have to come back here and pick up Lydia. She wanted to telephone her children and tell them her good news.’

  ‘Isn’t it incredible that Lydia, whom Niang hated and didn’t even want to see four years ago, receives 10 per cent, whereas I, who bought the airline ticket for Lydia in 1986 so that the two of them could be reconciled, should be left out in the cold?’

  ‘That’s how the Old Lady wanted it in the end,’ James said. ‘Who knows why? In any case, tomorrow morning everyone is invited to go up to her flat and divide up her furniture, antiques and jewellery. Give me a call if you’re coming. I really have to go now. See you tomorrow.’

  CHAPTER 29

  Wu Tou Gong An

  Headless and Clueless Case

  Susan saw the matter more clearly than I did. ‘What!’ she exclaimed. ‘Lydia gets 10 per cent and you get nothing? What sort of justice is this?’

  ‘You inherited nothing either, Xiao mei (Little Sister).’ I was moved by her outrage on my behalf when she had suffered the same fate.

  ‘She has disowned me since 1973. I expected nothing and didn’t want anything from her! But you, what did you do to deserve this? How devious she was! Why should she punish you like this?’

  I thought how sad it must be for Susan to have to admit that such a person was her gu rou (bones and flesh). Then I remembered her fortitude in daring to walk away from Niang seventeen years ago, something the rest of us were never able to do.

  ‘James said it’s because I wanted to put Father in an apartment in Kowloon and wasn’t grateful for my medical education.’

  ‘What absolute rubbish! So they must have discussed the will between them… and if that’s the case, why didn’t James defend you?’

  My little sister had placed her finger on the exact aching spot. ‘I don’t know the answers but before I leave Hong Kong, I must find out what was in Father’s will. James did offer to give me Niang’s flat. He has also invited all of us, and you too, to go up to Magnolia Mansions tomorrow to divide up the contents.’

  ‘He’s got to be joking!’ Susan laughed. ‘No way am I going up there. Niang’s personal effects would give me the creeps and bring me bad luck. The last thing I want is to be reminded of her! As for her flat, don’t be taken in by that! Prices have fallen drastically and are still depressed because of Tiananmen. James is trying to buy you off as cheaply as possible. He’s probably scared that you’ll challenge the will, which you have a perfect right to do.’

  That night my sleep was agitated. At four o’clock in the morning I was wide awake, tossing and turning. Bob held me for a long time. Unable to go back to sleep, we went for a long walk around the racecourse in Happy Valley, ending up like homing pigeons at James’s and Louise’s flat. It was eight and they were having breakfast.

  Soon, Gregory and Edgar arrived; the latter left the instant he saw me. Gregory settled down comfortably next to me and accepted a cup of tea.

  ‘Niang’s will bothers me,’ Gregory began. ‘It’s so unfair. It isn’t right that you should get nothing. What do you think we should all do to make Niang’s will more fair and to make you feel better? I suggest that each of us give you 10 per cent of our share so that you would end up with 10 per cent of the estate.’

  His words brought tears to my eyes. I swallowed hard and waited until my voice came back to me. ‘I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I think your offer is more than generous…’

  ‘Since I have the largest share,’ James interrupted, ‘my 10 per cent is equivalent to 5 per cent of the total estate. This will include Niang’s flat.’ He glanced at Louise, who remained silent with her eyes downcast. No one said anything. ‘As I’ve said before, I’m too old for any legal battles. I want to enjoy my money. So, the answer is yes.’

  ‘That settles it then,’ Gregory added, ‘I’ll speak to Edgar and Lydia.’

  Looking at her watch, Louise exclaimed, ‘We told Ah Fong that we would be there at ten o’clock. It’s almost nine thirty. We still have to pick up Lydia and Edgar. We should be going.’

  ‘I think I’ll just go to the hairdresser’s. I’m not interested in Niang’s jewels or her furniture. All I want is to find Father’s will.’ Turning to James, I asked, ‘Will you give Bob and me permission to go to Niang’s flat this afternoon to search for it?’

  ‘I think you’re wasting your time,’ James replied. ‘By all means, go there and look for it. Take any document you wish! Mr Lu and I went over Niang’s papers very thoroughly and were unable to find it.’

  After a shampoo and blow-dry, I returned to my hotel room refreshed. Immediately there was a knock on the door. It was Gregory.

&nb
sp; ‘I talked to Edgar and Lydia. Edgar refused point blank to give you anything. At first Lydia also said no. I reminded her that our parents had disowned her and, were it not for you, she certainly would not have inherited a cent. Finally she agreed to give you 5 per cent, but on condition that you make a full confession.’

