When it was light enough to see, she went into the garden and found the envelope Sylvie had given her on the grass, now a little damp with dew. She sat down on the grass feeling hot and a little bit sick, wiped her hand across her forehead and pushed the damp hair from her eyes. She ripped open the envelope and saw it was true. She owned the house in Huế, though what use would that be without her baby?
As the tears began to spill again, her darkest fears surfaced and something collapsed inside her. Mark might be dead and now her little girl was gone too. She missed them both so much the pain was physical, but now she blamed herself for not thinking it through properly. She had been so surprised and shocked by the suddenness of what had happened that she hadn’t truly considered Sylvie’s shaky mental state, but now she couldn’t silence the whispers in her head. Her sister was ill.
39
Trapped in indecision, Nicole watched as the sun inched across the sky. If only Mark were there. But his last letter had been dated March and now it was May. Surely if he was alive he would have written again? She was certain of it. She clung to the hope that maybe he had and Sylvie had hidden that letter too. She gazed at the herbs and flowers grown wild in the garden and listened to the birds as they flew in and out of the trees. She went indoors and picked up a knitted matinee jacket discarded on the floor, held it to her nose and smelt the sweet scent of her baby. Every moment she’d spent with Celeste catapulted into sharp relief.
When an idea finally came to her she dug out her old Vietnamese clothes and, feeling sticky, struggled into them. She took a taxi – quicker than a cyclo – and felt even hotter sitting in the back of the stuffy cab. She wiped her forehead with her skirt, then wound the window down and the smell of dust and summer drifted in. Sylvie had been acting strangely lately and she couldn’t picture what might be in her sister’s mind. What if Sylvie had been lying? What if she had no intention of going to their father’s flat?
When the taxi dropped her close to the silk shop, she paid and ran over to unlock the door. She felt fragile and, needing to steady herself, held on to the door frame for support. A drink of water. That would help. She hadn’t eaten either. Not that she felt like it.
O-Lan must have been gazing out of her window, because she came out straight away.
‘I heard you’d had the baby. Is everything all right? I haven’t seen you for months …’ She paused and held out a hand. ‘You look terrible.’
Nicole shivered. ‘I just need water.’
‘Coffee. I’ll make you some.’
‘I have to get to Haiphong.’ Nicole’s teeth began to chatter. She heard them clicking in her head, as if they belonged in someone else’s mouth.
‘You can’t go in that state.’
‘I’ll be all right.’ Nicole’s eyes watered but with no time for tears she brushed them away. ‘I let her take my baby, O-Lan. But Celeste’s not well and neither is my sister. I have to go after them.’
O-Lan looked at her strangely. ‘Have you not heard the news? Dien Bien Phu has fallen. The French are retreating. There are thousands dead and thousands wounded too. They’ll be trying to bring back the walking wounded so the roads will be chaos. Easier to get to Saigon.’
‘No. Sylvie went to Haiphong. She has a berth on a liner leaving for France. I have some money but I need more if I’m going to follow her.’
‘The US are evacuating French and Americans for free, I heard. At least to Saigon. But first you need rest.’
Nicole shook her head. ‘I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate but it’s the only way I can think of to get to Haiphong. Could I take your cousin’s motorbike?’
O-Lan smiled. ‘It still has petrol. If it’s the only way, then you must take it.’
‘You’re sure? You may never get it back. I’ll send the money for it when I can.’
O-Lan shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘I’m sorry I didn’t bring Celeste to see you. I was scared Trần might be here.’ Nicole closed her eyes for a moment and felt her head spin. She couldn’t be ill again now.
O-Lan felt her forehead and the back of her neck. ‘You’re burning up. You’re coming to my house.’
Nicole leant against O-Lan as she helped her inside.
‘What about your mother? Won’t she mind?’
‘She died, Nicole.’
Nicole stepped away and gazed at her friend. ‘I’m so sorry.’
