Page 54

The way to the shop took longer than expected.

A few times, Anyu, exhausted, had to lean on the telephone poles to gather her strength; fortunately, for all her bloodstained face and tattered shirt, few people cast her a second glance.

Many hurried on or peered at the sky. Vaguely, she heard some thuds echoing in the distance.

The Japanese fighter planes were bombing the Zhabei District and the Old City, the areas where the Chinese lived, people said.

When she turned onto the familiar street, busy with commercial banners, she quickened her pace. The shop’s door was unlocked, and she burst in.

It was no longer a jewelry store but a shop selling packets of cigarettes and bottles of imported whiskey and gin. Mr. Dearborn must have turned it into one of his shops. No one was behind the counter.

“Esther!” she shouted. “Esther!”

No one answered. She made her way to the hallway, the kitchen, then the workshop—it was locked.

She went upstairs, found no one, and came down.

Signs of human habitation were throughout, with utensils and photos in the living quarters—there was a portrait of Mr. Dearborn, Esther, and Matthew on the wall. They must have left temporarily.

Anyu wondered what to do. She was tired and wanted to rest for a while, but she couldn’t linger, fearing Kawashima would pursue her. For a moment, she sat on a chair near the shelf. Then, as if in a dream, she heard a noise and saw a shadow rush to her from the front door.

“Anyu? Anyu! It’s you. Thank God! I can’t believe you’re here!”

It was Esther. She looked beautiful, with a red dress, a leather handbag, and an Art Deco gold necklace with round, faceted sapphires. Beside her was Matthew in his navy overalls and brown oxfords—a big boy now. How he had grown up!

Anyu wanted to laugh but cried instead. “Esther! It’s so good to see you. I was wondering where you were. I saw you under the ginkgo tree. Every time. You always came.”

Esther was crying, too. “I wished I could speak to you, but they wouldn’t allow visitors. Look at you ... Oh, Anyu.”

“I look terrible, I know.”

Esther laughed. “Oh my God. I’m so happy you’re alive. You could have died. All the blood, and your face. Are you hurt?”

“I hit my head. I’ll be fine.” She wiped her eyes, but for all her determination to stand straight, she swayed.

Esther caught her. “There. I’ve got you. What do you need? What can I get for you? Some porridge? Some whiskey? A cigarette?”

“I don’t need anything.”

“I have missed you! I didn’t know they were releasing you today.” There was a honk coming from the street, and Esther said, “Oh, Anyu, I could talk to you forever, but we have to go. It’s not safe here. The Japanese are bombing Shanghai. The Nationalists are fighting back in the sky.”

“Where are you going?”

“We were ready to go to a shelter in the American consulate until Patrick returns from his business trip, but I forgot the passports, and we had to come back. Maybe you can come with us. Will you?”

“I can’t.”

Matthew, hiding behind his mother, peeped at her. If she could hold him, she would be so happy. Did he still remember her? For two and a half years, she had dreamed of uniting with Esther and Matthew, but who would have known that when the moment came, it would be time to say goodbye again.

“Why not?”

“I escaped from Kawashima’s residence. She would have killed me. I worry she’s not going to give up.”

“What happened?”

“She was the one who killed your father and your family and robbed us.”

“Kawashima?”

Anyu took the box from her shirt pocket. “Look. I got it back.”

Esther took a deep breath. “The Winter Egg. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard of it, but my father never showed it to me. You should take good care of it. You’re the chief designer of the House of Mandelburg.”

It was good to hear that—the chief designer of the House of Mandelburg. Her house. Her brand. She wanted nothing more than to keep crafting jewelry and restore the house’s glory. “But I can’t stay with you. I have to leave this city. Kawashima is alive. I fear I would put you in danger.”

Esther hesitated. “I don’t want you to leave.”

If only Esther knew how much she wanted to be with her and Matthew.

“Where will you go?”

“I think I’ll go to Harbin. That’s the only place I know. I’ll take the train.”

“Now?”

Anyu nodded.

“You’ll need a ride to the station. Come on, let me get our passports, and I’ll take you. At least we can spend a few minutes together.”

Anyu couldn’t decline the offer. When Esther returned with their passports, they went outside. Darkness had fallen; a car was waiting for them. Anyu ducked inside after Esther, and with one look at the driver, she cried out.

“Confucius?” He was at the wheel! “What are you doing here?”

“Anyu, is that you?” His eyes were round with surprise. “When did you get out?”