  ‘A full confession? What do I have to confess to?’ I was incredulous.

  ‘That’s what I asked her. She wasn’t sure either. She called your unexpected disinheritance a wu tou gong an (headless and clueless case). She wants you to confess to the real reasons behind it. It’s her Communist training. She likes to hear confessions. They make her feel powerful. In China during the Cultural Revolution, people were confessing all over the place.’

  ‘So Lydia wants to hear my true confession. Well, I would like to know the reasons myself. Tell Lydia to keep her money, Gregory,’ I said. ‘I don’t want anything from her.’

  CHAPTER 30

  Kai Men Yi Dao

  Opened the Door to Salute the Thief

  Bob and I awoke with a start at five p.m., having slept the afternoon away. We rushed out and hailed a taxi to Magnolia Mansions. On the marble landing of the tenth floor we were assailed by Niang’s familiar odour of perfume, mothballs and stale cigarette smoke. How often I had waited at this threshold with sweaty palms and palpitating heart! Ah Fong opened the teak front door and outer steel gate.

  Inside, all looked the same. There were the antique paintings by Castiglione, the eighteenth-century Italian Jesuit priest in the court of Emperor Qian Long. Niang had cut these masterpieces short to accommodate her furniture arrangement. Against one wall stood four elaborately carved redwood chairs, purportedly belonging at one time to the last Emperor of China. Facing the harbour were her imitation Louis XVI couches. On the Qing dynasty coffee-table lay the silver Tiffany box I had sent her as a birthday present sixteen years ago. Next to it perched a gold cigarette lighter Bob had given her for Christmas. Once, years ago, I advised her to stop smoking. ‘Leave me alone!’ she had snapped. ‘I don’t need you to tell me that smoking is harmful to my health. It’s written on every cigarette package.’ After a while she added, somewhat pathetically, ‘It’s the one pleasure I have left since your father became ill.’ I made no reply because what she said was true.

  Ah Fong hovered around us asking if we would like refreshment. Suddenly we remembered that we had not eaten lunch. Bob asked her, in his halting Cantonese, if she would make us some tea and toast. Then, not wishing to delay further, we entered Niang’s bedroom to start the search.

  After the onset of Father’s illness, Niang had moved out of the master bedroom into a smaller room facing the steep, green mountain slope behind the flat. It was furnished with a single bed, an antique Chinese writing desk and chair, a night stand with a talking clock we had given her some years before, a free-standing wardrobe and a built-in closet.

  I rummaged through the wardrobe and saw a row of dresses neatly hanging, dozens of pairs of shoes on racks like parading soldiers and empty handbags lying side by side on a shelf above. No will there. The sight of her personal belongings brought on waves of nausea. The weak overhead ceiling light and small table lamp by her bed cast sinister shadows. I felt a constriction in my chest provoked by the power of her aura; my senses were saturated with her smell.

  I next approached her antique Chinese desk. Six years ago, Niang had offered to leave this very desk to Bob. ‘Carved by skilled craftsmen from the finest blackwood during the Ming dynasty,’ I remembered Niang saying. Was she already lying then? I looked hard at the elaborate design as I carefully tested the smooth glide of the top drawer and pulled it open.

  The stacks of letters struck me at once. Piles and piles of airmail envelopes totalling perhaps two hundred letters, neatly sorted into rows. I stared at the familiar, small, spidery handwriting on the envelopes and the brightly coloured stamps of the People’s Republic of China. All came from Tianjin and were addressed to Mrs Joseph Yen. All were written by Lydia.

  The sight of these letters rooted me to the spot. Why was Lydia writing to Niang almost every other day? In a trance I pulled out the top letter from its envelope. As I started to read, the ache in my chest gripped me like a vice. I felt dizzy, as if I was standing on the top ledge of a skyscraper, looking down and seeing the earth sway beneath me.

  Letter after letter was filled with lies and venom, inciting Niang to hate me. Though I was ‘cruel, selfish and miserly’, Lydia had written, she was advising Niang to tread carefully in front of the despised Adeline, for Niang was no longer in a position of strength. She accused me of disobedience because I had kept in touch with Susan and had even rallied her and all my brothers behind me in a joint effort to help Tai-way for the sole purpose of sabotaging Niang’s commands. The year 1997 was fast approaching when Hong Kong would be governed by Beijing. She played on Niang’s fears and paranoia by writing that I was urging James to emigrate so that Niang would be abandoned and forced to live out her last years alone. She then swore Niang to secrecy.

