The Silk Merchant’s Daughter

by Dinah Jefferies

  She’d been working up to telling him that Sylvie was coming back, but dipped her head and, hiding behind her hair, held her tongue. After a moment she looked up and smiled.

  ‘Sylvie said that they managed to sell the department store. They’ve returned to live in France on the proceeds. She said they waited for me.’

  She held out a hand to him. This was it. The lie that might change everything and ensure Sylvie was out of the picture, or at least in Mark’s mind. ‘She is engaged to someone in France, Pierre somebody or other.’

  He glanced down at the floor for a moment. She felt a knot tighten in her stomach. Mark had brought her back to life, saved her, and Sylvie was safe in France. She couldn’t really be coming back – it would be madness – and he denied ever having been with Sylvie anyway, so it was hardly a crime.

  ‘She said she’d met the man in Hanoi and he’d proposed. A life in France must have seemed like the safest option.’

  ‘Perhaps it’s for the best.’

  The silence hung between them. Nicole wondered if he was thinking of Sylvie and couldn’t quite work out why she’d lied.

  ‘Penny for them?’ he said.

  ‘It’s nothing.’ But she didn’t want her sister to end up like the ghosts in the garden, not there, yet always present. She felt a rush of guilt, then thought of how he’d looked after her so lovingly and that brought tears to her eyes. He genuinely cared for her so why shouldn’t she do everything she could to keep it that way?

  ‘What about the remaining shops?’ he was saying quite calmly, not seeming at all upset by what she’d said about Sylvie’s engagement.

  She studied his face. Perhaps he had told her the truth about his relationship with Sylvie then? Her sister had got herself caught up in a fantasy about Mark and then couldn’t bear to have to back down.

  ‘As the shop in the old quarter is yours, it might be an idea for you to move back there. People know you’re a métisse, yes, and I realize it’s going to be risky anywhere you are, but at least there you can melt away into the crowds more easily.’

  ‘You may be right. Mark, you’ve done so much for me. And I am truly grateful.’

  There was a long stretch of silence before he spoke again.

  ‘I’m afraid there is something else. I found out Giraud knows I’m living here,’ he said. ‘We are not on the best of terms since I reported him for using American cash to fund African prostitutes.’

  ‘So it was true. Lisa said as much. Do you think it was him at the door?’

  ‘It may have been. Even if it wasn’t, I don’t think it will be long before he comes sniffing around.’

  ‘I love my little shop, but I don’t feel strong enough to move yet.’

  ‘And I don’t want you to overdo things. You might find it takes some time to recover from everything you’ve been through.’

  She nodded but didn’t tell him how unwell she still sometimes felt. ‘A friend is taking care of the shop. O-Lan.’

  ‘Look, I’ll keep an eye on you there, and I have a Vietnamese man I trust. I’ll get him to check on you too.’ He put an arm round her shoulder and stroked her cheek. ‘Come on, my brave little one. We’ll leave it for a few days longer.’

  A day later, while he was sleeping, she made it down to the kitchen and went straight to a small cupboard under the pastry shelf in the pantry. She opened the wire door and found a bottle of Bénédictine and brandy liqueur. It was Lisa’s favourite and only Nicole knew the cook kept a secret bottle in what looked like a cheese safe.

  In the evening she rooted around in the bathroom cabinet. Perfect! A few drops left in a bottle of Coeur Joie. She had no perfume of her own and sprayed a little of the scent on her neck and between her breasts. She slipped on a silk robe held loosely together by a ribbon tied at the top, then found a pair of tweezers and shaped her brows. After that she smothered her lips in Vaseline. Though in need of a cut to get rid of her split ends, she brushed her hair until it shone, pinched her cheeks and then slipped downstairs where she checked the shutters were closed and the curtains drawn. After that, she carried through the cheese and bread he’d bought and lit some candles to make the comfortable corner of the sitting room cosier. She considered lighting a fire, but abandoned the idea. The smoke from the chimney would give them away.

