He did not move from where he was standing. His major-domo, Zhang Erhao, closed the gates and looked at him curiously as he passed. Airton pulled his pipe from his pocket but made no effort to fill it, just twisted the stem in his fingers, gazing at the ground.
He knew what he had to do, but he had always held off taking any action. Sister Elena was right: he had been behaving out of character ever since his terrible experience in the Black Hills. For the first time in his life he had not shared with Nellie what he had discovered. Nor could he bring himself to tell her his suspicions about Helen Frances’s condition—no, they were more than suspicions. He was a doctor and saw the signs: it was a fact, and if he could see it, others would soon notice as well. Obviously the nuns had sensed something already. He must face it. The girl was pregnant. With Manners’s child. With Manners’s child. At the thought his mind clouded with confusion. Her father and Tom would be returning any day. What was he to do?
Then there were his darker suspicions. There was something else about her, which could not be explained by morning sickness. Her pallor, listlessness, the black shadows under her eyes. For months he had denied the obvious conclusion. A well-brought-up girl like Helen Frances? How could it be possible? Yet now he saw her in a new light, as Henry Manners’s paramour, and what could not be possible where that man was concerned? Yet he had done nothing, despite the Hippocratic Oath, despite his role as guardian. He realised, to his shame, that he had been hoping that the lovers between them would create their own solution, by eloping, by marrying, by going away; by doing anything so that the responsibility would not be his. How he despised himself. What a hypocrite he felt when he stood in the chapel and preached a sermon on the Good Shepherd looking after his flock. For the first time in his life he was living a lie. And what would the Mandarin say if he knew? He would laugh.
And now weeks had passed. The lovers had not solved his problem for him. In fact they had hardly seen each other during that time. It was true that Henry Manners had called at the mission a day or so after their return from the Black Hills. They had all sipped tea in the stilted fashion of the English abroad, Nellie making small talk, he abetting convention in a jocular manner that made his skin crawl. Helen Frances had come when she was asked and listened silently to the conversation, contributing the monosyllabic utterances that they had now come to expect from her. He had seen how Manners had tried to catch her eye, or manipulate the situation so that he could be alone with her. The doctor, feeling like a pander, had manufactured an excuse to take Nellie with him to the kitchen and leave the lovers alone—but when they returned, the two were sitting like statues: Helen Frances immobile in her high-backed chair, Manners resting his chin on his forearm gazing into the fire. A week after Manners had left, he had suggested to her that they visit the railway camp—the ride would do her good, he said—but she had muttered something about being busy in the wards. It was as if she wanted to retire into the darkness of her own soul. Even Nellie was finding the atmosphere strained, although he believed—he certainly prayed—that she did not realise the cause.
Yet something had to be done. She was ill. She was pregnant. God forbid, she might even be planning to take her own life.
And where was his compassion? Was he so concerned about moral appearances in their little foreign community that he would not lift a hand to help a lost soul?
‘Oh, you hypocrite. Oh, you Pharisee,’ he murmured, and clasped his face in his hands. The pipe fell to the ground.
After a while he drew out his pocket-handkerchief and wiped his eyes. Then he blew his nose. He squared his shoulders and made his way deliberately through the corridors and walkways until he came to the dispensary behind the opium ward. He tried the door. It was locked. He always kept a spare set of keys in his jacket. It took him some time to find the right one. He pushed open the door and saw Helen Frances sitting on the floor by the window. She had removed her apron and unbuttoned the top of her dress. She was breathing heavily and he saw the shadow of her breasts moving rhythmically under her chemise. One white freckled arm was out of the sleeve and lay limply at her side; it looked as if it were detached from her body. Her hair was untidy and fell in haphazard locks over her face, which was smiling seductively. Her lustrous kitten eyes catching the early-morning light gleamed a welcome that reminded him of the merry girl who had first come to Shishan such a short and such a long time ago.
‘Oh, Dr Airton,’ she cried cheerfully. ‘How clever of you. You’ve discovered my little secret.’
Airton bent over, picked up the syringe and looked at the empty container of morphine. ‘Oh, the brute,’ he sighed, ‘the brute. What has he done to you, my poor, poor girl?’