O-Lan shrugged. ‘She’s with the ancestors now. But if he comes, Trần will look for you at your shop or here. As soon as you can, you must leave.’
Nicole bent over slightly and put a palm on the wall to support herself. Her head felt so heavy that everything went out of focus and her legs turned to jelly. ‘I’m so sorry –’
Over the next few hours the fever worsened. O-Lan said it was an illness that had been going round and, though horrible while it lasted, it was usually short-lived. As it raged, the hollow feeling inside Nicole derailed her. Her thoughts revolved around her child, but she had to accept she wasn’t in any shape to ride a motorbike.
All day she felt ice-cold, and that night she started to be sick. As O-Lan brought her a bowl and held her head, Nicole worried that Celeste was suffering from the same sickness. Sylvie wouldn’t hurt the child, but her daughter was so small and so vulnerable. Would her sister know what to do? The thought of her baby dying without her mother left Nicole shaking uncontrollably and, as the hours passed, she felt she was shrivelling inside.
‘I’ll get her a blanket,’ she heard O-Lan say as she turned to somebody outside the room. ‘She’s still shivering, though her temperature is high. Can you make her a warm drink, please.’
Nicole heard a man speak but didn’t see who it was. She mourned the loss of her daughter but an absence of feeling was what she craved now. She couldn’t cope with anything more. On hearing vague noises coming up from the street, she sensed something abnormal was going on, but felt too tired to ask what.
By the next morning she had emerged from the depths of the fever; though still feeling insubstantial, she lay awake, her eyes growing accustomed to the gloom. She heard a noise on the small landing outside her room and, fearful of what was beyond the door, she stiffened. She picked up the peppery smell before she saw him and felt a jolt of fear pass through her.
Trần was in the room and walking towards her with a glass of water.
‘I will open the shutters,’ he said as he put the glass beside her.
‘No. Please. The light hurts my eyes.’ It was true, but more than anything, she didn’t want to look at him and her heart was knocking at the thought of being confined together in such a small room.
When he was close she sneaked a look. The devastating fall-out of war had marked him and his once proud demeanour had changed. In fact, he looked defeated, or at the very least, disillusioned.
She struggled to sit up and picked up the glass. ‘How long have you been here?’
‘Since last night.’
Nicole sipped the water. ‘She told you I was here?’
‘She didn’t want to.’
She felt that her sickness embarrassed him, saw it in the way he continually adjusted his scarf while remaining silent. His eyes kept sliding to her face for a moment and then he’d look away. Not once did he really see her.
She finished the water. ‘Where’s O-Lan?’
‘Selling your stock for you. She asked me to watch over you.’
‘So now you’re my guardian angel?’
‘I have something of yours.’ He reached into a small satchel and drew out Nicole’s antique purse.
‘Oh,’ she said with a smile. ‘You found it in the tent.’
‘I rescued it.’ He smiled. ‘So you see, I am your guardian angel.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, but didn’t dare look to see if the photo of Mark was still inside.
Now he looked at her properly for the first time. She saw his eyes change and hoped that he had mellowed.
‘I ris
ked everything to help you escape.’
‘And I was grateful.’
His head was shaking. ‘You don’t understand. The métisse among the party are no longer welcome.’
As she watched him, he fidgeted constantly and cleared his throat more than once. She hoped O-Lan would be back soon.
‘I shall have a position in the new state,’ he said at last. ‘You don’t look French. When you’re well we can be married.’
Nicole gasped and looked at him in alarm. This wasn’t what she’d been expecting. ‘You said métisse were not welcome.’
She scarcely remembered what had once connected them. The light had gone from his eyes and it seemed as if the passion had drained from his heart. A man whose revolutionary fervour had dried up. Had he become what he had really always been; not a visionary at all, but rather a practical man, who, like so many others, had been too young to know any better?
‘You don’t understand,’ she said. ‘I have a child.’
He knitted his brows together and took a step back.
