by Dawn Farnham
“Still, not to tell Xia Lou. It is unwise.” Zhen made a motion of dismissal with his hand.
“Ah Rex will not speak of it to her. I have told him for weeks now that he must learn about ‘rain and clouds’. He understands that this is between men.”
Zhen looked at his friend. “Ah Soon, too, you must decide. My daughter is promised to him, and I have hopes that he will not be so useless as his father.”
Qian smiled. “In good time. Once Ah Rex tells him, I am certain he will want to know too.”
Qian poured some tea for Zhen. They would wait for Ah Rex to come out, for they both knew he would be filled with excitement and need a guiding hand.
“What of the Cholon rice merchant’s daughter? Baba Tan is keen for you to remarry, is he not?”
A fleeting look of sadness touched Zhen’s face. “He’s unwell, Qian. I care for him very much. It is a great sadness.”
Qian nodded. Zhen and his father-in-law were as close as any blood could make them. Zhen was the son Tan had wanted, and Zhen loved him as well as his own father, now dead for two years.
“But I have no intention of marrying a thirteen-year-old girl for the sake of a share in the rice trade. What on earth would I do with her?” Zhen laughed.
“Sire more children,” Qian said. “It is expected of a young, virile and rich merchant to make as many sons as possible.”
Zhen said nothing. Since the death of Noan, he had been besieged by matchmakers representing countless eligible families. He had remained steadfastly aloof. Fortunately, Zhen’s son, Kai, was healthy. He had no desire for another wife.
“He died, you know, the man she was to marry,” Qian said, looking at Zhen.
“Yes, I know. Ah Rex was very worried for his mother for a long time. But she is better. Her aunt came.”
“Yes, so I have heard.”
Zhen contemplated his teacup. Xia Lou had shown great grief for this man. He had not thought of it whilst the island was in uproar and after, for a long time, he had been busy. But Ah Rex’s concerns had been clear. His mother was in mourning. When he thought of this, he felt a coldness inside. For a long time he had not cared, wished her miserable and grieving, wished her punished for deserting him.
“Have you seen her?” he said to Qian.
“Once only. She was walking with her aunt in the market. She was thin, too thin.”
Zhen frowned but said nothing.
“She and her aunt help at the school for Chinese girls at North Bridge Road. The Miss Eva goes too, sometimes. Do you remember her at the church school we went to?”
Zhen looked at Qian. Remember? Of course he remembered. Everything of that time was as vivid as yesterday. It was there he had found Xia Lou, fallen in love with her. But he said nothing. There was nothing to say. Now that the danger of losing Ah Rex had faded, his anger had faded, but those early memories remained undimmed.
47
“I cannot approve of his actions.”
Jeanne was adamant. Robert’s living arrangements were a cause of concern. His wife was living with his son in her mother’s house whilst Robert consorted with a … Jeanne could not find the words. When Robert was with her, she said nothing but her disapproval was clear.
Charlotte had tried to explain about the long association of Shilah and Robert, point out the mistake Robert had made, but Jeanne would have nothing of it. Amber, of course, she welcomed into her heart as Robert’s child, but she would not countenance meeting Shilah.
Charlotte was finally able to think of something other than her grief for Charles. When she began to pay attention to the household again, she discovered that Alex spent every day with Zhen. They had grown as close as the father and son they were. Both Charlotte’s sons adored their great aunt, but Adam, in particular, loved to spend time with her. She talked to him of Scotland and his Scottish grandfather, and for the first time, Charlotte realised that she would have to send them back. Adam wanted to go. It would be of benefit to their education. And, she recognised, it would separate Alex from Zhen and the intensity of their relationship.
Jeanne was a popular addition to the European community. She was often invited to dinners and functions of all kinds and was a favourite with Jeannette Butterworth. It was several months before Charlotte realised from her acquaintance that Jeanne was also receiving the special attentions of Martin Macallister, a merchant from Aberdeen.
