by Meira Chand
‘She should’ve had kids,’ Nate Cooper observed from the bar. ‘All those committees, etcetera, etcetera, it’s only surrogate motherhood.’
Eva gazed up at him, surprised and listened as Nate continued. ‘We had a child once, a girl, Marianne. Died at six months from viral pneumonia. She wouldn’t have any more after that, and I’m not much help. Business, business, nothing but business, or so Gerry tells me. What else can I do? I’m like that. The only thing I seem to know how to give her is money and more money. But that doesn’t cure it all, does it?’ He took a loud sip from his whisky, and his voice was slightly slurred when he spoke again. ‘It’s not been much good between us lately. Guess we’re getting on, can’t fool ourselves much longer. No, guess there’s something ailing us. Seems to me we have a helluva lot going on around us, and nothing in the middle. I can see it tonight with your kids in here. It’s giving us both a kick. Look at her there, she’s loving it.’ He paused and swallowed loudly, then called across to Geraldine.
‘Hey, Gerry. That one over there, the fat one with the plaster, what’s his name, Hiroshi. He missed his turn. You’ve gotta play fair there now.’ Nate Cooper left the bar, ambled over to Geraldine and proceeded to direct the game above his wife’s plump form. Eva sat back and watched, appreciative and surprised at the Coopers’ strengths and generosities. She had misjudged them as shallow people.
They were everything Eva had always rejected and avoided, the Kobe crowd, as she called the perennial, socially-orientated foreign expat community. For she herself had a life of great content and meaning, the kind of life not given to many of the foreigners who came to Japan. She knew herself used for a privileged purpose that broke down all barriers. But generally the luckless foreign resident remained entrenched in the mental cantonment the Japanese had reserved for them, back on the maps of 1870. Any puny efforts to supersede it were doomed before they began; Japanese society was a closed and impenetrable thing. And it was sad, Eva felt, that a clear human exchange between the races must be reduced to the rare event. She saw the faults on both sides for this, the mutual mistrust and ignorance. For the Japanese, the foreigner was forever the barbarian, an ugly, gormless, lolloping creature, filled with all the boundless spontaneity the Japanese had been taught to abhor from the beginning of time.
And the average foreign resident, experiencing sooner or later the reality of their position, refused to show patience or respect for the centuries of insulation that had produced this social system, more ordered and often more workable than their own. They condescended airily to what they considered quaint, esoteric and inscrutable, and returned quickly to their clique at the club, and the comfort of their own kind.
Eva had neither time nor patience for the attitudes of either side. There was work to be done, and she applied herself to it and found another plane to live upon. It was a long time since she had observed the Hartley Rovers and Annette Rouleaus of this world. She looked across at Dennis Denzel and noticed Kyo then.
She sat snuggled up to Dennis in the depths of a pale green sofa, her feet curled up beneath her. She rested an elbow on Dennis’s shoulder, and played with a strand of his hair. He leaned back and listened to Kyo’s chatter unravel about him like loose wool. Her tipsy attention was like the continuous buzzing of a tiresome bee, and he pulled his head away from her fingers, feeling he had had enough. Making an excuse, he heaved himself heavily to his feet, and turned back towards the bar. Kyo pulled at a handful of his shirt.
‘Hey, where you going? You’ve not finished your drink. She tugged him back towards her and he tumbled onto the cushions.
‘You can’t leave Kyo alone,’ she pouted. ‘I told you I like you. And you like me too, don’t you?’
‘Yes, yes. But there is something I must ask Nate Cooper. Now, sit here like a good girl, I’ll be back.’ Dennis stood up and hurried off, relieved to have escaped.
‘Don’t leave Kyo alone,’ she pouted again, speaking in a childish voice. ‘I’m coming too. Anyway I wan’ more whisky.’ She stood unsteadily and Eva, watching her across the room, rose from her chair. She prayed Kyo would not disgrace them; she was already unbalanced and now she was drunk. She wondered how to handle her, but felt too tired to think.
Daniel burst in suddenly then with Jiro and Kenichi. They rushed across to the window. ‘From what we can see, the sea-wall is down, the road is flooded. There’s water all about the house, and the level seems to be rising. The boys have just shown me from an upstairs window.’
