by Janet Tanner
From the outside the house looked exactly as she had remembered it during the eight long months she had been away. Hiding its bay windows and bright paintwork behind a hedge of evergreen shrubs, it might almost have been one of the English suburban houses it was built to imitate, so that to pass through the front door and hear the swish of the ceiling fans was almost a shock. The hall was tiled for coolness, but there was a Chinese rug to break up the square expanse, and a vase of fresh flowers stood on a rosewood table beside a stately grandmother clock.
In the doorway Elise stood for a moment, breathing in the familiarity and also the difference – surely the hall hadn’t been that big before? Had the stairs always curved away so spaciously? And the way the sun slanted in through the open doorway behind her, making a bright patch in the midst of the shadow – it was more like turning the pages of an often-read book and finding them suddenly come to life than stepping in to a house which had been her home for almost five years.
But her pause was momentary only. A house was, after all, only a house and it was Alex she wanted to see. The impatience welled up in her, and, her voice trembling with eagerness, she called, ‘Alex – Alex! Are you there?’
In the hush of the afternoon her voice sounded loud and she felt a stab of intense disappointment. Perhaps Su Ming had taken him out somewhere. Oh, she hoped not! After all these months she suddenly could not bear the thought of a minute’s more delay.
‘Mummy! Mummy!’
Shrieks of excitement, a door banging and running feet shattered the hush, then Alex exploded into the hall. Elise had a brief glimpse of a round, freckled face beneath a fringe of sandy hair, a small, compact body clad in open-necked shirt and light grey shorts, and gangling legs that ended in neatly turned-down grey ankle socks and sturdy sandals. Then Alex hurled himself at her, almost knocking her over with the force of his enthusiasm as she dropping to her knees, hugging him to her with his face against hers. His arms were right around her neck, his knees fitting into the valley beneath her breasts, the fresh soap smell of his skin tickling her nose. Su Ming had had him clean and ready to meet her, she supposed, waiting after all this time for the mother he had probably begun to think would never come back.
‘Oh Alex!’ she whispered, and suddenly the tears were there once again, filling her eyes and running unchecked down her cheeks. ‘Oh, darling, I’ve missed you so much!’
After a moment he began to wriggle, his sandals skidding the silk skirt of her dress round on the tiled floor. She released him a little, smiling through her tears and he looked at her curiously.
‘Mummy, you’re crying! Why are you crying?’
‘Alex, don’t bother your mother with silly questions the moment she gets back.’
The voice had the lilt of the Orient and Elise looked up, drawing her hand across her face. She hadn’t heard Su Ming come in, but then she had been engrossed in Alex and Su Ming always moved quietly and economically. She stood there now: a small, neat girl with dark, slanting eyes and a round face beneath a smooth cap of shining black hair.
‘Hello, Su Ming.’
‘Hello, Mrs Sanderson.’ But there was a reserve in her voice, and Elise thought: She doesn’t sound very pleased to see me.
‘Why, Mummy?’ Alex persisted. ‘Why are you crying?’
Elise smiled at him through her tears.
‘Sometimes people cry when they’re happy, Alex. And I’m so happy to see you.’
‘Well, I’m happy to see you but I’m not crying.’
She buried her face in him again, aware that she would be incurring Gordon’s displeasure and not caring. Alex had the rest of his life to learn to be a man. For the moment he was a child, her son, her little boy.
‘Let your mother breathe, Alex!’ Gordon said, and Su Ming stepped forward efficiently.
‘You’re treading all over her skirt, Alex. You will spoil it. Come here now, there’s a good boy.’
Alex wriggled as if to obey, but Elise kept hold of his shoulders. She had waited so long for this moment, and now she felt unwilling to let him go ever again.
‘Let me look at you, Alex.’ She held him at arm’s length. ‘My goodness, you’ve grown!’
‘Yes. I can do a lot of things now. I can read …’
‘I heard. You must show me …
‘And I’ve been to the Cricket Club with Daddy.’
‘Cricket!’
‘And I can play mah-jong a little, too.’