‘My sister has her.’
‘Once a French whore!’ he snapped, and she could see the disgust in his eyes.
She wanted to offer him something but he ignored her outstretched hand. She shook her head. ‘Trần, I’m sorry but you have to let me go.’
‘I do not have to do anything,’ he said, clearly upset and not attempting to hide it. ‘I have a mind to inform the authorities that you are here.’
‘The Vietminh isn’t in charge yet. As far as I know the authority is still French.’
‘Hanging on by a thread. You have time to change your mind.’ His face softened and a shadow from the past slipped back; just for a second, there was a trace of the old Trần.
‘We can be happy living together above the shop,’ he said.
She shook her head. ‘You aren’t listening. I have a baby. I have no desire to be a docile Vietnamese wife.’
He went over to the window and threw open the shutters. A terrific banging and clattering rose up from the street accompanied by the sound of angry voices, the noise exploding into the room, assaulting her. She rubbed her eyes, then used her hands to shield them from the light.
‘It will be best if you give me the silk shop,’ he said as he twisted back to regard her with sterner eyes.
‘Much good a silk shop will do you when the regime is seizing everything,’ she said. ‘But I’ll leave the keys and the deeds of ownership when I go.’
‘I hope you will not be going anywhere.’ He smiled. ‘It will not last. Things will go back to the way they were. I’ve never been a proprietor before. We shall run the shop together. When the time comes. You will see.’
Fearing her feelings might show in her face, she tried to calm herself, but her body felt heavy and her heart was going way too fast. She needed to keep the atmosphere calm; not by agreeing, but not being openly defiant either. Much as she wanted to, she didn’t dare slam the door in his face.
‘Are you all right?’ he said.
She nodded. ‘How will you be able to keep the shop open?’
‘I won’t. Not at first. They will want everybody on the land or in large municipal factories. There will be no private trade.’
‘Let me think about it,’ she said. She leant back against the pillow and closed her eyes. There was nothing to be gained from crossing him. She hoped O-Lan would know how to tempt him away so that she could leave.
She felt rather than saw him kneel beside her bed.
‘Nicole, I came back for you.’
She felt dizzy again. ‘It was such a long time ago.’
‘I told you I would come back for you.’
‘You’re crazy. None of this is real. But, please, I’ve said I’ll think about it and now I have to sleep.’
Convulsed by grief, she turned her face to the wall and heard him creep out.
40
A series of loud thumps woke her. She had been dreaming of drowning in the river at Huế again, and as she came to consciousness she struggled for air. But this time it wasn’t a dream: somebody was holding her tight. Terrified, she felt as if a large bird had spread its wings and was knocking at her ribcage. She hardly dared look, but forced herself to open her eyes, exhaling in relief as O-Lan’s face swam into focus. Beyond the room the light was failing and her friend was framed by the glow from one small lamp in the corner. She could see O-Lan had a finger to her lips and was looking wide-eyed. Once Nicole nodded, she released her grip.
‘You were thrashing about in your sleep,’ O-Lan whispered. ‘I didn’t want you to shout out.’
‘What’s happening?’
‘You have to leave.’
Nicole lifted her head. ‘Vietminh agents?’
O-Lan grimaced. ‘No. Hanoi is falling apart. It’s the Vietnamese army deserters. The ones who’ve been with the French fighting the Vietminh.’
Nicole pulled herself up as a great noise erupted, like the sound of people banging pots and pans.
‘What?’
‘It’s householders trying to summon help from the police. It won’t work.’
A loud crash made them jump and clutch each other.
‘Thugs,’ O-Lan said with a withering look. ‘But if they find you, you will never get out of here. They are angry with the French for losing the war. Now their own lives are at risk from the Vietminh.’
Horrified, Nicole stared at her friend.
‘They’re in your shop now. They’ve already held two people at gunpoint in the street.’
‘French?’
