“I’m the cheese, not the onions.”
“Oh, I think weallknow who’s the onions,“ Violet retorted.
Chapter thirty-nine
London
“We’llgetoffhere,”Miss Wu said at the West India Dock Road, and Penny followed her off the omnibus.Miss Wu took off her suffragette sash and folded it neatly, popping it in her pocket.
“Is this it?”Penny asked, disappointed by the typically dingy East End street they had turned down.
Thiswas the famed Limehouse Causeway, the very heart of the Asiatic Quarter?The home of smugglers, opium dealers, and dark exotic beauties?
“What did you expect?Aladdin’s cave?”Miss Wu asked.
“I don’t know,” replied Penny honestly.“This looks like any other part of London to me.”
“Look closer,” Miss Wu said quietly, preceding her down the foot path.
Penny followed—and looked.
A little card propped in the window opposite was adorned with swooping Chinese characters.
A child looked up at her from playing with a paper pinwheel as a woman called from her doorway in a language that rose and fell like birdcall, and Penny saw the child’s eyes were quite black.
A man with a little cart sizzled what appeared to be dough on sticks over a high flame.They emitted a fragrance that was most pleasing.
There was a jangle of bells, and she saw Miss Wu had pushed open a shop door and now waited for her on the threshold.
“I see it now,” said Penny, in amazement.“It wasn’t what I expected, but I see it.”
“Come in here, then,” Miss Wu offered, with small smile and a jerk of her head towards the interior.
Penny followed, and the door shut behind her with another jangle.A dozen unfamiliar scents hit her.
Above her a hundred colourful paper lanterns rustled gently.Porcelain, bamboo, chopsticks, teapots, dried chillies, cookware, joss sticks, and ink pots vied for her attention.
“Welcome to Aladdin’s cave,” Miss Wu murmured.
“Mae, are you going to introduce me to your friend?”asked the woman behind the counter.She was fair-haired and wore a high Chinese collar, and was presently occupied in measuring peppercorns for an elderly man with cued hair under his bowler.
“This is Miss Fairweather,” said Miss Wu.“This is my mother.”
“How do you do, Mrs Wu?”Penny said politely.It felt very odd to call an Englishwoman by that name.
“Miss Fairweather is a journalist, Mum, investigating anti-foreigner sentiments in London.”
Penny had expected Miss Wu to say something likePenny rescued mebut she didn’t.She wondered if it had something to do with the fact that the suffragette ribbon was now tucked away in Mae’s pocket, safely out of sight.
“Well, there are certainly a lot of such sentiments these days.I’m not sure you had to come to Limehouse for that, Miss Fairweather.”Then she spoke in very convincing Chinese to the old man, who handed over some coins.They inclined their heads to each other, palms together.
“Perhaps I might narrow the scope by asking if you’ve heard of some kind of secret society—they call themselves a ‘brotherhood’?”asked Penny, as the customer left.
Mrs Wu heaved a sigh.“Oh.Them.”Mrs Wu spoke to her daughter.“Your father would be the best person to speak to, but he’s at the Mission for another hour.He’ll be stopping to get noodles after.”
Miss Wu turned to Penny.“Hungry?”
“Always,” said Penny.The scent of the fried things outside had erased the crumpets of any meaningful memory.