‘The wall began to break a long time ago. We saw it earlier, when we took the candles up to Sister Elaine. We just went back now to have a look,’ Jiro and Kenichi said together.
The room was filled with frightened voices, children began to whimper. Yoshiko sat down and started to cry and Eiko bent to her.
‘I can’t take any more,’ sobbed Yoshiko. ‘What will become of us all?’
‘It can’t last much longer,’ comforted Eiko. ‘Don’t let the children see you like this.’ Watching her the circle of small eyes absorbed her fear.
Geraldine’s voice rose suddenly then from the kitchen. ‘Nate. There’s water in here, water.’ She rushed into the lounge, her face torn open in panic. ‘It’s oozing in under the door, Nate.’
‘It’s coming under the front door, too,’ Arthur Wilcox called from the entrance hall, where he had dashed at Geraldine’s alert. For a moment there was silence, then everyone began to talk at once.
‘Hart, Hart,’ Annette’s voice rose above them all, taut and thin. ‘Hart, what shall we do? I can’t take any more.’ Annette shrank into a corner of the sofa, hugging herself in terror. At her feet Kimiko had woken. She began to cry, staring at Annette as she sucked her thumb.
‘Pull yourself together Annette, you’re upsetting the kids.’ Hartley bent and picked up Kimiko, talking to her quietly.
‘I can’t, I’m ill. Ill, Hart. Do you hear? I’ve suddenly got awful pains. What’ll become of us all?’
Emiko and Toshio had woken and were sobbing loudly. The older children looked at the faces of the adults with terrified expressions, more small ones began to cry. The women bent to comfort them. Eva took Kimiko from Hartley, and looked anxiously at Annette, who had started to shiver. Yoshiko composed herself quietly and turned to the children.
‘Keep calm folks. How high can it rise? We simply go up stairs to a higher level. There’s no need to panic. We shall be safe.’ Nate Cooper spoke with assurance.
Outside, water sluiced triumphantly over the broken sea-wall no longer dividing ocean and road. The waves pounded forward unimpeded, and broke against the Coopers’ wall, thrusting under their copper gates.
‘We had none of this earlier,’ Nate expressed private alarm to Arthur. ‘The eye has passed, the winds are reversed. They are pulling the sea towards us now.’ Arthur tugged at his moustache.
‘God, when will it end?’ Nate’s face turned a streaky grey. A wet stain began on the carpet from the further corner of the lounge, spreading like a shadow.
‘Up,’ shrieked Geraldine. ‘We must go up.’ She pointed to the ceiling.
From the kitchen and hallway water oozed rapidly into the house. The garden was already submerged, a dark band of water bordered the window outside. Wind whipped up small waves upon what was once the lawn, shrubs floated like craft about the legs of the garden furniture. Large breakers crashed in waterfalls over the wall and rolled upon the window. One slammed itself upon the glass, enclosing them for a moment in a black wall of sea.
‘Up. Up. Don’t just stand there with wet feet, do something, Nate,’ Geraldine cried again.
‘I am neither Noah nor possess the Ark!’ replied Nate. ‘But up we must go without a doubt. Up, in fact to our eagle’s nest. There we shall be safe.’
‘Oh quickly, quickly,’ urged Geraldine.
The children huddled in groups about the women.
Yoshiko’s face appeared glazed. Children clutched at her skirt, sobbing. Eiko looked at her anxiously.
‘Come on now, everyone, follow me.’ Nate Cooper led them to the stairs.
Annette Rouleau still huddled on the sofa, moaning, ‘Hartley, Hartley.’
‘Get a hold on yourself, Annette. We’re going upstairs, we’ll be safe there. Come on.’
‘I can’t move. I’ve terrible pains,’ Annette sobbed. ‘Oh Hart, I’m so frightened.’
‘Annette. Come on.’
‘I can’t.’ Annette shook her head, her silver chains clinked. Taking hold of her arm Hartley pulled her to her feet. She gave little shrieks of agitation bending double as he dragged her forward. Another wave smashed upon the window, Annette screamed again. Behind her Junko started to cry and Eiko picked her up.
