The Song of the Jade Lily, page 23
I wanted to thank you for your parcel for my birthday. The jacket and blue cashmere top were too generous. Your parents have always been so kind. I can see where you get it from.
I shall wear my little pearl earrings and think of you every day.
I cannot stay at the Heime. Food is running short and it is time for me to fend for myself since poor Uncle David died last week. There is so much cholera and typhus now, at night it is nearly impossible to sleep for the vomiting, hacking, and spluttering. If I stay, I’m sure to be among the sick and fallen.
I have arranged for employment somewhere I’ll be of use. I’m luckier than most as I’ll get bed and board in exchange for cleaning, sewing, and lending a hand in a local boardinghouse.
I ask you to promise you won’t come and try to find me. My decision is made and we must all get on in this war as best we can.
Promise me.
Your friend always,
Nina xx
Chapter 44
SUZHOU, JULY 23, 2016
Alexandra lay wrapped in a sheet on a bed that overlooked the courtyard while Zhang dozed beside her. The main bedroom had floor-to-ceiling glass and she felt like she was floating just above the soft bed of moss, with the red leaves of a maple tree shimmering in the summer light. The ceramic roof tiles swept like a charcoal wave across the maze of old Suzhou.
She watched the steady rise and fall of Zhang’s chest and thought about pulling back the sheet to rest her head on his skin. But she didn’t want to wake him; he looked so peaceful. He approached life as if it were one of the gardens they had seen yesterday, she thought. Happy to follow the meandering paths wherever they took him, enjoying the beauty to be found in each new vista, no matter how humble or simple.
Reaching up to trace the lily on her pendant, she recalled him saying: You know, the thing about riddles is that the answer is often the most simple, obvious solution . . . It’s not a riddle at all.
That was what she should focus on in the search for her mother’s origins, she decided. Assemble all the facts, then look for the simple, obvious solution.
If only it were that easy . . .
Chapter 45
SHANGHAI, JANUARY 17, 1943
Romy stood huddled with Li at their school gate. They were both wearing coats, scarves, and berets. The clouds were low and dark, and the wind rattled every window in the street as it howled between the buildings. Footpaths were covered with brown slush from leftover snow. Girls streamed out of the gates, climbing into rickshaws to take them out of the bitter weather. The only cars on the street running on gas carried badges of the police, ambulance, or fire brigade. Some girls were wearing armbands marked with a red A, B, or N—indicating whether they were American, British, or Dutch citizens.
Romy pulled her coat close, letting the rabbit fur rub against her cheek. Mutti had taken her to Lane Crawford last week to purchase a new coat and be measured for some new dresses.
“I should have done it earlier, Liebling. But with the hospital . . .”
Romy didn’t mind. Seeing her parents working so hard made her even more determined to help.
“Anyway,” said Mutti, “you’re seventeen. It’s time you had a couple of nice things.”
Romy felt a wave of shame at the thought that she should deserve nice things when others had so little—like Nina, for instance. There had been no word from Nina since her farewell letter, though Delma and Miss Schwartz assured Romy they were still looking. They had heard rumors that Nina was working in one of the less salubrious boardinghouses, but when they checked no one there had heard of her.
It was easy to disappear in Shanghai, according to Miss Schwartz. It was a city for chameleons. Reinvention. White Russian cleaners became glamorous cabaret singers and club owners, European bureaucrats ran healthy sidelines selling “information,” Chinese country peasants grew fat selling opium—slipped to them under the table by the Japanese—to rickshaw drivers and laborers. It kept the men docile. For a girl to just disappear wasn’t unusual in this swirling metropolis, where decadence and depravity skipped hand in hand and it seemed rules were meant to be broken.
“At last!” cried Li, breaking Romy’s reverie. She looked up to see Jian approaching, hands plunged deep into his pockets and shoulders hunched against the cold.