  When she heard him enter the hall, she lay down on the sofa with her eyes closed and, apart from his footsteps, there was silence when he entered the room. Even with her eyes closed she could sense him staring at her. She opened her eyes.

  ‘You look so beautiful,’ he said.

  She sat up, smiled and showed him the bottle. ‘I found us something special to drink.’

  He grinned at her and came to sit close by while she poured them both a generous glassful.

  ‘Would you like something to eat?’

  He shook his head. ‘I’m not hungry. Maybe later.’

  ‘Wouldn’t it be nice to play some music?’

  ‘No electricity. And anyway –’

  ‘I know.’

  They sat in silence and she poured them both another glass of the liqueur.

  ‘Mark, what is it you’re doing here?’

  ‘Here, in this room?’

  She laughed. ‘You know what I mean.’

  ‘I’m currently charged with getting the CIA out of Hanoi and the entire north, should the Vietminh win. But my orders may change.’

  ‘You think they might?’

  ‘If they do, and I have to leave suddenly, it’s another reason you might be better off in the Vietnamese quarter.’ He pushed the hair from her brow and studied her face. ‘You look different; your face has changed.’

  ‘I’m too thin, but at least I have cheekbones now.’ She grinned. ‘Sort of. Starvation diet will do it every time!’

  ‘That’s not even funny.’

  They drank a few more glasses until the bottle was drained. For Nicole, unused to alcohol as she now was, it went straight to her head.

  He leant against her. ‘You smell –’

  She laughed. ‘I smell?’

  ‘Delicious.’

  She felt his breath on her neck and as she leant back he stroked the soft skin at her temples. She felt her pulse racing but maintained control.

  He pulled away suddenly and searched her eyes. ‘What about your Vietnamese boyfriend?’

  She gazed back at him, horrified. ‘Trần? He’s not my boyfriend.’

  ‘Sylvie told me you were living with him in the north.’

  ‘Of course I wasn’t.’ She paused. ‘You thought that? He’s never been my boyfriend.’

  He shook his head and gave her a half-defensive, half-warm smile.

  ‘But it’s why you’ve sometimes been a bit distant, isn’t it?’ she said.

  ‘Not only that. Nicole, you spent six months with known terrorists who’ve committed terrible atrocities. It makes me very sad but we can’t dodge that issue.’

  ‘You were sad!’ She felt a burst of anger and got to her feet. ‘What about me? And what about the French and American atrocities? I know I made a dreadful mistake going north with Trần. But don’t you have any idea how much I wanted to be with you?’

  He shook his head. ‘I thought so at first, then everything suddenly changed after the ball.’

  ‘Yes, I know. I didn’t want it to but it did.’

  They stared at each other.

  ‘Then after you helped them put me under house arrest, what else could I do but go?’ At the memory of that she took a step back and shook her head.

  ‘No!’ He sprang up. ‘You can’t think that. I swear I didn’t know the house arrest was going to happen.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘No!’

  Then he came to her and held her so tightly she thought she might break. She tried to resist and struggled to free herself from his grip, but when his lips brushed her neck just behind her ear, she felt as if her skin had unpeeled. He began to kiss her and she arched her back, feeling so much a part of him
that her inner self unrolled and lay bare before him. The sensation of being known was so intense her legs began to tremble.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

  ‘Me too. We have wasted too much time,’ he whispered. ‘Are you sure you want this?’

  ‘Oh God,’ she murmured and felt the heat of his hand on her breast. ‘Dance with me, Mark, like we did before.’

  They moved together while she whispered the words of a song. After a few minutes they stood still and she pressed against him with only the robe between her breasts and his shirt. She felt him shudder, then he held her away and touched his fingertips into the hollows of her throat. She gasped and he began to undo the ribbon at her neck, looking deep into her eyes with a silent question. She nodded and he quickly finished the job. When the garment slipped from her shoulders it fell to the floor and she stood before him, physically naked, just as moments before she had felt emotionally naked.