  Immediately beneath them were other letters, from Samuel and Tai-ling, making similar accusations. With a leaden heart, I realized that by going against Niang’s wishes and helping Lydia’s family I had kai men yi dao (opened the door to salute the thief).

  As I turned to show Lydia’s letters to Bob, he gave a jubilant shout from his side of the room. He had been searching Niang’s closet and was clearly a better sleuth than I. Triumphantly he waved a document in front of me. It was my father’s will.

  Bob and I sat on the edge of Niang’s bed and read Father’s will over and over. I heard once again my father’s voice. It was as if he had raised himself out of his grave to embrace me. His wishes soothed the ache in my heart.

  My father’s will, signed long before his illness on 2 May 1974, was radically different from the one written by Niang on 2 June 1988, less than three weeks after his death. Father had divided his estate into seven shares. He left one share to me, one share to Gregory, one share to Edgar, two shares to James and two shares to his grandchildren with the last name of Yen. No share was left to Susan. Father also wrote in his will the following sentence: ‘I further would like to record that no share of my estate is to go to my daughter, Lydia Yen Sung.’

  Clutching Father’s will, I hugged my husband. ‘In the end, Niang’s will doesn’t matter. Whatever happens, this, my father’s will, is what is important to me. He at least did not exclude me. Perhaps he loved me after all. Besides,’ I added, ‘James will do the right thing. He is the executor and he is an honest man.’

  Randomly, we picked up a few of Lydia’s letters and placed them with Father’s will in my handbag. Sitting in the cab as it crept back to our hotel, Bob held my hand and said, ‘Remember, you’ll always have me…’

  CHAPTER 31

  Yan Er Dao Ling

  Steal the Bell While Covering Your Ears

  Next morning, James and I met for breakfast at a dim sum shop. We sat facing each other on old-fashioned, low red stools around a matching table. The restaurant was tastefully decorated in the 1920s ‘Old Shanghai’ style with lazily whirring overhead ceiling fans, latticed windows, gleaming parquet floor, period photographs, potted bamboos and bunches of fresh chrysanthemums. We were the only customers.

  Outside, the rain poured down in sheets. Tea was served and we each ordered a bowl of soup noodles. Silently I handed over Father’s will. James was astounded that we had found it so easily, repeating that he and Mr Lu had searched ‘everywhere’ without success.

  ‘I would like to keep this will. It’s meaningless, of course, but I want to hand it over to the probate lawyer.’

  ‘Besides the will,’ I said, ‘we also found many letters in Niang’s writing desk. Maybe a couple of hundred. Most of them were from Lydia. We took a few of them with us when we left Niang’s flat last night.’

  I pulled out the small sheaf of letters from my handbag and laid them next to Father’s will. James glanced down at them with a frown.
He compressed his lips. I had seen this expression many times before, usually towards the end of a hard-fought chess game, just before his final move towards checkmate.

  ‘You had no right to touch those letters, let alone remove them from Niang’s desk,’ he said icily. ‘Those letters are private!’

  ‘I think you should read them. See here,’ I said emphatically, ‘this letter is dated 7 October 1987. While I was trying to help her children, Lydia was plotting against me.’

  ‘I don’t want to read these poison letters.’

  ‘But don’t you want to know the truth?’ I asked pathetically. ‘You can’t yan er dao ling (steal the bell while covering your ears) !’

  ‘Is there such a thing as absolute truth?’ he answered rhetorically. ‘It all depends on a person’s viewpoint. In any case, it’s all water under the bridge. Suan le (let it be) ! Besides, I hate confrontations! Remember, if you challenge the will, you’ll be challenging me. And if you and I end up in court over this, then we would be caught in Niang’s trap, because that would be precisely what the Old Lady wanted.’

  ‘You were caught in her net a long time ago. She had always had her way with you. You were no match for her. Lydia alone was devious enough to compete with her.’

  James laughed. ‘You are right! They’re two of a kind. You learned this too late to your cost. It was you who brought about the reconciliation between Lydia and Niang. If they had not met in 1986, matters would have turned out very differently.’ He put down his chopsticks and signalled for the bill. ‘Your problem, Adeline, is that you’re always transferring your own feelings and reasonings into others. You wanted to believe that we all shared your dream of a united family. In fact, no one cared except for you. Look, it’s getting late. I have to go now.’ His eyes met mine in a steady and obstinate gaze. He got up, clutching Father’s will and Lydia’s letters tightly in his hands. ‘I’ll send you a photocopy of Father’s will. As for these letters, they’re private and they will be burnt.’