‘We’re a long way from the streets of Shanghai now and as Alec said, with the recent arrests of gang members and all their guns off the street, hopefully the whole thing has calmed down. It doesn’t stop me worrying about my friends and home though.’ Beyond Ilma, Annie could see an eagle hovering high, probably scouting some small animal.
‘It’s good to know where home is, my dear. It grounds you, makes you stronger. Look at me, funny old thing that I am—many would say I’m halfway round the world from my home in England. I know how people talk, but I don’t care. I’ve got Fred and we have a home and community in Ichang and with those foundations I can suffer any fool’s criticism.
‘Shanghai is such a big city these days, full of gossip and intrigue.’ Ilma threw bread crumbs into the grass as she spoke. They scattered like seedlings in the wind. ‘Many Ichang folk leave for Shanghai, thinking they will find work and be able to send money home to their families. But more often than not their families never hear from them again. There are rumours that the river boatmen in this region are connected to a gang in Shanghai and they are the culprits, enticing the poor and ignorant to join them in the city. If only we could convince them to stay here. I’m part of the local branch of the Moral Welfare League. We try to help the villagers find work locally so they have a reason to stay, but we’ve not been very successful. They don’t much care for meddling gweilos. I see more and more young men with the tattooed mark of their gang membership. The older generation believe it is an insult to your ancestors to blemish the body and I quite agree. But these young, ignorant men parade their new membership around in the streets like cuckolds.’
‘I suppose everyone is entitled to want for a better life. But I doubt they will find it in the city.’ For the briefest moment Annie’s mind turned to her father waking to an empty house, but she shook the image from her head.
‘The more you tell me, the more I’m glad to be well away from the place.’
A donkey whinnied in objection to the weight of its load as the bearers hauled the chairs into their straps in readiness for the journey back down the mountain. Annie breathed in deeply before arranging herself in the sedan. She wanted to hold onto the crisp smell of pine trees and clean air. Soon she’d be back in Shanghai where the strongest smell was often the night soil carts. Annie closed her eyes and made herself a promise that she’d be different when she returned; she’d make more effort to discover the real Shanghai and experience life in the city beyond the Club gates.
By mid-afternoon the following day Annie was ready to board the TS Ah-Kwang. She kissed Ilma on both cheeks, letting her lips linger a moment on the papery skin. Then she turned and watched the building recede as the car drove out of the driveway towards the docks and the ship that would take her home.
CHAPTER THREE
Shanghai, May 1925
The waters churned and rolled around them as the TS Ah-Kwang manoeuvred to its anchor spot in the Whangpoo. Annie looked across to the distant outline of the Bund with its distinctively lit promenade skipping in the evening light. Her skin prickled with the cool air and with unexpected nerves that flashed about inside her at the sight of Shanghai. She remembered Alec’s parting words to her in Ichang; she hoped everything would be fine.
The sea spray splashed her hair and cheeks as Annie held onto the edge of the small boat which ferried passengers from the ship to the wharfs. She wrapped a scarf around her neck and scanned the crowds on the docks. Alec had arranged for a friend to meet Annie and escort her home. Chow was the maître d’hôtel of the Shanghai Maritime Club and the local man they trusted the most. Annie waved madly when she saw him at the back of the throng, conspicuously tall and elegant in his western driving coat and cap. He dipped his head in response and she motioned that she was coming to him.
