Last Night at the Telegraph Club(86)

“What did you find?” Judy asked.

Her niece held out her hand and revealed a purple-and-black mussel shell, perfectly empty, with a bone-white interior.

“All the good shells are crushed today,” Lily said. “There was only this.”

She raised her arm and threw it back into the ocean, but it landed lightly on the foam-crested wave that was rolling back to shore, and the water ushered the shell right back to them, depositing it at their feet.



* * *



—



They walked back to Playland side by side, staying on the hard-packed sand as long as possible until they had to strike off over the shifting sand dunes. Judy took one last look at the horizon, imagining she could see over the edge and across those thousands of miles of open water, all the way to the harbor in Shanghai.

When they reached the amusement park, she saw Francis before he saw them. He was standing outside the Fun House, laughing, as Frankie and Eddie tugged long strands of cotton candy from the spindle he held in his hand. Judy knew, somehow, that Eddie was about to turn around and raise a handful of the bright pink candy and wave it vigorously at Lily as he saw her—and he did—and Lily waved back, smiling.

似曾相識, Judy thought. The sensation of having already met someone, or what the French called déjà vu, the feeling of having already seen something. There was probably a scientific explanation for it, but the older she got, the more she was inclined to give in to the feeling that these moments were glimpses into a world greater than this physical one. It was as if there were cycles that repeated themselves over and over, but most people never saw the repetition; they were too deeply enmeshed in their own path to see.

In one cycle, she had already experienced this day at Playland, and part of her brain remembered it. Did that mean that she had always been destined to come here, to this city in this land so far from her home? She slid her hand into her pocket to feel the mussel shell, which she had picked up out of some kind of vague superstition. If the ocean had tossed it back to them, that must mean they should take it. All these signs, she thought, pointed to this moment, and then this one, over and over again.





PART VI


Secret Love




January 1955





39





The headline on the front page took up the entire width of the newspaper that Lily’s father was reading: TEENAGE GIRLS ‘RECRUITED’ AT SEX DEVIATE BAR. Lily felt all the blood rush to her head as she saw it. The toast she was chewing turned dry as dust in her mouth, and she had to choke it down with a sip of coffee.

The story didn’t seem to make much of an impression on her father. He finished the article he had been reading and folded the paper back on itself, hiding the front page, then glanced at the clock over the stove. It was eight twenty-six on Saturday morning, and he was on duty at the Chinese Hospital that day.

Lily had barely slept last night, lying awake waiting for morning so that she could call Kath. It was almost an appropriate hour now, but the closer she got to dialing Kath’s number, the more nervous she became.

Lily’s mother was packing up her father’s lunch and saying, “You’re sure you can pick up a roast duck? I don’t have time. We have to clean the flat.”

“Yes, I told you I will.”

“And you’ll be back before Judy and Francis arrive?”

“Of course. They’re not due in until eight o’clock tonight.”

“Mama, when do the firecrackers start?” Frankie asked.

“At midnight, but you’ll be in bed.”

“Why can’t I go see them?”

“There will be more tomorrow. They’ll be going off all week.”

Eddie, who had been crunching through his bowl of Sugar Frosted Flakes, said, “Lily, what’s wrong?”

She had stopped eating her breakfast. She picked up her piece of toast again and forced herself to take another bite. “Nothing.”

Her father looked at her over the edge of the newspaper. “You’re not feeling sick?”

“No.”

“Good.” He dropped the paper on the table and stood up. “I’d better go.”

“Why did you ask if she was sick? Are you sick, Lily?” her mother asked.

“No.”

“She was up late last night,” her father said. “I thought she might have caught what Frankie had.”

“I’m fine,” Lily said.

Her father picked up his lunch from the counter. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Lily got up and dumped her half-finished piece of toast in the trash before her mother could notice she hadn’t eaten it all.

“Lily, I need you to stay home today with Frankie,” her mother said. “I have a lot of errands to run.”

“I don’t need her to stay with me,” Frankie said. “Eddie can stay with me.”

“Eddie has to do his homework, and you’re still recovering. Lily will be here. Wait—when do you need to meet Shirley?”

“Not until six. The judging happens at seven but we have to get there an hour early.”

“That should be fine, but make sure to eat before you go. I won’t have time to make you dinner.”