What on earth? I thought.
Thankfully, three things happened after this. First, and luckily for me, David McAllister offered me a job to teach and coach the company dancers. He asked if I could teach every day and take some rehearsals. I was elated. To have the chance to work with professional dancers of such calibre was beyond my wildest dreams. And Li was happy for me, too, despite his own sadness. At last, I had the opportunity to reconnect with ballet on a professional level.
Not long after, the second thing happened. Li was asked to join the board of the Australian Ballet as the dancers’ representative. This gave us the opportunity to share our ballet passion together and to make contributions to the art form, though in a different way than Li had originally envisioned. It is so true in life that when one door closes, another opens.
The third thing happened on a weekend getaway with friends to Erskine House at Lorne, a seaside town on the Great Ocean Road a couple of hours from Melbourne. Being a typical Melbourne winter, it rained most of the weekend. The heavy downpour made the tin roof echo. We were cosy inside enjoying the lively conversation with an interesting group of people: doctors, lawyers, teachers, a marketing executive, an interior designer, a stockbroker, an author and an artist. During dinner we agreed that each of us would share our life story. When it came to our turn, we decided we would dance a little. Li lifted me in the air in the Giselle présage. Everybody cheered – we were all quite tipsy by then.
Whenever Li talked about his life, the audience would be in the palm of his hand, and that’s what happened this time. It was Graeme Base, the celebrated children’s author and illustrator, who said Li should write his story.
What a great idea, I thought. I won’t have to keep listening to it wherever we go! After all, I really did know it inside out by now.
Li initially said no, telling Graeme he didn’t see a compelling reason to share his private life with the public, and he couldn’t possibly write it himself. Graeme suggested Li write a short summary, which he would take to his publisher.
‘I think it’d be rather self-indulgent to write my own story,’ Li protested.
‘Li, don’t look at it as though writing your story is just for you,’ Graeme said. ‘Your story is full of hope and courage. There aren’t enough inspirational stories in the world.’
‘But I can’t write. My English is too poor,’ Li said.
‘If you don’t want to write it yourself, they can find a good writer to help you,’ Graeme told him.
Over breakfast the next morning, I asked, ‘Li, what do you think about what Graeme said last night?’
‘I’m not sure,’ he replied.
I didn’t mince my words. ‘Li, quite frankly, I am sick and tired of you telling and retelling your story at dinner parties. You should just get on and write the damn book, so when people start asking questions about your life, we can tell them to just read the book instead.’
Li laughed, but I was dead serious. Over the years, he had been offered numerous movie and book deals but had declined them all. I hoped that Graeme could change his mind this time.
We arrived home from the weekend happy and exhausted, but the fire was lit for Li. The following Friday night, when he came home from work, he said to me, ‘Darling, I’m going to the office tomorrow morning to write a couple of pages for Graeme.’
By Sunday he had sent Graeme an eight-page synopsis with bullet points about his life. Now he was focused again, but little did we know that Li’s story would become his therapy. Throughout his life he had been busy pursuing his next goal and never had time to reflect on the life he’d lived. Writing his story gave him this opportunity.
Li had always been a good storyteller. From time to time he would tell me snippets from his childhood, and I’d always wanted more. This was the evolution of Li as a writer and storyteller. As soon as he started to write, I thought to myself, Here we go. I hoped it would stop him making those bloody birdcages! Although writing in English was a struggle for him and sometimes he wondered what he’d started, he eventually came to enjoy it.
As a relatively young man, Li had experienced so much upheaval. His devastating poverty-stricken childhood in China, the lonely years at the Beijing Dance Academy, his marriage breakdown, his defection and subsequent separation from his beloved family, making a home in three different countries, Sophie’s deafness, and his agonising career change. He had always remembered his mother’s words: ‘Never look back.’ Her wisdom had helped him through the most unbearable difficulties. But now it was as though years of his memories and experiences needed to come out. And through this process of reflection, he began to come to terms with a lot of things about his life.
Graeme sent Li’s summary to the then publishing director of Penguin Australia, Robert Sessions. Li was then invited to lunch by Penguin’s executive publisher of young adult and children’s books, Julie Watts. He came home that evening and told me, ‘Mary, I had lunch with a publisher from Penguin today. She seems to be very genuine and nice. I like her. I think she will be sensitive to my story.’
‘Really? That’s wonderful. Is it going to be a children’s book?’ I asked.
‘She told me not to worry about this right now, just concentrate on writing. She also said that I have my own distinctive way of writing, which is my own voice. She seems to think that I can write.’
I could detect a hint of doubt in his eyes.
‘I think you can do it,’ I told him. ‘Nobody could write your story without having lived it.’
From then on, Li wrote in every spare moment he had. He just wrote and wrote. He wrote on the weekends, and deep into the night after reading the children their bedtime stories. After he had written 40 000 words, we went to a meeting with Bob and Julie. We didn’t know what to expect, but in the middle of the discussions about the potential of Li’s book, I made an outrageous comment: ‘Li has a universal story. His book will be a bestseller and it will sell millions,’ I blurted out.
To this day, I still don’t have the faintest idea why I made such a claim. Li looked at me aghast, hoping I would shut up. Bob burst into laughter and said, ‘Mary, I don’t want to appear rude, but every writer in the world thinks their book will sell millions. Do you know how many sold copies of a book constitute a bestseller in Australia?’
I shook my head.
‘Between five and seven thousand copies,’ he said.
I was thoroughly embarrassed. Millions of copies? What was I thinking? But I liked Bob more for his honesty.
Julie was incredibly nurturing and skilful with Li. She was all positivity and encouragement. Her questions would lead to more writing from him, and over the ensuing months the pages from the printer piled up on the desk and then the floor, so much was pouring out of him.
Neil George was excited for Li. He would always ask how he was going with the book. Sometimes Dad sounded very tired and breathless, and I’d ask Mum to tell me how he really was. The news was never good. One day soon our family would be altered forever.
Dad did live to see another Christmas, but with what else was going on in the world – the September 11 attack on New York’s Twin Towers rocked us all – I just wanted to keep my young family close. We decided to have Christmas at home, so we stayed in Melbourne. Our dear friends from Houston, Ginya and Clayton, came with their children, Kelley and John. We had a rare and fun Christmas Day at home. Bridie was excited by the preparations, such as buying the tree and decorating it, and couldn’t wait to open all the presents. We had so often travelled to our extended families at this time of year. This year she loved having us all to herself.