Dust on the Wind

By Dave Siddall

Chen Lee's back was on fire. Hours spent digging for cockles in the soft mud of the bay had caused agony. She stopped walking and stretched her back hoping the pain would disappear. It didn't. She shook her head. Nothing went right in this strange land. Up ahead, her fellow workers trudged towards the shore and the line of vehicles that would take them back to the English city they called home.

But it wasn't home, nor would it ever be.

Chen Lee looked at the sky and felt her tears begin to well. She stifled a sob. She had promised herself she would never cry. And she wouldn't. She took a deep breath, wiped her eyes then set off once more towards the shore.

The bay was a huge expanse of tidal mudflats. Flowing from the land, rivers and streams cut channels into the soft sand and at one of these Chen Lee paused and stepped down into the water. She had been warned about these gullies: quicksand and deep mud made them treacherous places. But with the tide not yet turned, the eddy flowing seawards was shallow and benign. She rolled up the legs of her yellow waterproofs, took off her boots and let the sea wash over her tired feet. And then she waited.

The boy was unfamiliar. Yet on the few occasions she had looked up from her work, she had found him gazing at her as if she were known to him. Unlike the others when the whistle had blown and the work finished, he had lingered, walked behind her at a discreet distance as if wanting to speak but too afraid. Now he had nowhere to go.

She heard him reach the lip of the gully and turned quickly. Seeing her, the boy gave a gasp of surprise. Beneath his feet the soft sand gave way, his legs crumpled and he rolled down the slope. He came to a stop sitting in the water beside Chen Lee. She wanted to be stern, to ask who he was but in the end couldn't help herself. She put a hand in front of her mouth and began to laugh. She looked over the boy. He was around the same age as her, nineteen or twenty she guessed and though she tried to frown, his deep, mournful eyes aroused a sympathy she thought long forgotten.

“Why are you following me?” she asked.

He climbed out of the water and brushed lank hair from his eyes. “I thought you may be a friend.” He looked at his feet. “No one talks to me.”

“Oh,” said Chen Lee. “Then you haven't been here long?”

He shook his head.

“People don't mean to be unkind, but they have worries of their own. If you listen to someone else's story they're afraid they will lose something of their own. You see?”

The boy's forehead knotted and Chen Lee wasn't sure if he understood her meaning. For a little while they stood listening to the wind blow across the sand. Then Chen Lee jerked her chin towards the shore. “We must go or we'll be left behind.” They climbed out of the gully and began to follow the others.

“Are you sad?”

Chen Lee stopped walking. She stared at the boy wondering if he were mocking her. But his face remained passive and there seemed no malice in the question. She looked away and filled her vision with the bleak wastes of the bay. “Yes,” she said, “I am sad when I think of home.” She took a deep breath, and then she told him. She told him of her parents and their farm by the mountains, she told him of the rice and sugarcane they grew and her mother's cabbage patch where a blue-eyed mongoose had its home, and she told him about the day the officials came and took half their land, and the time when they took the rest. When she finished, Chen Lee turned away and wiped a hand across her face.

The boy reached out and gently touched Chen Lee's arm. “It is a sad story.”

For a moment neither spoke. Then Chen Lee asked, “And you?”

The boy scanned the horizon. “I come from a place near the sea. In the summer it is so hot the sun bakes the land and in winter it is so cold the sea freezes. My people are fishers and live from what they catch. But times were bad and I had to leave. They told me this was a good land, a fair land, a place of opportunity and great wealth.” He shook his head. “But I have seen nothing of this. I have met many like us and it is as if we do not exist.” He lowered his eyes. “We are like dust that blows on the wind Chen Lee, invisible until caught in someone's eye.”

For a little while he was silent and stared at the sand beneath his feet. Then he looked up and smiled. “But this is better than the other place they sent me. At least here I am near the sea.” He opened his arms to encompass the bay. “Maybe good times come soon?”

Chen Lee sighed. “Maybe,” she said. “What's your name?”

“Lin Tzu,” he said. And he blushed as if he were telling a great secret.

* * *

Chen Lee mopped the sweat from her face. The Cherry Valley 's kitchen was uncomfortably hot. She had been there since the early hours, the alarm waking her from a deep sleep and a dream where she played with a blue-eyed mongoose in a field of cabbages.

In the corner of the kitchen was a door leading to a small office. Mid-morning and she paused, watching one after another of her fellow workers enter then leave clutching brown envelopes. Fridays were paydays. Midday came and so did her turn.