‘Oh, Alex!’
‘But Mummy.’ His face puckered slightly, intense with concentration. ‘Where have you been?’
‘You know I went to Cairo to say goodbye to Grandma?’
‘But that was a long time ago.’
‘Yes, it was, I’m afraid. I had awful problems …’
‘And you’re different.’ Alex screwed up his eyes, looking at her intently.
‘Different? Different how?’ She laughed a little.
‘I don’t know, I’m not sure. Your hair’s sort of the same. But you don’t feel the same. And I haven’t seen that dress before,’ he added accusingly.
‘I lost all my others,’ Elise said. ‘I lost some of the things I had bought for you, too.’
‘Oh!’ His face fell. ‘Haven’t you go anything for me?’
‘Yes, but …’
‘Show me! Show me!’
‘Alex, give your mother a chance,’ Su Ming interrupted.
‘It’s all right,’ Elise said, irritated by the way the Chinese girl was standing over them. ‘Gordon, could you ask one of the boys to unpack the red trunk? There are some parcels …’
‘Red trunk?’ Alex repeated. ‘You haven’t got a red trunk.’
‘Yes, I have. My others were lost.’
‘It seems to me you were very careless,’ Alex said seriously. ‘It seems to me you lost just about everything. If I lost things like that, I would probably get a spanking.’
Elise laughed, loving his childish frankness. A coolie struggled in with the red trunk in which she had packed souvenirs and presents and she opened it there in the hall, searching amongst the packages for the slippers she had bought for Su Ming and the wooden toys from Penang for Alex. As she passed them to him, he picked eagerly at the wrapping and squealed with delight. Then, not satisfied with opening his own gifts, he began investigating everything else in the trunk as well, and before she could stop him he had pulled out the dragon urn.
‘Oh Mummy, I like him!’ He was thoroughly over-excited now. ‘Can I have him, please?’
Elise’s heart constricted. ‘Not that one, darling. That one’s mine.’
‘Oh, please, Mummy!’
‘No, Alex, I’m sorry.’
‘Oh, don’t be mean. I want him for my room …’
‘Alex!’ Gordon said sharply. ‘Behave yourself! You heard your mother say the dragon is hers. You don’t want it, anyway; it’s an ornament, not a toy. And it’s rather ugly, if you want my opinion,’ he added in an aside to Elise. ‘ Whatever made you buy it?’
‘I bought it because I liked it,’ Elise said defensively.
‘And so do I.’ Alex’s small face was subdued. He picked at the sleeve of her dress with one hand while the other stretched out longingly towards the dragon. ‘I like it best, Mummy, even if it is yours and you say I can’t have it.’
She laughed, shaking her head. Alex might have grown, but he had not altered in his ways. She could read him like a book – he was still hoping that if he looked dejected enough she would change her mind and let him have the dragon. But this time he was going to be disappointed. Having the dragon was like having something of Brit with her still. And nothing on earth would induce her to part with it, not even the pleadings of her much loved son.
‘Mrs Sanderson, Alex would like to go to the Jade Market. I will take him if that is all right with you.’
It was two days later and Su Ming had come into the breakfast room where Elise was lingering over a cup of her favourite jasmine tea, hovering in the doorway
in a manner that was faintly irritating.
It wasn’t her suggestion which made the hackles rise, thought Elise. Alex loved to see the Jade Market, spilling a tide of green stones across the pavements in Canton Road, and always had. No, it was the way she phrased it, making it quite clear that she had already made her plans and was almost resentful of having to present them for Elise’s approval.
While I was away she got used to being in sole charge for most of the time, Elise decided, and was forced to stifle a childish urge to tell Su Ming that no, it was not all right to take Alex to the Jade Market.
‘I suppose so, Su Ming,’ she said.
A tiny frown puckered the girl’s forehead. ‘ Is anything the matter, Mrs Sanderson?’
‘Nothing. It’s just that I was thinking I should quite like to take him myself.’
‘Come with us then.’