“Aunt,” Charlotte said one evening after dinner. They were playing piquet. “Do you not think Mr Macallister is a fine-looking man?”
Jeanne stopped looking at her cards and stared at Charlotte, who smiled to see her aunt actually blush.
“What on earth do you mean?” Jeanne asked, slightly flustered.
“Mr Macallister. All the ladies say he has a very fine figure and excellent hair.”
“Hair,” said Jeanne. “What do I give a fig about a man’s hair? Are you quite well, Charlotte?”
“Now, Jeanne. I believe Mr Macallister thinks that you are a very fine woman.”
Jeanne threw down her cards. “Really, Kitt. What do you mean?”
“I believe it is time for a dinner party. Shall we make a guest list?”
She smiled at her aunt, and Jeanne gave up her small pretence. Charlotte took up her pen and pulled forward the piquet pad.
“First of all, I think, Mr Macallister.”
They both laughed.
48
Lian’s twelfth birthday was approaching and Lilin was having a celebration. It was Lian’s animal year, and it was full of luck.
When Charlotte received the ornate red and gold invitation for Alex she frowned. Did he know this girl? Actually, she realised that for the past year she did not fully understand her son at all. He had changed very much. He was quiet, withdrawn. He rarely talked to her and only addressed the most polite but cursory sentences to Jeanne or Robert.
He continued to study hard at the Institution, and his teachers were pleased with him. His exceptional Chinese abilities were noted with amazement. He spent a great deal of time in the Chinese town, but he always returned home at the appointed hour. He no longer played games with his brother or Amber when she came. He had become something of a stranger, and Charlotte guiltily wondered if her own grieving had marked him in some way, for she had never truly explained about Charles.
She realised, suddenly, that she needed to speak to Zhen, that in fact Zhen currently knew her son better than she did. It had been a very long time, and the estrangement between them remained. She knew he had lost his wife in childbirth and that he had a son. Perhaps this celebration for his daughter would be the time to renew a conversation about Alex. Charlotte intended to send her sons to Scotland within the year, and she felt, with some trepidation, that she owed it to Zhen to tell him.
The party for Lian was held at Baba Tan’s mansion on River Valley Road. A great many carriages were pulled up in the drive of the house, and Charlotte realised that this was quite a large function. As she walked in with Alex and Adam, she saw Baba Tan and was shocked. He looked very ill, older than his years. She was sure he was not yet fifty.
She went up to him and curtsied very low. Tan smiled at her. He held out his hand, and she rose and went to his side. He looked so thin. She felt tears starting behind her eyes. Alex and Adam bowed to Tan, and he waved at them.
“Baba Tan, it is so good to see you again.”
“Mrs Mah Nuk, thank you for coming today.”
He spoke very quietly. A woman laid her hand on his shoulder and whispered. This, Charlotte thought, was his second daughter. Zhen’s wife had been the first daughter. Zhen had not remarried, and she had wondered about that many times.
She said goodbye to Baba Tan and watched as he was wheeled away into the verandah.
“He is dying.”
She turned, recognising his voice.
“I did not know he was so ill,” Charlotte replied, looking into his eyes. It had been a very long time since they had been so close together.
Alex was standing next to Zhen, looking at him with something like adoration. Adam was bored, shifting his feet from side to side.
“I am sorry. I know you care for him,” Charlotte said.
Zhen bowed to her formally, then turned to the boys. “The other children are in the garden. Shall we go?” Zhen looked at Charlotte.
“Yes, to the garden. Off you go, boys.”
They both ran off. Drums and gongs could be heard in the distance.
“Zhen …”
But before she could say another word, three ladies of her acquaintance came up and urged her to join them on the verandah. “Isn’t it extraordinary?” they all said. “A Chinese birthday party. There is a dragon in the garden. Come and see, Charlotte.”
Zhen bowed slightly and left.
The house and garden were festooned with red silk banners, and a long gold and red dragon was prancing around the children at the bottom of the garden, preceded by drums and gongs.
