House of Trembling Leaves, The

by Lees, Julian

  ‘‘Hello, Mrs Slackford.’’ They shook hands. ‘‘Please call me Lu See.’’

  ‘‘Well come on in. No need to remove yer shoes. We’re not in Japan now, yew know. Four basic rules for yew to follow – no food of any kind in yer bedrooms, no gentlem’n callers.’’ She raised her eyebrows at Adrian accusingly. ‘‘No pets and we have a nightly curfew of 10 p.m. Is that clear?’’

  ‘‘Yes, very.’’

  ‘‘It’s two pounds a week, an extra five bob if yew want breakfast and supper.’’

  ‘‘No problem.’’

  ‘‘And oi’ll expect two weeks in advance. The whole of the top floor is occupied by me. Yew and yer cousin have the two bedrooms on the first floor. Bath nights are Tuesday and Saturday when the hot water boiler’s turned on. ’’

  ‘‘Fine.’’

  Mrs Slackford smiled. ‘‘Well, now that that’s all sorted, come and have a look round, won’t yew? Yer friend Mr Woo will have to wait here.’’

  Lu See walked into a bright little living room decorated with tapestries, chintz sofas and a leather armchair covered in lace antimacassars. A little further in, she found a dining room filled with walnut furniture and a large 19th century refectory table. There was an old stone fireplace in the far end of the room and the walls were lined with Victorian oil paintings depicting bucolic scenes of English village life. Everything smelt of wood polish. On the refectory table was an Emerson 5 tube phonograph, gently playing a swing band number.

  ‘‘I usually don’t enjoy any of this modern music,’’ Mrs Slackford said, stopping to turn up the volume. ‘‘But I do like this new fellow, Benny Goodman.’’

  ‘‘The house is very nice,’’ Lu See declared, taking in her surroundings.

  ‘‘Mr Slackford was a furniture restorer. He loved nothing better than sourcing damaged pieces and fixing them up.’’

  ‘‘How nice,’’ said Lu See. ‘‘And Mr Slackford is …’’ She craned her neck towards the kitchen expectantly.

  ‘‘Dead. Killed in the war. The Boer War.’’

  Boer War? God, she must be ancient, thought Lu See. Now, don’t say anything silly. Remember to respect the elderly. ‘‘I’m so sorry to hear that, Mrs Slackford.’’

  The landlady took in a sharp breath. ‘‘Nothing to be sorry about, dear, he’s been dead, oh, 35 years now. His pension keeps me in tea bags but not much else. Well then, how about a cuppa tea? Let me show yew the kitchen. We got sausages in the meat safe and oi get fresh eggs each morning from across the way.’’ Lu See and Sum Sum followed her down the corridor into a small room with a stove, a meat safe and a three-door cupboard filled with tins of tea, Horlicks and odd bits of crockery. There was also a shelf stacked with white-and-blue teacups.

  ‘‘My cousin Sum Sum can help.’’

  Removing four cups and a teapot from the shelf, Mrs Slackford filled the kettle with water from the tap. ‘‘If yew take sugar yew’ll find it in the cupboard.’’

  Sum Sum rummaged about and found a bowl of salt, a jar of flour and a black sock held tight with a clothes peg. When she looked into the black sock she found it filled with birdseed.

  ‘‘Oi often feed the pigeons in the park,’’ Mrs Slackford conceded.

  ‘‘Aiyo, good idea, lah. Fatten them up for a roast, is it?’’ The landlady didn’t reply.

  Once Lu See and Sum Sum returned from their tour of the house Adrian announced that he was leaving. ‘‘I’m returning to my college. I’ve a lecture at noon. Mrs Slackford, why don’t you show the girls the market square, I’m sure they’d like to see a bit of the town.’’ He gave Lu See a wink and saw himself out. ‘‘I’ll see you later.’’

  ‘‘I … I think I’ll stay behind and unpack my things.’’ Lu See concluded, passing Sum Sum her purse. ‘‘Sum Sum, please can you buy a packet of Bee Bee brandy snap biscuits, a few metal hangers for the closet, a tin of drinking chocolate, a bar of Cashmere Bouquet soap and a pair of woollen socks.’’ She turned to Mrs Slackford. ‘‘I never expected it to be so cold. I think I’m going to have to wear two or three layers. And perhaps you can buy Mrs Slackford some flowers for her bedroom.’’