The children were assembled into a line. Arthur Wilcox took the blind child, Ruriko, Dennis Denzel carried Toshio and held Tami by the hand. Beside him Kyo swayed unsteadily.
‘Come on. Follow me.’ Nate Cooper led the way. ‘You kids want to know how an eagle feels in his nest at the top of the tree? Well, you’ll soon find out.’ Nate Cooper made an effort to speak calmly over his shoulder to the crowd of frightened children.
‘I don’t want to climb a tree,’ Emiko sobbed, stopping in her tracks.
‘Don’t like eagles,’ Jun’s lip trembled.
‘Peck you to death,’ Takeo said in a high, tight voice.
Yumiko and Mariko clutched each other. Yoshiko, alarmed, put an arm about Emiko.
‘No, no. It’s a room. We call it our eagle’s nest because it’s on top of the house. It’s our den, our hidy-hole. Real high. We don’t use all this when we’re alone.’ Nate gestured to the rooms below as he climbed the stairs.
They trooped up past the mezzanine and bedroom levels and took another flight of stairs. Their candles blew giant shadows on the walls and the children watched them fearfully, their sobs mixed with the shuffle of feet.
‘We place ourselves in thy hands, O Lord,’ Eva prayed as she climbed. Upon her shoulder Kimiko slept.
Hartley Rover steered Annette firmly by the arm. She gave little cries under her breath. Suddenly she doubled up, collapsing on the stairs. Behind her Dennis Denzel lurched to a stop, Toshio in his arms. He changed his candle to the other hand, his thumb enbalmed with wax.
‘Get up. Come on,’ Hartley said impatiently. Annette nursed her stomach.
‘I can’t, I’m ill. I’m in pain. Hartley, help me.’
‘It’s nerves, Annette, get up, you’re worse than a child. None of these kids are behaving like you.’ He wished for a way to escape, but the crocodile of bodies packed him tight against the banisters.
‘You brought any whisky with you Den’is?’ Kyo pawed Dennis Denzel, who was hung about uncomfortably with a child and candle.
‘Shut up,’ hissed Dennis, changing Toshio’s weight and his candle to the other arm again. Toshio gave a shudder and started to sob, and immediately Tami looked anxiously up at him, and began to cry herself.
‘There, there. It’ll be all right,’ the encumbered Dennis reassured the children. Kyo pulled at his arm again and his candle flickered.
‘What about I go back for the whisky, Den’is? Then we can be cosy.’
‘You get up these stairs.’ Dennis turned upon her. Toshio and the candle tilted dangerously, their black shadows stretching elastically up the wall.
‘Maybe you not such a nice man,’ Kyo said sullenly.
‘Come on, Annette.’ Hartley pulled her forward brusquely. Annette trod on her caftan. There was the thin tear of silk and she gave a little scream.
‘I hate you, Hartley Rover. I hate you.’
‘Just now the feeling’s mutual, Annette. But for the moment we must get up these stairs, we must get through the night.’ He gave her another rough tug.
‘Welcome to our hidy-hole.’ Nate Cooper threw open the door before them.
The candles illuminated a room of mostly glass. The sun roof was sloped like an attic ceiling and from its concrete struts baskets of fern hung prettily. Two potted lemon trees stood in a corner. There were large deep sofas in an Eastern patterned print, scatter rugs and cushions were strewn about the floor. It was a pleasant room on a happier day. Now the glass roof drummed deafeningly with rain and took the rap of the storm as the room stood up, exposed, like a periscope above the house.
‘It’s noisy but safe, I promise you. That glass is strong as steel.’ Nate smiled reassuringly, but Annette was unconvinced and began to cry again. Under the thunderous rattle of the storm the children stood mute and stiff with fear. Beneath the glass roof, hanging baskets of fern swung gently in vibration.
‘We’ll be safe up here.’ Nate Cooper smiled broadly.
‘Oh, and if it were nicer weather I could show you the sauna, just across from this room on the roof. Nate brought it from Finland last year. It’s a little gem, I couldn’t live without it,’ Geraldine enthused, feeling immediately better at this higher level. The children stared at her petrified, choking back sobs.
