Dragon Land (40 page)

I felt a pang of emotion when the train crossed the Forth Bridge and a feeling of joy when we crossed the Tay Bridge. I hurried to the East Station on my last leg of the journey and caught the teatime train to Carnoustie. It was dusk by the time I walked to the cottage, and the sea was grey and choppy.

I couldn't see any lights on when I walked up the garden path and a feeling of panic gripped me. I couldn't see why Margaret would be out so late with a toddler. When I reached the door, it was locked.

I looked in through the windows, but there was no sign of life. Thankfully I knew where Margaret kept her spare key – it was still hanging from the hook in the shed. I switched the lights on and everything looked neat and tidy, but there had been no fire lit, at least not that day. Margaret's bedroom was the same as I remembered it, and the other bedroom had some children's books and a few toys in it, so Peter had been here, but where were they now?

By now the cold had really made me shivery, so I lit the fire and put the kettle on. I missed the warmth of Macao, Shanghai and Hong Kong, but the fire soon heated the room up. I had no idea who to call, but because I was so weary from all the travelling I decided to make something to eat; then maybe Margaret and Peter would come through the door.

It was the paper boy next morning who woke me. I hurried to the door, but he must have been running because he was away down the road. I told myself that everything must be all right if the paper boy was delivering the newspaper.

After a hurried breakfast, I made my way into town. I thought my best bet would be the post office, so I went inside. A young girl was behind the counter, but when I asked about Margaret she shook her head.

‘I don't know any Mrs Cook, sorry.'

I was almost in tears when a woman came in.

‘Do you know a Mrs Cook?' asked the young woman. The woman said, ‘Yes, I do. Why do you ask?'

I almost threw myself at her. ‘I'm her niece, Lizzie, and I'm looking for her.'

The woman looked at me in surprise. ‘Her niece from Shanghai?'

I said yes. ‘I've just returned from Macao and I'm looking for my son, Peter.'

‘Well, I knew she had a little boy living with her, but I don't know where he is now. Your aunt is in the Royal Infirmary, as she had an accident and banged her head against a rock.'

‘Oh my God,' I said. ‘Where has the little boy gone?'

‘I think someone came and took him away, but I think that was before she had the accident.'

I was almost in tears. Who had taken Peter away and why had Margaret allowed it? I couldn't understand it. My mind was in a whirl. I had to go to the infirmary to see her and find out what on earth had happened.

I caught the train and hurried up to the infirmary. It wasn't the visiting time, so I had to wait another hour in the waiting room. As the visitors streamed into the wards, I found out which ward Margaret was in and hurried along the corridor.

She was in a large ward, but she was sleeping when I got to her bed.

‘Margaret,' I said, gently nudging her. ‘It's Lizzie, Margaret.'

She opened her eyes and said, ‘I thought you were dead,' before going back to sleep.

I went to see the ward nurse, who said Margaret was recovering from a bad fall on the beach and was suffering from concussion. ‘She may not know who you are, but she should get better soon.'

I explained about Peter, but the nurse said that no child had been in the house when she was brought in a week ago. Margaret was sitting up when I returned, but as I sat down she said, ‘Thank you for coming, Beth.'

I held her hand. ‘I'm not Beth; I'm Lizzie, Beth's daughter.'

Margaret looked at me, but I could see that she wasn't the woman I had left when I went off abroad. She must have had a bad knock to cause this confusion, but as I was leaving the nurse came and said the doctor wanted to see me.

I met him in his room and he came straight to the point. ‘Mrs Cook can go home now, as she has recovered from her head wound.'

‘I'm worried about her confused state of mind, doctor. She doesn't recognise me and I'm worried about my son.'

‘I don't understand,' he said. I told him the entire story about Peter's evacuation back to my aunt's house and how he was missing.

The doctor was nonplussed. ‘She didn't mention a little boy when she was brought in. Have you spoken to some of her friends?'

‘I don't know all Margaret's friends or where they live, so I don't know who to ask.'

‘Well, you can come and take your aunt home tomorrow, and her memory will come back, unless of course she was getting forgetful before her fall.'

