My obsession with Willow Pattern

Which inspired a short story

I’m obsessed with blue and white china. I have this flight of favourite plates on the wall in my hallway and there are jugs and bowls and platters all over the house.

It’s a family thing. My mother had a lovely collection and so does my sister.

My day to day crockery is Spode Blue Italian (bought at the seconds shop in Stoke-on-Trent, near where I grew up, many years ago), but the thing I’m obsessed with is Willow Pattern.

I love the way every plate I buy is the same - but different. My best china, for dinner guests, is a harlequin set of mixed plates by different potteries, all rendereing the same scene, but with differences.

So I was beside myself yesterday, when I spotted a table cloth hand embroidered with a Willow Pattern tea set! I don’t buy much ‘stuff’ any more, I’ve got enough, but that made me break my rule.

It’s so beautiful.

This is the teapot. It’s hard to do the whole thing justice in a photo (especially as I didn’t have time to iron it…), but here is an idea.

It has the teapot at the centre, a cup and saucer at each corner, interspersed with the milk jug, sugar bowl and the tea plate - which crucially shows the whole picture.

Seeing the whole picture is the thing, because it tells a very romantic story, about a young woman whose Mandarin father wouldn’t let her marry the man she loved, because he was a penniless poet.

They ran away together, but they were betrayed and killed - the two birds are them united in death.

This fable inspired me to write a short story about it, when I was asked to contribute one to a charity anthology for children. Here it is.

Minty and The Willow Pattern Plate

by Maggie Alderson (copyright retained)

Minty was chewing thoughtfully as she chased the last three Rice Krispies round the pictures on the blue and white bowl.

Moving her spoon slowly clockwise, she could make the soggy rice pops leave the Chinese-looking house, stroll through the garden, overtake three men crossing a bridge, take a trip to an island on a funny little boat, and then hitch a ride with a couple of birds back to the house.

Round and round went the spoon, round and round went the rice pops, round and round went Minty’s eyes. It was making her feel quite sleepy, but she was jogged back to attention by a sudden blast of freezing air from the back door. 

‘Morning, Minty darling,’ said her Great Godmother Esme, kicking it closed behind her. Esme was her mum’s godmother and Minty was staying with her while her parents were away.

‘Sorry, I wasn’t here when you got up,’ Esme was saying, walking over to the wood stove and warming her hands on it. ‘I had to chop up some more logs, it’s freezing out there. Are you warm enough in those pyjamas? Anyway, I see you’ve got your own breakfast. What did you have?’

‘Rice Krispies,’ said Minty.

Esme pulled a face.

‘Nasty cold cereal on a day like this? You need some of my special porridge to warm your toes. It’s been cooking for 12 hours, so it should be ready.’

She opened the bottom oven and pulled out a bowl.

‘Mmmmm,’ said Esme, beaming at the contents. ‘Now that’s what I call breakfast for a cold January morning. Pass me your plate.’

Minty really hated porridge, but she didn’t want to be rude, so she handed it over. Esme was just about to drop a large dollop of the alarming-looking oatmeal into it, when she stopped.

‘Good heavens,’ she said. ‘You’ve got the Willow Pattern plate. Wherever did you find this? ’

‘It was just in the cupboard there,’ said Minty. ‘Is it OK to use it?’

‘Of course,’ said Esme, looking at her, oddly. ‘Do you like this plate?’’

‘Yes,’ said Minty. ‘I like the picture.’

Esme smiled broadly.

‘So do I,’ she said. ‘I’ve liked it since I was your age and used to have my own breakfast out of this very bowl.’

She plonked the porridge into it and passed it back to Minty.

‘Why is it called Willow Pattern?’ she asked, moving the grey sludge around to try and see the picture again.

‘Because the tree with the long fluffy branches is a willow,’ said Esme. ‘It’s a very old design. That bowl is at least 150 years old.’

She paused, with a thoughtful look on her face.

‘I’m just trying to remember the story,’ she said. ‘I think I’ve got it…’

‘What story?’ said Minty, intrigued.

‘The story of the Willow Pattern,’ said Esme, sitting down opposite Minty. ‘Yes, I remember now, it goes like this: In ancient times in China there was a rich Mandarin who lived in a grand pagoda – that’s the big house there – with his only child, a beautiful daughter called Koong-Se.

‘He loved his daughter, but his wife had died giving birth to her and that made him hard. When Koong-Se was still a baby he betrothed her to his neighbour, a powerful warrior Duke; an arrangement which would benefit both men. Are you with me so far?’