Yu Wen sat behind his desk engrossed in the lurid details of the print he held in his hand. It depicted his new club - ‘ Sin City '. Chen Lee cleared her throat. Yu Wen put the leaflet down and stared at her. His long, oval face had eyes that missed nothing and Chen Lee had the idea he was stripping away her tardy white overalls and comparing her to the calendar of nudes on the wall. She stiffened and locked her hands.

Yu Wen smiled then turned his attention to the envelopes on his desk. Finding one with Chen Lee's name, he handed it over. She tore it open and counted the notes. Immediately she felt a flush of heat.

Yu Wen watched. “Problem?”

She nodded. “There – must be a mistake. The money isn't right.”

A muscle to the right of Yu Wen's mouth twitched. His face, pock marked by some childhood trauma observed the girl through narrow, unblinking eyes. He reached forward and snatched the envelope from her hand. He flicked through the contents then tossed it back. “All is correct.”

“But it can't be.”

Yu Wen's face didn't alter. “Perhaps I forgot to say – I've increased the rent.”

Chen Lee closed her eyes. In her world, he controlled everything.

Yu Wen held up his hands, it just wasn't his fault. “Costs Chen Lee: food, laundry…”

“I do that myself.”

“You do understand?”

Chen Lee bit back her anger. An increase in rent for a room she shared with five others. “And last night,” she surprised herself by staring into his black eyes, “there is no money for digging the fish.”

“Your bags were light.”

Her mouth dropped. “My bags!”

“I run a business Chen Lee. Underweight bags are unprofessional.”

“But you cannot know they were my bags.”

Yu Wen's lips parted in a fleshy smile. “I know everything.”

Chen Lee looked again at the ragged envelope and the money within. “With this,” she said, pushing the envelope under Yu Wen's nose, “I can hardly look after myself, let alone send money back to my parents.”

Yu Wen had a face of stone. “I am a not a charity Chen Lee.” His voice dropped. “You should be thankful you have work. There are many others who would wish to be in your position.”

Chen Lee dropped her eyes. “But it is not enough.”

Yu Wen held up a hand to show he had not finished. “I am not unsympathetic to your situation Chen Lee. There are,” he made an open handed gesture, “other ways of earning money – lots of money.”

Chen Lee's heart flickered.

“I've watched you Chen Lee, watched the way men look at you. You are young, unskilled.” He rose from his chair and moved to the front of his desk. Sitting on its edge, he ran a finger down her cheek. “You know I have a club.” He pushed the leaflet on his desk towards her. “Men pay much for purity Chen Lee.” He pulled a face, “Ten thousand Yuan, maybe more. It is an opportunity to clear your debts. You may even earn enough to return home.” But then,” he said as a sneer creased his face, “you may enjoy the life I offer.”

Chen Lee's hopes turned to dust.

Yu Wen searched her eyes and was about to make a further suggestion when the door opened and two men entered the room. One was short with black hair combed over his bald scalp while the other was tall, straight and imposing. He wore a dark suit, stood several paces behind the other and clasped his hands in front of him.

Yu Wen's lips parted in an unnatural grin. He removed himself from the table and went to greet the smaller of the men. “Chan,” he said, “what brings you here?”

“I need an excuse to see a friend?” He threw his arms around Yu Wen and clasped him in a bear hug.

Yu Wen's laugh was forced and the pat on the back little more than a formality. “I take it this has nothing to do with last night?”

Chan opened his arms. “Well now you mention it – that girl.” He shook his head in distaste.

Yu Wen nodded. From around his neck he removed a key threaded onto a golden chain. Moving back around his desk he opened a draw and removed a white metal box. Placing the key in its lock he opened the lid. It was full of £50 notes. Chen Lee gasped, she had never seen so much money. Yu Wen looked up and flicked his hand in her direction. “I will speak to you later Chen Lee.” As she turned to go, he began placing notes in front of Chan. “Perhaps,” he said, “you will do me the honour of visiting my club again tonight?”

Jimmy Chan raised his brows.

“On the house of course,” and Jimmy Chan's face broke into a huge grin. He nobly bowed, acquiescing to his friend's suggestion and from his inside pocket took a fat cigar the same size and shape as one of his fingers. As Chen Lee passed he waved it behind her.

