on it. And when Monday night come, I take a shower and go to her house in East Kingston.
Next morning when I set foot inside the gate at Matthews Lane I see Ma up the top of the yard feeding the ducks, and Zhang sitting at the table finishing his tea. So I walk past him and I head to my room. But just as I put my foot on the step with my back to him, and him sitting at the table with his back to me, he say, ‘Your mother start to fret last night when you don’t come home, but I told her it was alright because I knew where you were.’
And I say, ‘Thank you,’ and step into my room.
2
But Zhang don’t like it. First of all he just ignore it like maybe I going get over it, sorta grow outta Gloria. Then when this no happen he start make comments ’bout what sorta thing a honourable woman do, what kinda life she have, and how she act and suchlike; and how a dishonourable woman will bring a man down. According to Zhang a shameful and disloyal woman is the one single source of a man’s ruination. Then after that no work him start talk ’bout how I need to meet a nice Chinese girl and now every day he is mentioning to me the name of every man in Chinatown who has a daughter. He can’t see that I am not interested, that the time is going by and my life is full. Because apart from seeing Gloria three times a week, I am busy driving US navy surplus all over Kingston and double counting eggs because I discover that the Chinaman on the chicken farm in Red Hills can’t be trusted. Plus Gloria introduce me to two of her friends so now I have three houses to look after. The last thing I need to be thinking about is getting a wife.
But Zhang don’t care. He is on and on at me morning, noon and night and he is beginning to vex me now. So I agree to go up the Chinese Athletic Club and see what going on. I reckon that will shut him up. When I get there I find a bunch of kids playing ping-pong and drinking lemonade.
Then them tell me they organising a garden party. Zhang, and now Ma, very excited. It seem like this is the best thing to happen since Mao Zedong win the war and they set up the People’s Republic of China. Zhang and Ma fuss me so much that Sunday morning I barely make it outta the house on time, with Zhang looking at me all expectant like, and Ma waving me goodbye, and Hampton stand up in the yard with his hands on his hips laughing like him witnessing a clown show.
She was there though, with her dark wavy hair pin in a neat bun at the back of her head, and hips, and lips, and hands that she wave about all the time she talking, and throwing her head back and squeezing her eyes tight shut when she laugh. I ask somebody who she is.
‘That is Fay Wong.’
‘You mean Henry Wong daughter?’
‘That’s the one.’
So then I know there is no point me even going up to her because most likely she wouldn’t even talk to me. Henry Wong is one of the richest Chinese men in Jamaica. He own supermarkets, wholesalers and wine merchants all over Kingston, Ocho Rios and Montego Bay, and he have a big house uptown busting with servants. And I think well if Zhang reckon Gloria not good enough for me what is he going make of Fay Wong? So right from that moment I had her in my sights.
When I go back to Matthews Lane Judge Finley tell me that Henry Wong is a regular player at the mah-jongg tables in Barry Street. So the next time Henry Wong come down to Chinatown I get a professional to lift his wallet, and that give me a chance to go uptown to return it.
The Wongs’ house on Lady Musgrave Road got a semi-circular driveway, and between the two entrances a grass tennis court with a big red hibiscus hedge. The house sit on top of a flight of concrete steps with a wide tiled veranda, and a low white-concrete balustrade. And all over it there is wicker armchairs and little tables. The flower bed under the veranda crammed with all sorta colours and shapes, pinks and purples and reds, and to the side there is a twelve-foot-tall angel’s trumpet, which I know, come evening, is going to put out a real strong, sweet, heavy scent.
When I get on this veranda I see they got a swimming pool ’round the side with some nice little almond trees for shade. Then I see a black woman filling up one of them big wicker armchair. So I introduce myself and she say she is Cicely Wong, who I know is Henry Wong’s wife.
I tell her what my business is and I reach out with Henry Wong’s wallet in my hand but she don’t take it from me. Instead she call out, ‘Ethyl,’ and this girl come running outta the house like Miss Cicely just call out ‘Fire’, and it turn out that she is the one that is going to take the wallet from me, and then pass it directly to Miss Cicely.
Then Miss Cicely ask me if I want to join her for afternoon tea. Well, this I know about, so I say, ‘Thank you.’ And she tell me to sit down. She move her embroidery so that I can sit on the chair right next to her.
But no sooner than I sit down she stand up and sorta march over to the edge of the veranda and start shouting, ‘Edmond, gather up those mangoes from under the tree, I don’t want them turning to pulp on the grass there around the swing. You need to sweep up all that rubbish from ’round the back as well, all sort of rotten fruit and things ’round there. And when you done that cut back that poinsettia, can’t you see it getting too big for that corner.’ And she come back and sit down again. Edmond standing up under the tree look like him tired. But I don’t know if it from overwork or from Miss Cicely yelling at him.
Before Ethyl finish pour the tea Miss Cicely is on her feet again. ‘Lord, Edmond, what is it you think we paying you for? Every other garden down the road look better than this one. The garden next door look like it belong to a palace and their gardener is only part-time and a old man at that, not a young sap like you. Make me wonder if I should ask him to come over here and see what he can do to help us out. I keep praying to the good Lord to see if he can send you some inspiration, but He don’t seem to be paying me no mind. When the ecumenical women’s group come here next week I want the place looking spick and span and beautiful, you understand me? I don’t want it looking like this while you leaning up under a tree shading yourself and acting like you sweating from exhaustion.’
Miss Cicely take a liking to me though, and after that day a week didn’t go by without her inviting me for afternoon tea. So week after week I was sitting there drinking tea while I watch her instruct the butler, and arrange the menu with the housekeeper, and check the grocery bill, and dish out household chores to the maids; all of the time Ethyl keeping us cool with ice-cold lemonade, and at four pm precisely, Earl Grey tea with tin salmon and cucumber sandwiches, and a slice of Victoria sponge cake. Well this bit I never did with Gloria, so I wait and watch and make sure that I do everything just exactly the same way Miss Cicely do it, and that seem to work out fine.
I find out a lot about Miss Cicely. First of all that she like chocolates and grapenut ice cream, so I always make sure to bring plenty of that. Also, she like Chinese men.
‘A Chinese man,’ she say to me, ‘is hardworking and diligent. He is prudent and steadfast in his resolve to make a better future for himself and his family. A Chinese man hunts out prosperity. Not like the Africans. The Africans are irresponsible and unreliable; indolent and slipshod. They squander every penny. That is why I married a Chinese man. And why my daughters will also marry Chinese men.’
Another time she tell me, ‘I can see you have money in your pocket, Philip. You are well dressed, and well mannered and charming. Yes, quite charming, and quite good looking if you will excuse my impertinence. I understand you have a shop in downtown Kingston. When I married my husband, Mr Henry, he had only the one shop as well.’
Every now and again she tell Fay to come sit on the veranda with us and Fay do it, but she don’t seem that interested and after a while she get up and go back inside, or she make an excuse that she have to go somewhere and she leave the house. I keep thinking I should try to say something to her. If I could get her talking ’bout something she might sit there for longer than five minute. But every time I open my mouth she just look at me like she thinking ’bout something else, and she don’t even seem to care that it rude to just sit there and nuh say nothing to me.
After my visiting with Miss Cicely I say to Finley, ‘Cicely Wong, she talk one way to the help and a completely different way to me. When she talk to me she sound like a proper Englishwoman and every afternoon she serve Earl
