tables eating and drinking. There was Mr Honeybun and Alma sitting together in the corner engrossed in conversation. There were others that Dr Lu didnât recognise at all. And instead of the smell of herbs, the aroma of dumplings and cassia tea filled his nostrils.
âWhat has happened since Iâve been away?â he asked his wife in Chinese.
âItâs Mimiâs wonderful garden,â replied Mrs Lu, wiping her hands on her apron and taking his suitcase from his hand. âPeople come to Rumba Street just to see it. I set up a teahouse to make a bit of money while you were away.â
âBusiness looks good,â he said.
âMm . . . not bad. Iâll get you something to eat.â
âWhereâs Mimi?â
âIn the kitchen eating breakfast.â Mrs Lu turned towards the kitchen and called, âMimi, your daddyâs home.â
Oh no. Heâll go ape when he finds out Iâve been drawing.
The chair legs screeched angrily against the wooden floorboards as she pushed back her seat.
âHello, Mimi,â said Dr Lu walking into the kitchen.
âHi, Dad.â
âMummy say you do much drawing.â
âOnly a little. But I got A for my English test and 47 out of 50 for maths,â she said quickly.
âMm . . . well . . . no talk school now.â
Thatâs a surprise.
âI bring present from Uncle Ting.â
âIs he still alive then?â Mimi asked with a tinge of hope.
Dr Lu spoke in Chinese, his voice sounded sad and tired. âNo, Mimi, he died in his sleep. He was a good man.â Tears came to Dr Luâs eyes.
He lifted the cane basket onto the kitchen table. âHe wanted you to have this.â
âWhat is it, Dad?â
âOpen and see.â
Mimi lifted the latch and felt something alive pushing from the inside. Slowly she gave way to the pressure. A small grey-haired dog poked its head through the opening, grunting and whimpering with excitement at being let out at last. His little tail seemed spring-loaded, it wagged so fast. Two bright brown eyes looked up at her like the two bright stars through her bedroom window.
âUncle Ting?â she whispered in its ear. âIs that you?â
She lifted the little dog out and held him close. His tummy was soft and pink and covered in grey spots of different sizes. It looked as though his mum had put him out in a gentle rain, belly up, and the raindrops had never washed off. In fact this was the way he always liked to sleep â trusting the world. The little dog grunted like a piglet sucking sweet milk as Mimi cradled him in her arms and tickled his belly.
âWhatâs his name, Dad?â
âUncle Ting call him Peppy.â
At that moment Mimi had an urge to do something she had never done before. She hesitated a moment. Then she put Peppy down and walked up to her dad and put her arms around him. It was strange at first. They had never hugged â but when she felt him hug her back, it seemed as natural and easy as snuggling under her silk-filled doona on a cold, wintry night.
Mimi lay in bed, Peppy by her side as though he had belonged to her all his life. From the room next door came the familiar sound of her parentsâ voices speaking to one another in Chinese.
âWhat did you talk about with Ting?â asked Mrs Lu.
âOur childhood, the fun we had. Then how different we were. Ting was such a dreamer. As a boy he would sit on the tiled roof of our house reading poetry all day long. I thought he was useless. At least in the end we had the chance to be brothers once more.â Dr Lu paused. âIâm not going to make the same mistake with Mimi.â
Mimi could feel a warmth slowly melting the icy spaces between father and daughter. A change, greater than her mumâs teahouse, greater than her drawings, perhaps even greater than the garden itself â had come over the smelly little