Tears of the Dragon

by Jean Moran

  ‘His grandmother,’ she whispered.

  ‘Is Kim treating you all right?’

  She didn’t answer but furtively searched in a silk purse hanging from a gold rope over her shoulder. Unnoticed by Kim’s grandmother she slipped something smooth and shiny into his hand, closing his fingers over it so it wouldn’t be seen.

  There was no time for her to say anything. The old lady’s scolding stopped as the guards waved and shouted at the driver to get going. The car jolted forward.

  Connor slid the lighter into his pocket but didn’t rush to get back to work. Feeling sick for her safety he followed the progress of Kim Pheloung’s car until it disappeared into the hidden world of the walled city and wished he could run after it. The British had rarely entered the Chinese enclave and neither did the Japanese. All they wanted was its stone for their own purposes, which obviously suited Kim Pheloung. He was probably selling it to them or providing the truck and the sledgehammers.

  That evening Connor ate his rations in silence.

  Harry was in close conversation with a young Eurasian man who had somehow managed to slide under the wire to trade. He’d brought food, but Connor knew the main reason Harry had invited him to stay. Tonight he would forgo their conversations, but he didn’t mind that. He could still see her in his mind and there for the moment she would have to stay.

  ‘You’ll enjoy the meat. It’s pork.’

  The information was provided by the corporal sitting opposite him. He was devouring his meal with gusto.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  The corporal nodded. ‘It wandered into the camp and got requisitioned. Not the only one, eh?’ He smirked at Harry and his new friend.

  After he’d finished his food, Connor helped himself to a mug of hooch that an American inmate had brewed from a minimal amount of sugar and a lot of rotten fruit. Mug in hand he went outside and clambered onto one of the stone buttresses of the old buildings, aloof and aloft from the shabby men around him.

  Sitting up there he looked out over the city to where the setting sun was turning the sky salmon pink. The lighter was still in his pocket. For now just touching the hard lump of silver reminded him of her and gave him hope. In time he might have to barter it for food or medicine, but the situation would have to be very dire before that happened. In the meantime it was part of his present and his past, just as she was. The war would end one day and hopefully they would both live to see it, to have children, to grow old and ponder this part of their lives and the youthful people they’d once been.

  10

  Strands of tinsel were whirling around as though caught in a hurricane sucking in the clothes-peg angels, some of which were blowing little gold trumpets or playing miniature harps. The noise they were making was far from sweet. Not until the yellow light of a noisy city began to creep over the walls and into her room did she fall into a peaceful sleep, the nightmares gone with the darkness.

  Despite the application of white cream by the Han girl Luli, Kim commented on the dark rings beneath her eyes. ‘You look tired.’

  ‘I don’t sleep well. So much has happened.’ She gave a little gasp and drew back when his fingertips touched her cheek.

  ‘I will not hurt you, my dear Rowena. Now. Calm yourself.’ Unsmiling, he reached out and did it again. This time she steeled herself not to draw back. His fingers stroked her cheek. They were soft and cold and made her want to shiver but she thought she owed him something. He had taken her from a vile place and it was only right that she showed him she was grateful.

  ‘Why am I here?’

  ‘You are here. Accept it.’

  ‘Won’t you be punished for sheltering an enemy alien?’

  ‘The colonel passed you into my custody. He is an honourable man.’

  ‘That sounds as though I am still a prisoner.’

  ‘Yes. This is true. But look.’ He indicated her surroundings with a sweep of his hand. ‘You reside in a gilded cage, not in a dog kennel like the other women. Many of them will die. Japan cannot feed itself, let alone the thousands of prisoners its soldiers have taken.’

  ‘You sound convinced of that.’

  ‘Just as I am convinced I will be on the right side when the surrender finally comes – whoever the victor might be.’

  She gathered her legs beneath her and buried her face in one of the silken cushions. One half of her wanted to rebel and demand he take her back to her friends. The other was confused and very afraid.

  She started on feeling his hand patting the back of her head.