It was only a few months since her first real conversation with Chow—one that didn’t involve an order for drinks, Annie mused as she pushed through the crowds on the dock towards him. Chow had approached her one cold afternoon as she sat in a cane chair in the Club garden under a shady puzzle of leaves and branches, pleased to be alone with her paper and a blanket wrapped around her legs. She was reading an opinion piece and felt his solicitous presence hovering at a professional distance to one side. When he stepped forward she asked him what he thought of the political situation. Her mind was so focused on the racist nonsense she was reading that the question came out in a tumble, leaving her instantly regretting having asked it in the excruciating minutes of silence that followed. Chow folded the linen cloth he always carried over his arm into a neat square and laid it on his empty tray. He didn’t speak and seemed to look beyond Annie. She thought he was ignoring her. But then his eyes swung back and she saw the hesitation in his look, unguarded, as though he wanted her to sense his dilemma. But she couldn’t change the status quo: in the Club, his job was to serve her. She could talk to him though, and hope that he understood this was her way of evening the balance. He cleared his throat softly, making a raspy coughing sound that seemed to announce his imminent voice. Then he asked her to explain, quietly, confidently, what she thought a Communist was; what such a person stood for. She didn’t expect to be challenged. But his question made her feel like a truer version of herself. No men in her own world talked to Annie like that.
‘Welcome home, Mrs Brand.’ Chow took her bag and stood back to let her lead the way. ‘How was your trip?’ He was forced to shout over the noise and chaos on the wharf.
‘Too short for my liking but my husband insisted I return.’
‘How is Captain Brand?’
‘He’s where he wants to be—along the upper Yangtze somewhere. It will be a few weeks before we have him home.’
‘During which time there will be many social events to distract you.’
‘Really, Chow, what do you know that I don’t?’
‘Mrs Marsden has taken over the Club in the lead-up to the May Ball. Your return will not escape her attention. I fear she is more insufferable than ever.’
Annie laughed. ‘At least some things never change.’ She ducked her head to get into the car that was waiting by the curb.
It was peaceful driving home, after the constant noise of the ship’s engine. They turned off Nanking Road at the junction with Chekiang Road, past the Sincere Department Store’s five floors of shopping heaven. On the opposite side of the road was its competitor—the Italianate Wing On Department Store. Annie knew these Chinese department stores well, they were cheaper than Hall & Holtz or Lane Crawford, and she enjoyed shopping like a local.
The streets flashed by in a palate of bright colours. Annie wound down the window and breathed in the smells of hot pavements and gasoline. ‘Have there been any developments since the gang arrests?’
‘You heard about this?’
‘It’s why I’m home. Alec read about the arrests in a newspaper he picked up in Nanking and suddenly Shanghai was a safer port than keeping me onboard in the upper Yangtze. I’d rather be exploring the river, even if there are pirates.’
‘Captain Brand would only do what is best for you. The newspaper report was correct; the arrests will have an impact, though I do not think it will be as long-lasting as your Commissioner of Police would have us believe. It will take more than a few high profile arrests to stop the gangs in Shanghai. There is a web of many secret societies, who work together and against each other, as it suits them. Someone will easily step up to replace the imprisoned leader. These gangs are part of an age-old system that runs deep in our culture. But I wish the commissioner luck.’ Chow smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
‘But the gangs are not the only news in Shanghai right now,’ he continued. ‘Did Captain Brand not hear about what has happened to the gaoled student protestors?’
Annie shook her head.
‘The trial of the protestors finished, the judge ruled against them.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘There will be more protests now, and more violence. The forei
gn judge made his decision with only an imperial ear. The students are to be detained indefinitely; I do not know how they will survive with no hope of freedom. I myself was handed a leaflet in the street just earlier today that called for a day of action. The foreign powers are fools not to realise the situation will escalate into violence.’
‘Alec mentioned nothing of this.’
Chow flicked a ring around on his finger. ‘I suspect he will be reading it in the paper he collects from the next port.’
The conversation reminded Annie why she always looked forward to seeing Chow. He made her feel intelligent and his otherness was intriguing. She hoped she had enough interesting things to say and, when they found a moment for conversation, that he would give her his full attention. He always did and she came to know the shift in his stance from servant to man, as he softly cleared his throat and, voicing his own opinions, moved out of silhouette and into flesh and blood.
Chow paused and Annie saw the sweep of his gaze to the street beyond the window.
‘Chow, you’re worrying me. Is everything all right?’
