Marlowe

Evening light flooded my room in lavender. I had fallen asleep in the afternoon again. Was this jet lag or the beginning of despair?

I forced my eyes to stay open by staring at the white wall in front of me. I was helped by the high-pitched notes of Wài Pó’s Chinese opera, which rang through the house like howling cats. She only ever played it when she was trying to get herself out of a funk.

My knuckles ached from gripping the bedsheets tightly. Had I had a nightmare? The hairs at the base of my neck prickled. I rolled over, and for the first time in my life I was prepared to see the face of a ghost. No matter how many times I told myself that ghosts aren’t real, the fear remained. Suddenly, I found myself longing for Mum again – so intensely the feeling squeezed at the bones in my chest. Whenever I had a nightmare, she used to lie in bed next to me, stroking my back. I closed my eyes and imagined her with me until I felt my body relax and my rational mind was able to take control, returning me to myself.

I rose from my bed, turned off the purring dehumidifier and walked through the house.

Dad’s office door was ajar. I saw him asleep in his armchair. A newspaper rested on his lap and he held an empty whisky glass in his hand. As I took the glass from his slack grip, his brows twitched, eyes moved rapidly under their lids. He looked like a child having a bad dream as his bottom lip quivered. It was hard to witness Dad turned into a boy in his sleep. I quickly left the room, shutting the door behind me.

The sound of Wài Pó’s opera was replaced by the steadier drone of voices from a Chinese news channel. I passed the living room, note again the missing antique vases, and followed the sweet and sour aromas of Wài Pó’s cooking to the kitchen.

Harper sat at the round table with a camellia in her hair. She was stringing beans. The small TV flickered in the background next to the microwave. Wài Pó was stirring a pot. I bent over the bubbling liquid and inhaled the familiar scent of homemade chicken broth. Beside her, two big woks were steaming away. Peeking under one steel lid I saw a large snapper garnished with ginger and spring onions. I asked her why she was preparing such a big meal.

‘I’m making a welcome home dinner for you.’ Wài Pó lifted her long cooking chopsticks in the air. ‘Better late than never.’

Wài Pó usually had Esmerelda helping her in the kitchen. When I first arrived home, I had asked where she was; she had been working for the family since I was two and was a constant presence in my life. Irene told me she was on holiday and didn’t respond when I asked when she would return.

‘When is Esmerelda returning?’ I asked my grandmother now.

Wài Pó, a master of selective deafness, pretended not to hear.

Harper sighed. ‘That one is a sad story. Esmerelda is back in the Philippines for good, with her own family – her son, her husband and her pet dog called Locky. I miss her.’ Her bottom lip trembled.

‘What? Why did she leave?’

‘Marlowe, I want to tell you something.’ Harper patted the empty chair next to her for me to sit. Her glasses slid down the bridge of her nose. She pushed them back up again with her stubby finger. Her nails were painted pink, purple and blue. ‘I want to tell you something about my boyfriend, Louis.’

‘But why did Esmerelda leave?’ I asked, interrupting Harper. The missing vases, Esmerelda gone… There were too many unanswered questions.

‘Wài Pó, please tell me what’s going on,’ I insisted.

My grandmother immediately dipped her spoon into the pot of broth, blew on it and shoved it in my mouth. Creamy, warm flavours of chicken flesh, rice wine and peppercorns slid down my throat. My stomach rumbled.

‘Delicious.’

She then proceeded to lecture on the importance of preparing real broth, not the kind you get in a packet from the supermarket. ‘All these dishes I am making tonight are from a collection of my mother’s recipes.’

I swallowed my irritation. Pressing Wài Pó further was pointless. She had always been so stubborn, just like Harper. I would have to pick a time to question her carefully.

‘Never mind then, Marlowe.’ Harper had folded her arms across her chest.

‘Sorry, Harper,’ I said, returning my attention to her. ‘What do you want to tell me?’

She cleared her throat. ‘There will be a surprise guest tonight. A big surprise and excitement.’

‘Who?’

Harper just shook her head and mimed zipping her lip. ‘It’s a secret.’

Our round dining table was neatly laid with bowls and chopsticks. Harper had folded the napkins into the shape of swans.

Irene took the seat facing the window and Hong Kong’s sparkling harbour. Harper and I sat opposite, facing the wall.

‘Where’s James?’ Irene asked.

‘Asleep,’ I said.