* * *
An hour before that same dawn Fan Yimei was lying next to Manners in his pavilion. Gently, so as not to waken him, she lifted the heavy hand that had flopped on to her shoulder and laid it softly back on the mat of hair that covered his chest. She eased herself through the curtains and reached for her gown, which had fallen on to the carpet.
‘Do you have to go so soon?’ said Manners, through the yawn of someone who had just woken from a deep sleep.
‘You know what will happen to me if they find me here.’
‘Nothing will happen to you. I will prevent it.’
‘That is not in your power.’
‘You are very beautiful, you know,’ said Manners. ‘Prize porcelain.’
‘I am pleased that I satisfy you.’
‘You’ve also become a mite cold to me of late. Also like porcelain.’
She did not reply, concentrating on tying the sash around her waist. When she was ready, she secured one side of the curtains and sat delicately on the bed. Manners reached for her hand but she pulled it away. ‘You owe me payment, Ma Na Si Xiansheng.’
‘That again?’ said Manners. ‘You refuse all the money and presents I offer you.’
‘I believed we had a bargain, Ma Na Si Xiansheng.’
‘Xiansheng. Xiansheng. Can’t you be less formal? We’re lovers, for God’s sake.’
‘No, Ma Na Si Xiansheng, I am your whore.’
‘I’ve never thought of you as that,’ said Manners quietly.
‘Then you are wrong, and you … insult me.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake. Listen, what you ask of me is impossible. This boy—if he exists, and I find it hard to believe—is locked in the most secure part of this establishment.’
‘I told you. I can lead you to where he is.’
‘Past Ren Ren and all his guards?’
‘You are resourceful. You will find a way.’
‘My dear girl. Look, the best thing to do—as I’ve told you a hundred times—is to report the matter to the authorities.’
‘Then you condemn him to instant death. He will have disappeared before the first yamen runner arrives at the gate.’
Manners laid his head back on the pillow. ‘And what happens to you if I do rescue him?’
‘It does not matter what happens to me.’
‘It does not matter what happens to you,’ Manners repeated. ‘Come on, old girl.’ He reached for her waist. Fan Yimei turned, her fragmentary self-control lost. Red spots of anger burned her cheeks. Her eyes screeched silent despair. Her long fingernails scratched a pink line on his chest. She pummelled his arms, his face. Then she turned away from him, panting, and straightened her back, although she still quivered with impotent rage. Her features settled into a white mask; a tear ploughed its furrow through the powder on her face. ‘I am already dead.’ It was hardly a whisper.
‘All right,’ said Manners.
‘Ma Na Si Xiansheng, I do not understand.’ She turned and regarded him suspiciously.
‘I said, ‘All right.’ I’ll do it. On one condition.’
‘What—condition?’ There was scorn in her voice.
‘That I take you out with the boy.’
‘That is impossible.’
‘That’s my condition.’
‘No,
’ she said. ‘No. That is not … necessary.’
‘I am taking you out with the boy. Otherwise, the bargain’s off.’
‘No, only the boy.’
‘I’m not negotiating with you, darling.’
‘We already have a bargain. I have—provided my service. Many times.’
‘I’m changing the terms.’
‘I belong to Major Lin.’
Manners kissed her lips. ‘Not any more.’
‘And your mistress? The red-haired girl? Whom you—love? What about her?’
Manners kissed her again and wiped the wetness from her cheeks. ‘What about her?’ he whispered.
‘How will you do it?’ she asked.
‘I haven’t the foggiest idea,’ he said in English. Then, in Chinese: ‘We’ll make a diversion,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ she said, thoughtfully. ‘A diversion. Good. What is your plan?’
‘Trust me,’ he said.
After a moment she nodded. ‘When?’ she asked.
‘Soon,’ he said. ‘Today. Tomorrow. Be ready.’
Fan Yimei looked hard into his eyes. Her expression softened. With a faltering finger she touched his lips. Then she pulled away from him, dropped to her knees, and bowed, her topknot sliding along the carpet. ‘Duoxie! Duoxie! Thank you, Xiansheng.’