Minty nodded keenly.

‘Good. So Koong-Se was engaged to the rich old bloke, but when she was 18, she fell in love with Chang, a handsome young man who worked for her father as a scribe. He wrote her beautiful poems, but Koong-Se’s jealous maid found them and betrayed her to the Mandarin.

‘Furious, he banished Chang and sent word to the Duke to come immediately and take Koong-Se away as his bride. He arrived the next day and there was a great banquet. Later, when all the guests were in a drunken stupor, and Koong-Se was sobbing in her room, she heard what sounded like a dove calling outside her window. She looked outside and saw it was Chang.

‘They fled into the night, but just as they got to the willow tree the Mandarin saw them from the house. The Duke sent his guards and they caught them just on the other side of the bridge, attacking Chang, who jumped into the river to escape, disappearing into the swirling water.

‘After that disgrace, the Duke refused to marry Koong-Se and her furious father locked her in the small pagoda by the lake. But one night Chang came on a fishing boat and rescued her. He hadn’t drowned after all.

‘They sailed to a distant island where they lived happily for years. Chang became a famous poet – and this was their undoing. The Mandarin heard about him and sent his guards to the island where they killed Chang. Koong-Se was so heartbroken, she killed herself.

‘The gods were so moved by their tragic fate they immortalised them as two doves flying together forever in the sky. And that is the story of the Willow Pattern.’

For a moment, Minty just gawped at Esme.

‘That’s so unfair!’ she finally burst out. ‘What a horrible father that girl had! He killed her boyfriend! And he should have let her marry the man she loved in the first place, not try and sell her off to some yucky old duke. It’s terrible.’

‘I know,’ said Esme. ‘They were cruel times for girls, but still, it’s nice to have a plate with such an interesting story on it, don’t you think? I’ll leave you to it. I’m going to bring the wood in.’

Minty looked down and was surprised to see that she had eaten quite a lot of the porridge. As she stirred it round the plate she could see most of the picture and now she could relate it to the story it was even more interesting.

As she gazed at her spoon going round and round, Minty started to feel sleepy again – and that was when something very peculiar happened. One minute she was looking down at the big pagoda on the plate and the next she was standing on an unfamiliar lawn looking up at something very like it.

Minty glanced around, feeling quite alarmed. Where the heck was she and how had she got there? She certainly wasn’t in Esme’s kitchen any more. She was standing on grass and she was staring at that big Chinese-looking building. It was red and gold, not blue and white like the plate, but otherwise it looked just like the house on the Willow Pattern.

She looked over her shoulder and, sure enough, there was the willow tree and the bridge – but there weren’t three men running over it holding weapons, as there was on the plate. In fact there was no one around, which was a relief.

She quickly looked back at the pagoda, as something dawned on her. Perhaps the men weren’t there because the story hadn’t started yet – maybe she had time to warn Koong-Se to hide Chang’s poems somewhere the maid wouldn’t find them.

The idea made Minty feel much braver and she ran up the steps into the pagoda. It was cool and quiet in the hallway and she was wondering what to do next, when she heard someone shouting.

Quickly, she crouched behind a huge bronze gong and peeping out, she saw a middle-aged Chinese man come striding into the hall, wearing a long red gown, embroidered with gold dragons. Just behind him was a young woman wearing an apron, smiling smugly to herself.

‘Rats!’ thought Minty. ‘That’s the furious Mandarin and the horrible jealous maid. I’m too late to warn Koong-Se.’

Then two burly thugs appeared, dragging another man between them; a very good looking fellow, with long black hair pulled back in a plait. It had to be Chang.

‘Leave my property immediately, you lowlife scum,’ the Mandarin screamed at him. ‘How dare you violate my daughter with your uninvited attentions. Be gone and never return. If you do, these two will make short work of you.’

The thugs dragged Chang to the front door and threw him down the stairs. Minty winced, but he picked himself up, turned round to face the pagoda, bowed very low and then walked off towards the bridge with great dignity.

‘Way to go, Chang!’ thought Minty, then she remembered what was going to happen to him later and realised she had to act fast. She was wishing the Mandarin would clear off so she could go and find Koong-Se, when she heard footsteps down the stairs.

‘Father! Father! Forgive me, forgive Chang, we are in love!’ a trembling girl’s voice was saying.