She got up. I could hear the sound of her heels clip-clopping down the corridor to Dad’s study.

Wài Pó placed a steaming bowl of rice onto the lazy Susan, before returning to the kitchen. Although it was rude to start serving before everyone was seated, I started dishing the rice into bowls.

Irene returned. ‘I’ve decided to let your father sleep. There’s no use in waking him.’ Her cheeks were flushed.

‘He does this a lot,’ Harper chimed in.

‘He does?’ It wasn’t like Dad to miss dinner.

Irene told Harper to leave the subject alone.

The doorbell rang and I seized the chance to escape. I opened the front door to find Louis standing there, wearing a crisp navy suit.

‘Twenty-two minutes and fifty seconds! Yessssssssss! I am speedy.’ He tapped his wrist. A bright yellow digital watch was strapped alongside a black one.

‘Oh, Marlowe!’ He pulled me close and gave me a big hug.

I held on, tight. It was so good to see him. He felt like a breath of fresh air in our stuffy home.

‘I was wondering when I would see you, Louis!’ I said.

‘I’ve been away in Thailand for a beach holiday but I am home now. I am so happy that you are back from the bugs university. Harper has been missing you so very much and that means that I have been missing you too.’

Before I had a chance to say anything, he ran into the house. Over his shoulder he shouted, ‘I love your Wài Pó’s cooking so much. I like her dumplings the best, then her fish, then her spring rolls, and of course her egg tarts…’

I followed him. When he entered the dining room, Harper sprang up from her chair.

‘My Romeo has arrived! Oh, how I’ve missed you!’ She flung her arms around his neck and they touched noses. They were so cute together. The sight of them made me long for Olly.

‘Please. Not at the dinner table.’ Irene stood.

I moved in front of Harper and Louis, blocking them from Irene’s view.

‘Irene, there’s no need to stop them.’ Heat bled into my cheeks.

‘I’m not kissing him with my lips, you know,’ Harper said. ‘This kind of kissing is with the nose.’

Louis stroked her cheek and asked if she was okay. He was always so attentive and caring. I was reminded of the fact that it was because of Louis I’d felt I could leave Harper for London all those years ago. He made her happy. For that, I loved him.

Irene asked Harper to sit back down at the dinner table, but of course she took no notice. Who did Irene think she was? I’d struggled with her presence when I only saw her occasionally, but now that she lived here it was a whole new ballgame.

‘They’re not causing any harm,’ I said. ‘Can’t you just leave them be?’

Irene turned to face the large windows overlooking the sea. In that moment, there seemed to be something tired about her expression and the way she placed her long, slender hand to her chest. Her fingers rubbed the pale skin at her collarbone until a little red mark formed.

Wài Pó emerged from the kitchen once more, carrying the last of her seven dishes: abalone and green beans.

‘There she is! My second favourite lady.’ Louis embraced Wài Pó. She quickly ushered him to his seat by Harper’s side. He asked my grandmother if she had cut her hair. ‘You look smart and precious.’

I laughed, and realised it was the first time I had done so in a while.

‘Before I eat my delicious meal, I want to say something and give you these invitations.’ He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a wad of envelopes. ‘You are all invited to come to my house for ice cream and some cake tomorrow because I am going to give my love a ring and make a proposal so she can be my wife. I made a letter for you all about this. Your names are on the front.’

I took the proffered envelope. It was decorated with sparkling love heart stickers.

A very loaded silence followed.

Wài Pó unwrapped a White Rabbit candy and put it in her mouth.

‘Louis, there will be no proposal.’ Irene handed back her invitation. ‘Remember what they told you at the vocational centre? This is inappropriate behaviour.’

Was I actually hearing this? Just because she’d moved in now, she didn’t have the right to dictate what Harper could and couldn’t do.

I took a breath, trying to calm the surge of adrenaline that swept through my body. ‘Excuse me, Irene, but it’s not your place to tell them if they can be together or not.’

‘Not my place?’ She turned to face me.

Shedoesn’tscareme. Shedoesn’tscareme. Shedoesn’tscareme.

‘It most certainly is my place. Harper is my responsibility now too. Since you’ve been gone a lot has changed. I have been looking after Harper.’

I could hear Wài Pó muttering something under her breath in Chinese.