‘There are people in Shanghai who will use this judgement to stir up more trouble. They want to show the foreign powers they will not be deterred by this decision, that it has made them stronger. I believe the situation is going to get very bad indeed.
‘Had Captain Brand been aware of this news I do not believe he would have sent you home. You must take extra care, Mrs Brand.’
The car pulled up outside Annie’s house. She shivered as a cold night wind licked about her. The afternoon had disappeared too quickly. A perfectly rounded moon filled the patch of night sky in her line of sight; its circular rim glowed opalescent. She wondered where Alec and the ship were spending the night.
‘Thank you for meeting me off the ship, Chow. I’m sure the police will keep these gangs in check; I saw constables on every corner as we drove home.’
‘I do not mean to alarm you, Mrs Brand. I will be at your service until Captain Brand returns.’ He nodded goodbye and Annie turned and followed her house boy inside.
They were lucky to get the house in the International Settlement at such short notice. Alec wired ahead from Hong Kong explaining his changed circumstances and requested a house for a married couple. She told him she’d be happy in an apartment, but Alec was determined his new wife would have a proper home. The house was close to the Club and not too far from the Bund for Annie. It wasn’t one of the large, imposing mansions she visited in the French Concession, but for Annie the neat, attached brick building, with its latched front gate, formal lounge room as well as her favourite sunroom, was just how she imagined a married couple’s home to be.
The evening light sneaked through the windows as Annie wandered around her house. Her body swayed slightly and so she stopped every now and then to right herself. It was only an hour ago she’d disembarked at the Quai de France wharf, and the river’s swell still hung in her legs. She stamped her feet, annoyed at the feeling of imbalance.
In the bedroom she moved about, hanging up her trousers, folding handkerchiefs. All the while, she was aware of Alec’s slippers watching her from their place beside the bed. On the river, she’d discovered that her husband was a genuine, hard-working man who treated his crew with respect. Understanding this side of Alec made his city habits less annoying, and she felt like she’d seen the true man for the first time.
After eating a light supper alone, Annie went through her post. Amongst the letters and invitations waiting to be opened was an embossed card from Mrs Marsden inviting her to a luncheon for the May Ball committee later that week. Annie stuck the rest of the mail in her dresser, fed up with opening it; lunch with Mrs Marsden was the last thing she felt like.
She spent the next morning returning the house to its lived-in state; pulling off the dust covers from the chairs and sofas and shaking out the cushions. All the windows needed to be opened to blow away the stale smell of confined air in the rooms. The house boy was busy beside her, and there was an easy silence between them as they worked. Soon the rooms would regain their formality and order, just as Alec liked. Annie sat to catch her breath. The smell of jasmine floated through the open window. It was delicious and enticing.
She’d been cooped up inside all morning. Chow’s advice from the previous day still rang in her ears. But she couldn’t stay indoors all day, and if she walked her usual route to the Bund, and stayed on the main streets, then there was little risk. She’d like to see for herself what was happening, and she needed to move after weeks on board the ship.
As Annie set off, she passed a Sikh policeman patrolling her street and stopped to chat with him briefly. His presence reassured her. The constable waved Annie on as she crossed the road. The Settlement had certainly changed since she and Alec left those weeks ago. Annie walked through police fence lines and past armed men she recognised as bank tellers only the previous month. But it was reassuring to see so many of the Municipal Police around. As she got closer to the Bund she saw barricades across the main buildings too. Summer in Shanghai was going to be very interesting with this as a backdrop.
As she walked moisture pooled on her skin, ready to trickle into the dark corners of her body. She wriggled a little, trying to dislodge the sweat tickling her back. But Annie liked the blanketing warmth that accompanied the early onset of summer: her body drank up the sun and her bones stretched with the sensation of it. The increased police measures hadn’t stopped others from promenading along the Bund either, Annie thought as she passed a set of pretty parasols. Underneath the appendages, European women sweated in silk stockings and gloves.