  Within minutes Mrs Slackford had her headscarf and coat on. ‘‘Be back in half an hour or so. Yew sure yew’ll be all right on yer own?’’

  ‘‘Yes, thanks,’’ Lu See replied. ‘‘Bye, Sum Sum.’’

  In the park, hidden behind a tree, Adrian watched Sum Sum and her landlady head down Park Street. As soon as they were out of sight he sprinted along Portugal Place and rapped on the door of number 23.

  Seconds later he and Lu See were racing up the stairs to the first floor. ‘‘My bedroom is in here,’’ she said feeling his hand on the small of her back. ‘‘We don’t have much time.’’

  Inside, the damask curtains were drawn and the bedside lamp was on. Adrian shut the door behind him and they rolled onto the large iron bed, pulling away the crisp white sheets and pillows, tossing the neatly folded horsehair blanket to one side.

  He kissed her throat and her neck. ‘‘God, can you imagine if we get caught?’’ she interrupted him.

  ‘‘We won’t. I bolted the front door. If Mrs S returns early I’ll climb out the back window.’’ Easing her clothes over her head, he laid her gently on the bed and caressed her smooth calves and ankles, bronzed from sunbathing on the deck of the MS Jutlandia.

  He knelt on the bed and removed his yellow waistcoat and bow tie and began unbuttoning his shirt as she ran her bare leg up the inside of his thigh. The prickly horsehair blanket tickled her naked bottom as she pressed herself against him. They both giggled as they kissed. ‘‘God, you feel good,’’ he said.

  Tossing his trousers over the lampshade, he threw shadows across the room.

  She smiled wickedly at him. ‘‘What was all that talk about discretion and restraint?’’

  ‘‘Quiet, you.’’ He ran his fingers under her hair, flicked his tongue along her breasts, feeling the nipples swell in his palms. She traced her fingertips along his ribs and could feel his heart drumming against his chest.

  She felt him smooth his hands over her hips. His fingers reached down and caressed the skin along her thighs, rubbing the thin material between her legs, touching the moist fold beneath the silk. Weakened by his touch she pulled him onto her, opening her legs to him. Their movements quickened in the cold.

  Her lips sucked at the flesh of his shoulder. Tenderly, he slid into her. Arching her spine, she gasped. She clenched her fists and wrapped her calves around the small of his back. She bit her lip as a warm rushing sensation raced though her body, blinding her head with stars. Never had she acted this wantonly. Never had she felt such release. The muscles along the back of her legs quivered as she came. She laughed out loud. If this was selfishness, she thought, then she found her selfishness incredibly liberating.

  The tears of happiness hung on her face. Suspended like berries on a string.

  The following morning, after a breakfast of grilled tomato halves, bacon and soggy sausages, Lu See glanced through the newspaper. Nestled among the inside pages, she came across a photograph taken in Germany, at the Nuremberg Rally of 1935. Two pretty young women were posing amid a group of storm troopers in black, with eagle cap badges. The headline read: ‘Mitford girls to be guest of Hitler at Berlin Olympic Games.’

  She was about to ask Mrs Slackford about the relationship between the British aristocracy and the German Third Reich when there came a knock on the front door.

  ‘‘Morning, loosey-goosey,’’ Adrian said as he leaned on the doorframe, tracing his knuckles along her cheek. She loved the sound of his lilting voice, the way he said loosey-goosey. ‘‘Sleep well?’’

  ‘‘Very.’’

  ‘‘And Sum Sum?’’

  ‘‘Incense sticks are burning by the windowsill and my statue of Ganesha is on the hall table. She’s made herself at home.’’

  ‘‘Come on then, grab Sum Sum and your coats, we’re going out.’’

  �
��‘Are we? Where to?’’

  ‘‘You’ll see.’’

  As they walked to the end of Portugal Place, passing the Round Church, Lu See watched a soot-smeared chimneysweep heave his brushes up a ladder. ‘‘You still haven’t told me where we’re going?’’

  ‘‘Don’t be so impatient, goosey.’’

  The sky was grey and grim. A shire pony hauling beer barrels cut across them. As they passed St. John’s, avoiding the steaming horse shit, an undergraduate in a college scarf and black robes and stomping his feet from the cold, handed him a sheet of paper.

  ‘‘What’s that he gave you?’’ Lu See craned her neck to see.

