Falling Leaves: The True Story of an Unwanted Chinese Daughter
lining the boulevards. I was terrified.
    I dropped to my knees in front of them, hoping to soften Father and mollify Niang. Instead, he said, ’In these uncertain times, you should be grateful you have a home to return to and rice in your bowl every night.’
    ’I am, Father.’ ’
    ’Apologize to your Niang.’
    ’I apologize, Niang.’
    ’You don’t know how lucky you are,’ Niang said. ’You will move out of Aunt Baba’s room. You really should not speak to her again. She is an evil influence. She has spoiled you and nourished your arrogance and taught you to lie and cheat by giving you money behind our backs. Meanwhile, we will find you an orphanage until you are old enough to go to work and earn your own living. Your father has enough to worry about without bothering with the likes of you. That’s all.’
    ’Thank you, Father. Thank you, Niang.’
    I got up from my knees, cast a long glance at the wastepaper basket and went up to the room I shared with Aunt Baba, perhaps for the last time.
    My eyes fell on the textbooks which I had laid out on my desk before I was summoned by the maid. There were cornpositions, history, maths, English and calligraphy to be done. With great determination, I set to work … and began to
    71
    escape into my school world where the rules were simple, unchanging and fair, and Niang was not there to lord it over me.
    My anguish subsided as I began to write. My nose stopped bleeding. My face no longer hurt. I saw only black words and numbers on white sheets of paper. The problems challenged and beckoned. The solutions soothed and gratified. I was in control of my own destiny. The completion of each assignment satisfied an emptiness within.
    That night, after a dinner filled with foreboding and during which Father and Niang neither glanced at nor spoke to me, I went straight up to my room. Aunt Baba was out playing mahjong. My homework was finished and I could think of nothing else to do. Despair began to creep in. Niang was about to wrench me away from the only person who loved me.
    Hour after hour went by. I could not sleep. I crawled out of bed and sat on the top stair in the dark, listening for Aunt Baba’s footsteps. It was after eleven. Surely she would be home soon? I thought of running away and taking a train to the distant Sichuan Province, on the borders of Tibet. From my Kung Fu novels I had learned of Buddhist monasteries in the fabled E May mountains where monks prayed and practised the martial arts. Perhaps one of them would take me as an apprentice. I saw myself suddenly skilled in wu-shu, judo and karate, jumping over rooftops with ease, avenging the wrongs dealt out to those without hope …
    I must have dozed off in the darkness, huddled against the banisters. I awoke in pain. The hall light was on. The hulking shape of Edgar towered over me. On his way to the bathroom, he had stumbled over my sleeping body. He was very angry.
    ’What are you doing here in the middle of the night?’ he demanded. ’You almost made me fall! You idiot! You’re always getting in my way.’
    Sleepily, I rubbed my eyes. I thought safety lay in silence.
    72-
    ’Hey, stupid! Answer me!’
    Still I said nothing. Slowly, I started to get up. Viciously, he bent down, grabbed my arm and twisted it fiercely. I bit my lip to keep myself from crying. I stared at him defiantly, determined not to make a sound. ’Answer me!’ he repeated as he twisted my arm even harder.
    At that moment, James emerged from their room. Silently, looking straight ahead as if he had neither seen nor heard, he rushed past us into the bathroom; relieved himself without fully closing the door and went back to bed.
    Edgar pushed me on to the floor and kicked me again and again. After he swaggered off, I ran into the bathroom and locked the door. One of his kicks had landed on my nose which was haemorrhaging briskly. I stared at my bruised and bloody face in the mirror, and suddenly began weeping uncontrollably while trying desperately to stifle

Similar Books

Reckless Hearts

Melody Grace

Crazy in Chicago

Norah-Jean Perkin

Elizabeth Thornton

Whisper His Name

A Fortunate Life

Paddy Ashdown