Monsoon (9 page)

Sandy told them how the little nun came to this bay and was told of the deserted temple and how she'd asked to be brought here to thank the ancestral spirits who had watched over her. Local people came on feast days and ceremonial occasions to pray and make offerings at the temple on the hill, and gradually word spread and it became something of a pilgrimage to visit the nun living simply in a small hut beside the old pagoda. Visitors came away enriched by the woman's piety and faith for she had suffered so much adversity and seen so much horror but remained serene.

When Sandy asked her about her blindness. She told them in a mixture of French, English and Vietnamese. ‘I do not miss seeing very well. I see shapes, a little light, a little dark. Enough for my needs. I believe the taking of my sight is a blessing. I see in my mind those things I wish to see: good people, lush rice paddies, blue sky and sea, my cooking pot, yellow star fruit and pink watermelon. When I taste food I remember good times with my family, my sisters and my brothers. When I hear your voices, I remember friends and teachers. In this place I see and hear and remember what is good. The spirits come and speak with me. I am not alone.' She smiled. ‘And how may I help you?' she asked simply.

‘We came thinking to help you, Mother,' said Sandy softly, summing up what they all felt. ‘But you have given us far more.'

Hung had chopped the fruit and gave them each a bowl of sweet sticky rice and the fruit on top as an offering. They followed the nun to the altar, where in turn they set a bowl at the foot of the statue of Buddha, lit sticks of incense from the burning candles and, with hands clasped, bowed three times and offered a silent prayer.

‘We should go back now,' said Hung quietly. ‘I will wait outside.'

‘Can I take your picture?' asked Tom, and he led the old nun to the doorway.

Anna was deeply touched by the atmosphere and lingered before the shrine, trying to settle the many emotions she felt.

Suddenly the nun was beside her, touching Anna's arm and smiling. She handed Anna another stick of incense, and guided her hand to the candle flame. ‘Pour votre famille,' she said softly.

Anna's hand shook, making the candle flicker. She placed the sweet burning stick in the brass bowl filled with sand and stood as the nun prayed, bowing deeply.

The nun straightened and from the folds of her robe she withdrew her hand and, taking Anna's, placed a small object into her palm, folded her fingers over it, patted it and turned away.

Anna was strangely moved and she stood there, studying the altar, before opening her hand. Lying in her palm was a tiny green jade Buddha.

Sandy came back inside and spoke softly, not wanting to intrude too abruptly on her friend's meditation. ‘Anna, we've got to leave now. Hung says something to do with the tide.'

Anna nodded, then pointed to the altar set with offerings. ‘Look. Isn't that like the plate we saw in Mr Thinh's studio?' She pointed to a plate that held nuts and dried herbs and a roll of folded palm leaves.

Sandy lifted up the plate and examined it. ‘It is too. And it's old, not an imitation. Now where do you suppose this came from? It's museum quality.'

Hung appeared behind them. ‘That plate came from our village. It is for offerings.'

‘Hung, it's very valuable – it's old, very famous Vietnamese porcelain,' said Sandy.

He showed no reaction. ‘We must go or the tide will cover the last of the beach; it can be dangerous getting back to the boat.'

‘Are there any more ceramics like this in your village?' Sandy asked Hung.

‘There might be. There are stories of treasures hidden in the crevices of some of the cliffs,' he said. ‘Come, let's go.'

‘Hung, if any more ceramics or porcelain come into your village, please, take them to a museum or a reputable art gallery,' said Sandy. ‘They are worth a lot of money.'

‘If things are found they will be sold quietly.' He went outside and motioned to Tom to follow and set out towards the track back down the hill. In the late afternoon sunlight they watched the elderly nun make her way unaided around the back of the pagoda.

‘Hung knows more than he's letting on,' whispered Sandy.

‘What's that?' asked Tom.

‘There's a very old porcelain dish on the altar. Hung says it was found in the floating village.'