Charlotte paid her respects to a group of old Straits Chinese ladies seated together at a large, marble-topped table on the verandah. They all waved their fans and showed their black teeth in smiles of welcome. The garden was filled with tables, and clearly every child in the European and Chinese communities over the age of eight had been invited.
A magician entertained the children on one side of the garden and a group of jugglers and tumblers on the other. It was a most entrancing and lively scene, with the vivid decorations and flags, the Chinese children in their clothes of blue, gold and red and the array of entertainers dressed in every colour under the sun. On every table on the lawn stood a basket of twelve red eggs.
Charlotte saw Ah Soon playing with Alex and Adam. She was disappointed that Zhen had disappeared but very glad that her heart had been up to the task of meeting him again and remained quite steady.
Charlotte listened with half an ear to the ladies prattling on, nodding from time to time and fanning herself. When refreshments were served, she looked around for the boys. Adam was frolicking with his friends from school. Alex was not to be seen, but she did not worry. Alex could take care of himself. He was doubtless with Ah Soon and their school friends.
She joined the other ladies in their discussions. The Temmengong was to hold a fancy dress ball in the Assembly Rooms to raise funds for the new Sailors’ Home. This last was close to Charlotte’s heart, for the Sailors’ Home was to be at No. 3 Coleman Street, the home of her long- dead, beloved friend George Coleman.
Alex was inside the house with Ah Soon and a group of other Chinese boys. Each boy was hanging on Alex’s every word, for he was describing his experiences in the brothel in Amoy Street. The boys didn’t notice the woman at the door. Lilin could not understand them, but she could see that Alex was the leader. He was strong, tall, handsome. She knew that he had been introduced to the ladies at the Heaven’s Gate brothel.
She smiled and walked into the room. The boys all fell silent.
“Alex, come with me please,” she said in English.
Alex rose and bowed instinctively to this lady. She was Lian’s aunt; he could not disobey.
The other boys ran off, and he followed Lilin down the corridor and into a sitting room.
Lian rose as Lilin entered and smiled shyly at Alex. He was thunderstruck.
He had first seen Lian when she was seven years old. She was pretty then, but not prettier than other little Chinese girls in the town. He had forgotten her, of course. Since then, he had met her many times on the quay with her aunt or in the godown with her nurse. She had begun to speak English, and that was quite unusual. He had noticed her prettiness but thought no more of it.
Now, though, with the experiences of the last year, this tremendous discovery of what women could mean, what pleasures they brought, he looked at her with very different eyes—the eyes of an almost-man. He knew only Chinese women, and here was a girl beyond his dreams.
His eyes met Lian’s. There was something, a recognition. She was lovely but it was more than that. He felt a connection to her as strong as a cord, a visceral pull.
“Lian, greet our guest.”
Lian rose obediently and came forward, close to Alex, bowing to him. She wore a long white baju over her flowered sarong. He smelled jasmine in her jet-black hair.
“Hello, Ah Rex,” she said softly, her accent sweet and lilting
Lilin took Lian’s hand and held it, caressingly, moving her long fingers gently over Lian’s soft skin. Alex could not take his eyes off her hand. Lian stood, head bowed, submissive, beautiful, the bud of her ear, the curve of her perfect cheek mesmerising. Lilin smiled slightly and, taking up Alex’s hand, put Lian’s in it, covering it with hers.
“Shake hands, Lian, it is the Western way.”
Alex stood unmoving, the feel of her hand in his, cool and soft, arousing and tender at the same time. Her lashes lay on her perfect cheeks. The atmosphere in the room was suddenly charged with sexuality. He felt his arousal, an unbidden act of blood. He knew if they had been alone he would have kissed her, and not gently, and the thought, suddenly, was outrageous. She was, by European reckoning, only eleven years old and the daughter of his favourite man. He dropped her hand and took a step back, bowing to her and her aunt respectfully.
Lian moved forward and took up his hand again, pulling him towards the door.