‘I want the bathroom.’ Junko pressed her knees together, her breath small rasps of fear. Eva hurried her from the room. Nobuo ran after her, another two followed him.
At the window Arthur Wilcox stared out into the night. ‘Good God, come and look at this,’ he called to Nate. Everyone hurried forward.
The churning mass of water had flooded the road and neighbouring homes. Beside the house the river boiled down from higher land to the right of the Coopers’ house, only their high wall contained its swollen overflow. The last few feet of the submerged garden wall squared off a field of water within a larger expanse of sea. And still the waves continued to break, great surfing spills of foam, smashing over the Coopers’ wall, rolling on towards the house to fling themselves upon it. An unexpected streak of lightning cut the sky open and illuminated the whole disaster. Beyond what was once the sea wall two boats, broken from their moorings, pitched about. Much further out on the bay were the lights of anchored ships, rolling and tossing.
‘Don’t look,’ Eva commanded, coming back into the room with Junko and Nobuo. She hurried the children away from the window. ‘It’ll soon be finished, it cannot go on much longer. We shall be safe up here. We must try and get some rest now.’ Before her the children nodded, overcome by the night’s experience. About them the room flickered in candlelight, rain flailed on the glass roof, the noise resounding in their ears. They choked back sobs and looked at Eva.
Annette Rouleau’s hysteria still dominated the room. Hartley carried her to a nearby sofa and arranged her there.
‘Are your tranquillisers in this bag, Annette?’ Hartley fumbled in Annette’s lizard skin handbag for her silver pillbox and pressed a tablet between her lips.
‘Swallow it,’ he commanded. ‘And now lie quiet.’
‘It’s just nerves,’ Eva said quietly to Hartley, coming up beside him. She bent to Annette.
‘Try and relax, my dear. It will soon be over. We shall be all right. Try taking deep breaths.’
Annette Rouleau looked at her weakly, and started to sob again. Eva patted her arm and turned to Geraldine.
‘We must bed these poor children down somehow. They cannot take any more.’
‘I’ll fetch up some pillows and blankets,’ Geraldine offered quickly. Eva nodded and went with her to help.
6
She had had the most wonderful dream. She and Horace had been at a croquet match at Mrs de Bainville’s. They were sitting with glasses of iced lemonade in a charming white summerhouse. Beyond the windows the lawn stretched lime and acid under the sun, spread with croquet hoops. There was the gentle knock of the ball, the sounds of voices and laughter. Lettice Banebridge and Evangeline Simmons had suddenly appeared with the treat of bowls of strawberries. Lettice wore a floppy white hat with a tulle bird upon it. As Maud watched the bird grew real and took flight, fluttering about the walls of the summerhouse. Horace jumped up and soon caught
it, but he did not give it back to Lettice. He came towards Maud, cupping the bird in his hands. His eyes were smiling down at her, deep blue and crinkled at the corners. She felt the soft warmth of the bird in her hand, the frightened beat of its heart. Then she had woken, the dream breaking softly in her head, until only Horace’s eyes remained with her. Horace’s eyes. She smiled to herself in the candlelight.
Somewhere behind there must have been another dream, for she had also the memory of meeting young Arthur Wilcox. They had talked of many things and time had dissolved. She told him, she remembered, about the balloon ascent, and there was something too about Rudyard Kipling of all people.
Outside the storm still raged. She could hear the beastly thing crashing and banging about. The sleep had done her good, she felt animated. Everything seemed melted and stirred, as if the past was the present and the present of no regard. And what did it matter if it were? It was only her memories that kept her alive. She remembered then again the nasty shock she had received that morning, or was it yesterday? When Geraldine had appeared so suddenly in Mama’s red velvet dress. Just remembering the anger surged up in her once more, shattering the gentle dreams. Mama had given the dress to her, and Maud had kept it safe for years in a silk-lined trunk. What right had Geraldine to take it? What right? Maud Bingham struggled to sit up in bed, to feel her anger the better. It descended to her knees. She remembered the red shelf that was Geraldine’s belly below the nip of whalebones. Horrid, horrid, horrid.