The Silk Merchant’s Daughter

by Dinah Jefferies

  It went on to rain all day and a pool of water started to collect in a dip on the kitchen floor. Nicole watched as Sylvie fetched a mop and dragged it over the tiles to absorb the water. When she’d finished she gazed at Nicole.

  ‘Sit down. I have something to say.’

  The light in the room had faded. Nicole had no idea if evening had come or if clouds had suddenly blackened the sky. It felt so gloomy she went across to glance out of the window, her body still slow and aching. Just clouds it seemed. She turned on a lamp and then struggled to settle herself in a chair.

  She saw her sister’s look grow more serious.

  ‘I want you to know that Mark explained what happened,’ Sylvie said. ‘He told me everything.’

  Nicole felt anxious and rubbed her fingers back and forth across her forehead. She had known this moment was bound to come.

  ‘Your letter?’

  Sylvie nodded and gave her a tired smile.

  Nicole shifted in her seat. What could she say? ‘I’m sorry I lied about it. You must be angry.’

  Sylvie didn’t reply for a moment, just narrowed her eyes.

  ‘Sylvie?’

  ‘A bit. Well, wouldn’t you be angry?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose I would.’

  There was a long silence as Nicole put herself in her sister’s shoes. Of course her sister was angry, but other than that she had no idea what Sylvie was feeling.

  ‘There’s something disturbing about this time of day,’ Sylvie said eventually, rubbing her hands together. ‘Don’t you think?’

  Nicole didn’t speak.

  ‘Still day. Not quite night. It’s the transition, I think. You don’t know where you are with it. I’ve never liked it.’

  Nicole watched her sister. ‘I’m so grateful that you got me out of that terrible place.’

  Sylvie scratched her neck. ‘Papa would have expected no less. All I want is for you to fully recover.’

  ‘And the baby?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Nicole nodded, relieved Sylvie was taking it so well.

  Sylvie smiled. ‘Now you need to regain your strength. The less excitement the better. As soon as you feel well we will take a daily walk. Giraud won’t be a danger now, especially as most of his old colleagues are gone and the new force has far bigger fish to fry than you.’

  Nicole decided her sister must have mellowed.

  ‘No more worry,’ Sylvie said. ‘And don’t think about your little friend, Trần, either. I’ve employed an armed guard to protect the house at night.’

  ‘Is he here now?’

  Sylvie smiled. ‘Rest assured, your Vietminh past won’t be able to touch you. You will give birth here in the house. Now concentrate on getting better. For the sake of my little niece or nephew.’

  Nicole gazed at her sister. ‘Why are you doing this for me?’

  ‘You’re family. Now I must go out for bread and milk. Tomorrow I have a business to get back on its feet.’

  ‘You still believe the French will win?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Nicole frowned. Her sister seemed so sure of herself. ‘Don’t you think we’d be better off cutting our losses and returning to France?’

  ‘And what would we live on if we did? Anyway, you shouldn’t travel in your present condition. Wait until the baby’s born. Then we’ll see. Don’t worry about anything. All the downstairs windows have bars.’

  While Sylvie was out picking up their supplies, Nicole chose Lisa’s favourite chair by the conservatory door, where she once used to keep an eye on her vegetable plot. The dark clouds had shifted now and, sitting alone in Lisa’s chair, Nicole tried to imagine her there. What would their old cook have advised her to do? The night before, her longing for Mark had been intense and she’d lain awake until exhaustion finally closed her eyes. She thought of her father too. Her entire childhood might have been different had her father not allowed Sylvie to believe his lie about their mother’s death. If she and her sister were ever to truly trust each other, the time for secrets was over. If she was going to give birth here, she and Sylvie would need to talk about the past, no matter how hard it might be.

  As soon as she heard her sister come back, Nicole called up the stairs. ‘Have you got a minute?’ She began to bite the loose skin at the edges of her thumbnail.

  Sylvie came down, fetched a glass of water and sat at the table. Nicole stayed where she was, leaning against the kitchen sink, comforted by the warm glow of their kitchen bathed in low evening sunlight.

