The Silk Merchant’s Daughter

by Dinah Jefferies

  Sylvie pulled out one of Lisa’s old recipe books from a drawer beneath the table. She flicked it open. ‘It’s written entirely by hand. I left a scrap of paper to mark the place. But goodness, her spelling is awful.’

  ‘She wasn’t an educated woman.’

  ‘Here it is. We need eggs and flour. And lemons. Can you get the sugar from the larder?’

  Nicole found an opened bag of sugar in the larder. It had to be kept in an airtight canister or ants would take up residence. She checked to make sure the ants hadn’t got in, but another strong twinge made her gasp and she accidentally tipped the sugar over herself.

  ‘I think the baby is coming.’

  Sylvie looked up from Lisa’s book. ‘You’re sure?’

  Nicole felt prickly. ‘No. I haven’t done this before, remember?’

  ‘I’ll fetch the midwife. I’ll only be half an hour. At least she can have a look at you.’ Sylvie closed the book. ‘We’ll do this another time.’

  ‘What if it comes while you’re gone? Can’t you phone?’

  ‘The line is off.’

  ‘Again?’

  Sylvie nodded. ‘The whole area.’

  ‘I want you to stay.’ Nicole was sobbing now. ‘Look at me. About to have a baby and covered in sugar.’

  Sylvie gave a short laugh. ‘I’m no use at that sort of thing.’

  ‘I need the downstairs bathroom to get all this sugar off.’

  ‘Very well, I’ll help you get comfortable and then go.’

  Nicole reached out a hand. ‘Please don’t leave me.’

  ‘Come on, Nicole. Just up to the ground floor. Women give birth all the time, don’t they? You’ll be absolutely fine.’

  ‘You wouldn’t say that if it was you. Think of what happened to our mother.’

  Sylvie looked at Nicole pointedly. ‘Ah, but it isn’t me, is it?’

  ‘But I don’t know what to do,’ Nicole wailed.

  ‘Instinct will kick in, won’t it?’

  As they made their way up the stairs, Nicole hoped her sister was right. Instinct might be all they had. She washed the sugar off in the bathroom and then went into the sitting room, where Sylvie organized some cushions on the sofa. ‘There. Will you be comfortable?’

  Nicole nodded and sat down. Then a truly awful pain twisted her insides. ‘I can’t do this without Mark. You have to stay. Please.’

  Sylvie agreed to stay after all and almost immediately the pains ceased and Nicole felt fine. False alarm, she thought. Wasn’t there a name for it? They had both read that childbirth book, but it was old-fashioned and the information had been veiled in odd little euphemisms. She struggled to her feet and Sylvie helped her walk about.

  ‘It might be a false alarm, but maybe I should go for the midwife now?’ Sylvie said.

  Nicole felt small and tearful. It felt like it was happening but not happening at the same time. What if the woman came too late? What if something happened to the baby? She began to panic. ‘I really don’t want to be on my own.’

  Sylvie nodded. ‘All right. We’ll do this together.’

  Nicole smiled through her tears.

  It was just as well Sylvie stayed because a few minutes later the waters broke and a ferocious new pain stabbed at Nicole’s stomach. She wrapped her arms round her middle in surprise. It had not been a false alarm and now she knew with absolute certainty that this was it. She searched for reassuring thoughts, trying not to think about what had happened to her own mother. Sylvie was right. Women did this all the time, often out in the fields. She was stronger now, wasn’t she? She could manage.

  Another contraction seized her lower back and she cried out.

  ‘Let’s get you to bed.’

  Nicole shook her head. ‘I can’t. This sofa will have to do.’

  ‘I’ll get towels.’

  While her sister was gone Nicole tried to focus on her breathing to help with the pains. But with each contraction it felt as if her insides were being pulled and squeezed beyond endurance. Why hadn’t anyone said it would hurt like this?