Before going home, I decided to go to see Maisie Mulholland at Victoria Road. I felt a bit guilty because I hadn't written to her since I'd sent Peter's photo. It was strange being back where I used to live with Granny and Mum, but there were different curtains on our window and a new nameplate on the door. I lingered for a few moments as the memories came flooding back, then went next door to see Maisie.

When I got to her door, there was a young woman coming out pushing a toddler in a pushchair. For one moment I thought it was Peter, but when she turned I realised it was a stranger.

‘I'm sorry to bother you,' I said, ‘but I'm looking for Mrs Mulholland.'

The woman gave me a sympathetic glance. ‘Oh, I'm sorry, but Mrs Mulholland died three months ago. Are you a relative?'

I was shocked. ‘No, she was a neighbour of ours a few years ago.'

Why hadn't Margaret let me know? Then it struck me that her letter would have gone to Shanghai after we had left. I felt like I was living in a nightmare where everything had changed and I was no longer in control of my life. It was like being on another planet.

I got back to the house and there was a note from the newsagent apologising for sending the paper to the house on the day I arrived and saying there would be no charge as the shop owner knew Margaret had been taken to hospital.

The weather had turned colder and bleaker, and the sea was a dull grey against an even greyer sky. I had never been so miserable in my life, but I hoped to write to Jonas's father in Ireland and get his help, as he was my only hope.

I knew Margaret's friend had said someone had taken Peter away before Margaret's fall, but as I sat looking out the window I had terrible thoughts. Why had Margaret been on the beach when she fell? Had she taken Peter to play on the sands and had he run off into the water? Was that why she had fallen? Had she been running after him and had he been washed out to sea?

I stood up. I had to try to banish these awful thoughts from my mind. Was this how parents of missing children felt? Did they imagine terrible scenes until they could no longer contemplate living without their child and went slowly mad?

I asked myself if this is what my mother had gone through when Dad was missing, and I realised that she had. At the time I hadn't understood her obsession with maintaining he was still alive, but now that I was in the same situation it was tearing me apart. All through the journey to get back home I had thought that Peter and Margaret would be here and that we would be reunited, but instead I had these nightmarish visions and was wondering where he was and if he was safe.

The next morning I went to the hospital and Margaret was discharged. I was worried about my financial situation in addition to everything else, but I managed to get a taxi to take us back to Carnoustie.

Margaret looked normal as she sat looking out of the window, but when she saw the sea her eyes lit up. ‘We're going home, Beth,' she said, turning to me, then frowning. ‘You're not Beth.'

‘No, Margaret. I'm Lizzie, your niece. Don't you remember me?'

She didn't answer, and I saw the driver give me a puzzled frown in his mirror.

Thankfully we soon arrived at the house and I ushered her in. I had put the fire on before leaving and the room was lovely and cosy. I put her in her chair and went to make some tea and toast. When I came back, she said, ‘Yes, it's Lizzie. I thought you had died.'

My heart soared. Maybe she was getting her memory back.

‘No, Margaret, I didn't die. I left Shanghai, but Jonas, my husband, is missing. Did he contact you?'

‘Jonas, Jonas … No, I don't know anyone called Jonas.'

I let it pass, as it would take some time for her to remember everything. She enjoyed her snack and said she would have a lie-down, as she felt tired. It was so sad, because Margaret had never been tired in all the time I'd known her. She had been my rock, but now she was frail. I realised she was an old woman with a failing mind.

I was writing my letter to Jonas's father when she came through. She was holding a teddy bear that had belonged to Peter. It was threadbare now, but he had loved it as a baby.

‘Peter's teddy, he forgot to take it with him.'

I leapt up. ‘Yes, Margaret, where did Peter go when he left his teddy behind?'

She frowned, as if thinking hard. ‘Jonas took him to his uncle's house. He told me Lizzie was dead and he needed his family to take care of Peter, but I don't think he wanted his teddy.'

I was almost delirious with joy. Jonas was here in Scotland and he had Peter. Although I knew the address of the farm, I didn't know the telephone number and so had to go out and find it.

Margaret had never put a telephone in the house, so I said to her, ‘I have to go out to make a phone call. I won't be long.'

I knew there was a phone box in the main street and I made my way there. A large directory hung from a chain, but it only listed the numbers for Dundee and district, so I made my way to the post office in the hope they could help me.

