MEI LAN HURRIED AFTER Ah Siew as they walked beside the canal. The old woman’s mind wandered easily, rooted in a previous time. Nothing else mattered to her but to find Ah Pat, Ah Ooi, Yong Gui and all the other sisters who had shared her kongsi fong. As often now happened, Mei Lan had seen Ah Siew open the door of Bougainvillaea House and let herself out and had followed her, fearful the old woman might tumble into the canal; nowadays someone must watch her all day. Ah Siew stopped and looked about anxiously as Mei Lan caught up with her.
‘The sisters were here a moment ago. They’re trying to hide from me because I said we must take Ah Pat to the Vegetarian House. She is so far gone the place may already refuse to take her, and send her straight to the Death House. In the Vegetarian House the nuns will look after her and prepare her for death,’ Ah Siew worried.
Mei Lan remembered the growth on Ah Pat’s neck and her bare feet sticking off the end of the sleeping shelf. She remembered the riot at Kreta Ayer and the bodies of men in the road. She remembered a day of growing up that had never ended. The old woman shuffled along in thick-soled cloth shoes, bent heavily over her stick. It had rained excessively the last few days and the canal had a flow of water. The smell of lichen came to them, and looking into the stream Mei Lan saw a crayfish and thought of Howard.
‘What do you want for your birthday?’ Mei Lan asked to distract Ah Siew, steering her away from the edge of the canal; the old woman’s birthday was not far away. Nobody knew Ah Siew’s real age, nobody knew her birthday, but one had long ago been decided for her and Mei Lan remembered it faithfully. Every year Ah Siew gave the same answer to Mei Lan’s question, that she desired nothing but a peaceful death, but now a thought came to her.
‘Before I die I want to sail the great sea again,’ Ah Siew unexpectedly replied, a faraway look in her cloudy eyes as she remembered the long-ago voyage from China when the power of the ocean took her breath away.
Mei Lan turned in surprise. The old woman was panting from the exertion of walking, her mouth open upon toothless gums, the black samphoo tunic and trousers voluminous on her scrawny limbs; what remained of her hair was scraped into a tiny knot. She had shrunk to birdlike proportions, her hand a little claw on the knob of the stick, her skin slack and creased and as soft as old chiffon, blotched with the spots of age. Mei Lan was frightened by Ah Siew’s talk of death; she had never known a time without the old woman.
‘I watched from the rail of the ship each day; they could not drag me away. The sea was so wondrous and without end. I was never seasick.’ Ah Siew turned to Mei Lan, her cloudy eyes alive with memory. Ah Siew’s wish must be fulfilled for indeed, Mei Lan thought sadly, it might be her last.
‘There is a large junk, an ornate Chinese tourist boat, that sails out from the island into the bay,’ Howard suggested when Mei Lan told him about Ah Siew’s wish.
‘The trip only takes a couple of hours. I will come with you,’ he decided. Seeing the concern on her face, he wanted to pull her towards him, but did no more than reach for her hand. He no longer expected anything perfect, was too aware of the haphazard process of growth. What he wanted was to regenerate her, to bring back the wild soul she had lost. Use my heart to live, he wished to tell her, until you are whole again. He loved her now without illusion and knew he must trust where love would take him. Mei Lan nodded, glad that he would accompany her and Ah Siew on the birthday outing.
The birthday fell on a Sunday and from early morning Ah Siew was excited. She took out a worn white samfoo blouse with elaborate frogging; her old black trousers had been washed and ironed the night before. She wore a jade bangle, Mei Lan’s birthday present to her, as protection on the ocean, and a pair of black embroidered shoes that was Howard’s gift.
The junk was a massive vermilion affair with gold-painted railings running around its several decks. Small gilded guardian lions, ferociously carved, were perched here and there on balustrades. The highest deck was topped by a small pavilion room of red lacquer pillars crowned with a fluted green-tiled roof. Looking up in awe, through failing eyes, Ah Siew saw this great sea monster only cloudily, but she saw enough.
‘It is not a boat, it’s a palace. I did not come here on a ship like this.’ From the quay Ah Siew gazed at the vessel. For a moment Mei Lan feared the ship might not be to her liking, but a smile broke across the old woman’s face.
‘I’m going home in style,’ Ah Siew croaked, as Howard and Mei Lan helped her up the gangway.
Part of the first deck was glassed in for passengers’ comfort with some seating of tables and chairs, and here they settled with Ah Siew. They ordered coffee from an attentive waiter and orangeade for the old woman, while watching people stepping from the gangway on to the deck of the boat. It was a popular trip on a Sunday afternoon and families with excited children predominated. Small boys and girls ran irrepressibly about, chased by anxious parents screaming caution. The deck moved gently below their feet on the swell of the waves.