  She kept her eyes shut and counted to ten. She did it again, hoping to count away the pain. She tried to tell herself she could cope without Mark, and of course, she could. But she longed for him to be there in the next room, or at least within calling distance, while their child came into the world. She consoled herself by picturing him holding her hand and stroking her back, could feel him inside her head, talking, encouraging, willing her on. As she imagined being swept up in his arms, something new kicked in, something that made her feel alive, and so full of energy she felt the urge to whoop out loud. She, Nicole Duval, was about to become a mother.

  Sylvie came back in. ‘You look better. You were awfully pale before.’

  ‘I think it’s going to be okay.’

  But the pain came back in a wave. Sylvie sat beside her and held her hand.

  ‘Remember to breathe, Nicole.’

  Sylvie’s presence helped. A few minutes later Nicole was dying for water, but before she could ask, her sister had brought her a glassful.

  ‘You seem to know what I need before I even say it.’

  Sylvie smiled.

  Nicole wanted to be fearless but for the next few contractions she felt as if she was drowning all over again. She had not foreseen any of this. Her pulse seemed to be going too fast and she was scared.

  ‘Don’t fight it,’ Sylvie was saying. ‘Go with the pain. Let the wave pass.’

  It felt like being trapped with no way out and for a few minutes she howled with pain. When she stopped, a short silence fell over them during which Nicole felt strangely distanced from herself, as if she was somewhere on the outside looking in.

  ‘You can do it,’ Sylvie said. ‘One day this will just be a memory. Keep going.’

  Nicole felt the baby’s head pressing. ‘I need to push.’

  ‘Then push. It’s your body telling you.’

  Nicole groaned but was relieved Sylvie’s earlier agitation had been replaced by sympathy and understanding. She felt her sister was right there with her and, judging by Sylvie’s red face, they really did seem to be doing this together. It went on and on. Nicole grew more and more tired with every push, but Sylvie encouraged her to take breaths in between. In one of the quiet moments, Nicole drifted away. She wanted to see the moon, look at the stars, feel the earth beneath her feet. She wanted to sing songs with Lisa, cut silk. Anything. Anything other than this. Then she felt a terrible burning and stinging as if she was being ripped apart.

  ‘Oh my God. It’s close. This baby is killing me.’

  ‘I think now’s the time to pant.’

  Sylvie smiled so calmly it touched Nicole.

  Something changed in her again. Though bruised and exhausted, her fear evaporated. Sylvie was right. Childbirth was something she had been born to do, and this was her moment. Hers and her baby’s. She was not going to let her child down.

  Just a few minutes later the baby was born. With tears in her eyes Sylvie held up the grey, blood-streaked wriggling baby. ‘It’s a girl, Nicole. A lovely little girl.’

  There was a loud screech from the baby and Nicole broke down and wept as exhaustion and relief collided.

  Sylvie patted her hand and passed her a handkerchief. ‘Come on. You’ve got a little girl waiting for you here.’

  Nicole smiled and wiped her wet cheeks. ‘I have, haven’t I?’

  ‘You did really well. I’m so proud I could burst. Shall I clean her up?’

  ‘Not yet. I want to feel her against my skin.’

  Sylvie wiped the baby down as she lay her against Nicole’s chest. With a soaring sense of relief and overwhelming happiness, Nicole gazed at her newborn child. Who could have told her it would feel like this? ‘Is she real?’ she asked.

  Sylvie nodded, seemingly as full of feeling as Nicole was.

  The baby had now turned pink, with fair hair, wrinkled hands, tiny nails and downy cheeks. She opened her eyes and Nicole saw they were blue
. Bright blue. Nothing could ever match a moment like this and she felt certain the memory would last a lifetime. She looked up at her sister. ‘Thank you.’

  Sylvie was trying to hold back tears. ‘I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Just look at her. I never thought she’d be so beautiful or that you’d be so brave.’

  ‘I couldn’t have done it without you.’

  ‘You’d have coped.’

  The baby was sucking at air and both sisters were crying now.

  Sylvie wiped her eyes and recovered first. ‘I’ll help put her to the breast.’

  The baby continued to suck at air for a bit longer, but eventually latched on.

  ‘She knows what to do,’ Nicole said in bemusement.

  ‘And now that we have an addition to our little family,’ Sylvie said, ‘I’ll see if there’s a way to get hold of Mark.’