The trio took a shortcut between some laneways to one of their favorite food stalls. As they sat down, the owner put a pot of steaming tea on the table. Romy took off her mittens and rubbed her hands together before wrapping them around her cup. Li and Jian ordered bowls of chicken broth with slivers of smoked eel, but Romy preferred the narrow noodles, served covered in a light coating of shallot oil. She ordered in Shanghainese, and the hunched man gave her a gap-toothed smile as he threw the noodles into the wok and gave them a shake over the blue flame before tipping them into a cracked white bowl. She added soy sauce, pink vinegar, and some fiery chili jam from a bowl on the table.
Jian watched Romy use chopsticks to stuff noodles into her mouth and laughed. “It’s as if you were born using them,” he said.
“Eat faster, Jian,” his sister urged. “I want to go see Papa and sing him my latest song.”
“Shh,” said Jian, waving his chopsticks at Li. “We need to go straight home, remember? No stopping at Puyuan on the way past.”
Romy lifted her bowl to slurp the last few salty noodles into her mouth and to hide her embarrassment.
Papa had forbidden Romy from visiting both Puyuan and Dr. Ho’s clinic. Dr. Ho was most gracious about the new arrangements. He greeted Papa with the same beaming smile on the stairs every day and still gave Mei brown paper parcels of herbs to boil up for Mutti. On any given day, the kitchen was filled with the musky, spicy, and sometimes bitter steam of the Orient: peony tree root, star anise, and orange blossom.
When they’d finished eating they set off straight home to Grosvenor House. They were only a block away from Puyuan when Romy realized something was amiss. It was quiet. Too quiet. The usual hum of traffic had stopped, the endless shrieks of vendors and beggars silenced. Ahead of them people were blocking the footpath, watching something, but Romy couldn’t see what they were looking at. When she glanced at Jian she saw that he looked apprehensive.
Romy shivered and reached for Li’s hand. Beyond the wall of people were some muffled wails and a piercing cry, quickly whipped away by the wind.
Then through a gap Romy glimpsed Japanese soldiers tipping boxes of books onto the footpath. The smell of gasoline cut through the icy air. Above the eerie silence came the scratch of a match. The piles of books started to smolder, flames hungry for air.
A murmur swept through the crowd as people turned away, eyes wide with shock and fear.
Romy had seen such expressions before. She squeezed her eyes tight, trying to block out the memories of blood spattering her face, Benjamin’s shattered forehead.
“We need to go!” said Romy as she grabbed her friends by their elbows and tried to pull them back through the crowd.
“Not until we see what’s going on,” said Jian, taking a step forward.
“Jian, maybe we should do as Romy says.” Li turned to her friend, her pale face creased with uncertainty.
The crowd was moving in a panic now, current swirling like a whirlpool.
“We need to find Aba,” said Jian. “He’s here somewhere. We need to let him know we’re safe.”
A soldier lifted the butt of his rifle and smashed a nearby window. A baby started to cry, and a second window splintered. The sound of Kristallnacht rang in Romy’s ears. They had to leave!
Romy’s stomach churned as she shoved her way through the coats, remembering all those hips and shoulders knocking her head, the smell of gasoline, urine, and fear on Wipplingerstrasse.
Please! But she didn’t know what to pray for. Worse, she wasn’t sure she believed anyone was listening to her prayers.
Jian stuck out an elbow and cleared a path.
Romy took a deep breath, wanting to flee in the other direction, but knowing she must keep moving for her friends.
Li cried, “Aba!” People turned in horror as they saw Li screaming for her father.
Fear flickered in Jian’s eyes and he yelled, “What is this?”
Two Japanese soldiers were standing to attention at either side of Puyuan’s door, bayonets clasped tight to their sides. They were as rigid as the green topiary trees beside them. A cluster of glassy-eyed workmen stood nearby, hunched in thin blue rags.
Jian pushed his way through the crowd. When he reached the front of the throng, he dropped his head into his hands and howled.
Romy’s throat went dry. She reached for Li’s hand.
Jian turned and cried out, “Li, Romy—go back!” He started waving his hands at them to leave.
Li stared at Romy, eyes filled with tears. “What’s happening? I don’t understand—”
Suddenly Jian seemed to crumple. He dropped to his knees and let out a painful cry that ripped Romy’s heart into pieces.
Li stood on her tiptoes to see what was happening and then she too let out a cry.