Minty peeped out again to see a beautiful young woman throw herself at the Mandarin’s feet.

‘Love?’ said the Mandarin, laughing harshly. ‘Love? What a ridiculous notion. Get up off the floor and behave like a lady, if you can remember how.’

His face was so stern Minty was quite frightened, but Koong-Se stood up and gazed beseechingly at her father, who just stared icily back, his arms folded inside the wide sleeves of his coat.

‘You are a Mandarin’s daughter,’ he said. ‘Even talking to such a man you could have brought disgrace upon my house. I am sending a messenger to the Duke immediately, because if he hears of this shame he won’t marry you. You will not leave your room until I call you to the engagement banquet.’

Koong-Se bowed to her father and trudged back up the stairs. Finally, the Mandarin left the hall and Minty could stand up again. But what do to do? she thought. How could she help? That must be why she was here – there was no other explanation for why she was suddenly standing inside a plate – so she had to do something. But what?

She turned round and looked back out of the front door, where she was very surprised to see a large procession of people coming towards her across the lawn.

At the front was a grim-looking man on a huge white horse. Behind him were loads of soldiers carrying weird-looking weapons and immediately Minty recognised the metal pole with a hook, which one of the men on the bridge was carrying in the picture on the plate.

‘It’s the Duke, come for the engagement banquet,’ thought Minty. ‘But how can he be here yet? The Mandarin has only just gone to send for him. This is weird and getting weirder.’

She ran up the stairs to find Koong-Se, but there was no one there. One of the rooms had a lot of luggage in it, which Minty reckoned must be Koong-Se’s stuff for going away, but there was no sign of her.

She was about to leave the room, when she heard a lot of noise outside. Looking out of the window she saw that the lawn, where the Duke and his soldiers had just been, was now covered in long tables, laden with food, and they were all sitting out there, having the banquet.

Minty decided there was no point trying to understand it. Time clearly worked differently here – she was standing inside a plate, after all – but she still couldn’t work out what she could do to save Koong-Se and Chang.

Before she could think more, there were voices outside the bedroom door and she just had time to duck down behind a trunk, when Koong-Se and the maid came in, followed by the Mandarin.

‘Is everything ready?’ the Mandarin asked the maid, who nodded obsequiously.

Koong-Se was standing on the other side of the room looking out over the lake.

‘Don’t waste your time dreaming, daughter,’ said the Mandarin. ‘You won’t find your scribe out there. He’s gone. And tomorrow you will go too. Understand?’

‘Yes, honoured father,’ said Koong-Se, with her head bowed.

‘Good,’ said the Mandarin. ‘Now, sleep, as you will be leaving at first light.’

He turned back to the maid.

‘Put her to bed, lock the door and bring me the key,’ he said.

‘Of course, master,’ said the maid, simpering.

Minty hoped she might get a chance to give her a sharp kick at some point, but then her attention was distracted by two distinctive sounds. She could hear somebody quietly sobbing, then over the top came the soft hoot of a dove.

Minty blinked. The room had turned dark, the maid and the Mandarin were gone and she could just make out the shape of Koong-Se’s body in the bed. The sobbing stopped and the call of the dove came again.

Koong-Se sprang from the bed, threw open the shutter and gasped – Minty knew why. Chang was there. She was about to call out, to tell her, ‘Don’t go over the front lawn, your dad is on the roof and will see you…’ but it was already too late. She’d gone.

Minty ran over and looked down to see a ladder and the couple embracing at the bottom of it. Then they set off towards the willow and the bridge – and disaster.

Minty’s instinct was to jump out of the window and follow – which was clearly nuts, as it was a long way down – but something made her feel that in this strange plate world it would be alright. And it was. She seemed to fly through the air like one of the figures in her Supermario games.

She landed very lightly on the grass and found that with a gentle push she could jump way up in the air and even pause before landing again.

‘Wow!’ yelled Minty, doing it over and over. ‘This is totally amazing!’

Then she heard a shout from above her and looked up to see the Mandarin leaning over the balcony at the top of the house.

‘Guards!’ he screamed. ‘Koong-Se is escaping! After them!’

Minty’s hands flew up to her face. She was absolutely useless. She’d been in the plate for ages and she’d done nothing to help and worse - it was probably her jumping and shouting that had made the Mandarin look down and see them.

She raced towards the bridge and although her supersonic legs made her very fast, by the time she got to the willow tree, the three guards were already running over the bridge.

