‘It was an accident. We all saw it.’ Her voice was high and agitated. Then she swung round to the tables of women, expecting to hear someone agree with her, but there was silence. ‘He didn’t deserve such harsh words.’
Mrs Marsden looked at Annie with the full force of her English pride. ‘Mrs Brand, as you are only newly arrived in Shanghai, I will forgive your indiscretion. Unless one has been brought up with servants it’s impossible to know how to deal with them.’ Then she turned to the astonished women. ‘Make some room so Mrs Brand can return to her table.’
Annie felt her blood boil. She couldn’t think for the heat that flared inside her but she walked steadily back to her chair through the silent stares with her head held high. When she sat she turned all her attention to helping poor Flora who struggled with her hand and by the end they had not done too badly. Annie couldn’t wait to leave. Thankfully, the bell sounded and they rose for tea.
The ladies moved to the other end of the room and milled about in front of the long trestle table. Edges of lace tablecloth hung low against the wooden legs. Annie planned on staying for only a short time, just long enough to show she would not be bullied by Mrs Marsden. She fingered a neat, soft rectangle of cucumber sandwich as she stood on her own. She might be there but she didn’t have to talk to anyone.
She chose one of the miniature scones next and felt the soft rice paper stuck to its base. Even though Mrs Marsden insisted on a very English tea, the scones were served just like Shanghai dumplings. As she popped the lot into her mouth, Annie nodded encouragingly at a group of ladies nearby attempting to pluck the rice paper off their cakes.
‘Mrs Brand, we’re just discussing the recent unrest; terrible affair.’ Annie hadn’t noticed Mrs Marsden move right beside her until it was too late.
‘The rioters deserved what they got, my husband assures me,’ Mrs Marsden confirmed as she held up her blue and white porcelain cup. There was a murmur of serious agreement amongst the assembled group. There was no getting away from the Flues that easily. She’d given these Club ladies a name when she first felt the full impact of their relentless judgement. It meant she could refer to them without anyone realising. They were the Flues; foreign ladies who lunched, who gossiped, who played bridge.
Annie sipped her tea, hoping to avoid speaking. It was tepid at best. She turned towards the table to ask for a fresh cup and as she did it slipped from her fingers making a quiet thud on the decorated rug. Milky liquid spilled down her dress into a pool at Mrs Marsden’s feet. The president’s wife clapped her hands in the air and a servant appeared quickly.
‘How clumsy, excuse me while I go and freshen up.’ Thank goodness her slippery fingers had given her an excuse to get away. Someone ought to tell the Club that too many Flues in the same room were bad for one’s balance. Annie rummaged in her bag for something to dab at her skirt as she made her way to the powder room, ignoring the woman who brushed past her in the opposite direction.
‘I think you dropped something.’ Annie turned to see a red-haired lady holding out a handkerchief which must have fallen from Annie’s purse.
‘Thank you, I’ll lose my head next.’
‘I lose things all the time, Mrs Brand.’
‘This isn’t important,’ Annie said, stuffing the linen handkerchief back into her purse. ‘But thank you again for helping, Mrs … I’m afraid we haven’t been introduced.’
‘Miss Sosnovsky, Natalia, how do you do. I know who you are because, excuse me for saying, you have a reputation for being overly friendly with the locals and I find it amusing to listen to the Club ladies gossip.’
‘I don’t care what the ladies here think, although you are the first person to find it amusing. I can’t agree with the held view that chatting with the staff is wrong. I know it upsets some of the members no end, which is not my intention, though equally it’s not reason enough to desist.’
‘Of course, I understand. I never intend to upset people either, but it happens.’
Annie was intrigued by this forthright Russian. Her hair was tightly pulled back into a bun, leaving her face angular and strong; she looked almost masculine except her lips were a striking deep red. Annie noticed her long lashes too, that swept out from eyes lined with black kohl.
She remembered something Alec had told her; the dancing partners in the cabarets were mostly girls who fled Russia during the Revolution, reputed to be tsarists. Though, according to Alec, they tell their customers they are princesses expelled from Russia by the Reds. She’d seen some of these poor, bedraggled White Russians begging in the streets. ‘Lowers the European prestige to the Chinese considerably,’ Alec said. But this lady did not seem to be suffering.