“No!” she screamed. Wrenching her hand from Romy’s grip, she pushed through the crowd toward her brother.
When Romy saw what her friends had seen, the ground seemed to tilt beneath her.
Six bamboo stakes had been driven deep into the mud and they were dripping with crimson blood. On top of each stake was a severed head. In the middle was Dr. Ho, his brown eyes propped open with matchsticks. Beside him, Mrs. Ho’s head waggled slightly to one side with the wind, warm sticky blood pooling at the bottom of her stake.
Nailed to a bamboo stake in front of the line of bodies was a piece of cardboard with a message scrawled in English:
LOOK! LOOK! THE RESULT OF ANTI-JAPANESE ELEMENTS.
Romy doubled over, placing her hands on her knees as she vomited onto the footpath. She accidentally knocked a clump of mustard greens and two purple cabbages from a willow basket clutched by the woman beside her. The kindly lady transferred her basket to the other arm, bent low, and held Romy tight, as if she were a child. Around them everyone had started to run, a mad stampede. But this tiny woman smelling of allspice held firm, rocking Romy and rubbing her back. A few paces in front, Li and Jian held each other.
Romy wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and, turning to thank the woman, saw that she was watching Li and Jian, eyes wide with fear. Was this woman afraid of the Hos—or afraid for them?
Romy knew she had to help Jian and Li escape from this crowd before they were spotted by the Japanese soldiers, who were pushing people on the far side with their backs turned. So many dark eyes were on her friends, but who could they trust?
Out of the corner of her eye, she recognized the profile of the handsome young man from the Cathay Hotel. He was standing serenely with his hands in his pockets, chewing a matchstick.
“Li, there’s your brother’s friend, Mr. Wu—he’ll help us get away from here,” said Romy, nodding in his direction.
Even as she said it, Chang Wu was already moving toward them.
Something about his calm demeanor made Romy hesitate. If he was friends with the Hos, how could he appear so unconcerned by the horrific sight of their two mutilated heads on stakes?
Romy stiffened and she started to back away, spreading her arms instinctively to shield Li and Jian.
“We need to go. Now! We can’t trust anyone until we work out—” said Jian. He clenched his jaw and his cheeks tightened with anger and fury, but his eyes looked wild.
“But . . .” Li shifted her weight and straightened her shoulders. Her eyes flamed with fear and confusion, but she cocked her head and met the eyes of Chang Wu.
Romy looked between Chang and Li, confused. Could Mr. Wu have links with the Japanese? He seemed too calm, too still, as the crowd panicked and surged around him. He’d warned them that chaotic day in December 1941 at the Cathay as Japanese soldiers stormed the International Settlement. Romy had no idea if he would help now, but she agreed with Jian—they couldn’t risk staying here any longer to find out.
Li stood frozen, looking from Chang Wu to the Japanese soldiers and back. She blinked several times, dazed and uncertain. She took an unsteady step backward.
The shadows of the afternoon were creeping along the gray bricks, the boughs of the plane trees looming over them. It was no longer clear who was friend and who was foe. Romy thought of their dear friend Herr Gruber, who’d risked his own life to help the Bernfelds escape Vienna. Now it was her turn.
Stepping between Chang Wu and her friends, she whispered, “We need to move quickly. You can’t stay here. It isn’t safe. Do not look up. Do not stop moving. Do not make eye contact with anyone.” The rules poured from her mouth as if that dreadful day in Vienna were only yesterday and she hurried her friends away.
Chapter 46
Thunder rolled overhead as Romy and Jian walked along the footpath, their linked arms holding Li up between them. Li was sobbing as she pleaded with Romy and Jian to let her go back.
“We can’t leave them like that!” she cried, struggling to break free.
“No,” said Romy. “You must hide. They may come and take you away too.” Like Daniel. “I’ll take you to Papa—he’ll know what to do. It’s just a few blocks from here. We have to keep moving.”
They stumbled past the familiar shop windows on Avenue Joffre, filled with mink coats and stylish dresses. The scent of baking bread and coffee swirled about in the freezing air.