‘No more Xianshengs, all right?’ Manners pulled her gently to her feet, kissing her forehead.
‘Yes, Xiansheng,’ she said. ‘I must—I must go now.’
Manners released her. ‘Wait for my call,’ he said, and after she was gone, ‘A diversion? God help me! Give me gunrunning any day.’
* * *
‘Do you think that they are plotting something?’ asked Mother Liu lazily. She had finished her breakfast and had said her prayers at her shrine. The girl Su Liping had delivered her report and she had just called Ren Ren into her boudoir to discuss the affairs of the day. As was her custom she had prepared a pipe or two of opium and was now absorbed in heating a pellet over a candle.
Ren Ren, dressed in his usual clothes (the Harmonious Fists uniform had only been used for nighttime raids on Christian villages), was sprawled on the bed, nursing a headache. He had drunk heavily the night before after a meeting with the Black Sticks council.
‘Why do you say that?’ he grunted. ‘He’s an animal, like all the other barbarians. She’s a whore. They fuck. What’s sinister about that?’
‘You always were crude, my dearest,’ said his mother, resting her head on the wooden pillow and putting the pipe to her lips. She sucked the smoke into her lungs, and sighed contentedly. ‘The point is that it’s not just fucking they get up to. Little Su says they spend a lot of their time talking.’
‘Maybe he’s one of those flowers who can’t get his stalk up.’
‘He’s almost as well endowed as you are,’ said Mother Liu, ‘and active with it.’
‘Yes? Well, perhaps he’s aroused by her reciting poetry to him. You always said that she was an artistic little bitch.’
‘No, I don’t think that Ma Na Si is interested in poetry. It puzzles me. What do you imagine they discuss so intensely?’
‘If you’re so interested I’ll take her down to the shed and beat it out of her.’
‘There’ll be time for that, my darling one, but not yet.’
‘I don’t know why you don’t tell Lin that the barbarian is taking liberties with his whore. I’ll kill the Englishman myself if he’s too lily-livered to do it on his own account. As well as dealing with the girl.’
‘My poor Ren Ren. Denied his pleasures for so long. You must learn to be patient, and think of business first.’
‘I don’t see what business you can get out of letting two of our clients have their way with our chickens scot-free, and one a barbarian at that. We might as well open our doors, stick incense sticks up our bums and offer our own fragrant holes to anyone who wants to suck on them.’
‘What a charming turn of phrase you have. I hadn’t realised that you took so after your useless father. I’m sure that you didn’t inherit such vulgarity from me. Anyway, since you ask, you have a lot still to learn about the basic politics of business—even if you are all high and mighty now with your Boxers and Black Sticks.’
‘Be careful, Mother. There are some things that even you must not joke about.’
‘Who’s joking? I’m very proud of you. I think that your new exalted position will be very good for business—when the time comes.’
‘Well, that time’s coming very soon, Mother. Very, very soon. We won’t be pandering to foreigners much longer, that’s for sure. They’ll be dead, every one of them.’
‘Even your dear little catamite next door?
‘I’m tired of that whining brat. I’ve a mind to get rid of him anyway.’
‘Well, be careful how you do it. I won’t be upset. He’s more than repaid our investment. What we received from the Japanese alone … But the constant subterfuge is tiresome, and our guests become wearied after a while with even the most exotic fruits. Take Jin Lao. He won’t touch the boy now, and once upon a time he thought he was “peach blossom after rain”. He’s past his usefulness, dear.’
‘There’s another thing I don’t understand. You and Jin Lao. Why do you spend so much time closeted with that ancient fairy? If he wasn’t as bent as a fishhook I’d be thinking he was jigging your old bones. What a thought! His crinkled old frog poking about in your dried-up cinnabar grotto! Giggles in the graveyard, eh, Mother dear? What a horrible prospect.’
And he snorted with laughter, shaking the bed. Mother Liu looked at him coldly. With dignity, she reached for another opium pellet to heat over the flame.