‘Are you here for the bridge class? I see they’re running lessons each day this week after we play.’
‘Most definitely not,’ Miss Sosnovsky snorted which made Annie smile. Then she pulled out a slim, silver case from her pocket and lit a cigarette. She blew out a spiral of smoke that floated up and around them. Annie watched her cheeks concave in as she inhaled another draught of the cigarette. At least she did not construct conversation pieces to be socially acceptable like the Flues; there was no small talk of weather here.
‘I’m not a huge fan of the game either, but I play nonetheless.’ Annie couldn’t stifle a cough from all the smoke.
‘Why play if you do not enjoy it?’
‘The weekly bridge morning is part of the social diary. Shanghai is so small, and our social circle is here. If I’d turned down the initial invitation to join bridge it would have been taken as an insult. My husband and I have no desire to be outcasts.’
‘At least an outcast is still within the realms of society. We Russians are stateless citizens.’
There was something compelling about Miss Sosnovsky. The kohl around her eyes made them stand out like dark globes. Annie wondered if she could be a princess in hiding; she was so self-assured. Miss Sosnovsky pulled out another cigarette and tapped it against the case. But her eyes were fixed on Annie as she placed it in a long holder and lit the end.
‘I’ve never been able to smoke like that.’ Annie could think of nothing else to say to break the uncomfortable silence.
‘It’s easy; you just have to practise, which I’ve been doing for a long time, although not always with such pretty accoutrements. For these things one must have money.’ Miss Sosnovsky held out the silver case as she spoke and rubbed away the smudged fingerprints with her sleeve.
‘And there’s the essential requirement for social acceptance in Shanghai. Aren’t we a superficial lot?’
‘Money is a necessary evil, as they say. It is what we do with our money that determines our values.’
‘The only problem my husband and I have with money is not having enough. So I think, Miss Sosnovsky, you are talking to the wrong audience.’ Annie regretted the words the moment she’d said them. Alec would be furious with her.
‘And yet, you are members of this Club, whereas I am merely a guest. So you have been successful. Perhaps there is more to you than you think?’
Annie shook hands with Miss Sosnovsky and listened to her laughter as she walked away. She remained in the corridor, watching the bright sunshine from the day outside pattern across the floor, unable to decide if the Russian had been mocking her or not. The lounge door opened and Chow came towards her.
‘You’ve been out here for a while. Mrs Marsden has gone and the bridge ladies with her. The lounge is empty. Would you like a drink? I believe it is cocktail hour now.’ He stood with arms held behind him.
‘Yes, I could certainly do with a drink and some quiet. Thank you, Chow.’
Annie sat in one of the chesterfield leathers which faced the three oversized windows and the view beyond. A swooping stretch of manicured lawn extended down to a line of hedge that ran the length of the Club fence and obscured the street. The expansive outlook and natural light that flooded the room made the ladies lounge a favoured spot in the Club. But at that mom
ent only Annie sat beneath the ceiling fan that moved in a slow sweep.
Chow returned with her favourite cocktail, a whiskey sour. She never had to remind him.
‘How is your ankle today?’ he asked.
‘Much better,’ Annie smiled, hoping he hadn’t noticed that she still walked gingerly on that side. She didn’t want him to worry. ‘I really am so grateful to that young man. It was very kind and courageous of him to help me. His assistance could have been mistaken by the police for something worse.
‘Is he all right after Mrs Marsden’s horrible words at bridge? I tried to step in on his behalf. She can be such an old trout.’
‘Yes, it was an unpleasant rant from Mrs Marsden. Li Qiang is not usually so clumsy. It was my mistake for allowing him to carry the tray. He really isn’t ready for that kind of work but he was so enthusiastic and I did not think anything could go wrong. Yet he wears spectacles and failed to tell me that they were damaged during your street altercation so he could not see very well.’ Chow shrugged his shoulders. ‘He will get over Mrs Marsden’s cruelty, but I think his hurt pride will take a little longer.’