A bicycle-peddler shouted and waved one hand at her as she stepped out into the street. The wind rushed up her back as he sped past. The smell of the Whangpoo was strong at the Bund end of Nanking Road. Day-tripping passenger boats lined the carpeted jetties, tied elegantly to wrought-iron railings. Spirals of steam floated in the air above the boats. Rows of rickshaws waited patiently for business, lined up along the walkway like hovering creatures in small hats. At the waterline, a few small wooden boats, one end capped with reed roofing, attempted to berth, while drying clothes flapped on washing lines strung across these river homes. A policeman frequently pushed a boat off with his foot, and the peasant owner moved around from the Grand Canal to Soochow Creek to join the mass of other boats that crowded the banks.
Behind Annie, the recently completed Hongkong and Shanghai Banking Corporation building sat huge and complacent. A ring of barbed wire threaded solidly across the splendid portico where armed police stood to attention.
Annie turned aside from the war-like image and looked out to the open water where white streaks patterned behind a ship. Her eyes hurt a little from staring. The weight of her satchel dug into her shoulder. She stood ever so still to enjoy the feeling of her mind concentrating on something so visual. She could almost feel the blood moving inside her veins.
Once, during a school test, she stopped writing mid-sentence, put her pencil down and sat still. Her eyes watched the clock tick through each minute that she wasn’t writing. She became aware of the throb of her own pulse in the side of her neck, then the throb of blood moving down her legs and through her arms. There was something sensual about it. Until the anxious need to finish the paper overwhelmed her and she picked up the pencil. But she enjoyed the tingling in her body and it became the dangerous thing she did in tests. She was noticed by teachers, sitting still and upright, while everyone else was bent over scribbling feverishly.
She shifted her weight from leg to leg and walked on, wishing she’d brought a parasol with her as she passed another group of women shaded from view. Many of Shanghai’s expatriate community would escape the worst of the summer heat to Mokanshan Mountain. The hill resort was only a day’s journey south of Shanghai and it was a tradition to relocate to the cooler hills but everyone knew the other, unspoken reason that year was the political unrest.
The audacity of the protesting workers an
d students had rattled the foreign powers. Yet the threat was laughed off by the members of the Municipal Council as they relaxed over cigars and cognac in the Long Bar; it was all merely typical, harmless behaviour of uneducated natives. Until it became clear the illiterate poor were being recruited by the burgeoning new Communist Party which had joined forces with some of the gangs in Shanghai to grow its influence quickly, all in the shadow of the Bund’s very European profile. Annie stopped again to watch the tide lap against the stone wall. Small waves pushed into the holes in the bricks and were sucked out again to meet the incoming surge. A rush of air scooped under her skirts as a Chinaman ran past, close enough for her to smell the musty damp of his shirt. He stopped suddenly right there before her, head bent forward, panting heavily, a drop of sweat trickling down the long smooth length of his forehead. He held a woman’s purse close to his chest. Two constables were fast approaching.
The Chinaman shouted something Annie didn’t understand and the policemen quickly barrelled into him, knocking the man to the ground. The noise was like a smack across her face, a shock so unexpected she couldn’t move. A tight vein in the man’s neck bulged as he lay pressed against the pavement. One of the constables looked up at her momentarily, and nodded. It was an unexpected gesture of respect and she felt the heat swell in her chest. She took a step backwards and immediately felt the closeness of others behind her: a crowd had quickly formed around the scene, jostling to see. Annie was pushed and shoved about by the throbbing pressure of the spectators. Someone leant against her heavily and she lost her balance, tripping over another man’s feet as she fell.
The sound of the policeman’s wooden truncheon hitting the man’s head cut through the babbling noise of the crowd. Annie saw him strike once, twice. She tried to get up, but the crowd pressed in, swaying with emotion as the policeman hit the thief again. A trickle of bright red blood leaked from the man’s ear. The rank smell of urine clung in Annie’s throat.
The Shanghai Wife Page 4