“Today, just now. But why are you here?”

“Oh, Anyu, Confucius has been working for Patrick since you left. He’s our chauffeur.

He’s looking after me since Patrick is in Hong Kong.

He also informed us of the Japanese plans to attack a week ago, and that was why we were able to save our stock.

” Esther hoisted Matthew to her lap. “To the station, Confucius. Anyu wants to go to Harbin.”

Anyu beamed. Confucius had learned how to drive; he had listened to her and found a respectable job. He had grown a beard, and he actually looked like a decent man in his brown fedora. It was impossible to confess how she felt, but while in Kawashima’s residence, she had missed him.

“Harbin? Why?” Confucius started the engine.

“I can’t stay in Shanghai. It’s not safe for me or everyone if I stay,” Anyu said. The car started to move, and she turned to Matthew. “Matthew? Do you remember me?”

He nodded, his blue eyes guileless, intent.

Anyu extended her arms; Matthew looked at her for about two seconds and then climbed closer to her. Her heart exploded with joy. He was six years old and still her little Matthew.

“Does it hurt?” He peered at her.

“Oh, my face?” She wiped her forehead. “It’s just blood. It doesn’t hurt at all.”

He handed her something—a miniature red tractor, meticulously detailed, with wheels, a trailer, and a sleek, realistic design. “Do you like it?”

“It’s very nice.”

“You can play with it if you want. It’ll make you feel better.

You do it like this.” He held the seated farmer figurine, turned the steering wheel, then snapped open the front engine compartment to show the engine and the cabin—his new famous Graham-Bradley toy.

His fingers were dexterous. He would be a gifted jeweler.

“Shit.” Confucius was reversing the car.

“What’s wrong?” Anyu asked. The car swerved. In the dark, she could see they were turning onto a broad avenue near Avenue Joffre, but a double-decker bus, spewing smoke, had blocked the street.

“The Japanese Imperial Army is guarding the streets.”

Was Kawashima trying to stop her from running?

Confucius swiftly turned the wheel and drove into a narrow alley where people carried sacks of sand to barricade the streets. All the buildings were dark to avoid attracting the bombers.

“Hold on!” He turned sharply onto another lane, and for an agonizing moment, the car bounced and belched, narrowly avoiding crashing against the white fences near the streets. Finally, he pulled out of the twisting lanes and came to a wide boulevard.

“We’ll need to take a detour.”

It was then she heard a loud noise. One of the tires had burst.

“Shit!” Confucius shouted again, winding through the street, willing the car to move forward, dodging the debris in his way. Eventually, the car slowed down and stopped moving. He turned off the engine and got out.

Anyu followed. In the dim light, she could make out the traditional Chinese compounds with walls and several two-story houses. She didn’t know where she was, but she could tell they were far from the station and the consulate.

“Confucius, could you hail a taxi and take Esther and Matthew to the consulate?” Anyu said. With the flat tire, she couldn’t reach the station, but Esther could still go to the consulate by taxi.

“That can certainly be done,” Confucius said.

“What about you?” Esther climbed out of the car, holding Matthew’s hand.

“I’ll find a way to the train station.”

“I’ve been thinking, Anyu. I don’t want you to go to Harbin.

You don’t have a family there. Patrick is in Hong Kong; why don’t you go there?

He’ll take care of you. There are ships at the wharf in the International Settlement that sail to Hong Kong every day, and the Settlement is spared from the bombardment. ”

“Hong Kong?”

“You’ll be safe there. It’s ruled by the British.”

That could be a good idea. She would be away from Shanghai but remain in touch with Esther and Matthew. Anyu stroked Matthew’s head. How wonderful it would be if she could watch him grow up. “I’ll go to Hong Kong.”

“I know a safe way to reach the wharf. I’ll take you,” Confucius said.

“Without a car?”

“Yes.”

“I prefer going with you to the wharf if you don’t mind me tagging along, Anyu. My bad leg might slow you down, but I’d rather not leave you, and it’s hard to find a taxi with the bombing,” Esther said.

I’d rather not leave you. Anyu felt a wave of warmth course through her. Esther, who had visited her every month, who had let her know she was not forgotten, whose love and constancy had nourished her during the darkest hours of her imprisonment. Esther, her friend, her sister, her blessing.

“Of course.” Anyu kissed Esther’s cheek and took Matthew’s hand. “Let’s go.”

“Follow me.” Confucius dove into a dark alley.