Since you’ve been gone. I wanted to throw something at the woman. My hands were in fists and my voice came from my throat in a low growl. ‘You aren’t Harper’s mother. You’re not even married to my father.’

I took a step back, realising what I had done. I’d hit Irene where it hurt. It was no secret that she longed for Dad to propose, but we all knew it would never happen.

Irene looked me in the eye. ‘You think you’re her mother?’

‘Stop!’ Harper’s voice broke and she began to cough, sticky and wet. ‘Stop fighting!’ She was struggling to breathe. ‘All that matters is that I love Louis in my heart. Please don’t fight.’

I felt small then, realising I could have dealt with this situation differently. I went to help Harper but Louis was already beside her, softly patting her on the back.

Irene held out her hand. ‘Marlowe,’ she whispered, ‘give me your invitation.’

She wasn’t going to let this go.

‘No.’

‘We can’t encourage them.’

‘They’re adults,’ I told her. ‘It’s not your place to tell them what they can and can’t do.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘They don’t understand what they are doing. Please don’t complicate the matter.’

I didn’t even know where to start. After all these years, had she not learned anything from Harper at all?

Louis stood and addressed Irene. He lifted his chin and stood tall, ready for battle, with ten times more courage than I could ever muster.

‘I want to tell you something, Irene. I know Harper loves most of all to watch Casablanca on Friday nights and sit with me on the couch holding my hand. She also loves spaghetti and Wài Pó’s egg tarts. Harper is very smart at writing stories. When she is mad, she gets red cheeks and it means I did something wrong, so I have to figure it all out in my head and not do it again. I love this lady and I want to marry her at sunset.’

I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He had such soft features, such a graceful way of speaking. If he were a butterfly, he would be the same as Harper – a yellow Pyrisitia nise. I felt my body go still. If I breathed loudly, I might scare him away.

‘Someone call his mother.’ Irene looked at me, then at Wài Pó. Did she really think we would oblige? When neither of us responded, her heels stabbed the marble floor as she went to the hall.

‘Oh no!’ Harper wailed. ‘Stepmonster has ruined everything!’ She was looking drained and sallow.

Wài Pó rushed to her side and stroked her forehead while Louis spoke calmly to her.

I had to get Dad. As I made my way out of the dining room, I could hear Irene on the phone in the kitchen. Her voice, clipped and stern, was saying, ‘This is totally inappropriate. Your son has disrupted our family dinner. I would expect you to keep a closer eye on him… He’s much lower on the spectrum than Harper is. He needs more care.’

However much Louis’s parents hated these calls, they were smart, educated people whom I was sure would have no problem putting Irene in her place.

‘What do you mean you won’t come to collect him?’ She was shouting now. ‘He’s not an independent young man. He has the intellect of a child!’

I was standing outside the door of Dad’s study now. I wondered if Irene’s raised voice had woken him.

‘Do you realise my stepdaughter is dying?’

I stopped dead in my tracks. That word. It hit me in the gut. I put my hand on the wall to steady myself.

The door to the study was flung open and Dad emerged, his face creased with sleep. ‘What’s happening?’ Startled, confused, not quite alert.

‘You’re too late.’ Stay calm, I told myself. If I said any more, I would surely regret it. I struggled to understand what Dad saw in a woman like Irene. After all these years, why was he still with her?

I followed him to the kitchen and watched as he took the phone from Irene and placed it on the receiver.

‘Enough.’

I wasn’t about to hang around for the ensuing argument. I hurried back to the dining room. Harper was still in her seat, breathing heavily. I took her hand. It was cold. She was sweating.

‘You need to lie down,’ I said.

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m not leaving my Louis.’

‘Louis can come with you,’ I said. ‘Please, come up to bed.’

She shook her head. Stubborn.

‘I’m tired of people telling me I cannot be with my Louis. You have a boyfriend, Marlowe, and no one tells you that you cannot be with him, right?’

I swallowed hard. Did I deserve to be with Olly when Harper couldn’t be with Louis?

‘It’s not fair,’ Harper continued. ‘Love is the same even if you are a person with Up syndrome or without Up syndrome. Why can’t Stepmonster understand that?’

What could I possibly say to make things better? I would never really know what it was like to have to fight to be understood in this way.

Louis put his palm on her cheek. ‘Don’t worry about Stepmonster. You’re right, she doesn’t understand. But I do.’

I took a step back, realising all Harper was asking for was the right to live her life as any young woman does.