‘Vietnamese, but supporters of the French regime. Once they’ve gone, I’ll take you back to the shop. They won’t go in twice. They’re looting and stealing everything they can.’
‘Won’t they come here too?’ An awful sense of dread crept up on Nicole. If they came and found her here she’d never have any chance of seeing her daughter again.
O-Lan shook her head. ‘They came while you were asleep.’
Nicole’s heart leapt in her throat. ‘And they didn’t come up here?’
‘No. They know I am a cousin of Trần. They will not dare touch me. But I have to get you out before Trần gets back. He’s out at the moment.’
‘He wants the deeds and the keys to the shop.’
‘You can leave them with me. He’ll be back at midnight. You must both be gone.’
‘Both? I don’t understand.’
‘Mark is here.’
Nicole’s heart almost buckled, it raced so fast. ‘He’s alive?’ She glanced around, as if Mark might suddenly appear as an apparition out of the shadowy corners of the room.
O-Lan smiled. ‘He’s not here now. When he found out you were not in France he went to your villa, and when you were not there he came looking for you here. He’s coming back later.’
‘He’s alive,’ Nicole repeated, hardly able to take it in. ‘He’s really alive?’
O-Lan nodded.
Nicole felt a leap of energy and sprang upright. She had hoped and prayed that he would be spared, but now that she knew he had been, the feeling of joy was overwhelming. Every nerve in her body seemed to burst into life. She had tried to stave off the longing she’d felt, tried to numb herself to the pain that had settled in her chest, but now energy was coursing through her veins as she thought of his hands, his face, his bright blue eyes. There was not a part of him she couldn’t recall; not a part she didn’t want to see and touch again. He was alive. Alive.
She grinned at O-Lan. ‘Lucky it was you who saw him and not Trần.’
‘I told him Sylvie has your daughter. He knows we are friends. He is going to help you find your sister.’
Nicole felt heat prick her eyelids and, as tears sprang to her eyes, she held out a hand.
‘Mark will drive my cousin’s motorbike. I told him you had been sick. All you have to do is cling on. Here is the money I managed to raise.’ She gave Nicole a little packet.
Nicole reached over to hug her.
&
nbsp; ‘Sorry it’s not more.’
There was a loud crash from next door like furniture being tipped over. Nicole looked at her friend, wide-eyed.
‘Don’t worry, you’ll be in Haiphong before daybreak. You are not too far behind your sister.’
‘Is the road safe still?’
O-Lan grimaced. ‘It’s a risk you will have to take.’
As they waited for the commotion from next door to stop, Nicole’s hopes were raised in a way she could not have imagined. Now all they had to do was leave that night. With Mark’s help she would find Sylvie and Celeste; it would all come right and she’d be with her beautiful daughter again. The thrill of it ran through her and she felt like shouting out in relief but then she hesitated. O-Lan must have noticed the flicker of anxiety on her face as she tried to ignore the little voice in her head that told her Sylvie might have decided not to go to France at all. But when O-Lan squeezed her hand, Nicole felt her friend’s strength. It would be all right because it had to be.
When they felt safe enough to move, they set off by slipping out of O-Lan’s house at the back, and entering via the alley behind Nicole’s shop. It was a clear night and the sky was glittering with stars. They stood in the courtyard together where it was hard not to think of all the times they’d had together; the laughter, the meals they’d shared sitting outside soaking up the last of the sun, and the hard times they’d been through too. It was clear to Nicole that O-Lan was remembering the exact same things and, for a split second, she didn’t want to go. A sound from O-Lan’s place drew their attention. Nicole froze.
‘Trần?’
‘No. A door I left open I think. I must leave you now. Mark has the keys for the bike. I will leave the shed unlocked.’
‘Won’t Trần be angry?’
‘Yes. I will have to tell him you stole the bike.’
They grinned at each other. Nicole held her friend’s hands and squeezed. ‘Thank you for everything.’
The Silk Merchant’s Daughter Page 31