Fiction

By Christine Coleman
(First of Two Excerpts)

The following comes from Paper Lanterns (Novel Press, 2010, Birmingham, England, 287 pages), a novel by British author Christine Coleman set on Hong Kong's outlying Lamma Island. Ann, the protagonist, became estranged from her mother, Vivienne, when the latter left the family for Stuart, a much-younger man, just before Ann's 16th birthday. Now middle aged, Ann hears that Stuart has left Vivienne, and she feels obliged to fly to Hong Kong where her mother has lived for three decades. Here, Ann first arrives on Lamma.


Now she's close enough to see the long ferry pier jutting out into the still water of the bay, and the small flat-roofed houses nestling on the slope of the hill among tall trees. And there, on the near side of the pier, a tiny collection of wooden shacks on stilts, perched above the water and the rocks on the shore line, and behind these, a small inlet with a cluster of little boats.

“I think I'm a bit too tired to be excited,” Ann says. She couldn't begin to say how she feels about seeing Vivienne, but dread might be closer to the mark than excitement. Better not to think about that.

Strange how entrenched in the brain impressions can be, based on television or picture books, even when words have already painted a quite different view. Not only her mother, but George, too, has told her how Lamma is nothing like the street scenes of the built-up areas of Hong Kong. There are only two main villages on this island. No roads. No building above three stories high. The rest is undulating hillside, rocky bays and sandy beaches.

Ann takes several deep breaths as the ferry draws up alongside the terminal building. She's grateful for Dawn's company as she follows the other passengers across the gang plank onto solid ground and up a similar painted slope to the one she descended a short while ago, tugging her red case behind her; then out of the building into bright sunshine.

The first thing that strikes her is the row of bicycles that straddles the top bar of the metal railings on each side of the long, concrete pier. She hesitates at the edge of the track as the other passengers stroll along towards the harbour front, some reclaiming their own bikes and pedalling slowly, wobbling a little as they swerve to avoid the people hurrying towards the terminal. Will one of these be Constantia? She hadn't realised that Filipinas might outnumber the Chinese. Maybe Dawn knows her – she seems to know everyone. Should she start walking, or wait where she is?

“Miss Ann?” A plump smiling woman in her late thirties is standing a few feet in front of her. “You are Ann? Mrs Vivienne daughter?”

“Oh! Yes. I’m Ann. You must be Constantia,” she says, holding out her hand. “I'm very pleased to meet you.”

“Got to dash now,” says Dawn, stepping forward from where she was standing behind Ann in brief conversation with another young woman. “I'm due in the shop. Say ‘hi’ to Viv for me. Been great meeting you, Annie. Don't forget, you're coming to my party. Bye then. See you later! Oh, hi, Connie. See you around.”

Ann feels an unexpected pang as she watches Dawn disappear into the stream of people. Sweet. A lovely child. Not likely to bump into her again, though -- or maybe, if this Poppy is a friend of Vivienne's… but still, nice to feel that she found her likeable enough to be invited to her party.

“I take your case now. Mrs Vivienne say to bring you to where she sit. Please follow.”

Constantia steps towards the suitcase, and Ann releases the handle gladly. She's suddenly overwhelmed with weariness. What time is it in England now? Somewhere around five o’clock in the morning? Is this what jet-lag feels like, drained of every ounce of energy, and a hollow sensation in her stomach? If only she could postpone her meeting with her mother until she's had a good night's sleep.

At the end of the end of the pier, Constantia waits for Ann to catch up. “You are tired from the journey, I think?” she says.

Ann nods, and manages a weak smile. She doesn't trust her own voice; the kindness in Constantia’s has triggered a stinging sensation inside her eyelids. She blinks and looks around her as the track veers to the right along the waterfront and leads them under a yellow canopy between a shop front on the left with its displays of tanks full of large, colourful fish and, on the right, white-clothed tables overlooking the small boats in the bay. It's like walking through the middle of somebody's house.

“Vivienne sits nearby. She will eat lunch with you at next restaurant. Very good fish.”

As Ann inhales the sweet and spicy smells of cooking, her dry mouth is suddenly awash with saliva. It's reassuring to realise that the queasiness must be hunger.

The next moment there's a squeak of bicycle brakes, a shrill ting-a-ling and two young Chinese girls on cycles speed by, calling out, “Sorree! So sorree!” as Ann sidesteps out of the way, banging her thigh against the edge of one of the tables.

“Very dangerous – bicycles. Many, many bicycles on Lamma,” says Constantia, looking concerned as Ann rubs her leg.

“I’m fine,” she says. “Just a little tired.”

They've passed a few small shops and now Constantia halts at another restaurant with tables shaded by a large canopy. “Mrs Vivienne, I bring your Ann.”