Romy’s mind flooded with images of crimson blood, bamboo stakes, Dr. Ho’s dark eyes. Her throat went dry as she remembered Benjamin sprawled on the cobblestones with a hole in his head.
After fifteen minutes of brisk walking past shops, markets, and alleys and through parks, she led her friends into the back garden of the Shanghai Jewish Hospital. “Where are we?” asked Li in a daze. “Is this someone’s house?”
“It’s the hospital,” Romy told her.
She took them in the back service entrance, wincing as the metal hinges squeaked. They moved quickly down the corridor until she spotted a white door labeled STOREROOM.
“In here, quickly.” Romy flicked on the light and rearranged boxes of bandages and syringes into a sturdy pile on which her friends could sit. Spying a pile of blankets on a shelf, she took two and wrapped one each around Li and Jian. Li’s teeth were chattering and Jian put his arm around her.
“I’ll go make some tea. Then I’ll fetch Papa.”
She looked at her friends’ drawn cheeks and hunched shoulders. They were both pale and listless, in deep shock. She didn’t want to leave them alone for a second, but she needed help to organize a better hiding place for them. For now they were out of harm’s way. Were the murderers of Dr. and Wilma Ho looking for Jian and Li too? She had a flash of fear for Mutti—she spent hours at street performances and rehearsals with Wilma. Would her name be linked with the Hos? Who had betrayed them? Romy remembered the hard gray eyes of Chang Wu appraising Li and felt the hair on the back of her neck prick—what was the strange, confused look that had passed between them?
She shook her head. Right now, she needed to focus on Jian and Li.
“Stay here,” she said. “I’ll be right back and we can figure out what to do. I promise I’ll look after you.”
As she slipped out the door, she hoped it was a promise she could keep.
Chapter 47
MELBOURNE, JULY 26, 2016
Romy sat at the enormous dining-room table and tried to remember when it had been last used. Not since the gathering after Wilhelm’s funeral, she thought. She didn’t have much call for it; when Nina visited they ate their meals in the kitchen. Eugene Johns had called to help her update her will. All the paperwork was lined up ready for her signature.
Eugene took a sip of his black tea and bit into a scone.
“There’s another matter I wanted to discuss, Romy. Rather delicate.”
Romy sighed and folded her hands. She had a feeling she knew what he was about to say.
“Alexandra has been in touch. She’s asking about paperwork for her mother, but I don’t have any records—only the death certificate. The official adoption certificate was issued in Australia, based on the landing permit. Was there any other documentation I’m not aware of?”
Romy forced herself to sip her tea as she closed her eyes and remembered that night in Hong Kong so many years ago. Dr. Adler had placed a hand on her wrist. “Romy, I know you’re trying to get sponsored to go to Australia. The thing is, you can only enter if you are the relative of someone already there. Or someone with a business to assist you. The Australian government doesn’t want to accept Jewish refugees, let alone Chinese.” He’d glanced around the ballroom, the floor now covered with more than a hundred mattresses. “But I have someone here who might be able to help with the paperwork.”
The notary adoption certificate was arranged by the kind Dr. Adler and hastily issued and signed by a police officer in the middle of the night. She’d used that piece of paper to arrange a ticket and landing permit for Sophia Shu to travel with her to Australia. The doctor had managed to convince the kind, but overwhelmed, immigration officials and JDC representatives that baby Sophia was the orphan of a fellow doctor and should be permitted safe passage and a landing permit to Australia with her adoptive mother, Romy, and carer, Nina. The JDC also made contact with Wilhelm Cohen in Australia and arranged for him to be Romy and Nina’s sponsor. This paperwork—and a hot, screaming baby—was just enough to eventually convince weary immigration officials to authorize Nina, Sophia, and Romy a berth to Melbourne.
Romy opened her eyes. “I lost all the documents years ago, Eugene,” she told the lawyer. “And we were never able to get replacements after the war.” She scratched the inside of her wrist and glanced at the wall, willing her face not to color.
“Well”—Mr. Johns reached for a second scone—“I get the feeling Alexandra might be doing a bit of poking around in China. Perhaps you should have a word?”