  ‘All this will pass. You are still the same woman you were, but more so. In future it is all you have to be. A woman. Nothing else.’

  She frowned. The woman she had been was slowly being rebuilt as her memories re-formed. ‘I’m a doctor. I brought babies into the world. Treated the sick.’

  He frowned, his eyes black with disappointment. ‘You no longer need to be that. You are now just a woman. Clear your mind of everything else.’

  Her head hurt. She touched it and closed her eyes.

  ‘Now,’ he said, getting to his feet. ‘You are obviously not sleeping well. This we can deal with. My grandmother has many potions to help you sleep better. Do you have nightmares?’

  She looked at him over the top of the cushion and nodded. Just thinking about the nightmare made it active again, weaving its way into her mind as though it were yesterday.

  ‘The Japanese soldiers. Lower orders told to die for their emperor. Not that they wish to, of course. Unfortunately these uncultured men revert to type. Peasants and fishermen will remain just that. In time you will forget.’

  She heard the contempt in his voice and did not look into his face but flicked thoughtfully at a small blemish in her robe. ‘I’m a doctor. I understand trauma. Even with time it will never pass entirely away. I can never forget it, only live with it.’

  ‘You will forget you are a doctor. You will be a woman and will heal. I insist on this.’

  He settled himself on his favourite divan, pulled up his feet and stretched full length, his look steadfast and discerning. The blue silk robe he wore fell open exposing his chest, the skin glossy, like honey-coloured jade. ‘In time you will tell me everything. I am a man of the world. I will not flinch.’

  ‘But I will. I feel such shame. I don’t understand how you can bear to look at me as you do.’

  ‘How is that?’

  She swallowed and turned her head, gazing out through the window and across to the bustling south side of the courtyard and the kitchens, storerooms and servants’ quarters.

  His hands stroked, his look was of desire, yet she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. How could he desire her looking as she presently did? How could he desire her knowing what the soldiers had done, how many times they had abused her body? She felt tainted, demeaned.

  She kept her gaze fixed on the scene across the courtyard. ‘They look busy.’

  He nodded. ‘The south side suits those who must work. Servants always work on the south side. The family live on the north. All Chinese houses are built so, the south more open to the outside world.’

  ‘I suppose you live on the north side because it’s cooler in summer,’ she said, thinking it the obvious reason.

  ‘No. It is traditional. It is feng shui.’

  She felt him looking at her as though he could see beneath the silk robe, her naked skin, see how everything inside was working, some of it battered and bruised.

  She blushed under the intensity of his gaze. Although tears burned at the corners of her eyes, she held them back, refusing to break down. Inside she felt broken.

  ‘I will give you comfort when you need it.’

  His voice soothed her troubled mind until he said, ‘The men who abused you have been dealt with. I can show you their bodies if you like.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘They were executed?’

  ‘Yes. By me.’

  *

  Some days she spent walking alone in the courtyar
d, Luli keeping a respectful distance. On other days she found herself confined to her room, the door unmoving when she tried to open it.

  ‘Why am I allowed out some days and not others?’ she demanded of Luli.

  Luli shook her head. ‘The master...’

  She asked Kim the same question.

  ‘You spoke to one of the men taking down the stone from the walls.’

  So, the old woman had noticed. ‘Is that a crime for which I am to be punished?’

  ‘Your looks set you apart from your former countrymen. This will save your life. Do not jeopardise it unnecessarily.’

  The chance did not come for her to repeat the action. Now when she went out for a ride they drove into the hinterland of the New Territories, though even up there it was possible to look down on the walled city, rising like a green carbuncle amid buildings thrown, like children’s building blocks, around it.

  Twisting from the waist, she kept her eyes fixed on the dust cloud and the men working until they were smothered by distance, though his voice still sang in her head.

  She wondered whether the boiler might dry out the wood and make the fiddle unplayable. Connor would be heartbroken and so would she if that happened.