  He stared at her, then cupped her breasts with his hands. When he bent his head to take a nipple in his mouth, she unzipped his trousers and pulled him to the floor. She lay back and parted her legs as he removed his shirt and trousers. He wore no underwear.

  He sank back on his haunches and they gazed at each other. She tilted her head back; now that her body was coming back to life, she gave herself to the sensation. He leant forward and caressed both breasts before his mouth slid to her stomach. She held the back of his head and groaned as his lips moved to her inner thighs, and finally reached the damp curls between her legs. Then she could take no more and pressed her hands beneath his armpits and pulled him up to her.

  ‘Now,’ she said and gave a shudder as he entered her. They began to move in rhythm. It was hard, fast and wild, the tension between them far too strong for the first time to be a gentle release. Then he cried out and she did too.

  Sometime after that they lay flat on the floor, side by side, both slippery with sweat, and with a sensation of peace unfolding around them. She could never have anticipated how incredible this would make her feel. This had been nothing like her one time with Trần. Mark had made her feel truly wanted.

  He propped himself up on one elbow and pushed the strands of her hair away from her eyes. ‘So,’ he said and grinned.

  She gave a sigh of pleasure before reaching up and tracing the contours of his face. ‘Again?’

  As France’s hold on the country stuttered, their time together was all they had, the danger of war adding to the tension and ensuring the release of sex was even sweeter. She felt sure the more they could be together, the deeper their bond would become. Often they studied each other silently. The way he narrowed his eyes and smiled and the way he sometimes looked so mischievous when they made love, made her think he could see inside her head.

  She was lying alone late one afternoon trying to sleep when she heard the buzz of a bluebottle in her room. She covered her head with a pillow. Nicole had no fear of spiders or snakes, but the sound of a large fly continually buzzing drove her to distraction. Even beneath the pillow she could still hear its annoying whine. After a few more minutes she threw the pillow on to the floor and sang to herself to drown out the noise. Still the buzzing went on and she soon realized it was actually in duplicate; there were two little demons in her room. Low in the sky, the afternoon sun had cast a golden glow around the room, so she climbed out of bed, wearing just her pants, and opened her bedroom door, hoping the insects might find their way out. She watched, wafting the air to encourage them, but they declined to leave. She began to stalk them and, picking up the pillow again, made a leap, smashing it against the wall. The annoying drone continued. In fact, the more irritable she became the louder the buzzing. She whacked the pillow against the wall again but missed the flies.

  After ten minutes of hurling herself around as she chased after them she stood in the middle of her room, sweat dripping from her. The light was fading. Then she spotted both flies together on the door frame. This was her opportunity, so she closed her eyes and threw herself, pillow in hand, at the spot. She opened her eyes just as the pillow burst, bits of fluff rising like a snowstorm in the air and then a rain of white feathers curtaining the doorway. As they cleared she saw Mark standing there, picking feathers from his hair, his forehead and the shoulders of his shirt. She stepped back and looked at him in horror.

  He coughed and blew the feathers from his lips. ‘Whoa. What have I done to merit this?’

  ‘I didn’t see you. I was chasing flies.’

  ‘As one usually does wearing just –’ He pointed at her.

  ‘You think I look funny?’ She began to laugh.

  ‘You will pay,’ he said and picked her up as if she was a feather herself and threw her over his shoulder.

  ‘Put me down.’

  He ignored her.

  ‘Where are you taking me, you horrible man?’

  ‘Horrible? I think you’re forgetting I’m the injured party here.’

  On the floor below he pushed open the door of the bedroom he was using and she gasped when she saw what he had done. Hanging upside down over his shoulder, she could see dozens of night candles dotted around the room, the little pinpoints of light sparkling and glittering as if they were stars. She felt as if her heart might burst. In the midst of war he had created a shimmering fairyland. For her.

  ‘Well, at least you’ve saved me the bother of undressing you,’ he said and put her down. ‘So what do you think?’

  She gazed at the room and her eyes filled up. ‘I love it.’

