Madwoman On the Bridge and Other Stories Read Online Free PDF Page A

because
they knew all about the state of her mind, the bizarre
appearance of a safety pin seemed perfectly reasonable
and no one gave too much thought to the question of
what had happened to the frog. The impression the madwoman
had always given was that she loved to show off
her elegant appearance, and now they assumed she had
lost even her vanity. But no one really cared; let her wear
whatever she felt like. Let her dress in a cheongsam if she
wanted, and if she wanted to fasten it with a safety pin,
then so be it.
    Luckily, the walk passed without incident. When they
reached Wenqin’s home on Sunflower Alley, she tried her
luck. Tentatively she asked the madwoman, ‘Now, you
can get home by yourself. You know the way, don’t you?’
    But the madwoman was not fooled, she had a crystalclear
recollection of the promise Wenqin had made. ‘The
silk scarf. Your black scarf with the golden flowers, you
promised to give it to me. You’re a welcher if you don’t.’
    Wenqin rolled her eyes and said, ‘Your memory’s better
than mine. Are you sure there’s anything wrong with
you? It’s just a silk scarf; I’ll give it to you like I promised.
Wait here, I’ll go in and get it.’
    ‘Oh no,’ the madwoman said. ‘What if you go in
and don’t come back? I’m coming with you.’ Wenqin
was growing angry. ‘What are you talking about? Just
because you’re ill, you can’t go around behaving like
this. Following me around like a little dog, sticking to
my heels.’ Having raised her voice, Wenqin noticed that
people were looking at them, so she adopted a milder
tone and said, ‘My father-in-law’s ill in bed and not in
any state to be seen. If you really don’t trust me you can
come along, but you can’t go inside. My mother-in-law is
very superstitious, she won’t let anyone like you into an
invalid’s house.’
    The madwoman stood outside the door of Wenqin’s
house on Sunflower Alley. There were no sunflowers to
be seen, but people had planted white, yellow and purple
chrysanthemums on their windowsills and in their
gardens, all of them half dead by now. As the madwoman
waited for Wenqin’s silk scarf, she bowed her head to
examine the chrysanthemums in front of the door; then,
not satisfied with merely looking, she bent down to pick
some. Just at that moment, a loud noise behind her gave
her a fright. It was a little girl wearing a red neckerchief,
who approached her while twirling a skipping rope. Girls
in red neckerchiefs always reminded the madwoman of
her daughter.
    ‘You’re not Susu. I thought you were my own girl,
Susu.’ She ran after the skipping girl and asked, ‘What
time is it? Do you know my daughter Susu? You’re out of
school now, aren’t you?’
    The girl stood still and stared at the madwoman in
astonishment. First she looked at her face, then nervously
she examined her cheongsam. ‘Why are you wearing a
dress like that? That’s the sort of dress women spies wear
in the movies!’
    The madwoman said, ‘This isn’t a dress at all; it’s a
cheongsam. Everybody used to wear them, before.’
    The girl seemed only partly to understand this.
Finally, her curious gaze rested on the madwoman’s
collar. She pointed at the safety pin and said, ‘You’re so
lazy! Why don’t you sew on a new button if the old one
fell off? Why did you use a safety pin?’
    The madwoman lifted her hand to her collar and let
out the first sharp cry. By the time Wenqin came out
with the silk scarf, the little girl who had provoked
the disaster had vanished without trace, leaving only
the madwoman. Her face was pale as snow, she had
thrown the sandalwood fan to the ground, and her
left hand gripped her collar tightly. Her right hand was
pressed against her chest and she sent forth one sharp
scream after another. Wenqin knew that there was no
sense in denying the truth; the game was up. She was
flustered now, too, and the neighbours were converging
on the door to her home. But there was something