  While Sylvie was gone, the room dissolved around Nicole. She stared at the wrinkled red face of her daughter and felt such a surge of emotion it overwhelmed her. She felt worn out, but this tiny dot was her own little baby, and such a toughie, surviving her mother’s imprisonment and her father’s absence. Nicole kissed the child’s perfect cheeks.

  A little later she delivered the afterbirth alone.

  But how lovely it had been to have Sylvie with her for the baby’s birth. It had been a hugely poignant experience; she’d never felt so close to her sister before. She’d wanted to discuss the baby’s name with Mark, but she knew he might not be able to come soon.

  Sylvie appeared a short while later and asked to hold the baby.

  ‘She’s so sweet,’ she said and smiled as she gazed at the tiny thing. ‘I’m so proud of you both. Have you thought of a name for our little angel?’

  ‘Celeste.’

  ‘What a beautiful name. Celeste Duval. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?’

  ‘Did you get hold of Mark?’

  ‘I sent a telegram to the American embassy in Saigon. It’s our best way of reaching him. He has to know he’s a father, doesn’t he?’

  Over the coming days Nicole concentrated on her baby. When the milk came in, her breasts felt swollen and tender, but it wasn’t long before she and Celeste settled into a rhythm. Nicole kissed her nose, her chubby fingers and her warm tummy, and feeling the child’s skin against her own she felt something inside her shift. It was a paradox, but now she had so much to lose, she felt stronger, more herself, and was surprised by it. When the baby cried she walked her around the house, and the simple soothing act calmed Nicole too. It was a joy to draw courage and strength from nurturing her child, and cradling her baby delighted her. Her exhaustion passed quickly and before long she felt happy and alert.

  So that Celeste could enjoy a little sunlight, a pram Sylvie had borrowed was kept in the conservatory. A few days following the birth, Nicole nestled her under her white coverlet and wheeled the pram through the garden and out of the side gate.

  The day was beautiful with a huge blue sky and birds singing in all the trees. White blossom was everywhere and you could easily be forgiven for forgetting it was a time of war. Complete strangers stopped to look at the baby, all of them remarking on her fabulous blue eyes and reddish-coloured hair. Nicole was falling into motherhood as if she had been made for it and, feeling an immense amount of pride, loved to show her daughter off. She still found it hard to believe this beautiful blue-eyed child had sprung from her.

  But gradually the state of dreamy contentment came to an end. Severed from the one person who had sustained her, she felt terribly alone. And without Lisa or her father either, their old family home had become too large. In what almost seemed like a moment of inattention, everything had changed. There was still no news of Mark and she began to feel sick inside. If the embassy hadn’t been able to get hold of him, it probably meant he had no idea that the baby had already been born. Nicole understood the implications of bringing a child into such an uncertain world and was frightened by the dark days that might lie ahead. She sat on the sofa, closed her eyes and dreamt of leaning her head against Mark’s shoulder as he stroked her hair. She pictured him with a wide smile on his face while tenderly cradling the baby. She so wanted her family to be whole and for a moment the image was so clear it felt as if he was really there.

  When she opened her eyes she felt unbearably sad that he wasn’t and she ached with love for the two people who meant everything to her. In a moment of total stillness she thought about how much she hated the war and the awful helpless knowledge it brought with it. How could it be that the lives of people you loved might be wiped out in an instant? People with warm blood in their veins, people who breathed and laughed and loved. People who did not deserve to die. It seemed impossible to her that she might never see Mark again. The whole world seemed to be standing to attention as the truth of it sank in. She glanced up and saw Sylvie hovering in the doorway watching, her face completely devoid of expression.

  36

  As spring continued, Nicole played with Celeste in the garden, making the most of the breezes and drier air. She was genuinely happy being with her beautiful daughter, loved waking to Celeste’s early smiles and even looked forward to holding her when she was disturbed by shrill night-time cries. Sylvie seemed quieter than before, but spent much of her time pacing up and down, rubbing her hands together and talking to herself. One night Nicole was surprised to hear Sylvie wandering the house and the back door opening and closing. After she had left Celeste finally asleep, she followed Sylvie out to the garden, treading quietly so as not to startle her sister. The garden was alive with night-time scratchings and snappings and, despite the darkness, there was enough moon to light Sylvie’s pale nightdress. Nicole blinked rapidly: Sylvie seemed as if she was one of the ghosts who lived out there.