“New stock Yu Wen, or keeping the best for yourself?” Chen Lee closed the door on their laughter and walked away.

* * *

Tormented by Yu Wen's offer, Chen Lee walked the streets. There was a place she knew, a place of solitude where she often sat and thought of home. It was a walled, semi-circular area overlooking the river. It was her private place. As she turned the corner she stopped, for on one of the benches lining the wall was a familiar figure. Lin Tzu was staring over the railings at the river. She hesitated then sat beside him.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Looking.”

She frowned. “At what?”

He tilted his head towards her. “I like to look at the water.”

Chen Lee sighed. “You are easily pleased Lin Tzu.”

“Yes,” he said, “I am.”

For the first time in a long while, Chen Lee smiled. There was a childlike pleasure in everything Lin Tzu saw, felt or heard: the wind on his cheek, the cry of a gull even the insipid warmth of the February sun was a sensation he treasured. She closed her eyes.

“Are you still sad?”

Chen Lee turned to look at him. “Not so much,” she said. “Not now.”

There was an easy silence between them. The tide ebbed and Chen Lee watched the river begin to flow seawards. “What are you thinking about?”

“The sea,” said Lin Tzu. “Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to swim to its

very depths or to drift forever on an ocean current.”

Chen Lee frowned. The boy was an enigma. Yet in some inexplicable way she felt drawn to him.

“What about you?” he said.

“I'm thinking of my parents. Today is Yuan Xiao, our day of reunion, a day when we should be at home with our families. Do you miss yours?”

Lin Tzu shrugged. “My mother is dead. I never knew my father.”

“I'm sorry.”

Lin Tzu shrugged. “Some say he left before I was born, some that he died.” His eyes met hers and Chen Lee saw a smouldering fire within. He shifted in his seat. “Others say he was a great fish that got caught in the nets. Mother freed him and that night he came to her and left me as a gift from the sea.”

Chen Lee stared at Lin Tzu. She waited for him to laugh and tell her it was a joke. But he didn't, he appeared perfectly serious. She watched the light wane in his eyes. “But then,” he said, “perhaps it is just a story.”

Chen Lee nodded. “Perhaps.”

The silence stretched. Chen Lee fidgeted and wondered if she ought to leave Lin Tzu to his fantasies. But before she could make up her mind, he spoke again. “Do you have a dream?”

“Everyone dreams Lin Tzu.”

“I mean a special dream?”

Chen Lee's mind retreated to the mountains of Fujian . “When I was a little girl I had lots of dreams. Now I have only one.” She looked Lin Tzu in the eye. “I just want to go home.”

Lin Tzu shrugged. “Why don't you?”

She snorted, “Because of this.” From the inside pocket of her anorak, she withdrew the battered envelope. “If I don't send money home, my parents will starve.” She looked down at the envelope and her anger blazed. “And do you know what I have seen?” And when Lin Tzu shook his head, she told him everything. At the end, when her anger subsided and despair filled the void, she looked down at the floor. “And in that tin there was more money than I'd ever seen in my life,” she said. “And the more I looked the more I realised it was my money and your money and everyone who has ever worked for Yu Wen. He holds us like slaves.” She shook her head. “What am I to do?”

For a long time Lin Tzu was silent, then slowly he began to speak. “You already know Chen Lee, but are afraid to say.”

Chen Lee stiffened. “You talk in riddles. There is only one way of making enough money to pay the ‘Snakeheads' who brought me here and clear my debts.” She took a long breath. “And that is to sell myself.” She stared blankly through the railings.

Lin Tzu reached out and took her hand. She tried to snatch it back but he held it tight. With his other hand he tapped his temple. “You are not using this.”

“You're laughing at me.”

“Think Chen Lee. You work for Yu Wen?”

“Yes.”

“And what he pays is not enough.”

“You know it.”

“And you say he has a big box with money.”

She stammered. “Yes.”

Lin Tzu spread his hands. “Then take the box.”

Chen Lee opened her mouth then promptly shut it. “Steal Yu Wen's money?”

Lin Tzu shrugged. “You have already worked for it. How can you steal something that is already yours?”

“But,” Chen Lee began, “he has a key.”

“On a chain around his neck.” Lin Tzu smiled. “All we have to do is take it.”

Chen Lee looked hard at Lin Tzu. “We?” she said.

Lin Tzu shrugged, “Of course.”

“You are quite mad,” she said then laughed as if he had solved all her problems. On an impulse she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. Just for a while she could believe in dreams.