‘I don’t remember seeing him in glasses? Why on earth didn’t you mention this to me yesterday, Chow? I could have replaced them.’
‘He only informed me that he didn’t have them after dropping the teapot. His mistake reflects poorly on me also. I would not have sent him into that room if I had known. Although now he has asked me to help him with this prescription as his monthly wages will not cover the cost for new spectacles. He will be in debt to me for quite some time.’
‘Well, you must let me pay for the cost of replacing the spectacles. It is the least I can do. Give me the prescription and I will get a new pair made. Then I will have the chance to thank Li Qiang again when I hand them over to him in person.’
‘That is very generous of you, Mrs Brand.’
‘I owe him a debt of gratitude and this will pay it off nicely.’
Annie enjoyed the stillness of her bedroom while Alec was away, when the sheets felt cool and plentiful in their emptiness. She reached for the cup of tea left by the house boy and watched a cloud of steam evaporate into the quiet of her room. Annie missed Alec, but his absence gave her precious freedom. The house was peaceful, no husband leaving for work, no breakfast together. Her legs stretched under the cotton sheets and she wriggled her toes with the audacity of it all. There was no need to be the organised wife and maintain a perfect home. As long as she had food to eat and clean sheets on her bed, the rest could simply unravel. When she was in public Annie played the dutiful, long-suffering wife, engaged with Shanghai society while her husband was away on work. She liked that wife: coping so admirably by herself, always ready to share news of Alec from his latest letter, resilient. But in the privacy of her own home, she revelled in this brief period of independence.
Annie dropped the prescription for the spectacles off at the pharmacy on her way to Mrs Marsden’s May Ball luncheon. Then she directed her driver to the Marsden’s grand French Concession home on Avenue Joffre. It was set back from the road at the end of a circular drive. Annie heard the gravel crunch as her car slowly circled to a halt by the entrance. Timber panelling on white gave the façade its fashionable Normandy style. Annie knew she’d never belong in this world of pretentious trophy homes. She took a deep breath as she stepped out of the car. The entangled smells of the city—meat frying in peanut oil, street drains warming in the sun, fragrant incense smoke—all stopped. Here the air was clean, crisp and smelt of lawn cuttings and fir trees.
The hallway was wide and she followed the maid past doorways that allowed her a glimpse of the Marsden’s extravagant life: an empty dog’s basket plumped with velvet cushions sat at the foot of a gold-legged Louis XV armchair. On the wall behind, hung a vast silk tapestry depicting a hunting scene.
Lunch was to be an informal gathering in the conservatory, a light-filled octagonal room that overlooked the garden. An intricately patterned pair of curtains draped against each of the eight windows, their fruity print of peaches and leaves a nod to Chinese design. The round luncheon table was bedecked with eight tall vases of pink roses. Beyond the table, three French gilt wood sofas in the style of Louis XVI were arranged in a circle. Chairs and a smaller table waited to one side for the taking of minutes and other important items of business to do with the May Ball, which was only two weeks away. Annie had heard that this was the party all of Shanghai waited for and begged an invitation to attend. It was being held this year in the newly renovated ballroom at the Astor House Hotel, which added to its glamorous reputation.
Annie was the last to arrive. Two small pug dogs ran towards her, barking furiously and stopped her moving any further as they sniffed and scuffled around her feet. She was surprised to see Chow standing back beside a window, in the long-tailed dress suit he wore at the Club. Mrs Marsden shooed the dogs away.
‘Mrs Brand, welcome. I hoped you would be able to join us and we were just debating if indeed you’d forgotten, such is the lateness of the hour. But here you are at last. Do come in, dear; don’t be alarmed by Zozo and Bear, they’re my little babies.’
Annie stepped over the dogs lolling at her feet. The other guests were seated together across the three sofas. She noticed Mrs Cleary and her daughter Beth—the ball would be their last engagement before leaving Shanghai for the summer. The heat was too much for Beth’s constitution so the Clearys had already announced they would leave for the hill station soon after. It was going to be a night of farewells. Mrs Colder sat beside the Clearys and smiled in welcome at Annie. Mrs Sargeant was in typical businesslike mode, directing others to make space.
