With a beguiling twirl of her fan, she faced the audience. The piano whispered over the silence, an overture of wistful chords, then she began to sing.
I could have stayed there all day, listening, memorizing the gestures she made with her hands, the elegant way she leaned toward the microphone, how she dipped her head at passing customers. She sang of love and heartbreak, and the yearning for days long past. Though I had yet to experience such emotions myself, there was a choked-up feeling in my throat from simplyimagining. Such was the enchantment of music. I clapped and clapped after each song.
At two o’clock, the concert ended and I found Sai Ma near the fabrics department. She was speaking with a stout middle-aged woman wearing white.
“Seven months pregnant!” her friend exclaimed. “When I was expecting my son, I could barely walk. But you,my darling,you’re hardly showing. You’ve been married how long? Seven years, and Pok Mun still adores you. It’s about time you had another baby.
“You know,” her friend continued, “I was worried about you two lovebirds. One of my girlfriends owned a factory like your sister-in-law’s, and the Japanese burned it down. They murdered her eldest son, too.”
“How horrible!” Sai Ma pursed her lips, as people did when they talked about the war. “It’s thanks to families like yours, Mrs. Tsang, that the Japanese are gone.”
That was when Sai Ma finally noticed me. “There you are. I was afraid you’d gotten lost.”
Mrs. Tsang regarded me with a smile. “Is this your daughter, Lily? She’s lovely.”
“No, no.” Sai Ma’s smile twitched. “This isn’t Lily, this is my maid.”
My eyes swung to Sai Ma.Her maid?
“She’s from Toisan,” Sai Ma went on. “Just arrived a few weeks ago.”
“My mistake,” Mrs. Tsang said, covering her mouth. Her smile was gone, and she ignored me. “Anyway, darling, do let me know when we can get together for mahjong with Crystal Kwok. You remember that bean farmer’s daughter—Fung Pui Ling? She’s been begging to be our fourth ever since Kar Yee’s stopped coming. You should’ve seen how upset she was when I told her we’ll only play with three.”
“I’ll let you know.” They laughed together and waved goodbye.
I didn’t budge.Why did you tell her I’m the maid?I wanted to ask Sai Ma, but my tongue had gone leaden.
Sai Ma seemed to read my thoughts. When Mrs. Tsang had gone, she took me aside.
“People in Hong Kong are judgmental,” she explained in a low voice. “Your father hasn’t told his friends that you and your brother have come to live with us.”
My chest sank, feeling as heavy and leaden as my tongue, as I realized that in Hong Kong, Sai Ma was his first and only wife. Baba hadn’t told anyone about Mama. “When will he?”
“Patience, Yut Ying,” said Sai Ma. “You only have one chance to make an impression. Best that your father and I take our time to introduce you—we’ll wait until you’ve sanded off some of your village accent.”
My village accent?I swallowed. Maybe I didn’t speak English, but did my Chinese sound so different from everyone else’s here?
“I will be starting school soon, won’t I?” I asked.
“I told you, we’re still looking.” Sai Ma patted me on the head. “You must trust me to take care of you.”
“I do.”
“That’s a clever girl.” She pinched my chin. “Now, did you enjoy your time at Bastion’s?”
“I liked the music.”
“Ah, that showgirl upstairs? You should’ve heard me whenIwas in my prime. People said I belonged in the pictures!” Sai Ma chuckled as she glanced at her wristwatch. “We’d better get home, your aunt must be back. You’ve met her before, haven’t you?”
“When I was small.”
The store attendant opened the door for us, and Sai Ma hurried out. “Well, whatever you do, Yut Ying, don’t tell her you want to be a singer.”
. . .
Gu Ma was in the parlor drinking tea and smoking a cigarette.
My aunt was a younger, rounder version of Ah Ma. Her bountiful figure would have been a questionable sight during the war, when even the rich were walking bones, but now some plumpness was in vogue—a telltale mark of post-occupation success. And Gu Ma glowed with success. Gold beads hung from her earlobes, making the delicate skin droop, and when she opened her mouth, there were tiny silver bullets lodged in the backs of her teeth, so she glimmered when she spoke. Baba was sitting beside her looking more lucid than usual.