But to those whose pleasures are hard won, dreams pass quickly. Chen Lee looked up to see Yu Wen striding along the promenade. She dropped her arms from Lin Tzu but it was too late, Yu Wen had seen. His face was blank but she knew what lurked behind his thin smile. “I need you on the sands tonight,” he said. “There is much work.” He looked at Lin Tzu and nodded. “Bring your friend. Everyone is needed.

* * *

A savage wind blew across the bay and cut into Chen Lee's face. The cockle beds were as desolate as ever. She looked at Lin Tzu. He was on his knees and using a wooden sieve to wash mud from the shellfish. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and began to rake the sand. Familiar pain creased her back but she didn't care, her dreams of freedom lay ruined in the sand at her feet.

So numb were she that when Yu Wen led Lin Tzu away, she hardly noticed. For a moment she stood and watched. “Where are you going?” She asked.

“I need him elsewhere.” She began to follow but Yu Wen held up his hand. “Only

him.”

Chen Lee stuttered to a halt. She looked at Yu Wen. Did he know of their plan, could he truly read their minds? But if he did there was little sign. Lin Tzu said nothing. He smiled at Chen Lee and followed Yu Wen towards the dark line that marked the sea. Chen Lee resumed her digging. Every few minutes she raised her head and looked for Lin Tzu. He didn't come - but the dark did.

Spreading its wings across the bay, a great mass of cloud boiled over the horizon. It brought rain. Great spots spat in Chen Lee's face. She fastened her lamp around her head and soon her world consisted of that which was held within its glow. She looked across the sands. Spread over a wide area, the lights of her fellows bobbed like fireflies. With little enthusiasm she raked then riddled the shellfish until her back was a circle of pain. At that moment she could have walked away, left the rake and bag on the sands and disappeared. But the idea of leaving without Lin Tzu prevented her and she peered once more into the gloom. Chen Lee narrowed her eyes. Though she did not understand what, she sensed something wrong.

Soon it became apparent.

A fierce onshore wind had turned the tide early. As she watched, the lights of the workers nearest the sea began to move towards her. Then panic broke. The sands were alive with dashing yellow lights. Suddenly they were all around her. Chen Lee grabbed the sleeve of one who was bolting past. It was Yu Wen. He squirmed in her grasp, but she twisted the material so tightly he could not break free. In the yellow cone of her headlight she saw his wide, frightened eyes. She pulled him close. “Where is Lin Tzu?”

“Gone.”

Like sand running through an hourglass her body emptied. “Gone?” She whispered.

Yu Wen tore his arm free from her grasp. “I lost him when the waters came.” He gestured helplessly in the direction of the sea and in the moment it took Chen Lee to understand, he scrambled away. She stared after him. Turning to face the oncoming sea, she hoped to see one more yellow light. But there was nothing. She looked to the shore. Still she hesitated and looked to the place Lin Tzu should have been. She called his name, but the wind threw it back in her face. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she turned and began to run for the shore.

* * *

Chen Lee had a long loping stride and after shedding herself of her coat and boots, she made good progress. The sea was a constant companion. Sure as life itself, it pursued her across the barren wastes. Faster than a man could run, it surged across the sand carrying all before it. Eventually it found her. In one motion it washed across her feet, swirled up her legs and continued towards the land leaving her to flounder in the knee high flow. It pushed her on but every second the water deepened. At last when she thought she could go no further, the sand began to rise. It marked the edge of a sandbank. She ran along its length. But hope turned to despair for at its end, a deep gulley crossed her path.

Her body ached, all she wanted was to lie down and sleep. Behind her the sea gushed through the gulley. Soon it would come. Chen Lee put her face in her hands. Even now she would not cry and she looked once more at the black, rising tide. There was movement in the water below her. She gasped. He was no more than a shadow but she knew him instantly. She ran to him and threw her arms around his neck. “Lin Tzu. I thought never to see you again.” Questions burned. She started to speak but Lin Tzu placed a finger against her lips.

“No time,” he said. “We have to go.” For a moment she could not move. Then he smiled and Chen Lee would have followed him anywhere. Lin Tzu took her hand and led her to the gulley's edge. “We have to cross,” he said. “It is treacherous, but if you stay close we will be safe.”

Chen Lee felt the warmth of his hand in hers. She squeezed his arm. “When Yu Wen returned alone,” she said, “I feared for you.”