‘Just look at your face, Ma. Never could take a joke, could you? All right, all right. I apologise. You and Jin. It’s a business relationship, I know.’
And he flopped over in a renewed burst of laughter.
‘As it happens, it is a business relationship,’ Mother Liu said coldly, ‘and a very profitable one. Which reminds me. When the time comes, there’s one of the foreigners I need you to spare. For business reasons…’
‘Oh, yes? And who would that be?’
‘The fox-spirit girl. The red-headed one. Old De Falang’s daughter.’
‘The ugly bitch? The one who whored with the Englishman? She’s stale goods. Why do you want her?’
‘I have a special client who’s interested. That’s why.’
‘Go on. Tell.’
‘You’ll know in good time. Don’t worry. You won’t be displeased. It may even help you in your new career.’
‘I can take her to the shed first?’
‘Of course you can. She must be trained properly.’
‘All right, then. I’ll get her for you. What do you want me to do with Ma Na Si and the Fan bitch in the meanwhile?’
Mother Liu was already smoking her second pipe. ‘Something in my bones tells me they’re up to something. There’s something more than just lust. Why would an intelligent girl like Fan Yimei risk so much? We’ll tighten the watch on them. And it might be useful to have some of your boys around for a while. Just in case. Indulge the worries of an old woman who’s learned a little about survival in this sea of sorrow. Can you do that for me, my dear, dear Ren Ren?’
‘Of course,’ shrugged Ren Ren, and yawned.
* * *
‘You should have come to me earlier,’ said Nellie.
Helen Frances looked sullenly at the floor. The grandfather clock ticked loudly from the dining room. From the kitchens came a dim wail—Ah Lee singing Chinese opera as he cooked their lunch.
Airton was standing by the mantelpiece puffing at his pipe.
‘Nellie,’ he began, but froze under his wife’s glare.
‘I imagine you thought I would be unsympathetic,’ Nellie continued. ‘I suspect that you have always been a little afraid of me, Helen Frances. I know you don’t like me.’
Helen Frances raised her head and looked the older woman in the eye.
‘I don’t need your sympathy,’ she said. ‘I told you. I would have left earlier. Only—only I didn’t have the money. If you pay me my salary for April and May, I can go by the next train.’
‘And where would you go?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘I think it would matter to your father—and Tom.’
‘Mrs Airton, I know what you think of me. Let us not prolong this unpleasant interview. I have asked your husband for my salary. Do me that charity at least. Let me leave on the train that arrives from Tientsin tomorrow.’
‘Your father and Tom are expected any day.’
‘That is why I want to leave Shishan tomorrow.’
‘You want to run away?’
Helen Frances’s eyes blazed. ‘Yes, Mrs Airton, if you please, I would like to run away.’
Nellie glanced at her husband. Airton nervously cleared his throat. ‘My dear, you know we cannot allow that. Your condition—’
‘My condition, Doctor, is one for which I alone am responsible. There is nobody else to blame. And I do not ask for your help.’
‘And what would you have us tell your father?’ asked Nellie calmly.
‘Tell him the truth,’ said Helen Frances, shrilly. ‘The sooner he knows what a disgrace I have been to him the sooner he will forget he had a daughter. And as for Tom, it would be a kindness.’
‘I do not think that you appreciate how much you are loved,’ said Nellie.
‘Mrs Airton, do I need to remind you? I am a fallen woman. Isn’t that what you think of me? I have fornicated, Mrs Airton. And, Mrs Airton, I have enjoyed fornicating. And I am an opium eater. Doesn’t your precious Bible tell you to cast out sinners such as I?’
‘My Bible tells me not to cast the first stone,’ said Nellie.
‘Oh, don’t give me cant, Mrs Airton. I know how much you despise me. And don’t tell me you plan to save my soul. I’m not one of those pathetic Rice Christians in your infirmary whom you think you can bring to Jesus with a plaster and a bowl of hot noodles. If you really want to help me, give me my salary so I can purchase a train ticket out of here. My damnation’s my own affair and nobody else’s.’
‘And Mr Manners? He proposes to go with you and look after you?’
The Palace of Heavenly Pleasure Page 41