  For all its comforts, life in Kim’s sumptuous house was lonely, the coldness of luxury rarely warmed by human interaction except with him. He dined with her, talked with her and slowly gained her trust.

  The only other person she could talk to was Luli, but their conversation was stilted and narrow, Rowena reluctant to divulge her history or discuss Kim in too great detail.

  He had rescued her, but she was still unsure of his reasons and did not dare push him any further. If he could kill Japanese soldiers with apparent impunity, he could easily kill her, yet all he showed her was kindness.

  Explaining that his business dominated his life, Kim was away most of the day returning sometimes after she had had supper and gone to bed. At first he stroked her hair tentatively and his cool fingers caressed her cheeks but gravitated to her forehead, her eyelids, down her nose to her lips, so gently, so softly.

  That she no longer winced at his touch unnerved her. When she closed her eyes she asked herself what was happening to her, but could come up with no answer she wished to face. Instead she imagined she was someone, something else.

  I am like a cat, she thought. Touch me more. Hear me purr.

  It was two weeks following her arrival when she’d been left alone all day, except for a brief meeting with Luli, that the nightmare came back with a vengeance.

  In the midst of her tossing and turning, the silk coverlet tangled around her. Turning in the opposite direction, it fell from the bed, leaving her shivering and sobbing as she relived that dreadful day with fevered horror.

  Suddenly the sweaty faces disappeared, the hands melted as a great rush of water flooded over her and swept them away, cooling her inflamed body, yet she did not drown, her breathing slowed. Deep sleep was only a breath away.

  Half waking she realised it was not water but the coolness of the silk coverlet, retrieved from the floor and being laid gently over her.

  She began drifting back into the deeper sleep she craved when suddenly she became aware that she was not alone: another body was weighing down the other half of the silk-covered bed.

  Slowly she opened her eyes, trying to decide if she was in a dream or if this was really happening. The darkness of night was spangled with dots of light coming from lanterns glowing on the veranda outside her window. As her eyes began to flicker shut, she felt an arm placed across her, a hand gently stroking her shoulder. ‘Sssh. Sleep. Sleep.’

  At first she tensed, but the softness of his voice was hypnotic, as were the cool fingers stroking her shoulder. Not once did he attempt to slide beneath the silk coverlet, but remained on top, caressing her hair and whispering kind words against her ear, sometimes in English, sometimes in Chinese or Malay.

  Eyelids heavy, soothed by his voice, she fell asleep.

  By dawn he was gone. She should have been relieved, but his presence had kept the demons away, just like the daylight that was streaming through the window.

  The darkness having gone, she fell asleep again, warmly confident that there would be no nightmares now. She was safe.

  Luli, the Han servant reviled by Kim’s grandmother on account of her big feet, came with the morning, carrying a bowl of water scented with rose petals. With her usual air of subservience, she placed it on a lacquered washstand, standing with head bowed, eyelids flickering from under a ribbon of black fringe.

  ‘You can go now.’ Rowena made a shooing motion with her hand, but the girl didn’t budge. ‘I can wash myself.’

  ‘Zu Mu told me stay and wash you. Make sure.’

  Luli had told her that Zu Mu meant ‘grandmother’.

  ‘I can do it myself.’

  ‘I do it. She will beat me if I do not and send me back to the mission.’

  ‘Is that where you learned to speak English?’

  She nodded and dared raise her eyes to Rowena’s face. ‘Yes. I learned at mission school.’

  ‘How did you come to be here?’

  ‘The luoban needed servant.’

  Rowena frowned because Luli had used the word for ‘boss’ rather than taipan, the name usually reserved for the head of a thriving and legitimate business house. It confirmed her worst fears. She’d presumed Kim to be a silk merchant right up until he’d admitted to killing the men who had raped her. Only a man of immense power could get away with doing something like that or buy her from a Japanese commander.

  Connor’s warning came back to her. He’d intimated that Kim was the boss of a criminal gang, a triad, and, as such, could wield great power. She took the opportunity to talk to Luli, to ask her more about Kim, his grandmother and the other people who lived in this place.