Lin Tzu nodded. “He took me to the very edge of the sea. I believe he did not wish for me to return.”

Chen Lee placed her head on his shoulder. “I am never going to let you go.”

Lin Tzu gently brushed her hair. “Maybe,” he said, “you will have to.”

She began to mouth a reply but before words came a voice drifted to them. It was a forlorn cry, a broken cry and it came from the dark. They stopped to listen. And then it came again.

* * *

Yu Wen was buried to his chest. He had tried to traverse the gulley and fallen into a glutinous mixture of loose wet sand. It held him like a vice. The more he struggled the more it solidified. Fear made him a fool. Dark spectres rose before him: his ancestors, the shade of his father and he felt the full weight of his disapproval. “Father,” he cried, “help me.” And though it was the last thing he expected to hear, an answer came.

“Your hand.”

Yu Wen gasped. More frightened of shadows than he was of death, he froze. But like a blind man whose only salvation lay in the unknown, he reached out. Finger touched finger, a hand almost clasped his own and Yu Wen pulled for all he was worth.

* * *

Lin Tzu was falling. He dropped Yu Wen's hand and threw himself flat. Careful not to be sucked into the mire, he slithered back to Chen Lee. “He wouldn't wait for me to get a decent grip.”

She held his arm. “It's hopeless.”

Aware now who his rescuers were, Yu Wen began to whine. “You can't leave me. It's inhuman.”

Chen Lee tugged Lin Tzu's arm. The water had reached the lip of the gulley. “We have to go.”

But Lin Tzu shrugged her hand aside. With his eye he measured the distance between Yu Wen and safety. It was just too far. He heard the sea racing through the channel behind him. In a moment it would flood. He looked once more at Yu Wen and started to back away.

“Wait.” Desperate now, Yu Wen took the chain from his neck, looped it around two fingers and tossed it to Lin Tzu. He caught the key in one hand. Gently he teased Yu Wen's hand towards his own. Yu Wen strained. Further and further he forced out his arm. Their fingers touched. In that very moment the chain snapped. An icy hand clutched Yu Wen's heart. For the sea had breached the gulley and came flooding over the sandbank. The sand shifted beneath him. Yu Wen managed a single cry. He spat, shook his head from side to side but it was no use. Water rushed into his open mouth. He choked, retched but could do nothing except swallow more of the foul liquid. As the water rose above his head the turbulence softened and calmness descended. A vision appeared: he was a kid in bare feet running once more to his grandfather's house. And he smiled, for he remembered the days were good.

* * *

The water surged over Chen Lee. Knocked off her feet she was tossed around like a rag doll. Clawing the water as if it were a coffin lid, she tried to regain the surface. But the torrent was too strong. It pulled her down. Every sense urged her to scream. Fear burnt her soul and she knew, had no doubt whatsoever that this was the end.

On the point of passing beyond life, she felt a surge in the water around her. Suddenly she was rising. A hand had gripped her own and was pulling her from the depths. Breaking the surface in a welter of spray, she began to cough. The cold night air seared her lungs but she didn't care: Lin Tzu had found her.

She tried to smile, she tried to tell him she were unafraid. But already Lin Tzu was swimming hard, pulling her towards the shore. Waves broke against them, cold ate her bones and every yard was a hard won victory. Yet slowly, ever so slowly the shore's pale lights drew near.

Somewhere near the land she lost Lin Tzu's hand. She was so cold she didn't realise. One moment it was there, the next it had gone. She struggled through the shallows and fell onto the hard shingle beach. For a little while she stayed like that, thankful to be alive. Hugging herself for warmth she looked around the beach. She was not alone. Crying and retching up seawater, refugees from the sea surrounded her.

She turned to look at the black sea. Once, only once did she see something. Darker than the encompassing water, a shadow appeared and lay flat on the surface. But as her keen eyes speared the night and her sharp ears listened for his voice, nothing materialised. Only the wind and the waves remained. And then it was gone.

Sirens wailed in the distance.

She took a deep breath and turned her back on the sea. As she moved away she felt something in her pocket. It was a key. Somehow, without her knowledge, Lin Tzu had slipped it into her pocket. She gripped it in her fist and knew what she must do. As the first blue lights arrived, Chen Lee melted into the night. She had promised never to cry. But as she turned away, a single, unasked for tear rolled against her cheek and splashed into the dust at her feet.