  ‘What is it?’ Sylvie said. ‘Gosh, it’s nice to catch the last of the sun, though it’ll be dark any moment.’

  Before she began, Nicole took a moment, resolutely keeping her eyes on Sylvie. ‘I saw Papa shoot Trần’s brother at the ball.’

  Sylvie did not lose eye contact either, though she looked startled and her eyes widened. ‘You saw that?’

  ‘I was in the corridor.’

  Sylvie shook her head. ‘All this time you’ve kept it to yourself?’

  Nicole wasn’t sure if her sister was worried because she’d witnessed it or was nervous she might have told somebody. The silence between them went on too long and, though Sylvie’s face was composed, she began to tap her foot.

  ‘Are you sure you kept it to yourself? You didn’t tell Trần?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  Sylvie frowned. ‘Why not?’

  ‘You said it yourself. You’re family. He’d have looked for revenge.’

  Sylvie gulped down her water. ‘I’d have been out of your way.’

  ‘Sylvie!’ Nicole gasped, and sat down opposite her sister. ‘How can you even think something like that?’

  Sylvie leant back in the chair and stared at the ceiling. ‘We’re different, you and I.’

  Nicole thought about it. Perhaps they were. As children Sylvie had been the quiet one, whereas Nicole had been accustomed to having her fingers slapped, usually after dipping them into Lisa’s homemade plum jam or nipping into the larder to pilfer a slice of cake. She’d always been in trouble for racing up the stairs or shouting down from the top, for sliding down the banisters or falling into ponds, and later, on the terrible day when they’d taken the boat out without permission. Despite Sylvie’s denials, Nicole had known it had been her sister’s idea. That the whole thing had been Sylvie’s fault. Any further than that she never dared recall, wanting only to turn her back on feelings that still retained the power to shake her. Once you come close to drowning, it never lets you go.

  Sylvie coughed and Nicole came back to the present with a jolt. ‘What I want to know is why Trần’s brother was killed.’

  ‘We didn’t know beforehand,’ Sylvie said.

  ‘We?’

  ‘Mark and I.’ Her sister straightened up but still seemed all nerves. ‘Jesus, I could do with a cigarette.’

  Nicole couldn’t help smiling. ‘You don’t smoke.’

  ‘No, but I wish I did. Listen. It’s all water under the bridge now. No need to go over old ground.’

  But Nicole, propelled by the need to know more, continued. ‘All this time I have wondered why Papa had to kill him there.’

  Sylvie sighed. ‘It was a secret interrogation cell with another exit through the grounds. He was a Vietminh and suspected of the assassination of a French officer.’

  ‘He hadn’t been tried.’

  Sylvie got to her feet. ‘Inciting rebellion against the French. Wasn’t that enough? An example had to be made.’

  ‘And you didn’t know it was going to happen?’

  Sylvie shook her head but there was a pallor to her skin that hadn’t been there before.

  ‘Why did our father have to pull the trigger?’

  ‘It was his job. I suppose he had no choice. He’d been a businessman with links to everyone and he was well placed to find out anything going on. But he had married a Vietnamese. That was a black mark and because of it the French government used him.’

  Nicole felt the blood pu
mping through her veins and, even though it was almost dark now, got up to open the door for air.

  Sylvie took the cap off a fresh bottle of milk. You should drink a litre of this a day,’ she said.

  Nicole nodded. She still wanted to talk to Sylvie about what had happened the day she was born, but felt it would have to wait until they’d built up more trust. In the meantime she’d write to her father telling him that Lisa had revealed the truth. Perhaps that was the best place to start unravelling such a sensitive issue.

  She stretched to shake off the tight feeling in her muscles, then moved around a bit, keeping her eyes on her sister. ‘Maybe we need to talk about Mark.’

  Sylvie didn’t speak but something flickered on her face.

  ‘Sylvie?’

  ‘There’s nothing to say.’

  Nicole thought about it. ‘You liked him, right? In America?’

