The boy was running ahead as usual, full of energy despite the exertions of an hour with the kung fu master at the Chinese Women’s Club.
Would he ever slow down?
The amah ran after him, her short, stubby legs stumbling along Bubbling Well Road. She was tired, more tired than usual. She hadn’t slept well the previous night, a sense of foreboding clouding her sleep. Should she go back to her village until the troubles were over? It might be safer, but the mistress was sure to sack her and what would she do then?
She was getting closer to him now; her legs weren’t moving quickly but at least they were still moving. Luckily, the streets were quiet, with fewer people than usual crowding the pavement, otherwise she might have lost him. And what would her mistress say then?
‘You can’t catch me, I’m Chang De Ching,’ he shouted over his shoulder.
After ten yards, he stopped running and struck a familiar pose from the martial arts movies that were all the rage. One arm was stuck out, the fist thrusting forward. The other was curled tightly backwards. The legs were bent and ready to strike. He pivoted and kicked out in her direction, only succeeding in falling on his backside on the pavement.
‘Be careful, master, don’t hurt yourself.’ The amah was out of breath as she ran to help him up. He shrugged off her hand.
‘Can we go to the chocolate shop at number 883? I want marshmallows.’
‘Wouldn’t you like tang hu lu instead? A proper Chinese snack. I’m sure Chang De Ching ate them.’
He stamped his foot. ‘I want chocolate. We’re going to live in America next year, my mummy said, so I need to get used to American food.’
‘Your mother also said I was to bring you straight home after your lessons. No side trips, remember?’
‘Ta ma de,’ the boy swore.
The amah rushed to cover his mouth. ‘Don’t you ever say that again, young master. It’s not polite.’
‘Master Wu says it all the time.’
‘Master Wu is an adult. You are only seven.’
‘I’ll be eight next month.’ He reached up to hug her. ‘Please can we go?’
‘OK, as long as you don’t tell your mother. She will sack me if she finds out.’ The amah was exhausted. Perhaps a cup of chocolate with the boy would help her rest and recover.
The boy struck another pose. ‘No she won’t. She knows I like you too much. I won’t allow it. And besides, marshmallows make you big and strong, Master Wu said so.’
‘I’m sure Master Wu said no such thing.’ She took his hand. ‘We’ll have to hurry if we are to go there and get home at the right time. No running any more. Promise?’
The boy held up three fingers. ‘Scout’s honour.’
‘What is this scout’s honour?’ she asked him as they hurried down the road.
Neither of them noticed the black car crawling along the pavement behind them.
Neither of them heard the squeal of brakes. Or the slamming of doors. Or the feet pounding on the pavement.
But the amah felt the kiss of a cosh against the base of her skull. Saw the boy being snatched up into the arms of a bald-headed man. Heard the fear in his cries as he struggled to escape.
What would the mistress say?
What would the master say when he came home from his newspaper?
These were her last thoughts as a face with a livid red scar beneath the eye came into view. She saw the glint of a long blade in the winter sun, gripped by a tanned hand.
And then she felt the blade enter her neck beneath the jawbone.
There was no pain. Why was there no pain? Her neck was warm and wet. Why was it so wet? And what was that sound in her head?
His lips came close to her ear.
‘Time to sleep,’ he whispered in the dialect of her village.
She was so tired.
Too tired.
She closed her eyes.