Fiction: Group 4
had heard before. The poor little girl started to feel her stomach growl; it was well past teatime, and felt that
it would soon be the same for dinner.
“We are expected in a small inn, just outside Zhanjiang,” said the chauffeur, with a heavy Chinese
accent. Elizabeth jumped: this was the first time he’d spoken since they’d left the port.
It took a few minutes to drive through the town, as there were quite many people in such a small
space (the streets were very narrow). At last they all came to the suburban inn named Huandao, and were
delighted to find its doors flung open wide. This particular building looked quite like a little temple, nestled
among cinnamon trees and mangroves; there were curious round lanterns hanging from the front porch,
with religious ornaments decorating the walls and the roof. Slithering on top of the roof was what looked
like the shape of a long, snake-like dragon. The children came into the house all for supper, seeing the
beautiful things and smelling the delicious smells from a nearby room, where food was cooking. Elizabeth
would gladly have stayed there for days on end, until the war was well over so she could return home; but as
she was constantly reminded, they were expected in Hong Kong, and therefore forced herself to not get too
comfortable.
The master of the inn was a brawny Chinese fellow (one of those people whose entire ancestry had
been born and brought up here) and whose name was Ling Chiu. He was as strong as a warrior, as
hotheaded as a whistling kettle, and as wise as an owl. His tavern was pleasant, warm and snug, and was
perfect for those hungry voyagers who felt ravenous after a tiring day’s worth of travelling. He lived there
with his wife, Mei Chiu, who, unlike her husband, was as kind as an angel.
As soon as the company arrived, they were delightfully welcomed by Mrs Chiu, who put on an apron, lit
fires, boiled water, and settled the guests down around a large round table. Mr Chiu appeared seconds later,
and collapsed onto a short stool opposite Elizabeth. He was whistling loudly, and, after briefly introducing
himself, whipped out a stained newspaper, which he read until Mrs Chiu came fussing into the room,
carrying all sorts of bowls, chopsticks, and tablespoons.
“Help yourselves to some tea, sweets,” said Mrs Chiu, motioning towards a flowery tea set.
“A little beer would suit me better,” Chiu said loudly, folding up his newspaper and sitting himself
upright to face the table. Elizabeth felt bewildered and bewuthered; this man had some very poor manners
indeed!
“Of course, dear,” Mrs Chiu answered, rushing around the room and helping everyone serve
themselves to some food. “Oh, Anna, is that right? Would you care for some xiao long bao? They are
divine…”
Soon a big jug of coffee had been settled upon the hearth, most of the plates were halfway empty,
and Chiu was settling on a second round of noodle soup, occasionally sipping his beer. Mrs Chiu kept
bustling to and from the kitchen, all the time leaving with empty plates and coming back with filled up ones
– there was a lot of food indeed, from sweet-and-sour turkey to chicken on crispy noodles to egg-fried
rice. Finally, the four children, feeling satisfyingly full, lay back upon their stools and sipped tea from their
china mugs. They sat in silence for a while, watching the fire crackling from the fireplace.
“We will be setting for Hong Kong tomorrow,” said Chiu, breaking the silence. “You will need to
rest tonight. It will be a long journey.” He paused, helping himself to another pint of beer. “We will travel
by foot.”
“By foot?” poor Elizabeth blurted out before she could stop herself. “I beg your pardon,” she
added apologetically, “but Sir Dowding specifically sent us here so you could bring us to Hong Kong as fast
as possible.”
“Yes, you crude little girl,” said Chiu, in a tone that suggested irritation. “But do you even realise
who you are?” But Elizabeth just stared at him, lost for words – she was feeling very hot, and red in the face,
and annoyed.
“Forgive us, Mr Chiu,” John amended on her behalf (he was the eldest of the four). “But we do
not really realise what you mean.”
“Well, is your uncle not the Prime Minister of Britain?” grumbled Mr Chiu, helping himself to a
hot, pastry-looking sphere.
Hear, hear!
thought Elizabeth. She did not understand how this related to their
walking to Hong Kong.
“Yes,” said John, slowly.
Mr Chiu looked at the four children, as if expecting some kind of response on their behalf.
“None of you know how much danger you are in, I suppose?”
John, Chris, Anna and Elizabeth shook their heads. How strange Mr Chiu was acting!