‘Doesn't sound likely. Unless it was in a shipwreck like the haul of Chinese porcelain that was found in the South China Sea somewhere a few years back. Fetched a good price at Christie's,' said Tom.

‘Hung had a visitor late last night. Someone paddled over from the village with a huge bamboo crate,' said Anna.

‘Probably dried fish, or local hootch,' said Tom.

‘You're the journalist. This could be a story, Tom,' said Anna.

‘That nun is a story. What an incredible old bird,' he said. ‘She's even got a vegetable garden going round the back.'

Kim was waiting at the wharf when the
Harvest Moon
returned the next morning, and Sandy introduced him to Tom before Sandy, Anna and Tom effusively thanked Captain Chinh and Hung for the trip.

‘Can we give Tom a lift back to Hanoi, Kim? Better than the bus he came down on,' said Sandy.

‘Of course, plenty of room,' agreed Kim, taking Tom's backpack and stowing it in the boot.

‘We're going back via Hai Phong,' Kim told them. ‘It's where the fish project is that HOPE is involved with. I have to check on how things are running.'

‘Is there anything else there?' asked Anna.

‘It's a big sea port, very industrial, but the city has some lovely colonial architecture – it's like Hanoi used to be. Still a little sleepy and great seafood.'

By the time they had taken in the sights of Hai Phong, they decided to stay for lunch and found a shady courtyard restaurant specialising in local seafood. Sandy began asking Kim about his hiking trip and what wildlife he'd seen in the national park.

Tom turned to Anna. ‘So, Anna, what's your story? What do you think of Vietnam?'

3

T
HEY WERE THE ONLY
people left in the shady courtyard of the little restaurant. The owner settled himself at a table inside to eat his lunch. The clatter of dishes and chatter drifted from the kitchen. The jangle of bicycle bells and car horns in the street seemed far away in the somnolence of the early afternoon.

Tom stretched. ‘If anything the food in Vietnam is even better than I remember. Simple rural cuisine but served with sophistication.'

‘Yeah, well, it's not that “simple”. Some of it takes hours, even days to prepare,' said Sandy.

‘This is a nice little place, more for westerners, but I wouldn't call it sophisticated compared to some places in Hanoi,' said Kim. ‘Not that I can afford to eat at the Metropole or some of the other tourist restaurants.'

‘I haven't had any desire to eat upmarket. I've only been in Hanoi a week, and I'm bowled over by what a lovely city it is,' said Tom. ‘When I was in the south all those years ago Hanoi was far away and a closed city inhabited by communists and the North Vietnamese regular army. I imagined a grim, regimented place shattered by the war. But the city is charming.'

‘It might have had a lot of masters from the Chinese to the French but they've left interesting and beautiful buildings. Unfortunately the ugly cement jobs that are around are souvenirs of the Soviet alliance,' said Sandy.

‘I like the energy: everyone is active and there are so many young people,' said Anna.

‘The majority of the population are under thirty-five,' said Kim. ‘Baby boomers don't rule here!'

‘Talking about young entrepreneurs, are you going to check out your fish farm people?' Sandy asked Kim.

‘Yes, would you like to come along? The project is the first of several like this for HOPE. The co-op is planning to move up to freezing and exporting fish and shrimp.'

‘We won't be long: it's near the harbour. Or you could stay here, have some dessert, coffee, a cold drink,' Sandy suggested to Anna and Tom.

‘That sounds good to me,' said Tom.

‘I'll keep you company, Tom,' said Anna. The fish farm might be a worthy project but it didn't appeal enough to trail around after Sandy and Kim on HOPE business. She found Tom easy to get along with and so she picked up the menu to choose a dessert.

While they waited for sweet sticky rice and coconut to finish the meal, Tom sipped his beer. ‘So, Anna, is this a holiday, a girls' own adventure or a pilgrimage?' He unconsciously slipped into journalistic mode.