  Adrian read aloud: ‘‘ ‘The Cambridge Union Society debated and carried the motion by 312 votes to 113 ‘That this House will under no circumstances fight for its King and Country.’ ’’

  ‘‘Fight? Fight who?’’ asked Sum Sum.

  Adrian furrowed his forehead. ‘‘The Fascists.’’

  They entered Trinity College via the Great Gate and made their way to a set of rooms near the Wren Library. Inside, a group of about fifty undergraduates mingled. Some were dressed in Oxford bags, others in six-guinea suits.

  Someone had pinned up a red flag with the hammer-and-sickle crest. Adrian led the girls to a row of seats and sat down to listen to the debate.

  ‘‘What’s going on?’’ asked Lu See.

  ‘‘Everyone in this room is committed to fighting fascism. We’ve got Bohemians, socialists, communists here, from all the different classes of society. It’s really become quite fashionable to dabble in Communism.’’

  A young man struck the hall table with a gavel and called for order. ‘‘In Marx and Engels,’’ he began, ‘‘we see how everyone can share the benefits of industrialization. Socialism is liberal. Through Socialism more people will have a say in how our country functions. But that ideal is now coming under increasing threat!

  ‘‘Germany and Italy are led by dictators and the risk of a fascist uprising in Spain is upon us. We must act. And we must act now!’’

  Another young man stood up. ‘‘That’s all very well, but first we must halt the fascists’ march on Britain.’’

  Adrian leaned over the girls and explained, ‘‘We have extreme political polarization in England at the moment. Oswald Mosley and his bigots on the far right of the spectrum and Willie Gallacher, the Scottish Communist MP, on the far left.’’

  The young man continued: ‘‘We therefore urge the Prime Minister, Stanley Baldwin, to pass the Public Order Act without delay!’’

  ‘‘Hear, hear!’’ came the cry.

  ‘‘The Public Order Act will ban the wearing of political uniforms in public. This will, in our mind, play a major role in keeping Mosley’s blackshirts off the streets of London.’’

  ‘‘Who are these blackshirts?’’ asked Lu See.

  ‘‘Mosley’s pro-Nazi fascists,’’ replied Adrian. ‘‘Bunch of hoodlums.’’

  A sheet of paper was passed around, demanding the signatures of all attendees.

  Lu See looked at Adrian. He’d obviously become more radical since leaving Malaya. She realized he had socialist leanings but she never thought of him as a full-blown communist. He hated fascism and all it stood for; that she knew. But what else did being a communist entail? Perhaps he believed that all wealth should be equally shared. She thought about the substantial amount of money Second-aunty Doris had given her to pay for a pipe organ and suddenly felt guilty. Think of how many struggling families that could help, she reflected.

  And didn’t communists have no religious beliefs? Weren’t they also anti-imperialists? If so, that meant he would move to oppose the British in the Far East. Was he looking towards an independent Malaya?

  ‘‘Are you hoping for a revolution back home?’’ she challenged him, whispering.

  ‘‘I’m fed up with seeing our people getting trampled on.’’

  ‘‘What if we’re not ready for self-governance?’’

  ‘‘Marx once said that revolution is the midwife by which a new society is born,’’ he replied. She stared at him. ‘‘The great man said that communism is the riddle of history solved, and it knows itself to be the solution.’’

  ‘‘Don’t even think about trying to convert me.’’

  She turned away and then looked back at him. He was now nodding at the speaker, nodding in sync with every point like a presidential candidate’s wife. Was this why he was at Cambridge, to gain a political education? Was this why he had encouraged her to travel all the way from Malaya? Surely, he wasn’t going to attempt to brainwash her.

  The questions came at a pace, rattling through Lu See’s head. She could feel them tying her insides in a knot.

  A little later, Lu See insisted on visiting King’s College Chapel. She wanted to see the famous pipe organ, keen to learn anything that might help with Aunty Doris’s commission. But she also wanted to see if Adrian’s heightened radical views meant he opposed visiting a church. She hadn’t enjoyed sitting through the political gathering and wondered if Adrian was intellectualizing his creed. Did he truly understand the reality of Communism? Did she? Had he ever seen it in action?

  She entered King’s College Chapel and was pleased to find him tagging along without complaint.

