House of Trembling Leaves, The Read Free Page B

to the audible crunch of the wheelbarrow against the road, the ache in her hands and arms against the handlebars, the suffocating fear of being caught. She was so absorbed that when they reached the river’s edge she did not hear Sum Sum speaking to her. ‘‘We take small row boat now and catch tongkang later on. Maybe one mile away. I arrange everything already.’’ She watched her maidservant squat low to plunge a hand into the Juru’s current and pull at a thick rope. Lu See was aware of the silence all about her – it was as if the night animals had stopped what they were doing to watch them.
    The moonlight shone on the smooth black water. Sum Sum climbed aboard the small rowing boat and, by touch, shipped the oars. Lu See loaded the trunk into the stern and then stepped into the little vessel, trying to hold the craft steady with one hand. The boat was light and shallow-bottomed; it wobbled side-to-side under her weight so she sat down quickly.
    â€˜â€˜You ready, meh?’’ asked Sum Sum.
    Lu See nodded. She looked behind her, wondering if they’d left muddied footprints in the ground.
    Sum Sum untied the rope from its moorings and pushed them away from the earthen bank. Lu See felt droplets of water on her forearms as the little craft, unstable now it was laden, bobbed downriver. In the distance, up on the hill, she made out her home at the top of the drive – granules of light sparked on, indicating that the other servants were now awake. A rooster began to crow as they melted into the darkness. It would only be a matter of time before the household sent out a search party.
    Â 
    The trauma caused by the dam burst scarred the entire village. For weeks sobs of despair filled the night like fireflies released from a jar and one could not walk into the village square without embers from holy paper fanned by the temple monks catching in your hair.
    Half a year had passed since the disaster. It had taken months to repair the damage and almost as long to recover the dead; for weeks decaying bodies, all bloated and white, were fished out of the river miles downstream, most of them unidentifiable. The official death toll was put at 32, but Lu See was sure that the number was more like twice that. And of course the feuding between the two clans intensified – each blaming the other for sabotaging the dam. She also remembered Sum Sum talking about seeing a man with a gun on the day of the tragedy. Who was this man? Why did he point the weapon at her? Nobody seemed to know.
    Lu See and her family attended every funeral – Muslim, Christian and Taoist. Some affected Lu See more than others. The dead baby, tightly swaddled in a white shawl, haunted her, as did the sight of Mr See, the grandfather who owned the pith wood store, with his wispy Chinese beard, so long it had to be tucked into his waistband. And at each one the grief was visible wherever she looked. Women clasped and unclasped their hands, swaying their bodies and shaking their heads. Men slouched over and stared at the floor, round-mouthed with despair.
    But it was her cousin Tak Ming’s burial that cut her up the most. Tak Ming was Second-aunty Doris’ only son. He was twenty. Lu See’s brothers, James and Peter, had been particularly close to him.
    When they lowered his coffin, Lu See let out a whimper like a strangled animal. Even Lu See’s father, who had taken off his hat and placed it over his heart, was bawling.
    Only Uncle Big Jowl stood without tears in his eyes.
    Later, she found her father, Ah Ba, in their garden. He was kneeling, resting his head on the root of a fig tree and when he saw Lu See he hugged her so hard it hurt her ribs. He reached into his pocket and took out his wallet. He opened it to reveal a photograph of a five-year-old Lu See and her two brothers sitting at the steps of the gazebo, a bowl of lychees beside them. Lu See wiped her hand on her skirt before taking the