Free Falling Leaves: The True Story of an Unwanted Chinese Daughter by Adeline Yen Mah Page B

meeting ended abruptly and we filed down to the diningroom in silence. But dinner came and went and nothing was mentioned. We began to doubt James’s story and his sanity, but not for long.
    Niang’s new strategy was to divide and rule. A few days later Lydia was summoned down to the Holy of Holies (Father and Niang’s bedroom), and told to move to a spare room on the first floor. She was given her very own writing desk, a chest of drawers and a brand-new lacy white bedspread with matching curtains. We had to knock on her door before we could enter her domain. We were full of envy.
    From then on Lydia straddled the two floors and the two sides of our lives. Like Miss Chien, she too carried tales back to Father and Niang. She gossiped not only about the three boys and me but also about Ye Ye and Aunt Baba. She was rewarded with special favours: candies, treats, pocket money, new clothes, outings with her friends. In time, she developed an air which distinguished her from the rest of us, making us constantly aware of her ’special’ status.
    Sometimes, when going up or down stairs, I would catch a glimpse of Lydia at the doorway of Franklin’s and Susan’s room, begging for a slice of chestnut cream cake or a sandwich. Her wheedling posture invariably made me cringe with revulsion. I could hardly bear to listen to her whiny voice, beseeching and badgering the wily Franklin for the ’smallest little taste’ of goodies. I would bounce past her with averted eyes wishing that I could become invisible. James once commented that he would rather starve to death than plead for food from Franklin.
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    At school Lydia excelled in English but performed poorly in maths and science. Father asked her to help Gregory with his English homework. Armed with the authority of a teacher, she became increasingly domineering. Uncowed, Gregory fought back. Their English lessons quickly deteriorated into shouting matches.
    ’You are ignorant, lazy and dumb. I told you to study these English verbs last week!’
    ’And you’re an idiot! Imagine not knowing how to do fractions and getting a zero on your maths test! Da ling dan (Big fat zero egg!) That’s what you got!’
    Enraged, Lydia gave Gregory a resounding slap, forgetting that Gregory had grown taller and stronger. Gregory stood up and gripped her healthy right arm. ’If you do that again, I’m going to knock you down with my fist. Now get out of my room.’
    Lydia went to report to Niang. When Father came home, Gregory was reprimanded and told to stand in a corner with his face to the wall for thirty minutes. Gregory muttered that he was doing better in English than she was doing in maths. Besides, anyone could see that his face was all swollen from Lydia’s slap. Gregory claimed that she packed a right as powerful as the American champion boxer Joe Louis, the strength in her right compensating for the weakness in her left.
    After this incident, there were no more English lessons. Lydia’s maths did not improve. When report cards were handed out at the end of each term, her average often hovered dangerously close to a fail. The only one of us who scored lower was Franklin, but Father considered his brain not yet mature enough for serious study. Lydia was reprimanded by Father in the Holy of Holies and told to concentrate on her maths. She came out with red eyes and a streaming nose and loudly wailed to the world at large that she had tried her best, but maths was so much more difficult at Aurora than it had been at St Joseph’s in Tianjin.
    At St John’s the boys learned to play bridge from their
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    schoolfriends and they taught me the game because they needed a fourth, though I was only seven years old. One Sunday, Lydia found the four of us playing bridge. After watching for a while, she became resentful and felt ignored because we were so absorbed in the game. Suddenly she ordered me off my stool because she wished to play. The score was close and competition was keen. Gregory, by far the best