oyster pearls, sweetness. There is a terrifying translucence of the skin. I have night visions now, of her falling into a river and being taken away. Nightmares filled with floods coming, waves washing over her. Sometimes she is caught up in a tree, tangled in its branches and I must get to her, but can’t. Or she is a cat, fur falling off in patches and uttering a pitiful cry. She is slipping away from me, falling away, or I have been careless, and lost her. I wake up convinced that she is gone; I reassure myself by touching her flat, uncurled fingers and put them in my mouth and suck them. She seems to like it.
‘Eva, come, look,’ Lizzie said.
I followed my sister to the back of the house where Lolo was standing with his hand resting on the flank of a white cow and its calf. The calf stood trembling between its mother’s bony knees. Lolo was gently patting the cow’s back, looking pleased with himself.
‘Millicent bought it at the cattle market and it transpires that Lolo is a charmer of cows,’ Lizzie said, and giggled. ‘Aren’t you pleased?’
The cow looked philosophical, flicking its tail at the flies which were persistent in bothering it.
‘She’s beautiful.’
‘I’ve named her Rebekah,’ Lizzie said. Then I realised: our own supply of milk. No more opium-scented yellow milk. I can now feed Ai-Lien directly. It is fascinating to watch Lolo and the milking process. The calf tugs at the udders and suckles on his mother, then, once the milk is flowing, Lolo gently moves the calf aside so that it is still standing next to the mother, nestling about her, being licked, and Lolo squeezes from the teats six or seven pints of milk before allowing the calf to return and drain the rest. As he pumps the udders he sings, softly and soothingly to the cow and its calf.
Ai-Lien enjoys it – both the singing and the milk. Her eyes close and her lips swell. She seems to have grown in size almost immediately, but I am sure I must be imagining that. She sleeps on my chest, breathing softly, and often I hold her on me all night. I happily forgo my sleep for her comfort. Such a distance I have come since the day I journeyed alone, by tram, to the China Inland Mission in Stoke Newington, to stand in front of a panel of four men and two women to defend my calling. I memorised my speech so intently it is still with me now:
‘Members of the Council, my Direction is never illuminated to the degree at which I fully understand the nature of the path I tread, or indeed, what I will find along that path; but by a small flickering candlelight of faith, that gives off only enough light for the next, immediate part of my journey.’
Pausing, as rehearsed.
‘And with each step, I grow stronger. I am steady.’
I hear the rattling rain, watch the grey faces of the Council conferring, the bonnet – worn on Millicent’s advice – slipping. I had decided against a description of mystical swooning, or an emulation of Lizzie’s wet-eyed devotional face, thinking rational argument would be more convincing. Lizzie had already been selected to accompany Millicent on overseas missionary work. I could not be left behind, and to my great relief, rationality won out. Signed, witnessed and welcomed a missionary. I did not expect to come to know a baby.
June 20th
It was a surprise to see Khadega in the courtyard at midday sitting amongst the potted fig trees along with a chaperone, a minuscule elderly lady swathed and mummified in brown material. I came in with my bicycle and leaned it against the courtyard wall.
‘Here is Eva,’ Millicent said, poking her small, black leather Bible towards me. The chaperone made a clicking noise in her mouth as she sat down, squatting on her heels with her back against the wall in what looked like a terribly uncomfortable position. I looked around for Lolo. I had left Ai-Lien in his care.
‘Eva, good, you’re back. Mohammed has agreed that Khadega will visit each day to learn English, as he
‘Eva, come, look,’ Lizzie said.
I followed my sister to the back of the house where Lolo was standing with his hand resting on the flank of a white cow and its calf. The calf stood trembling between its mother’s bony knees. Lolo was gently patting the cow’s back, looking pleased with himself.
‘Millicent bought it at the cattle market and it transpires that Lolo is a charmer of cows,’ Lizzie said, and giggled. ‘Aren’t you pleased?’
The cow looked philosophical, flicking its tail at the flies which were persistent in bothering it.
‘She’s beautiful.’
‘I’ve named her Rebekah,’ Lizzie said. Then I realised: our own supply of milk. No more opium-scented yellow milk. I can now feed Ai-Lien directly. It is fascinating to watch Lolo and the milking process. The calf tugs at the udders and suckles on his mother, then, once the milk is flowing, Lolo gently moves the calf aside so that it is still standing next to the mother, nestling about her, being licked, and Lolo squeezes from the teats six or seven pints of milk before allowing the calf to return and drain the rest. As he pumps the udders he sings, softly and soothingly to the cow and its calf.
Ai-Lien enjoys it – both the singing and the milk. Her eyes close and her lips swell. She seems to have grown in size almost immediately, but I am sure I must be imagining that. She sleeps on my chest, breathing softly, and often I hold her on me all night. I happily forgo my sleep for her comfort. Such a distance I have come since the day I journeyed alone, by tram, to the China Inland Mission in Stoke Newington, to stand in front of a panel of four men and two women to defend my calling. I memorised my speech so intently it is still with me now:
‘Members of the Council, my Direction is never illuminated to the degree at which I fully understand the nature of the path I tread, or indeed, what I will find along that path; but by a small flickering candlelight of faith, that gives off only enough light for the next, immediate part of my journey.’
Pausing, as rehearsed.
‘And with each step, I grow stronger. I am steady.’
I hear the rattling rain, watch the grey faces of the Council conferring, the bonnet – worn on Millicent’s advice – slipping. I had decided against a description of mystical swooning, or an emulation of Lizzie’s wet-eyed devotional face, thinking rational argument would be more convincing. Lizzie had already been selected to accompany Millicent on overseas missionary work. I could not be left behind, and to my great relief, rationality won out. Signed, witnessed and welcomed a missionary. I did not expect to come to know a baby.
June 20th
It was a surprise to see Khadega in the courtyard at midday sitting amongst the potted fig trees along with a chaperone, a minuscule elderly lady swathed and mummified in brown material. I came in with my bicycle and leaned it against the courtyard wall.
‘Here is Eva,’ Millicent said, poking her small, black leather Bible towards me. The chaperone made a clicking noise in her mouth as she sat down, squatting on her heels with her back against the wall in what looked like a terribly uncomfortable position. I looked around for Lolo. I had left Ai-Lien in his care.
‘Eva, good, you’re back. Mohammed has agreed that Khadega will visit each day to learn English, as he
Similar Books