  ‘Happy birthday, my darling. I know I’m useless at expressing how I feel in words, but –’ She didn’t let him finish but ran at him and hugged him so hard he had to pull away.

  ‘I must light candles more often,’ he said.

  She tugged at his jacket and he slid his arms out, then he removed the rest of his clothes, feathers still floating around, until he stood before her, naked.

  ‘Look at you,’ she said.

  He smiled and spread his arms wide. ‘Look at us.’

  ‘So much has happened, in one year.’

  ‘Good and bad.’

  ‘Well, this is good,’ she said and she blew a feather from his chest, feeling happier than she’d ever felt in her life.

  Like the ghosts who inhabited the garden, when Mark wasn’t there Nicole also became a shadow in their strangely boarded-up world. One evening at dusk she needed to get out so much that she wandered around the neighbourhood with a headscarf hiding her hair and face. A cool wind swept down the street as a man and a woman walked past her. It made her feel uncomfortable so she dropped her gaze and mumbled good evening, then went back indoors.

  When she told Mark what she’d done, he again expressed his reservations about her staying on at the villa. All things considered, she felt he might be right. Even if she didn’t open the shop, she could more easily get out and melt into her surroundings there.

  As she was making her preparations to return it occurred to her that she’d missed a period. But the days with the troupe had caused havoc with her cycle and she didn’t think too much of it. She washed and dried her Vietnamese clothes and practised putting her hair up in a roll of cloth. Her áo dài was far too big for her now but she used safety pins to make the trousers fit. That would have to suffice.

  She moved back to the shop the next evening and Mark went with her. They made up her old bed with clean sheets, a feather duvet and a silk throw she’d brought from the villa. In the morning, she woke to find he’d already left, and lay listening to the sounds of the street vendors setting up their stalls and smelt the familiar aroma of pork patties and fish sautéed in dill. She sensed an ease slip back into her. Her shoulders felt less rigid, the knot in her stomach releasing, the guilt over lying about Sylvie diminishing a little bit. She heard the sound of the shop door opening. It must be O-Lan. Nicole was in two minds about how much to tell her friend, but went downstairs to greet her.

  O-Lan jumped when she heard the footsteps and spun round, wide-eyed
.

  ‘I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,’ she said.

  It was so lovely to see O-Lan’s friendly face, Nicole had to swallow hard to overcome the emotion. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed her. O-Lan was as pretty as ever, but there were dark circles under her eyes. As the two gazed at each other, a multitude of mixed emotions collided. What was she going to tell her friend about Trần?

  O-Lan stared.

  ‘Come here,’ Nicole said.

  While they held each other, several minutes passed. Nicole could feel her friend’s heart banging against her own, and neither of them seemed willing to let the other go.

  Eventually O-Lan drew away. ‘Let me look at you,’ she said.

  ‘I’m fine. Really I am. How is your mother?’

  O-Lan sighed deeply. ‘Not getting any better. Sleeps most of the time, in the room above the shop.’

  ‘I’m so sorry about your shop. What happened?’

  ‘A water main burst under our house. You were lucky the water didn’t get in here too.’

  O-Lan sat down on the sofa and Nicole could see how alone with her unhappiness her friend seemed to be. She sat down beside her and held her close. ‘I’m here now,’ she said.

  ‘I kept peering through your window to make sure the water hadn’t got in, and when your sister asked me to look after your shop, it seemed an ideal solution. I couldn’t afford to buy more stock for my shop, so here I am.’

  ‘I can’t thank you enough.’

  ‘But shall I go now you’re back?’

  Nicole only hesitated for a moment. ‘No, please stay. I’m still not completely recovered. I’ll continue to pay you.’

  O-Lan frowned. ‘You are so thin. I thought you might have been ill.’

  Nicole decided to play down how bad it had been. ‘A little.’

  ‘And Trần? We’ve had no word except for a message saying not to expect him until the war is over.’

  Nicole felt relieved to hear it but picked up the worry on her friend’s face. She shook her head.

  ‘Is he alive?’

  ‘As far as I know.’