There was shouting, the clash of metal, a splash, more screaming and then the guards were coming back, one of them holding Koong-Se in a tight grip over his shoulder.

Minty hid behind the trunk of the willow tree as they went past and when she looked out again, Koong-Se was back at the house, standing in front of her father, her arms held tightly on each side by the guards.

As Minty watched, the Duke appeared, shook his head at the Mandarin and rode off on his big horse. Then the Mandarin raised an arm and pointed to the small pagoda to the left of the big house.

Minty watched as they dragged Koong-Se towards it and decided she wasn’t going to waste any more time. She ran up to the little house knowing that, even on her new jet-propelled legs, by the time she got there, Koong-Se would already be installed in her lake-side prison.

Sure enough, as Minty jumped up and pressed her face against the first floor window she could see Koong-Se inside pacing up and down.

‘Koong-Se!’ Minty shouted out. ‘Over here, by the window!’

Koong-Se immediately turned.

‘Who is it?’ she called out, in a terrified voice.

‘I’m, er, called Minty,’ said Minty. ‘I want to help you…’

Koong-Se took a few steps towards the window and screamed.

‘Maid!’ she yelled. ‘Come at once! There is a ghost! A strange face at my window!’

Oh no, thought Minty, ducking down. All I’ve done is terrify her. She didn’t dare look in again, but she heard the door open and the nasty maid’s voice.

‘Don’t worry, mistress,’ she said. ‘I will go and get the doctor to make up another sleeping draught for you. The distress has disturbed your mind.’

Now I’ve really done it, thought Minty. The maid is making out Koong-Se’s gone bonkers and it’s all my fault. She was just wondering how she could get out of the plate and back into Esme’s nice warm kitchen, before she did any more damage, when she heard a familiar sound. Chang’s dove call.

Leaning around the side of the little pagoda, Minty saw the fishing boat, pulled up outside and Chang, standing on the upper deck, sawing at the bars on the window.

Although she knew what was going to happen later – if not immediately, the way plate time seemed to work – Minty couldn’t help feeling happy as she saw Koong-Se climb out and into her lover’s arms. As they set off across the lake towards the island the sun was setting behind them. It was really beautiful, but she knew it wouldn’t stay that way.

She jumped down and walked along the bank of the lake towards the willow tree. So far she had failed to change the story at any point – was there any way she could save them?

She turned and looked back at the pagoda and saw that the Mandarin was pacing up and down on the high veranda again,

‘I wonder if he knows she’s gone yet?’ wondered Minty and decided he probably did. Then she realised there was one thing she could do that might help. She could go and talk to him.

But how could a ten-year old girl get the attention of a proud and cruel Mandarin – especially one who clearly didn’t have a lot of respect for females?

I know! thought Minty, suddenly. She had just remembered a film that her mother loved. It was something about a Crouching Tiger and it had this brilliant Chinese girl in it who could do the most amazing kung fu. There was one bit when she was fighting up in a tree, bouncing around on the leaves and branches. If I can do that, thought Minty, I’ll get his attention.

Running on her new legs Minty was across the lawn and up the first tree in no time, and feeling no fear, she took an almighty leap from that tree to the next, and the next, until she was standing on quite a small branch, looking right at the Mandarin. He was reading a scroll.

Crikey, thought Minty. I got here just in time. She bounced the branch a bit so the leaves rustled and the Mandarin looked up. He was quite surprised. In fact he leapt to his feet, scattering the scrolls that had been on his lap to the ground.

Minty immediately got into a kung fu position with one leg bent and the other straight out and her foot turned up. It was a shame she was wearing cupcake print pyjamas, but he might not notice.

‘What are you?’ said the Mandarin, clearly terrified. Result!

Minty thought quickly. Another film came to mind: Mulan.

‘My name is Minty,’ she said, proudly. ‘I am the guardian of your ancestors.’

The Mandarin bowed to her. Minty bowed back and jumped elegantly to closer branch, just to keep him on his toes. It worked; he stepped back and braced himself against the wall.

‘What do you want from me, respected Guardian?’ he asked, his voice trembling with fear.

‘I want to talk to you about your daughter, Koong-Se,’ said Minty, trying to sound like her headmaster in his most scary telling-off mode.

‘I have no daughter,’ said the Mandarin, bitterly.

‘But you do,’ said Minty. ‘She is living on an island with the man she loves. The man who wrote the poetry you were just reading…’

She was going out on a limb here, but she reckoned she was right. The Mandarin looked startled. Excellent.