What was it about the girl’s inflection that managed to be patronising? she wondered. ‘Come with us’, as if Su Ming and Alex were the natural pairing and Elise was the outsider. And that was how it would be if she did join them, too – Su Ming holding on to Alex’s hand, issuing instructions, planning the day. Su Ming taking charge …
You’re becoming a possessive mother, she chided herself. Su Ming is his amah – you mustn’t undermine her authority. And above all you must not use Alex to fill gaps in your own life …
‘No, I won’t come today, Su Ming. I’ve a lot of things to do,’ she said.
But when they had left, she could not think of a single thing of importance. For a while she pottered and wandered, picking up photographs, books and ornaments – bits and pieces from another life – but everywhere she looked she saw his face: tanned, angular, with his mouth mocking and his eyes saying things his lips never uttered. Why he should so fill every corner of this house, where he had never been, she did not know – unless it was that he had somehow mysteriously infiltrated the whole of her past as he had infiltrated her present life. But the ‘why’ was unimportant in any case. All that mattered was that he did.
A dozen times since her return she had gone to the drawing room, where the dragon took pride of place on a rosewood plinth, in order to look at it and touch it; now, taking advantage of being alone in the house apart from the servants who were busy with their chores, she did so again, and as always the sight of its self-conscious ferocity took her back to that last afternoon she had spent with Brit when he had bought it for her.
The sense of pleasure being enjoyed on a short lease returned, filling her with the same sharp sweetness; she took the dragon’s pug face between her hands, pressing so hard that her palms hurt.
Why couldn’t it have lasted just a little longer, that wonderful singing awareness of living and loving? Brit, Brit – why couldn’t I have had just a little longer with you? Oh, greedy, greedy Elise, not satisfied with what you had! But who would be? Who would willingly give up something so special? I love him. I love him and I can’t tell him so. I love him, but perhaps I will never see him again. I love him and maybe I have hurt him.
Hurt him? she scoffed at herself. He couldn’t be hurt. You played along with him, did it his way, the way he wanted it. Why should he be hurt?
She wrinkled her nose, puzzled by the thought, and as her eyes fell on the dragon’s stiff back she understood.
When she had first seen it she had thought it would remind her of Singapore, but now she knew it was not only Singapore it recalled to mind. That mock ferocity was all too reminiscent of someone she had come to know and love; that stiff back was not unlike the one he had presented to her on board the Lively.
‘He is trying to be fearsome, but he’s really just sweet,’ she had said of the dragon. Well, ‘sweet’ might not be an adjective likely to be used to describe Brit, but certainly beneath that very fierce exterior he had depths she would never have expected to find.
If only I could see him, she thought, just to explain what happened that last day. Or maybe not even see him – speak to him on the telephone.
The thought tingled through her and she removed her hands from the dragon, pressing them together in indecision.
Phone him – just to explain.
Who do you think you are fooling? a voice inside her enquired. Wanting to explain is just an excuse. You just want to hear his voice.
So what? she rejoined tartly. He wouldn’t know that.
He would.
He would not!
So why not do it?
I’m going to!
With a burst of nervous energy she left the drawing room and crossed the hail to Gordon’s study. The telephone extension there was, she thought, the most private in the house. Her hand was trembling and as she tried to check the number she almost gave up. The Brittains of Cormorant would not have their telephone number bandied about. Not one would give it to her. Unless …
Gordon’s diary lay on the desk and alongside it a flip-up telephone index. Without much hope she flipped the ‘B’ button, it snapped open and her eyes ran down the page. Belmond, Brevitt Industries, Betty and Dick – Betty and Dick? she had imagined only she would be inefficient enough to index a telephone number under a Christian name! – and then, unbelievably – Brittain, Charles. A surge of weakness made her senses swim and quickly, before she could change her mind, she picked up the telephone and dialled. As she listened to it ringing, fresh waves of weakness assailed her and she almost slammed it down. Only her need and the knowledge of how miserable she would be kept the receiver in her hand.
‘Hello. The Brittain residence.’ The voice clearly belonged to a Chinese house boy.