“Come and break a red egg for my birthday,” she said in almost perfect English. “You must be first.”
Her sarong moved gently around her ankles, whisper soft. Her hair fell like black silk down her back. Her almond eyes gazed on him with infinite softness. He followed her as if in a trance. Lilin smiled and went with them out into the garden.
Alex was silent in the carriage ride home. Charlotte glanced at him and frowned. He seemed to be sick. She had seen him mooning around the garden, watching Lian. Was he old enough, really, to have thoughts of girls? He was fourteen, would be fifteen in a few months. Perhaps she should speak to him. The thought horrified her. She felt totally unequal to the task, which was a father’s affair. Perhaps Robert.
Then her mind flew to Zhen. Had he spoken of this? Could he? He was the only man Alex really trusted. She sighed. It was so difficult.
Alex sat staring at the horses’ tails twitching. His mind was filled with confusion. He had never seen anyone like her. Lian, Lian. Her name was a poem. He wanted her, that was the only thought which found a place in his brain. But how? Betrothal to him was the only way to stop a marriage to some other man. But to marry a Straits Chinese girl? They only married amongst themselves. Her father, no matter how much they liked each other, would not agree, and his mother would have a fit. The feel of her cool, soft skin on his suddenly filled his mind, and he became instantly aroused but, just as quickly, brought himself under control, the way Auntie Min had shown him at the brothel. A lack of control, she had taught him, made a man a fool and made sex a misery for a woman. She had taught him a lot, but he knew he had a great deal more to learn. He was desperate to meet Lian again. But he knew that after the twelfth birthday all Straits girls were confined to their homes until they were married. The thought was torture and misery, and frustration overwhelmed him.
49
Zhen spoke severely, and Alex jumped.
“What?” he said, staring at the boy.
They were playing wei qi, a game Alex had grown to love, especially with Uncle Zhen.
Alex bowed his head. “I asked who Lian is to marry.”
Zhen had been looking at the board. He had given Ah Rex a head start and was beginning to regret it. The boy learned fast.
“That is none of your business,” Zhen said firmly.
Alex felt chastened. Zhen rarely spoke harshly to him.
They played in silence for some minutes. Alex could wait no longer. It was stronger than himself. “I ask, Uncle, for is it possible for Lian to marry a white boy?”
Zhen stared at Alex. He did not like the wa
y this conversation was going.
“Why are you asking these questions, Ah Rex?”
The boy hesitated, and Zhen knew almost exactly what he was thinking.
“I am almost a man, Uncle. My mind has turned to such matters.”
Zhen smiled. Almost a man, indeed. A year or so of interesting sexual education, and the boy thought himself a man.
“You are not a man. You need more education, clearly, or you would know this.”
“Yes, Uncle,” Alex said. A silence ensued whilst they played.
“But Lian is promised, is she?” Alex ventured again.
Zhen stopped playing and looked at Alex. “Lian is promised to Ah Soon. She will marry him when she is sixteen years old.”
Alex said nothing. Then he threw down his pieces with a clatter and stood. “I must go home.” He bowed respectfully to Zhen, turned and left.
Zhen was stunned. It was obvious that Alex was considering himself as a husband for Lian. What on earth had happened? This was very alarming. Zhen understood Ah Rex well, how he thought and felt. His son would not have spoken of this unless he was serious.
Alex almost ran back to North Bridge Road. He was furious. Lian, his Lian, promised to Ah Soon. It was ridiculous. Over the past weeks he had written her letters. Her English was good. Her aunt had no objection. She allowed him to bring letters to her house. Once, against every expectation, he had even been permitted to sit with Lian in the courtyard under the watchful eye of her aunt. They had spoken of many things. She was like a beautiful piece of jade, but she was clever, too, and knew of English things.
She had not said so, but it was clear that she cared for him. Her eyes peeping over the moving fan told him. Her letters spoke of her preparations for marriage, learning embroidery and cooking, learning how to be an obedient wife. He was jealous, and now he was angry.