The pickled odour of the sea mingled with leaking oil from the junk, the aroma of delicacies steaming or frying in the galley below, drifted up to them. The smell of the sea returned Mei Lan to the coconut estate and the wooden shack near Lionel’s house, and the palpitating hours so long ago that she had spent there with Howard. She remembered her body dissolved and weak with pleasure, and the roll of the waves on the beach where light and water ran together. She looked at Howard across the table as he inserted a straw for Ah Siew into a bottle of orangeade, bending attentively to the old woman, and knew how much she tried him. Even now she could not overcome the distance that separated them even in love, and that left her always detached. Her faith in the transformative had been lost, and experience had wasted her. She watched Howard helping Ah Siew, his hands as kind and patient in gesture as he was himself, and wished for an end to the isolation that laid her bare so painfully. He believed in her, and hoped this belief would work deep within her. Lifting his eyes, Howard caught her observing him and smiled across the old woman’s head, his gaze intent upon her, shutting out all else but what they shared together. She saw the query in his eyes and sadness moved through her as she held out her hand to him; Ah Siew put her lips to the straw and sucked orangeade greedily with a gusty noise. Howard laughed and Mei Lan was glad to join him, to toss aside the darkness that gathered so quickly and easily in her.
The junk was drawing away from the quay and pushing out into open water. ‘See, land is already far away,’ Mei Lan told Ah Siew as the green coast slid slowly by, but with her poor eyesight and a wall of thick glass before her Ah Siew could see nothing.
‘Let’s take her out on deck,’ Howard suggested and Mei Lan nodded, helping the old woman up.
‘There must be a fine view from that top deck,’ Howard said as they emerged into the sun, squinting up at the pavilion with its vermilion pillars and green fluted roof.
‘Go up and have a look, I will stay here with Ah Siew,’ Mei Lan suggested, knowing how much he wanted to do this.
As Howard began to climb the stairs to the upper decks, Mei Lan steered Ah Siew towards the rail, where passengers were wedged shoulder to shoulder, to observe the passing scenery. People were reluctant to make a place for the old woman, but near the bow there was more space. Mei Lan guided Ah Siew along the deck, which was now rolling beneath them, and soon found places for them further down. A cool breeze lifted off the sea, blowing the hair across Mei Lan’s eyes.
‘There is the island of St John’s, and see the waves on those rocks over there. There are many small tugs passing by and the men on them are waving to us.’ Mei Lan pointed things out to Ah Siew, knowing these sights were no more than a blur to the old woman’s faded eyes.
Ah Siew nodded and smiled her toothless smile, trying to imagine the scene Mei Lan described. She gripped the rail, feeling the smooth wood under her hands, smelling the abrasive sea air. She could hear the water rushing by far below as the ship gathered speed. The wind blew on her face and tunnelled into her ears, just as it had when she stood on that ship long ago. The deck had been crowded with ragged immigrants, without protection from the elements. At that time, looking out at the endless burnished sea and looking down at the churning foam in the wake of the ship, Ah Siew could forget the miserable conditions in which she travelled. She had spent many hours marvelling at the great space of the world and the immeasurable distances that could be journeyed. As they drifted towards the horizon she had wondered what lay waiting beyond it for her. Now her story was told, and nothing more waited ahead but that final great journey that was hidden from them all. When Ah Siew looked back over her life, she saw many things to be thankful for; nothing really bad had happened and there had always been her ‘sisters’ and Mei Lan; there was nothing she found to regret. This, in her judgement, was a great thing to say at the end of a life. There was no one she knew in the House of Lim who could say they had no regrets.
Ah Siew could feel a familiar roll beneath her feet. So much was coming back to her. Even in a bad swell, she remembered, she had become adept at remaining on her feet and had not vomited up precious rice and noodles. Now again there was the rushing of the sea as it swished by beneath her. She looked down over the rail, straining to see the foamy white wake of the ship. Mei Lan put an arm about the old woman’s shoulders and Ah Siew looked up and smiled, happiness clear on her face.
‘It is just like I remember. We sailed over the horizon not knowing what we would find.’ Ah Siew’s memory once awakened could not be staunched, and she grew more and more excited. Mei Lan listened and stared into the distance, and felt the great ocean trying to heal her. She had lived too long in a halfway place; it was time now to take back her life, find a way to return from the past. Howard’s fierce belief that he could remake her had begun the convoluted process of renewal. It was he who was willing her up through a labyrinth of dark passages towards, not the crack of light she had always feared would vanish as she reached it, but a whole open sky. And she realised now she loved him for this, for the faith in her that would not die, and would make her whole again.
As she thought these thoughts she became aware of a small sobbing noise and turning, saw a child of three or four standing alone nearby on the deck. Clearly, the child was lost and Mei Lan stepped forward to help her. Almost immediately, she spotted the mother hurrying forward, and led the girl by the hand towards her.
As Mei Lan turned away from her, Ah Siew gave a cry of excitement for, looking down from the rail of the junk, she saw a small boat coming towards her. It sailed forward with purpose and through her dim eyes she discovered, just as Mei Lan had said, that people were waving to her. It seemed beyond belief but, as the boat approached, she saw that Yong Gui, Ah Tim and Ah Pat stood there and behind them she spotted Ah Thye and Ah Ooi. They were waving wildly now and calling out her name.