  As soon as they entered Lu See could smell the musty history within its walls. Looking up at the stained and painted-glass windows, she was stunned into silence. Wonderful, she thought. It turns sunlight into rainbows. They spent several minutes admiring the lower lights on the north side portraying the life of Jesus and the upper lights that depicted Old Testament scenes. Afterwards they moved across to the altar to view The Adoration of the Magi by Rubens. Finally, Lu See remembered why she had come in the first place and sat in the choir to admire the Open Diapason of the organ. For several minutes she studied the pipes and tubes that rose like a copper citadel.

  ‘‘Can’t we go and get a closer look at it?’’ she asked Adrian. ‘‘I’d like to see the console.’’

  ‘‘No, I’m afraid it’s closed off to the public.’’

  They sat in the choir stalls for a while in silence before Adrian shepherded them through the massive Gothic fan vault, their heels ringing out on the stone floor, and out onto the lawns of the Front Court.

  ‘‘I read somewhere that it took over a century to build this,’’ he said, peering up into the blue sky. ‘‘Just look at that buttressing. It’s over 150 feet high. You can’t imagine what the view is like from up there.’’

  Sum Sum wasn’t interested in Gothic fan vaults or buttressing of any sort.

  Talk about reckless, lah! Having an affair with a stranger, a man I’d known for only nine days, someone I’d never see again. What was I thinking?

  Allowing a naughty smile to creep across her face, Sum Sum cursed and congratulated herself with equal gusto. She was both thrilled and contrite that it had happened, thrilled because she had thoroughly enjoyed the experience, the furtive lovemaking, the intimacy, yet contrite because she definitely wasn’t that sort of girl and hated keeping any secrets from Lu See. She hadn’t confided in Lu See because she wasn’t sure how she would react. She believed Lu See was still a virgin.

  All right, so he said I had beautiful eyes, made him think of his beloved cows (!) did that mean I had to sleep with him? Aiyo Sami! But it felt so good; so much better than the only other time I ever did it – that messy thirty-second episode spent with Haram Yaakub the vendor of pickled delights. Sum Sum shivered at the memory.

  Up until now she’d stubbornly avoided telling Lu See anything about Aziz. One half of her wanted to confide in Lu See, bursting to share the precious thrill, the fillips of excitement; the other half just wanted to enjoy it for herself, to savour it. And somehow every time she tried to casually bring up the subject her throat underwent a kind of paralysis. The words would not come; her mouth simply would not form the sentences.

  Because there was so little she could call her own in the world she longe
d to keep this secret pure, out of sight, hidden away. Her little indiscretion was hers to cherish. And more than anything it made her feel independent; for the first time in her life she felt like a woman.

  When she thought of Aziz Humzaal her mind drifted someplace else, where time progressed at an unfamiliar pace – slower, more elongated, like a rope of honey trickling from a spoon.

  Hnnn … if only I had a few more nights with him – she pictured in her head Aziz’s muscular brown arms, his trim waist, the concentrated tautness of his body and the smoothness of his skin. A curious warmth filled her insides.

  She heard her name. ‘‘… you okay, pumpkin-head?’’

  The question snapped Sum Sum from her dream. They were still in the First Court of King’s College. Sum Sum had no idea how long she’d been standing there. ‘‘Me? I’m fine, lah.’’ Her face felt hot.

  Lu See raised an eyebrow. There was humour in her voice. ‘‘You know, ever since Bombay you’ve had this expression on your face.’’

  ‘‘What expression?’’

  ‘‘Like a woman whose won the lottery but has nobody to tell.’’

  ‘‘You silly, lah.’’ Sum Sum’s laugh sounded hollow. She wanted to run to the cloakroom and splash cold water on her face. Wash my thoughts clean. Instead, she stood there and felt the warmth of memories ease across her shoulders.

  4

  At two in the afternoon Adrian, Lu See and Sum Sum entered the Pickerel on Magdalene Street. The low-ceilinged pub was oak-panelled and the tables carried the smell of beer and pipe tobacco. There were college oars mounted on the walls. Apart from the two old men sat by the dartboard the place was empty.

  They stood at the bar under the oak beams.

  ‘‘What’ll it be?’’ asked the pudding-faced man who had a drying-up cloth draped over one shoulder.

  ‘‘Pint of Adnams for me,’’ said Adrian. He turned to the girls. ‘‘And two ginger ales.’’