Thankfully the postmistress was on duty behind the mesh screen and not the young woman who hadn't been any help previously and didn't seem to know anyone. I explained my problem and she kindly looked the number up for me.

‘You can use my telephone, as I know your aunt very well.'

It seemed ages till I was connected, but after a few rings it was answered by a man. His was a voice I loved so much and thought I would never hear again. It was Jonas.

I was crying but just managed to blurt out, ‘Jonas, it's Lizzie,' before I had to sit down.

The postmistress took over the call, and I heard her crisp, business-like voice tell him that I was phoning from Carnoustie and that I had turned up a few days ago and was now with my aunt.

She put the phone down. ‘He's coming straight away with your son and will be here as soon as possible.'

I ran to her side and gave her a hug. ‘Thank you so much,' I said with tears streaming down my face.

When I got back to Margaret, I said, ‘Jonas and Peter are coming here, Margaret. Isn't that wonderful?'

She gave me a blank stare and said, ‘Jonas: do I know him?'

I could only offer up a prayer of thanks to whatever god looks after us. Margaret had had a lucid moment prompted by the appearance of the teddy bear and my life was wonderful again.

It was as I stood up that I realised I had been clutching my jade pendant all the time from the ordeal of the telephone box up to now, when I was back in the house.

‘Thank you, Mr Wang, wherever you are now,' I said.

Margaret said, ‘Do I know a Mr Wang?'

‘No, Margaret, but you would have loved him if you had.'

I was still waiting later that day and even went to stand outside in the street. I heard a train go past and I hoped Jonas and Peter would be on it. I had no idea how long it would take them to come from Dumfries, but I was counting the minutes.

I was on the verge of going back inside when I saw two figures walking up the road, and I ran down to meet them. Jonas took me in his arms and we both hugged Peter. We were crying and Peter joined in, but I kissed him and said Mummy was back and not to cry. He was clutching a toy car, and never in my life had I thought I would experience such joy.

As we walked back to the house, Jonas said he never thought I had died. ‘You're a survivor, Lizzie, but I had to face the likelihood that you had drowned in the typhoon.'

I said we would talk about it later, after we put Peter to bed.

Margaret was waiting for us and she seemed to recognise Peter. He ran to her and wanted her to pick him up, which she did.

‘Do you want me to read you a story, Peter? Well, go and get one of your books from your room and I'll read it to you.'

I was amazed how quirky memory could be, as one minute Margaret looked blank and the next she was holding a conversation. I suspected it was words and objects that triggered her memory and made her remember.

Jonas gave her a hug and she responded. He took a bottle of whisky from his bag and said, ‘I think we all deserve a drink to celebrate Lizzie's return.'

Margaret said she wanted a gin and tonic. I found the bottle in the kitchen cupboard and we sat at the fire while she read Peter a story. Later we had a lovely meal and put Peter to bed.

Margaret said she was also tired, so she left the room. Jonas and I sat on the sofa with our drinks.

‘I thought you were also dead, Jonas,' I said. ‘I left you a letter when Zheng Yan, Ping Li and I left to go to Hong Kong. Did you get it?'

He said he had. ‘Alex and I went to Peking as planned, but the Japanese air force was bombing it and it was a terrible sight: fires everywhere and dead bodies lying in the streets. We were both shocked by the brutality of the attacks, but after Alex filmed the carnage while I wrote my notes we decided to leave. The roads were blocked by thousands of refugees fleeing the city and we took ages to travel a few miles. It was when we stopped for a break that a Japanese aircraft flew overhead and dropped more bombs. The poor people on the road didn't have a chance and entire families were wiped out. The grandparents, parents, children and babies … It was terrible. I was hit by a piece of shrapnel and lost a lot of blood. Alex saved my life, Lizzie: he made a tourniquet from his scarf and tied it around my thigh. He drove for a few miles till someone said there was a Mission hospital in one of the villages that had escaped the bombing. The doctor was a man called Crawford who had come out to China from Aberdeen. Well, he managed to stem the flow of blood, but he said I couldn't travel on the pot-holed roads as I would start bleeding again. We stayed there for over two weeks and then set off. There were more air raids and we had to take our time. We gave a lift to one young girl and her baby and took them to Shanghai, but by then the Japanese were also bombing the city and there were lots of dead people lying about.'