‘Ah Siew! Ah Siew!’
‘I’m here. I’m here,’ Ah Siew answered, tears of joy spilling down her cheeks as the tug approached.
‘Come and join us,’ they called, reaching out towards her.
‘I’m coming,’ she shouted, stretching out as far as she could, further and further, so that they could grasp her hands and pull her to safety amongst them.
Mei Lan handed the child to its mother and turned back to Ah Siew. She saw there was a commotion at the rail, people crowding excitedly several deep before it. There was much shouting, and some of the white-uniformed crew were running about the deck, holding red lifebelts. Mei Lan looked about wildly but could not see Ah Siew. With a cry, she pushed into the throng before the rail, but oblivious to her frantic shouts no one would let her through. A short distance away a flight of steps led to a higher level of the deck where the rail was bare of passengers. It seemed she ran for ever, but at last Mei Lan reached the steps and could see over the side of the junk. Far below the water foamed in runnels of crushed quartz as the ship cut through the waves, its great propeller beneath the red bow churning up a marble sea.
Ah Siew could be seen, her small monkey head sometimes rising and then falling beneath the foaming water. Her arms flailed about like a windmill as the boat moved forward, each moment drawing her nearer the thrashing propeller.
‘Ah Siew!’ Mei Lan screamed.
‘Ah Siew!’ The words were pulled from her like a rope she threw down to the desperate woman, but nothing now could reach Ah Siew. Once again the old woman sank under the waves. The lifebelts, thrown down to her from the boat, floated uselessly on the water, too far away for the old woman to reach. Lifeguards stood peering over the rail with the rest of the passengers. Nobody jumped to save Ah Siew.
‘Ah Siew.’ There was never a time when Ah Siew had failed her, had not been mother and father, confessor and friend. Mei Lan did not hesitate, but jumped as the old woman surfaced again far below. Only she could reclaim Ah Siew from the depths of the sea and give her the breath of life again.
The salty wind blew against her face, her hair streamed out about her. Mei Lan spread her arms as if they were wings and knew with a surge of joy what it felt for a bird to fly. Both death and life flew in the wind beside her, and she knew in that instant that love itself was but a series of deaths and rebirths. She had run from life as she had run from death, ignoring the transformative power of each. Now, as she flew towards Ah Siew she knew at last that death had released her; life claimed her again with all its palpitating power. Pain was gone and she embraced emotion freely, living and dying with each breath she took, letting go of one to enter the other, a continuous cycle, as ancient as time. She remembered the phoenix with its great wings, and knew it too flew beside her. The joy was too much and she wanted him to know, and screamed out his name. The wind ripped it from her like a ragged streamer and blew it away behind her.
‘Howard!’
The water hit her like a board, harder than concrete, foaming and frothing. Nearby, Ah Siew was tossed about in the lather churned up by the noisy propeller. Mei Lan struggled forward to close her arms about the limp woman, feeling again the tiny birdlike body, seeing once more the blue rheumy eyes that perhaps already could watch her no more. She reached out for the red lifebelt bobbing on the water, to pull it over Ah Siew’s head, but before she could grasp it a great hand seemed to take hold of them both, pulling them forcibly down into the bottomless depths of the ocean.
In the eagle’s nest pavilion beneath a green fluted roof Howard became aware of a disturbance below and peered over the head of a small gilded lion on to the lower deck. People milled about the rail where he had left Mei Lan; he heard a confusion of screaming and shouting. Although he was unsure of what was happening, a sick dread already filled him. The vessel had slowed now and almost stopped. As he watched, two crewmen jumped into the sea where red lifebelts bobbed about on the swell. As the ship slowed, the water no longer bubbled in feverish ferment but quietened like an animal that had suddenly lost its roar. Quiescent now, it offered up meekly in a bloody halo the smashed bodies it had so voraciously claimed. Howard looked down in horror.
‘Mei Lan!’ he screamed, starting down the steep companionway. When at last they pulled Mei Lan aboard the junk, he clasped her wet body to him, letting no one touch her. He was sure there was still a pulse. He pressed down on her ribs as he had been taught so long ago in first aid lessons at Air Raid Precaution, willing life into her, willing his breath to awaken her. Suddenly, he felt the quiver of energy returning. She gave a sob and the briny ocean spewed up from inside her, letting her free.
Mei Lan had escaped the blades of the vicious propeller, but Ah Siew’s mangled body was quickly covered with a sheet of canvas. Howard cradled Mei Lan in his arms as she sobbed. All that could be seen of Ah Siew was an arm flung out clear of the canvas; her wrist, encircled by the jade bangle, lay on the smooth wooden deck. People stood around in a silent circle. Howard’s shirt was soaked from Mei Lan’s dripping body. Her hair hung over his arm, running with water like the weeds he remembered in the canal so long ago when they had stalked crayfish.