  Her sister bowed her head for a moment then looked Nicole in the face. ‘Yes, but when he arrived in Hanoi …’

  ‘Did you believe he loved you?’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

  ‘But, Sylvie –’

  ‘I said I don’t want to talk about this.’ Sylvie slammed the milk bottle down with such force the bottle cracked and milk started leaking all over the table. ‘Now look what you’ve made me do!’

  Perhaps Mark had been right when he said her sister was far more troubled than people knew. ‘Did you believe he loved you?’ she asked again.

  Sylvie glanced at Nicole while she was mopping up the milk. ‘Just leave it. All that matters now is that we prepare for the baby.’

  Nicole went upstairs, her head spinning.

  On her way to her room she passed the long mirror on the landing and stared at her deeply rounded belly and full blue-veined breasts. At least her hair had stopped falling out when she brushed it, and she no longer had to pick strands out of the washbasin. Her face was softer too; it was as if she was seeing herself with new eyes and, for the first time, she was astonished to see real beauty in her Vietnamese looks.

  Before lying down on her bed she wrote to Mark, telling him what the doctor had said and that the baby was now moving around. When she had finished she could have sworn she smelt a trace of Camembert baking. In a flash she was back with Lisa in their kitchen in Huế and it felt so real she had to smile. Tomorrow she’d write to Lisa too. The past was a powerful place and she so wanted her child to have happy memories to look back on. Memories rooted in a life full of love. Her own childhood had been so mixed, and there were moments when she could hardly think beyond remembering how difficult it had sometimes been.

  34

  When Nicole thought about the future it was still with a sense of unease. Whatever Sylvie said to the contrary, there was little doubt in Nicole’s mind that sooner or later the Vietminh would come. They had thousands of people on their side, thousands and thousands of people who believed their cause was just, and while it saddened her to realize the old days were gone for ever, she had seen enough to know they had right on their side.

  Once she was a little stronger she walked early in the day to steer clear of people. She avoided reading the newspapers, where she knew French victories would be proclaimed, while their losses would go unreported, especially where the battles raged around the Red River Delta. She’d seen how people ignored what had happened during the terrible battle of Hòa Binh in 1952. The French commanders had refused to see how their losses there had foretold the future, but Nicole had known the Vietminh first-hand. They were single-minded and their focus would see them through. She couldn’t help but admire that, even in the face of the mighty French army, they would never give up, and though their rhetoric was extreme, their passion couldn’t be denied. Yet, despite their just cause, she knew many more people would suffer for it during what lay ahead.

  On the day a letter arrived from Mark she had been trying not to obsess about him, though she worried constantly about where he was and if he was safe. If anything happened to him now she just couldn’t bear it. She went upstairs to her room to open the letter in private and was pleased to read that he hadn’t yet left for – and there he left a blank. She knew what it meant, though of course he couldn’t write it down. At least he was still in Saigon and not in Russia. He had received her letter and said that he longed to put a hand on her stomach and feel the baby kick. He also suggested they liquidate their remaining assets in preparation for leaving soon after the baby was born. While Nicole was overjoyed to hear from him, she choked back tears at the thought of what he might have to face in Russia.

  Images of grey communist buildings and ruthless men filled her mind. He’d said he would have to discover the whereabouts of a missing agent. That the man might well have defected. What would happen to Mark if he was captured? She was weighed down by the dense shadow of the war within Vietnam; death was everywhere, even if she could not see it. Nobody knew for certain how much of the land the Vietminh had already taken, nor how deeply involved the Russians were. For Mark’s sake, she hoped it was minimal.

  35

  The winter months passed rapidly and Nicole had been excited to receive two letters from Lisa. Her old friend sounded settled in her new life and Nicole was relieved to hear it, but as February approached she was feeling increasingly worried about Mark. She had not seen him since just after her release from prison and hadn’t received a reply to her last two letters either, which had to mean he was now in Russia.

