The Lemon Tree by ILIL ARBEL & IDA ROSENFELD

Author:ILIL ARBEL & IDA ROSENFELD [ARBEL, ILIL]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Published: 2014-09-06T04:00:00+00:00

Official papers from the Chinese consulate in Irkutsk

The Hongkewmarket in Shanghai

CHAPTER EIGHT: THE SHIP

Finally, the festive month in Shanghai came to a close; the ship that was to take us to Egypt had arrived.

The first ship in my life! A floating palace. Halls furnished in European style, crystal chandeliers, gilded walls. What excitement.

We did not travel first class, of course; despite Papa's patients in Shanghai, our huge expenses exceeded our income. So we had to separate again. Papa shared a cabin with three other men, and Mama and we shared one with a lovely Japanese lady.

As usual, the separation worried me, bringing back the anxiety and rage over Sasha's death. I left our cabin, letting Mama and Feera attend to our things while I followed Papa to check that he did not feel too lonely in his cabin as he settled in. He seemed to be all right, so I just sat and chatted with him as he unpacked. Suddenly Feera burst into the cabin in high excitement.

“Ida, come at once, you must see the strange things the Japanese lady is doing –”

We ran back to our cabin. All seemed peaceful and normal. The lemon tree already stood on the little table under the porthole, and the Japanese lady and Mama conversed amicably in French while arranging their belongings. I looked at Feera skeptically, seeing nothing extraordinary. The lady hung a number of elegant kimonos on wooden hangers. Then she sat on her bunk and like a magician performing an elaborate sleight-of-hand, started taking object after object out of her wide sleeves! I stared as small candy boxes, a fan, cosmetics, money, a mirror, and a tiny book with an illustrated cover made their appearance. The lady laughed at our amazement, turned the sleeve inside out and showed us a capacious hidden pocket in the silk lining. She opened the little book with the illustrated cover, and I saw that nothing was written on the creamy white pages. Motioning us to approach her, she tore out the first two pages and rubbed them on our noses – each page, made of the softest rice paper, was saturated in fragrant face powder! We were speechless with admiration for this great invention. Noticing that, she fished deeper into the sleeve, produced two little identical books, and gave one to each of us. I ran to the mirror to admire my elegantly powdered nose, but Feera grabbed me.

“Wait! Look at her bed,” she said. “That's what I called you for.”

Something strange happened to the bed; the pillow disappeared, and was replaced by an intricately carved wooden box.

“She sleeps on this, she already explained it to Mama when you were out. Let's ask her to show us.”

“No,” I said, intimidated. “We'll wait. Maybe she was just joking and she'll laugh at us.”

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