Epilogue
The aircraft appeared to hover above the clouds, the giant hulk seemingly defying the laws of nature. Over the internal communications system the chief steward’s voice drew everyone’s attention: “Ladies and gentlemen, we will soon be arriving in Hong Kong Kaitak International Airport.”
Jason Teller squeezed his wife’s hand and turned to smile at her. She did not smile back. Their young son Alexander slept drugged in the window seat wrapped in the beige Qantas blanket as his wife continued to stare through the double glass at the emptiness outside.
“Come on love,” he said. “It’s not so bad. We’ll be alright.”
“I’m alright,” she replied impatiently. “Just leave me be please.”
Through a break in the cloud cover a handful of lights flickered. Then they were gone again. Teller knew from experience they were not yet from buildings on land. They were from container ships anchored outside the western approach to Hong Kong’s fragrant harbour, awaiting their turn to enter and disgorge their contents at the massive Kwai Chung terminal, the world’s largest. Some were also fishing junks.
The aircraft was approaching from the eastern end of the territory and would fly well south of the island before turning north. The lumbering giant bird would float high above the Po Toi Islands and the larger Lamma Island and then cross the south western tip of Lantau Island. From there it would veer to the east and point its nose to the Kowloon mainland, dropping height rapidly and giving passengers the impression it was gathering speed. It would be at this point that it would shed itself of the clouds and break free into the open, revealing the myriad lights for which Hong Kong was famous.
Teller was excited, and worried, at the prospect of beginning life again in the territory, not because of the tense political situation but for entirely personal reasons. He and his new wife had flown out in late 1988 and vowed never to return. Now here they were, ten minutes away from touching down. Ten minutes from starting their life over again.
Below them it was crowded, dirty, smelly, rude, exciting, invigorating, challenging. It was frightening in the sense that while he did not fear his own ability to adapt, he worried about his wife and child. Would they ever be happy in their new home? Could they?
His thoughts were much the same as when they had departed for New Zealand. That too was their new life. It was the unknown and at a trying time for them. They had gone because they considered it an ideal place to raise the child they adored and because they had friends there who were prepared to help out with employment and care. And it had worked.
He had been hired by a newspaper as a senior reporter where the job was not too demanding, allowing time for the family. The way of life, the standard of living, the friendliness of the people and the climate combined to reinforce their decision.
But then had come the offer of a job back in Hong Kong. No, they had replied without hesitation; they were settled with the peace and pace of New Zealand and had no intention of giving it up for the pressure cooker, impersonal and materialistic world of Hong Kong.
But the offer was repeated and increased until finally they agreed on the understanding it would be for a limited period. Three years. No more. Their shipment was crated, the house was rented, and here they were coming in to land in Hong Kong. Their time away in New Zealand seemed an age and his previous years in Hong Kong seemed but a month as the adrenalin pumped and the anticipation rose. The jumbo jet dropped and turned sharply eastward and the twinkling lights of Victoria filled the window.
It is still beautiful, he said to himself, never doubting it would have been different. Despite the upheavals that had occurred during the last half of the decade the excitement appeal of the territory from a height of three thousand meters at night would remain forever unchanged. With the South China Sea at its tail the aircraft descended lower and Teller recalled the oft claimed story of skid marks on the rooftops of housing estates in Shekkipmei and Mongkok.
They dropped into the flight path to the landing strip stretching into the harbour like an extended finger and a million lights flashed past the windows on both sides. Hazy fairyland communities filled the outside and there was a thump as the wheels made contact and the engines roared in reverse. The young child woke and began to cry.
“Ssshh,” soothed his mother. “There, there. It’s alright. Everything is alright.”
“Of course it is,” joined Teller. “There’s nothing to worry about. We’ve just arrived at our new home that’s all.” He patted his son’s head and stroked his warm cheeks. Nothing would go wrong, he repeated to himself. Not this time. What was past was past. He must not look back. He must look to the future.
As he peered through the window a drop of water splashed on the glass, followed by another, and then many more.
“It’s raining,” said his wife and turned anxious eyes on him. “It was raining then, and it was raining when we left.”
Teller gripped her tiny hand firmly and kissed her lightly on unresponsive lips. “It’s not the same rain my darling,” he murmured. “This is fresh, clean rain. The other has gone. Forever.”