Anna smiled. ‘It seemed a good idea at the time. Although I admit I did initially need a bit of persuading. Anyway, I took leave, kissed the boyfriend goodbye and was on a plane not long after Sandy emailed me.'

‘Ha, boyfriend. Serious? He didn't want to come here with you?' asked Tom.

‘No way. Well, Sandy didn't invite him. Sandy thought it would be nice to have time out together, like we did as kids. She's always been the ringleader. I don't think she likes Carlo much. He's Italian. This place doesn't hold much interest for him.'

Tom studied the beautiful girl sitting opposite, her long straight black hair, dark almond eyes, high cheek bones and full lips an indication of her Vietnamese heritage. But her tall elegance, the same open and healthy vitality as Sandy, her sense of humour and her friendly manner came from her Australian upbringing. He'd seen what close friends the girls were and he wondered how Anna felt about her best friend not appearing to like her boyfriend.

‘You said you and Sandy met in kindergarten. Were your families friends?'

‘Our fathers are both in the car business so became friends and, living in the same street, Sandy and I played together, started preschool together. Sandy's mother has always kept an eye on me since my mother died, though my dad's mum stepped in and lived with us and raised me.'

‘So you and Sandy are a bit like sisters.'

Anna paused, thinking back to those days, which, while mostly carefree, were also dotted with a few unpleasant incidents. If it hadn't been for Sandy and her mother, Patricia, Anna might not have coped with them as well as she had.

Maroubra, Sydney, 1985

It was a holiday and they were at the beach. Two big umbrellas, a carpet of towels, an Esky filled with cold drinks, chilled prawns and fruit, paper plates, plastic containers of sandwiches and rolls.

Anna watched her mother, Thu, take out her favourite food – savoury cucumber, meat, spiced tomatoes and green herbs chopped and rolled in the fine soft steamed rice flour sheets. As Thu poured a dipping sauce into a small bowl the men pounced. Sandy and Anna squealed and reached for rolls with both hands, fearful of the grownups polishing them off.

Anna nibbled delicately; Sandy finished hers in quick gulps then began digging into the prawns, peeling them expertly, handing every second one to Ashley, her younger brother.

With the arrival of Thu's aunt and uncle, more Vietnamese food was unpacked and Anna's grandmother had to admit she was getting a taste for ‘those fiddly things'. Making minced pork dumplings, stuffed savoury pancakes, rice rolls and the other varieties of appetisers that Thu produced was far too much trouble for Grandma Fine. ‘A ham, lettuce and tomato sandwich is plenty for the beach,' she said. She had contributed fruit cake left over from Christmas, but ate a good share of the Vietnamese food – ‘just to taste'.

Along the beachfront and in the park and under trees, barbecues sizzled with spitting meat despite the heat. These were manned by red-faced men clutching beers to their sagging bellies while women fussed with picnic food. It was tradition; it was the Australian way. After all, it was Australia Day. Some of the picnickers preferred wine, olives, cheeses and salami eaten with thick bread ripped by hand, others the thin white sliced variety wrapped around a sausage dripping with tomato sauce.

To the two little girls it was a joyous day of feasting, playing in the cool wet sand, supervised rides on small waves on Sandy's rubber boogie board, and exploring the rock pools at the far end of the beach.

Phil Donaldson was not present. His car yard stayed open on public holidays in case people with time on their hands came to browse and perhaps buy. Sandy's mother, Patricia, was sorry he was missing the fun: it was so hard for him to relax.

But what had been a sunny happy day turned sour as the girls trailed back from the water with Kevin and saw their families hastily packing up their belongings and the picnic. Grandma Fine was holding Ashley and was on her feet arguing with a circle of jeering young men. Thu was kneeling, hastily stowing items in a basket helped by her aunty, while her Uncle Quoc spoke quietly to the young men who merely laughed at him. Their voices were raised and people on the sand near them stared curiously, laughed behind their hands or pretended not to notice.

Kevin broke into a sprint, shouting, ‘Hoy, what do you think you're doing?'