‘Would it be possible to speak to Mr Gerald Brittain, please?’
‘Oh, I am sorry.’
‘I can’t?’
‘Mr Brittain is not here. Can I tell him who called, please?’
‘Oh …’ Her thoughts chased in wildly incoherent circles. ‘Yes, tell him Elise. It’s not important; I just wanted to speak to him.’
‘Can I perhaps ask him to call you back?’
‘Yes, if you like.’
‘Thank you. Good day.’
As she replaced the receiver her heart was pumping. You did it! You’ve asked him to ring you! But when? You forgot to find out when he was expected back. Idiot – idiot! Supposing he rings when Gordon is here? No, he wouldn’t be that foolish; he knows the situation. Trust him. Trust him … Or perhaps he won’t ring at all! Why should he? But he might. Oh, let him ring, please! Just so that I can hear his voice once more …
The longing was a pain inside her.
As the morning wore on, every nerve in her was alive and waiting. Su Ming and Alex returned and she greeted them, asking Alex about the Jade Market, arranging his lunch, and all with one half of her mind preoccupied, listening, ready to leap into action if the telephone rang. Once when it did, she jumped physically, answering it with breathless haste, but it was only someone wanting to speak to Gordon. The afternoon passed – nothing. Gordon came home a little earlier than usual, dinner was served and she ate fast, tasting nothing, tense and nervy. When he retired to his study her guilt consumed her again. Supposing she had left the directory open at the Bs? She knew she had not done so, yet it still nagged at her and she half expected him to come storming out, asking her who she had been phoning and why. But he did not, and if the telephone rang she did not hear it.
Bedtime. She shared a night-cap with Gordon and went upstairs praying that tonight he would make no demands on her. Twice since she had returned, he had made love to her. Twice she had lain as passive as before, unable to summon any response yet also unable to refuse. But tonight he went to his own bed and she thanked God. She could not have borne it.
A sleepless night, tossing and turning, wondering if Brit had received her message. Another day when she waited, with depression beginning to consume her.
He wasn’t going to call her back. She should have known that he would not. He had said it would have to be over when her husband was on the scene and he wasn’t go
ing to do anything that might resurrect what had been between them.
And then, on the third day, the telephone rang.
She was in the garden and she jumped as she had jumped each time. But she was past hoping now, even though she hurried still to answer it.
‘Hello? Elise Sanderson.’ Even without hope the breathless quality was there, creeping in.
And unbelievably that familiar dark brown voice said ‘Elise? It’s me – Brit. I understand you’ve been trying to get hold of me?’
‘Brit.’ The room was receding from her and then coming back; her pulses hammered.
‘I couldn’t ring you before – I’ve been away. Is something wrong?’
‘No – I just wanted to talk to you. I wanted to tell you I’m sorry about that last day in Singapore. I didn’t expect Gordon so soon. When I got back to the hotel he was there …’ How stupid it sounded now, she thought.
‘I guessed that,’ Brit said easily.
‘Well – as long as you know … I felt dreadful, springing him on you like that …’
‘It’s quite all right.’
There was a silence and she thought: That’s it. There’s nothing more to say. I shall just have to say goodbye and hang up.
Then, into the silence, Brit said, ‘ What are you doing then?’
‘Oh, nothing much. Trying to readjust. But everything seems to have gone very smoothly in my absence. The house still runs like clockwork and Su Ming’s taken over total responsibility for Alex.’
‘And Gordon?’
‘Still working as if nothing had happened.’
‘And right now, what are you doing?’
‘Oh, I was in the garden. Pottering.’
‘Alone?’
‘Yes. What about you? Where are you?’
‘I’m at home in Shek-o. As to what I’m doing – nothing much at the moment. Now ask me what I should like to do.’
‘All right. What would you like to do?’
‘I’d like to see you.’
Weakness flooding though her. ‘Oh Brit, would you? But I thought you said …’
‘Never mind what I said. I want to see you and I suspect you want to see me. So how about it?’