He turned back to the boy. Sigmund had large black eyes, skinny arms, and a boyish look. He was about fifteen or sixteen, just a little older than Miriam. “Sigmund, I don’t want you to leave yet. Say, would you like to help me in the bakery?”
Sigmund jumped and hugged him. Ernest patted his shoulder; Miriam could use a friend.
On the way to the inn, Ernest thought about how to find Miss Margolis. He must find her and deliver the power of attorney to her. Without the fund, the eight thousand refugees could starve to death.
56
AIYI
“But why?” I said. We were in bed. I had one leg on his stomach, the other brushing his thigh. We had just made love. My veins were still pulsing, a sweet sensation coursing through me like a dream. It was so comfortable I was about to fall asleep.
“She threw me the scarf with the power of attorney that has something to do with a half-million-dollar loan for the refugees. Now she’s missing, and the refugees are starving. I need to talk to her.”
“You don’t have to, Ernest. You don’t know where she is. You barely know her.” Ernest’s kindness was his strength and his flaw. He needed to be more selfish.
“Will you help me?”
“Me? How?”
“You know many people in this city. Someone must have heard of the camp.”
“Maybe. But why do you want to help them?” There were many helpless Jewish refugees, that was true, but with the Japanese still bombing our cities every day and trying to conquer all of China, there were thousands of Chinese refugees. Ernest couldn’t help everyone. Besides, if the social worker was in a camp, it would be dangerous for Ernest—he could get arrested himself. There was no reason Ernest should risk his life for some refugees he didn’t know.
“These people don’t have anyone else to help them. They can’t speak Chinese, don’t have a job, and they’re starving.”
“Many people are starving.”
“Aiyi.”
I rubbed myself against him. “Would you listen to me or the refugees?”
It was only a tease, hardly a test, and by no means a trial, but I couldn’t explain it. A new sense of possession, like a web, had expanded with our intimacy, and he, like a dress that was tailored for me, had become a prize I was unwilling to share.
“Of course I’ll listen to you. I just need to find Miss Margolis.”
“Then what? Get her out?”
“I don’t know. Help me, Aiyi, please. Help me find out where the camp is. People’s lives depend on it.”
His eyes glistened brightly. I had seen men lecturing, laughing, boasting, throwing tantrums, and beating women, but I had never seen a man cry for other people’s plight. I sighed. “Let me see what I can do.”
Honestly, I had some more-pressing matters to think about than finding the camp. I had been living in the inn for about two blissful months, dining on the plain food the innkeeper made, which I never would have touched before, applying the cheap Snow Flake cream bought on the street, and living in the few ready-made changes of clothes Ernest had bought for me. I needed a long-term plan for our future. The day of my wedding with Cheng had passed, and it was time for me to be engaged to Ernest in a proper manner so I wouldn’t be a disgrace—an announcement in a newspaper at least. And that would require some reconciliation with Cheng, who must be cursing me, and Sinmay and my family. I couldn’t hide from them for the rest of my life. And as for my future with Ernest, we needed a home. I also needed money.
Yet Ernest didn’t seem to give it a thought. A brief mention of moving in with him. That was it. And now his preoccupation with the refugees.
Still, I gave my chauffeur a gold necklace and asked if he could help find the location of the camp. It took him a few days. Then he reported that the Japanese had sent the alien enemies to eight internment camps in Shanghai. Two were large camps: one was in the Pudong district near the tobacco factories across from the Huangpu River, and the other in the Longhua area in the southern suburb of Shanghai. As far as he knew, the Americans and Netherlanders were sent to Pudong, the British to Longhua.
Now that I knew the locations of the camps, I was reluctant to tell Ernest. It was dangerous to go to the Pudong island. There were no bridges between Pudong and the Settlement; a ferry was the only way to get across, and some ferry people, I’d heard, were unscrupulous. They might agree to take Ernest across but then leave him on the other side. Besides, the Japanese patrolled the river regularly. If they caught any suspicious people crossing the river, they would shoot the boat and capsize it.