the noxious tank in which Timmy was perching on his rock.
'It's Timmy,' I replied.
'I didn't ask what its bloody name was. Get rid of it.'
'He's Mum's,' I said defensively.
'What?' my father replied.
'He's Mum's,' I repeated. 'She bought him in a pet shop in Nathan Road.'
At that moment, my mother entered the room.
'Joyce, what is this benighted thing?'
'That's Timmy.'
'Dad doesn't want to know his name,' I said.
'Timmy the terrapin.'
'Get rid of it. It smells to high heaven.'
'That's only because his tank needs cleaning. I'm doing it later. He doesn't smell at all.'
She reached into the tank, picked Timmy up and held him level to her face. His head came out from under his shell, his legs treading air.
'Get rid of it,' my father again commanded.
My mother looked from him to the terrapin, as if she were a young girl deciding which suitor to date.
'He means no harm,' she remarked and tickled his throat with her fingernail. 'Do you, Timmy ?'
'I'm going back on board,' my father declared, bringing the argument to an abrupt conclusion. 'You've got the ship-to-shore number.'
With that, he left, not to return until nightfall.
'We could sell Timmy back to the pet shop,' I suggested.
'I don't think we would make much of a profit on a second-hand terrapin,' my mother said. 'Besides, he isn't going anywhere and your father sails back to Japan in a week.' She paused. 'Maybe I should've listened to you and bought a snake. On the other hand, one poisonous viper in this family is, I think, sufficient. Don't you?'
Despite the escape of Joey and the demise of Timmy, fortuitously before my father's next return, my mother had still not learnt her lesson. On another trip to Mr Lee, she purchased a cute lop-eared rabbit, naming it To Jai which, entirely predictably, meant Rabbit. It too succumbed in a matter of months. By then, my mother had made a number of new friends amongst the members of the United Services Recreation Club and no longer felt lonely. The cavalcade of pets mercifully ceased.
I had only been at school a matter of weeks when the summer holidays began, which posed my mother a problem. She was loathe to take me everywhere with her but, on the other hand, she was just as loathe to leave me to my own devices. Consequently, a compromise was reached. I was given a crossing-the-road examination and restricted to the areas bounded by Nathan Road in Mong Kok to the west, Prince Edward Road to the north and the far side of the hill opposite the hotel to the south. To the east, where there was no obvious boundary, I was told to use my discretion. From my mother's viewpoint, there was little risk involved – except from the traffic – for Hong Kong was famously street-safe. Muggings were unheard of, child molesters non-existent and street violence usually restricted to a territorial fight amongst hawkers and stallholders. The nearest a European was likely to come to crime was when he had his pocket picked.
In exchange for this liberty, I was to accompany my mother at any time she requested without 'whining, whingeing, binding or generally being a little bugger'. I consented with alacrity. The restriction cut off Yau Ma Tei but I felt I had seen all there was on offer there: and there were dai pai dongs in Mong Kok.
A day or two into the holidays, my mother tested my submissiveness. She was going to Tsim Sha Tsui that afternoon and I was going with her.
'Are we going to tea at the Pen?' I asked hopefully as we waited for a number 7 bus at the stop opposite the hotel.
'No,' she replied. 'Somewhere far better.'
The Pen, I considered, would take a bit of bettering.
The bus pulled up, the gate of silver-painted bars slid open and we boarded. The conductor rang the bell twice by pulling on a cord running the length of the roof and we set off. We disembarked in Tsim Sha Tsui, an area at the tip of the Kowloon peninsula filled with watch and camera shops, restaurants and tailors who would make a three-piece suit in
'It's Timmy,' I replied.
'I didn't ask what its bloody name was. Get rid of it.'
'He's Mum's,' I said defensively.
'What?' my father replied.
'He's Mum's,' I repeated. 'She bought him in a pet shop in Nathan Road.'
At that moment, my mother entered the room.
'Joyce, what is this benighted thing?'
'That's Timmy.'
'Dad doesn't want to know his name,' I said.
'Timmy the terrapin.'
'Get rid of it. It smells to high heaven.'
'That's only because his tank needs cleaning. I'm doing it later. He doesn't smell at all.'
She reached into the tank, picked Timmy up and held him level to her face. His head came out from under his shell, his legs treading air.
'Get rid of it,' my father again commanded.
My mother looked from him to the terrapin, as if she were a young girl deciding which suitor to date.
'He means no harm,' she remarked and tickled his throat with her fingernail. 'Do you, Timmy ?'
'I'm going back on board,' my father declared, bringing the argument to an abrupt conclusion. 'You've got the ship-to-shore number.'
With that, he left, not to return until nightfall.
'We could sell Timmy back to the pet shop,' I suggested.
'I don't think we would make much of a profit on a second-hand terrapin,' my mother said. 'Besides, he isn't going anywhere and your father sails back to Japan in a week.' She paused. 'Maybe I should've listened to you and bought a snake. On the other hand, one poisonous viper in this family is, I think, sufficient. Don't you?'
Despite the escape of Joey and the demise of Timmy, fortuitously before my father's next return, my mother had still not learnt her lesson. On another trip to Mr Lee, she purchased a cute lop-eared rabbit, naming it To Jai which, entirely predictably, meant Rabbit. It too succumbed in a matter of months. By then, my mother had made a number of new friends amongst the members of the United Services Recreation Club and no longer felt lonely. The cavalcade of pets mercifully ceased.
I had only been at school a matter of weeks when the summer holidays began, which posed my mother a problem. She was loathe to take me everywhere with her but, on the other hand, she was just as loathe to leave me to my own devices. Consequently, a compromise was reached. I was given a crossing-the-road examination and restricted to the areas bounded by Nathan Road in Mong Kok to the west, Prince Edward Road to the north and the far side of the hill opposite the hotel to the south. To the east, where there was no obvious boundary, I was told to use my discretion. From my mother's viewpoint, there was little risk involved – except from the traffic – for Hong Kong was famously street-safe. Muggings were unheard of, child molesters non-existent and street violence usually restricted to a territorial fight amongst hawkers and stallholders. The nearest a European was likely to come to crime was when he had his pocket picked.
In exchange for this liberty, I was to accompany my mother at any time she requested without 'whining, whingeing, binding or generally being a little bugger'. I consented with alacrity. The restriction cut off Yau Ma Tei but I felt I had seen all there was on offer there: and there were dai pai dongs in Mong Kok.
A day or two into the holidays, my mother tested my submissiveness. She was going to Tsim Sha Tsui that afternoon and I was going with her.
'Are we going to tea at the Pen?' I asked hopefully as we waited for a number 7 bus at the stop opposite the hotel.
'No,' she replied. 'Somewhere far better.'
The Pen, I considered, would take a bit of bettering.
The bus pulled up, the gate of silver-painted bars slid open and we boarded. The conductor rang the bell twice by pulling on a cord running the length of the roof and we set off. We disembarked in Tsim Sha Tsui, an area at the tip of the Kowloon peninsula filled with watch and camera shops, restaurants and tailors who would make a three-piece suit in
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