Part 24 (2/2)

”Yes!”

”Where?” She threw her arms around Joey and danced him around in a circle. ”Is she here with you? Outside?”

He shook his head, beaming. ”No. She's in Lunghua. Can you believe it?”

Her arms fell away. ”The prison camp?”

Joey knit his brow, puzzled at her tone. ”With the Americans and the British, too. Lunghua is not so bad, Sunny. There are even children inside.”

It was true. Sunny had heard that the conditions at Lunghua were more bearable than at many of the other sites that the j.a.panese still referred to as ”civic a.s.sembly centres.” ”How do you know Yang is there?”

”Guo-Zhi.” A silent labourer, Guo-Zhi had worked at the refugee hospital longer than Sunny had. ”His wife went out to Lunghua Camp to take food to her former employer-you know, that widowed Englishman. She saw Yang being unloaded off a truck out front.”

”Did Yang look well?”

”Her face was bruised and she had a limp, Guo-Zhi told me.” Then he hurried to add, ”But at least Yang was on her feet. This is so much better than what the news could have been.”

Joey was right. Sunny found solace in the knowledge that Yang was at a relatively safe camp, rather than in some torture chamber like Bridge House or buried in one of the ma.s.s graves, as she had come to fear. Still, she couldn't help but wish for more. She wanted Yang home with her.

The thought faded as Sunny saw the gentle curve of the Cathay Building ahead of her. Despite Shanghai's general dilapidation, the grand building-a fusion of Gothic and art deco design styles-gleamed as brightly as ever, sunlight reflecting today off its gilded motifs.

Sunny slipped in through the ornamental copper doors and hurried across the lobby to the elevator. As the car rose higher, so did her trepidation. She rarely visited Jia-Li at her home; her best friend often hosted clients there. Sunny had never before arrived unannounced, but today she had no choice. The whole neighbourhood had lost telephone service again. Besides, word had swirled through the ghetto that the j.a.panese were closely monitoring the phone lines. Few were willing to risk discussing anything on the line, especially any matters that could be construed as remotely sensitive.

Sunny stepped off at the ninth floor and approached Jia-Li's flat at the end of the hallway. She rapped three times on the door, then paused and tapped four times. Their signal.

A few seconds pa.s.sed, long enough for Sunny to wonder whether Jia-Li was out or indisposed. Then the door opened a crack. ”Are you alone?” Jia-Li whispered.

”Yes.”

The door opened wider and Sunny stepped inside.

Wearing only a black silk robe, Jia-Li greeted Sunny with a hug. Beneath her jasmine perfume, Sunny detected a trace of sweat and something else. a.s.suming that she had interrupted a client's visit, Sunny wriggled free of her friend's embrace and back-pedalled toward the door. ”I am sorry to surprise you, bao bei. I will come back later.”

Jia-Li reached for Sunny's forearm, pulling her back. ”What is this foolishness, xio he?”

”Honestly, it is no inconvenience,” Sunny said. ”I'll return later. When you are more available.”

Jia-Li glanced down at her short robe and then looked up, suddenly understanding. She cleared her throat. ”Oh, Charlie is home with me. We, um, slept in late this morning.”

The two friends stared at each other for a moment before breaking into simultaneous laughter, which soon evolved into a fit of giggles. ”Perhaps Charlie would have been safer staying with that refugee family after all,” Sunny choked out between laughs.

”He might have gotten more sleep,” Jia-Li joked.

A clopping noise drew Sunny's attention. She turned to see Charlie, s.h.i.+rt untucked, making his way toward her. The sound of his crutches against the wooden floor reminded her of hoof beats. ”Nice to see you, Soon Yi.” He smiled without a trace of self-consciousness.

Jia-Li wiped a happy tear from her eye and then locked elbows with Sunny. ”Come, sit with us. I'll make tea.”

As they settled themselves, Sunny shared the news about Yang. It led to another hug and more giggles of relief. The women sat down side by side on the couch, while Charlie eased into the room's sole wingback chair. Sunny noticed how empty the apartment was. On her last visit, it had been filled with decorative objects: paintings, sculptures, rugs and ornaments, including a ma.s.sive gilded candelabrum and an ornately painted Ming vase. Sunny wondered if Jia-Li had hocked her possessions to help support the Adlers with ”loans” that they would never be able to repay.

”As you can see, xio he, I have uncluttered somewhat.”

Sunny squeezed her hand. ”All your beautiful decorations, bao bei . . .”

”Were out of style anyway. I think it looks better this way. Better feng shui.” Jia-Li looked over to Charlie with a loving grin. ”Besides, none of my vases stood a chance with my one-legged rhinoceros stampeding about.”

He laughed. ”I am still light as a feather. Even on only one foot.”

Despite his gauntness, Charlie looked more robust than he had on Sunny's last visit. ”You are feeling stronger, Charlie?” she asked.

He flexed his elbow. ”I could lift you both with one arm.”

”You have done enough lifting for one day.” Jia-Li laughed and this time Charlie reddened slightly.

Jia-Li's joy was contagious. Sunny was also relieved that, unlike on her previous visits, Charlie had yet to mention his impatience to return to his troops. As though reading her mind, he leaned forward in his chair and said, ”I still intend to get back to my men, but priorities have s.h.i.+fted.”

Sunny looked from Charlie to Jia-Li. ”So I see.”

”No, no,” he said. ”I mean the Flying Tigers.”

Jia-Li eyed Charlie warily, but he didn't seem to notice.

”The American planes?” Sunny asked.

”Exactly!” He almost jumped out of his chair with excitement. ”They crossed overhead on their way to the river again this morning. I counted them as they flew home. They did not lose a single fighter.”

”So American planes will keep him in the city,” Jia-Li said to herself as she lit a cigarette. ”At least something will.”

”You know how important this is, precious,” Charlie said. ”It means the war is coming to Shanghai.”

Suddenly uneasy again, Sunny asked, ”Hasn't the war been here since the first bomb fell on Hongkew?”

”That battle was lost years ago. Our incompetent generalissimo wasted half his army trying to defend the city without adequate air support.” Charlie motioned to the ceiling. ”Now, with the help of the Americans, we can finally turn the tide against the Rbn guzi.”

Jia-Li turned to him dubiously, a cigarette dangling from her lips. ”You don't mean us, Chun? Surely not.” It was the first time Sunny had heard her use his Chinese name.

”I do.” He nodded enthusiastically. ”From inside the city, too. No longer out in the countryside.”

”But how can you help the American planes, Charlie?” Sunny asked.

”The Rbn guzi can only move troops and supplies in and out of the city via the river or the railway,” he said.

Jia-Li sat up straighter. ”Then why can't the Americans bomb those?”

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