  A tune from the past came into her head and she hummed it softly. ‘Do you remember it, Sylvie?’ she said.

  For a moment or two her sister joined in but then stopped suddenly.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Nicole said in a gentle voice.

  Without a glance in Nicole’s direction, her sister said nothing.

  ‘Sylvie?’

  Sylvie twisted round but had an odd look in her eyes. ‘Nothing’s wrong.’

  ‘But, Sylvie, you’re barefoot and outside in the garden at three in the morning. Aren’t you cold?’

  Sylvie glanced at her feet. ‘Oh. I didn’t realize.’

  Then she carried on standing silently in an attitude of vacancy and Nicole couldn’t prevent the thought that her sister seemed tired of life.

  She put her arm round Sylvie. ‘Come on. Hot chocolate for you.’

  Sylvie gave her a thin smile but Nicole saw tears in her eyes. She didn’t want to leap to conclusions but feared something inside her sister was wearing very thin.

  The next day, neither of them mentioned their night-time encounter – it was as if it had not happened.

  A few days later she and Sylvie were in the garden again. Nicole still hadn’t heard from Mark and his absence was becoming a source of real anguish. While she longed for news, any news, she also lived in terror of receiving a telegram saying he was dead or missing.

  Despite Sylvie’s previous protestations of confidence in their business, the larger of their two silk shops in the ancient quarter had been up for sale for several weeks and the lack of a purchaser had been a concern. Now Sylvie told Nicole she’d managed to sell to a Vietnamese woman hoping to turn it into a restaurant. Sylvie thought the woman a fool.

  ‘If we don’t sell everything else soon we’ll never find buyers,’ Nicole said. ‘And we’ll need the money. Maybe we could set up a silk import business in France? We could do it together. All the top designers want to source quality silk.’

  Sylvie was walking up and down on the lawn. ‘Don’t be defeatist. No need to think of France. We will still win the war. You’ll see.’

  Sylvie had replied a little uneasily, Nicole thought, and her insistence that everything would be fine lacked conviction. Al
though there were rumours that a showdown was planned at Dien Bien Phu, her sister more or less maintained the usual French attitude of entitlement. The truth was nobody knew how things were going. Misinformation and rumour were rife; who was winning and who was losing depended on which paper you were reading.

  ‘So our store on Rue Paul Bert is gone and now the large silk shop too. There’s only my little one left and our two houses,’ Nicole said.

  ‘We still have the export business. We could run it together in Huế once Celeste is a bit older.’

  ‘I’d love to.’ She paused. ‘Though, to be honest, I’m not sure if we’ll stay in Vietnam.’

  ‘You and Celeste?’

  ‘Mark and me, I meant, though Celeste too, of course.’

  Sylvie’s face had fallen a little. ‘Oh.’

  ‘And if the Vietminh win, they’ll ban anyone from owning anything. The state will take it all.’

  ‘Over my dead body.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I’m worried about.’

  ‘Shall we go in?’ Sylvie said, ignoring her comment and seeming to want to change the subject.

  ‘Shouldn’t we leave now while we still can?’

  ‘And leave everything for the Vietminh to take? I don’t want to go, and anyway, things will still go our way. But if it’s what you want, you go.’

  ‘Sylvie, you know I can’t leave you here alone. I’ll wait a bit longer. Maybe Mark will be in touch soon.’

  Sylvie just grunted and they went indoors together.

  A couple of weeks later Nicole’s milk was drying up and she sat at the kitchen table in tears, with Celeste on her lap, red-faced and screaming. Sylvie was staring at the window and muttering as if in another world.

  ‘I haven’t got enough to feed her,’ Nicole wailed as Celeste’s screams reached fever pitch.

  Sylvie turned away from the window. ‘Sorry?’