  ‘I cannot tell you any more.’ Luli glanced nervously over her shoulder, as if anyone could hear anything that was said through the heavy ebony door that, like everything else in this place, was carved with the lucky symbol, the dragon.

  ‘Can you tell me where the luoban has gone?’

  She shook her head avidly, her eyes wide with fear. ‘No. I must not.’

  Rowena frowned. ‘Have you been told not to speak to me?’

  ‘I can speak to you, but not too much. It is not my place.’

  ‘Where was the mission you came from?’

  ‘Shanghai.’

  ‘Do you like it here?’

  It was the wrong question to ask. Luli was just a servant. She wasn’t expected to like it here.

  ‘What if I asked the luoban if you could visit me every afternoon?’

  Luli looked terrified.

  ‘I won’t if you don’t want me to.’ She thought about how she could persuade Kim to allow Luli to spend more time with her. ‘I could ask him if you could teach me some words of Cantonese. I’m sure he’d be pleased if I could say a few words in his language instead of always having to revert to English.’

  Luli’s tight expression of outright fear lessened.

  ‘Right,’ said Rowena. ‘That’s settled, then.’

  A loud banging on the door, accompanied by a demanding shout, had Luli scooping up the bowl and the Turkish towel she’d brought with her.

  The door flew open and closed with a bang once Luli had shot through it. The door had no lock but there was a sound of sliding wood. Rowena tried opening it. It didn’t budge. A wooden bar on the outside prevented it.

  Rowena slumped onto a silk-covered divan. She was alone once more, with nobody to talk to. She resorted to watching what was happening out in the courtyard or in the kitchens at the southern end of the house.

  It was midday when Kim’s grandmother shuffled in, her hips swaying like a hula dancer’s, thanks to her lotus-flower feet. Swift movement was denied her, but a kind of balancing act contrived to alleviate the pain that walking caused. Luli was behind her, something silky and heavily embroidered over her arm.


  Kim’s grandmother barked at her, then turned her uncompromising expression to Rowena.

  Nervously Luli interpreted what had been said.

  ‘Zu Mu says you are to bathe and prepare to dine with her grandson tonight. You are to wear this.’

  Grandmother snapped an order and pointed at the dragon-ended couch in the corner of the room. In response Luli dutifully trotted over and carefully spread out the dress.

  Rowena had to admit it was breathtaking. ‘It’s very beautiful. Shame about the colour.’

  Luli translated into Cantonese for the grandmother, who demanded what she had meant by her comment.

  ‘Red isn’t my favourite colour. I prefer blue or pale green. Even dark green.’

  Again Luli translated.

  ‘Zu Mu says it does not matter what colour you like. Red is her grandson’s lucky colour.’

  Rowena fingered the heavy embroidery, so elaborate compared to her own clothes and her beloved white coat, the symbol of her profession. Thinking of her coat prompted her to ask for her clothes.

  ‘I’d like my own clothes. Especially my white coat.’

  Luli looked startled.

  Grandmother frowned. A long-nailed finger prodded Luli for an explanation, which Luli duly delivered.

  The old lady’s frown deepened and her guttural tone said everything without the need for Rowena to understand the words.

  ‘No good,’ said Luli, shaking her head, her eyes darting nervously between Rowena and the old lady.

  ‘No good? What do you mean, no good?’

  Luli looked ready to crumple into a heap. ‘Burned.’

  ‘Everything?’

  She nodded, studying her feet rather than meet Rowena’s expression.

  Letting the heavy silk fall from her hands, Rowena eyed the dress. ‘Well, that should certainly turn a few heads when I go driving in the car.’

  ‘Oh, no, Doctor. Not go out in cheongsam. Go out in tunic and trousers. Luoban ordered this for his eyes only.’

  ‘I’m flattered,’ she murmured, though it was only a half-truth. It occurred to her that Kim considered he was doing her a kindness in destroying the clothes she’d worn on Christmas Day back at St Stephen’s.