Remember

‘That’s another thing we have in common,’ Clee said.

‘What’s the other?’

‘We both have nerves of steel.’

‘I suppose we do,’ she agreed, laughing. ‘We have to have in this business. Just as we have to have a sixth sense for danger.’

Clee nodded but did not say anything else, and they walked on in companionable silence for a few minutes. As they came to the tent encampment, Nicky turned to him. ‘You know this place has really taken on a life of its own, what with the tents and the buses. It’s like a small town, and -’

‘A shanty town,’ Clee cut in.

‘You’re right, and I hope to God it doesn’t smell tonight.’

‘I’m sure it won’t, they’ve probably removed the garbage by now. In any case, there’s a nice breeze blowing up.’

‘The other day when I came looking for Yoyo it was very … malodorous. That’s the only word for it. The stench was disgusting, awful, rotting food, unwashed bodies, heaven knows what else, and I felt nauseous the entire time I was in here.’

Nicky sniffed as they entered the encampment and walked past several buses where some of the students lived. The air was fresh, and the area looked as if it had been recently swept and cleaned up. It was perfectly clean; there was no trash in sight.

Nicky was constantly surprised when she saw the neat lines of olive-green tents, waterproof and commodious, which had been sent from Hong Kong. They were very orderly, arranged in horizontal patterns with almost military precision, and lettered signs hung over each group, the signs identifying where the different contingents had come from. There were delegations of students from almost every university in every province of China.

Weeks ago she had discovered that most of the students slept during the day, mainly because the action was at night. Now the majority of the tents were empty, although a few late stragglers were only just emerging, getting ready for the rest of the evening and the early hours of the morning which lay ahead.

Vendors hung around on the pavement, selling sodas, bottled water, ices, popsicles, and other small snacks.

Clee glanced at her. ‘Would you like a popsicle?’

She made a face, shook her head.

The young Chinese student, Chin Young Yu, nicknamed Yoyo, was standing with a young woman in the centre of the encampment near his own tent. They both wore blue jeans and white cotton shirts. She was attractive and looked to be about the same age as Yoyo, who was twenty-two. Nicky wondered if this was his girlfriend, whom he had mentioned to her and who had been visiting relatives in Shanghai for the past few weeks. He was deep in conversation with the girl, but when he saw them he broke off and waved enthusiastically. Turning to her, he said something, and then hurried over to greet them.

Yoyo was an art student, and Nicky had met him quite by accident in Tiananmen Square when she had first arrived in Beijing. She had been trying to speak to some of the students that day, actually seeking someone who understood English. Yoyo had approached her with a smile, and told her, in fairly understandable English, that he would be happy to help her if he could. He had been useful in all sorts of ways; he had passed on information, introduced her to other student leaders, such as Chai Ling and Wuer Kaixi, and kept her abreast of developments amongst the students and the leaders of the movement. He was bright, friendly, and she had grown quite fond of him, as had the crew, and Clee. They worried about Yoyo, and what would happen to him, especially when all this was over.

‘Nicky!’ Yoyo cried, coming towards her, smiling widely, his hand outstretched.

‘Hello, Yoyo,’ she said, shaking his hand. ‘Clee and I were looking for you.’

‘Good evening, Clee,’ Yoyo said.

‘Hi, Yoyo! What’s going on?’ Clee asked as he took the student’s hand.

Yoyo’s expression changed, and he looked grim as he confided quietly, ‘Bad things coming. Army drop canisters of tear gas from helicopters. On square. Tonight. You see. You have masks? Also, troops coming.’

‘Tonight? The troops are coming tonight?’ Nicky probed.

Yoyo nodded. ‘I hear troops hidden in buildings near square. They come. Very sure. Bad things happen. You tell world, yes?’

‘We’ll certainly keep telling the world, Yoyo,’ Nicky assured him. ‘But do you believe the People’s Liberation Army will open fire on the people?’

‘Oh yes. Yes.’ He nodded emphatically. ‘Some students say no, not possible. The People’s Liberation Army our army, they say. Won’t kill us. They foolish. Army very disciplined. Army follows orders. I know this.’

Nicky stared at him, her clear, intelligent eyes riveted on his face. ‘You should leave the square. Now. While it’s still possible, still safe.’

‘That wise, yes,’ Yoyo agreed. ‘But not everyone go, Nicky. Hard get everyone go. Blood spilled tonight.’

Nicky shivered involuntarily and looked pointedly at Clee.

Clee said, ‘What about Chai Ling and some of the other leaders? Can’t they get the students to leave?’

Yoyo shrugged. ‘Don’t know.’

‘Where are they?’ Clee asked.

‘Don’t see tonight. You like water? Soda?’

‘No thanks,’ Clee answered.

Nicky shook her head, smiling at Yoyo.

The young Chinese was thoughtful, then he remarked, ‘Movement lost spirit after martial law declared. Students very depressed. True, they should leave. They won’t. End will be bad thing.’

‘Come with us,’ Nicky said urgently. ‘Come with us to the Martyrs’ Monument, find one of the bullhorns you’ve been using, and relay a message to the students. They’ll listen to you, you’re one of their leaders. Ask them to leave, beg them, if necessary. And you must leave with them. If you and the other students get out of Tiananmen while there’s still time, you’ll save your lives. Please, Yoyo, do this. It will be an act of bravery if you lead the students away from the square. It will be a good thing to do.’

She reached out impulsively, took hold of his arm, stared deeply into his eyes. ‘Please, Yoyo, don’t stay here. You could be killed.’

Her words appeared to reach him. ‘I come monument. Soon. Bring Mai, my girlfriend. Go, Nicky. I come soon. I promise.’

‘We’ll be waiting for you. Don’t be too long, Yoyo. There’s not much time left.’

Nicky and Clee returned to the Martyrs’ Monument.

They found Luke waiting for them, and Nicky told him what had transpired with Yoyo, repeating what the student leader had said to them about the troops coming that night or in the early hours of the morning.

‘Oh Jesus!’ Luke exclaimed. ‘Those kids don’t stand a chance if that happens.’

‘They’re sitting ducks,’ Nicky pointed out. ‘They’re centred in a relatively small area, in relation to the overall size of the square, which is three-quarters empty right now. If the army comes in from the other side, it’ll have a clear run straight across the square.’

‘That’s right,’ Luke muttered, sounding troubled.

‘Let’s hope Yoyo can persuade the students to leave before that happens,’ Clee said, wanting to be positive.

Nicky was silent, her expression anxious, but within seconds she brightened. ‘Here he is now, thank goodness. Perhaps we can get him up on the monument with a bullhorn at once. He can at least warn the kids.’

Yoyo and his girlfriend Mai joined them. They were holding hands, and Yoyo said, ‘This my friend, Mai. Her English not very excellent. Sorry.’

‘No need to apologize,’ Nicky replied with genuine warmth. She looked at Mai, and was startled by her. When she had seen the girl a little earlier, she had not realized how lovely Mai was. Her features were beautiful, and her black, almond-shaped eyes were enormous in her sweet, innocent young face. She had long glossy black hair, was a small and slender creature, and everything about her was delicate, almost dainty. Nicky thought she was enchanting, like a little doll.

Thrusting out her hand, Nicky said with a welcoming smile, ‘I’m pleased to know you, Mai.’