But before Annie could sit Mrs Marsden nodded at Chow, who came forward to stand by the small table, holding a handful of ivory chopsticks wrapped in linen napkins.
‘I’ve had a wonderful idea for the ball. After dinner, why not start the fun of the night with a game? Chow has been helping me.’
Mrs Marsden nodded to Chow again, like a magician to her assistant. He placed the chopsticks on the table, and with a quick look to the door, signalled to a servant who entered with a bowl of slippery, round steamed dumplings. The young girl looked frightened to be in the room with so many foreign women as she shuffled across the floor in oversized western shoes. After placing the bowl on the table, she looked at Chow nervously for approval, before disappearing quickly back to the kitchen. Annie thought she saw Chow motion to the girl with raised eyebrows, as though telling her to stand tall.
‘The trick is to eat a dumpling with chopsticks. What do you think—won’t it be a lark!’
Annie watched Chow; he wouldn’t look at her, in fact he didn’t seem focused on anyone in the room. He had every right to be affronted by these western women’s lack of respect for his culture. She wished she never agreed to this luncheon.
‘We need a volunteer, to test the game out. Who’ll be our first?’
Mrs Marsden looked around the group enthusiastically, and Annie clung to the back of the sofa, avoiding her eyes. Fortunately, Mrs Colder put up her hand and with a laugh took the chopsticks offered to her by Chow. He patiently showed the woman how to hold the implements and even picked up a dumpling to demonstrate. All the ladies clapped at his marvellous dexterity and he bowed charmingly in reply. Mrs Colder was very good-natured about the whole thing. The dumplings were difficult to lift; no foreigners used chopsticks. But it was decided to go ahead with the idea. Annie listened to the chorus of amused congratulations without contributing. She thought the game was silly, and an insult to the Chinese, who ate like that every day. Thankfully the moment seemed to be over, however, as Mrs Marsden quickly moved on to other news.
‘May I also remind the group that there will be a dance class held at the Club next Thursday at midday and I expect you all to attend?’ There was a groan from around the room.
‘Now, now, settle down. I agree that most of the new fads are ridiculous, but we simply can’t be seen to be outdated,
or the common dance hall will be more popular than a proper ball and I will not have that happen.’
Lunch was announced and Annie made her way to the table. But Mrs Marsden stopped her.
‘Now, Annie, I do believe because you were late, you must have a go at the dumplings game too.’ Mrs Marsden gave her a sly look that only Annie saw. She knew this was the older woman’s way of challenging her. Annie didn’t want to cause a problem. Chow looked across at her then, his hands clenched on the table. She smiled at him encouragingly.
‘Pass me the chopsticks please, Chow.’
She clicked them about a few times. Then Chow took her hand, opened her fingers gently, and placed them around the chopsticks. His face was blank; to anyone watching them he was doing his job. But Annie saw the annoyance flicker in his eyes and something else too, a directness that made her drop her chopsticks in surprise. Chow picked them up and she heard them click against each other as he showed her how to open, and then shut them. She stole a glance at him once more and the expression was still there, unguarded, like an invitation.
The dumpling slipped through her chopsticks. It was indeed tricky. Feeling foolish, Annie looked around to see that most of the ladies were already seated at the table. Only Mrs Marsden stayed to watch, enjoying her discomfort.
‘It’s no good,’ she said, annoyed.
Mrs Marsden saw a dish being delivered to the table. ‘No, no, not yet—can’t you see I’m not seated! Take it back to the kitchen, chop chop.’
‘Help,’ Annie whispered to Chow while Mrs Marsden was distracted. He leant in and covered her hand with his own, helping her to pick up a dumpling and point it at her mouth. She shook her head, a look of embarrassment in her eyes. She couldn’t open her mouth, not in front of him, not so close. He still held her hand holding the chopsticks. But then he turned her hand towards him, and quick as a flash, she’d fed him the dumpling. Mrs Marsden turned back to Annie.
The Shanghai Wife Page 6