  One afternoon Sylvie had her head buried in a book on childbirth, and Nicole was sitting on the sofa attempting to knit the baby a blanket, but kept on dropping stitches. Mark had been right about that; she was hopeless at knitting. She couldn’t get him out of her mind and constantly thought about where he might be and what he was doing. Already beginning to think of the future, she wondered if supplies of silk were readily available in the villages around Saigon. If he could work out of Saigon when the war was over, that might be the way ahead for her. She had never been south herself but her father had said it was a teeming city with none of the serene charm of Hanoi. She’d also heard that, while the use of opium was only moderately widespread in Hanoi, in the Cholon area of Saigon it was everywhere. The city was corrupt, but it was the place where many were fleeing.

  She glanced up at Sylvie. ‘What if something happens to Mark?’

  ‘He can take care of himself.’

  ‘I don’t want my baby to grow up fatherless.’

  Sylvie put her book aside. ‘We both grew up without a mother, so of course I understand. You weren’t the only one who felt different, you know. All my friends had mothers and then suddenly I didn’t any more. They turned their backs on me.’

  ‘At least you had her for five years.’

  ‘But because you never had her you didn’t know the difference. I felt as if you could have punched me in the stomach and your fist would go right through. There was a big hole inside me.’

  There was a long silence as Nicole thought about how awful it must have been for Sylvie to lose her adored mother at the age of five. It would be more than enough to alter a small child’s life and instil a deep-seated insecurity.

  ‘I understand. I felt there was a hole in me too,’ she said in a small voice.

  Sylvie came over, knelt beside her and took her hand. ‘Well, we have each other now.’

  Nicole nodded and Sylvie straightened up again.

  There was something else Nicole had been thinking about. ‘What’s happening with my shop, Sylvie?’

  ‘People don’t have much to spend. O-Lan is still there but we’re struggling to make a living from it. But we have other businesses and I feel confident, if carefully managed, we can retain our assets rather than having to sell.’

  Nicole wasn’t sure. ‘You do remember what Mark said in his letter about the liquidation of our assets?’

  Sylvie gave a short, scornful laugh.

  ‘You don’t want to believe everything he says, Nicole. We have standards to ma
intain and when we win the war we’ll need everything we’ve got.’ She rubbed her hands as she walked back and forth, almost muttering to herself. Her eyes were darting here and there, and then she lowered her voice. ‘We have to be careful not to be overheard.’

  Nicole frowned. ‘By who?’

  Sylvie didn’t seem to hear her and carried on talking to herself. ‘It will all be fine. Yes, absolutely fine. Everything all right. Just as before. Exactly as before.’

  Then she turned to Nicole as if suddenly remembering she was there. ‘We will remain here. Don’t worry. It’s all under control. There’s nothing to worry about. We’ll have a lovely time when the baby comes. I wish it would hurry up.’

  ‘You can’t dictate when a baby will be born.’

  ‘You’re right, nature will take its course.’

  ‘You seem unsettled, Sylvie. Is something wrong?’

  Sylvie sighed deeply. ‘Nothing at all. Now, I’ve found Lisa’s old recipe for your favourite lemon cake. Shall we give it a go?’

  ‘After the baby comes I think we should go straight to France. French people and Vietnamese too. So many have already left for Saigon.’

  ‘Cowards. In any case, the government has forbidden further departures.’

  ‘You think that will stop them?’

  Sylvie shrugged. ‘Now, I know you like the cake –’

  Nicole felt a sudden twinge and doubled over.

  ‘Are you all right? You look a bit odd.’

  ‘I feel rather more than odd,’ Nicole gasped.

  But the twinge passed and they headed down towards the kitchen, Nicole pressing a palm against the wall to steady herself.

  ‘These steps are treacherous,’ she said.

  ‘You used to race up and down.’

  ‘I used not to be pregnant.’

  The kitchen was clean but not the place it used to be: the hustle and bustle, the delicious aromas, the radio turned up too loud with Lisa singing along – all that was gone. Nicole sighed and opened the door of the conservatory for the smell of damp earth and trees to drift in. It was a lovely February day and really quite cool. She thought fondly of Yvette and of the Saturday mornings when the little girl, followed by her dog, Trophy, would bring their treats. Though so much of the past had gone, Nicole felt sure the baby would bring them fresh hope for the future.