how can she afford to come here?”
“Her youngest brother has sponsored her. Apparently he owns a restaurant in Toronto. Isn't that amazing? And he's applied to have her come as a nursemaid for his grandchildren. She wants to stay with me for a few days before she goes to live with him.”
“You mean Lily's going to be an amah?”
“Yes,” I said. “Sad, isn't it?”
“So many terrible things,” said Olga. “I mean, to have her child taken away from her and everything.” Olga was putting away the groceries she'd brought me, even though I'm perfectly capable of doing it myself. It's her way of letting me know she thinks I'm incompetent. One of the ways, because there are many. Olga thinks that because I never had children, I don't know anything about keeping house. But she's wrong; I know enough to do what I have to do.
“I know. I don't imagine she ever got over that,” I said, watching her.
“How could anyone?” my sister said. “And he was such a talented little boy.”
“I know. I wonder whatever happened to him?”
“Maybe she'll be able to tell you. She must have had some contact with him.” Olga sighs and looks around when she's done. “Everything's so shabby,” she says. She's looking at my old sofa and matching chair, upholstered in green fabric with large cabbage roses on it. “It's depressing.”
I've never cared much about domestic things. In Shanghai, I used to have a maid who came in every day to tidy up and do my laundry. Here a maid would be unthinkable, not to mention beyond my means. I live in an apartment over a hardware store on Gerrard Street in the east end of the city, and it suits me just fine. I have to climb a steep set of stairs to get up here, but for now that's not a problem. Someday I'll have to think about moving. Olga thinks it's low class.
“Only poor people live in apartments,” she tells me. “Especially apartments over stores. Respectable people live in houses.”
“Well, I'm not exactly rich,” I remind her. I'm treading a fine line here, because Olga and Jean Paul have offered to give me money many times, and I have always refused. “And besides, the hardware store has a quiet clientele, it closes at five o'clock every afternoon, and there are no cooking smells or cockroaches, no screaming neighbours and plenty of hot water. I never have to cut the grass or shovel snow. I'm quite content with my three rooms and kitchen.”
“For God's sake, Mother,” Anastasia says in exasperation, “leave Aunt Tati alone. She doesn't come into your house and criticize everything.” Olga gives me a look that says, You wouldn't dare. There's nothing in my house to criticize. But she remains silent. She knows she's crossed a line, and she's embarrassed that her daughter has seen it. It's a pattern that goes back a long way in our lives. I have never lived up to Olga's expectations.
“I'm sorry,” she mutters finally, but I know the next time she visits, she'll find fault with something else. On her way out the door, Olga turns. “Did they ever find out who killed that young man, Daniel?”
“Not that I know of,” I replied.
“Wasn't that brother of Lily's involved with the Green Gang? He was some kind of gangster, wasn't he?”
“You mean Number Two Brother,” I said. “He wasn't really a gangster, but he had a lot of power. He had some kind of government position. And the Green Gang had a lot of political connections. They wanted to get the foreign business interests out of China.”
“That's right,” said Olga. “Now I remember. You don't think he had anything to do with it, do you?”
“I can't imagine why he would,” I lied, “but I've always wondered.” I don't tell her of my suspicion that Lily's brother and Lily's husband arranged to have Daniel murdered. And I also don't tell her there were things I knew about Daniel that I should have told the police and didn't.
“Hmph,” Olga grunted as she made her way down the stairs in her heavy coat and fur-lined snow boots. “Ask Lily when she gets here.”
After Olga and Anastasia leave, I settle into my shabby but comfortable armchair and read Lily's letter again. It's clumsily written, as if she's translated it badly from Chinese. I think back to all those English classes with Mrs. Wilkinson and realize Lily probably stopped speaking English after the Communists took over.
“Dear Tatiana,” she writes,
I am sure you never would think to hear from me again, but I have found you. I have stayed living in China all these years and looking after children in an orphanage that Chairman Mao himself has built. It is a fine place for children who have no parents. They learn to read and write so they can be the best Chinese people for our Fearless Leader.
Now I find out my Number Three Brother has a restaurant in Toronto Canada. He has ask me to come and look after his grandchildren. Such an honour. The government has finally give me a passport so I can come. Now I will be able to see my old friend Tatiana if she will let me stay with her for a visit. The ship will come to Vancouver in February and then I will take the train to Toronto. There are many years to talk about. Many memories. So sorry not to write before but I am very busy with the children. I hope you look forward to seeing me.
Your old friend, Lily Tang.”
So many memories, I thought. Did I really want to relive those times?
Chapter Five
By the time Tatiana was fifteen, she was a regular visitor to Lily's home. Lily's three older brothers regarded her as a younger sister and treated her the same way they treated Lily. That meant they lectured the two girls, chided and teased them, and played tricks on them. Once, when the girls had dressed themselves in Lily's mother's cast-offs, including her French high heels, and had painted their lips red with a lipstick stolen from her dressing room, the brothers had charged into the room and tossed a bucketful of water from the fish pond at them, drenching them and leaving them covered in the tangled roots of the lily pads. Several large gold fish lay squirming on the carpet, gasping for air. Lily's brothers roared with laughter, their half-boy, half-man voices cracking with glee. Lily and Tatiana were furious and embarrassed at having been caught playing childish games. They screamed at the boys, and Tatiana picked up one of the fish and threw it at Number Two Brother.
“You're stupid, and I hate you!” she yelled, as Number Two Brother picked up the fish and threw it back at her.
“And you're a baby and ugly, just like my sister, only uglier because you have big feet!” he yelled back, still cackling as his brothers laughed like maniacs at the girls' fury. Lily started to cry, and that made the whole thing worse. Tatiana wanted her to behave like the women warriors she'd heard about in Chinese mythology, avenging angels who punished the evildoers who had wronged them. But Lily, perhaps because she was the youngest in the family and dominated by both tradition and three older brothers, could no more be a warrior than Tatiana could be a fairy princess. Lily needed protecting, but Tatiana had vowed she would never ask for protection from anyone. She would rather die.
The brothers were never punished, no matter how much of a mess they made. There was always someone to clean it up, usually one of the amahs, who would cackle and complain, but who was clearly amused by their antics. China belonged to men and boys, especially to privileged men and boys.
Lily's Number One Brother eventually went to France