‘But how did you know?’ he asked, looking flustered. ‘I had just recognised my daughter’s face in this poet’s description… In that moment, I knew it must be the villain Chang. So the rumours are true.’

His expression hardened. Minty was worried for a moment. Had she just accidentally told him where Chang and Koong-Se were? That would be really terrible. Maybe if she’d left it well alone they might have been alright on their island. But she’d started, so she’d have to try and put it right.

‘Did you love your wife?’ she said suddenly, trying to stay stern, although she was feeling pretty shaky.

‘My wife!’ said the Mandarin, clearly furious. ‘Nobody speaks of my wife! Since she died, no one is allowed to speak her name. The pain is still too great for me.’

It was time to put this creep right, thought Minty.

‘Silence!’ she yelled and leaped high into the air. She landed on the veranda, took hold of the Mandarin’s hand and then jumped again, taking him with her.

In one leap, they went all the way over the pagoda to the big tree at the back. From there she took them down to the lawn and from there up into the willow tree itself. The Mandarin’s face was chalk white with terror.

Right, thought Minty, now I’ve got him where I want him. She bounced a bit on the droopy willow branch just to keep him on his toes. He clung to her fingers like a toddler.

‘Look,’ she said, pointing across the lake. ‘Do you see yonder island?’

She was getting the lingo from Robin Hood, but it seemed to work. The Mandarin nodded.

‘That is where your daughter and her true love dwell in the happiness that you knew with your own wife. The only sadness in Koong-Se’s life is that you have disowned her and she will never see you again. ’

‘Any man would disown such a daughter,’ said the Mandarin.

He has spirit, thought Minty, you had to hand it to him, but she wasn’t going to give up. She loosened her grip on his hand a bit.

‘Listen carefully,’ said Minty. ‘I have come to give you a last chance to be happy. I know you want to send your guards to kill Chang and bring your daughter back to live here in misery. But it will not turn out like that. If you slay Chang, Koong-Se will kill herself and you will die alone. Instead, you could accept Chang and let them come home to you - and will fill your house with laughing children.’

‘I do not want such children,’ said the Mandarin.

‘Well, the spirit of your wife weeps for you,’ said Minty. She was pushing it a bit, she knew, but she reckoned if she was the Mandarin’s dead wife, she would feel that way.

And she must have been right, because the leaves of the willow tree began to move and rustle and through the sound of the leaves came a voice.

‘It is your wife,’ said the voice. ‘Bring our daughter home. Let her enjoy the love that was taken from us by death. If you love me, as you say you do, don’t let your wicked pride waste your life and our daughter’s.’

Minty was a little freaked out by the voice, but as she was pretending to be an ancestor guardian, she thought she better not show it. The leaves stopped moving and she looked down at the Mandarin. His eyes were full of tears.

‘Oh, respected guardian,’ he said. ‘That was the voice of my long lost wife! For many years I have dreamed to hear that voice again. I will do as you both tell me. I will go to Koong-Se and Chang and beg them to come home with me. I will revere him as the great poet he is. You have my word. Thank you for saving me from the lonely prison of my pride.’

He started to bow and Minty just managed to hold onto him to stop him falling out of the tree. Safely on the ground again, they bowed deeply to each other and Minty was just wondering how an Ancestor Guardian should make a dignified exit, when she realised the Mandarin had gone. She looked around and saw an elaborate boat heading off across the lake towards the island.

‘Well, there he goes, but now I have actually changed the story I don’t know what happens next,’ thought Minty. ‘I’ll wait by the pagoda and hope I don’t miss anything.’

But as she walked up the lawn towards the red and gold palace, the grass beneath her feet started to turn inky blue and suddenly she was back in Esme’s cosy kitchen.

She blinked a couple of times and then looked down at the Willow Pattern bowl. All the porridge was gone. She picked up her spoon and was about the trace the story in the pattern again, when she noticed something.

On the steps of the pagoda were three figures that hadn’t been there before and on the lawn in front of them were four smaller figures, which looked like children playing.

Minty was staring at it in amazement, when she heard her Great Godmother’s voice.

‘Did you enjoy your porridge, Minty?’ she said.

Minty looked up and saw Esme gazing intently at her, her blue eyes shining.

Minty nodded.

‘Can I have it again tomorrow?’ she asked. ‘In this bowl?’

‘Of course, you can,’ said Esme, and winked, slowly.

The End