Mrs Marsden moved to stand beside Lucille, addressing Chow.
‘What a dark horse, we shall have to watch you.’ It was a dismissal.
Then she turned to Annie. ‘Are you all right, dear? How impudent of the boy to think he could show off like that,’ as though it were not she who had initiated Chow’s involvement in the dance class. The smile on Annie’s lips died.
‘It was rather splendid,’ she replied evenly. ‘Chow dances better than any men I know, we could all learn from him.’ Then she turned her back on Mrs Marsden and spoke to Chow. ‘Thank you for stepping in and dancing with me.’ He acknowledged the ladies with a slight incline of his head before moving off.
‘Isn’t this ridiculous!’ It was Miss Sosnovsky. Annie hadn’t noticed her until now.
‘Are we children that we need dancing lessons?’ She sniffed in Mrs Marsden’s direction. ‘How do you put up with her?’
‘With very little patience at the moment it seems. I may be disinvited from the ball after today.’
A waiter appeared with glasses of icy cold water and Annie accepted one gratefully. She held the glass against her wrist and didn’t mind the damp where droplets of condensation fell into her sleeve.
‘I didn’t see you in the class, Miss Sosnovsky?’
‘I’ve been lunching with Mr William Piper—he is a new friend. The sound of your dancing music intrigued me so I popped my head in and saw the end of your dance with the maître d’. You two were very good together.’ Her raised eyebrows brought a sudden flush to Annie’s cheeks again.
‘Mrs Marsden insisted Chow accompany me as we were short of partners, nothing more.’
The Russian laughed as she turned to leave and this time, Annie shrugged her shoulders at Miss Sosnovsky’s good-natured play. ‘Willie has invited me to the gala dinner here tonight, in honour of the policemen who work so hard to protect us, so I shall see you there.’
Natalia wandered off, leaving Annie curious about how the two had met.
A trail of vine curled along the stone wall that separated Annie’s garden from the next house. She reached up to smell the sweet perfume. The day had been full of unexpected turns and she was glad to disappear into the quiet oasis for an hour. The late afternoon light was warm and golden. It felt reassuringly familiar as she wandered between the trees which were dwarf fruits of some local variety, but no fruit grew because they had been nipped and pruned into shape. Hopefully the chicken manure she sprinkled at the base of each tree would help. It was one of her little secret rebellions. On the farm at home this sort of manure worked wonders on the choko vine. Maybe with time the trees would push beyond their pruned beauty and bud with flowers, then swell with fruit she could pick.
She accepted the gin the house boy brought and sat on the steps, listening as he hurried off to continue with his chores. The banter from her servants in the kitchen echoed cheerily through the house. She could have offered Li Qiang a job, maybe then he would be serving her drinks now instead of working for the gangs? Annie put her glass down on the step and stared out across the lawn. The street address which Li Qiang’s sister had given her was written in her notebook; she would go there tomorrow. But now she had just an hour to get ready for the gala dinner at the Club for the police who were injured in the student riots. She didn’t want to go but with Alec away it was her duty to attend in his absence.
Later that evening, Annie sat beside Admiral Marsden in the grand ballroom of the Club. Candlelight shone off the many tiny crystals in the bulbous chandelier above their heads. Round tables set for eight filled the space and servants weaved their way silently amongst the guests, following paths created by the curve of each table. Everyone stood as a line of policemen entered and clapped in the guests of honour. Annie was grateful for their protection, but she knew the balance of power was never against them. Sometimes she wished she believed in their right to rule and in this Club world a little more, so that her thanks could be given with genuine warmth.
It was a compliment to be seated at the head table with the French commissioner of police and his wife, Marie. Annie smiled at Mrs Marsden and nodded her acknowledgement of the honour. Whatever she felt privately about the nature of the dinner, she knew it was best to keep it to herself in present company. But it seemed someone else was distracting the table anyway.
‘I really can’t understand this rule: such a big deal out of nothing.’
‘What are you annoyed about now, Miss Sosnovsky?’ asked Mrs Marsden, who seemed to be particularly perplexed by the Russian’s presence.
‘This rule of not going into the native town. I want to visit the old part of Shanghai, but I am told it is forbidden. It drives me nut.’
‘I think you mean nuts,’ Annie interjected politely, pleased to have someone with a bit of chutzpah at their table.
‘Perhaps lessons in the King’s English might help, rather than listening to American jazz slang.’ Mrs Marsden cut through a slice of chicken vigorously and nipped the meat off her fork with a satisfied click of her teeth. She leant over conspiratorially to Annie. ‘I do not like this Russian upstart. I’ll have to speak to Mr Piper about his choice of guest.’ Annie nearly choked on her mouthful; surely she’d misheard Mrs Marsden confiding in her as though they were old pals.
‘The restrictions have been put in place to protect you,’ the commissioner interjected. ‘Having said that, I have absolute confidence in my men, and in their ability to maintain the peace.’
‘Well said, François.’ Will Piper raised his glass.
‘Then why can’t we visit the old town?’ Miss Sosnovsky repeated, looking at Annie.
‘This is not the time for such discussions; I’m planning all sorts of things for the May Ball, now that’s more the type of fun chitchat we want!’ Mrs Marsden quickly turned the conversation to a more acceptable topic and the talk splintered off at that point. A white-gloved arm slid between them and took Annie’s plate. She turned in expectation of seeing Chow. At least he knew she didn’t agree with all this self-congratulatory nonsense. But it was not him.
She drank slowly, little sips of champagne from the crystal glass and looked up discreetly each time her mouth dipped to the glass, to find Chow in the room. Only a few hours earlier she’d been dancing with him. Her cheeks flushed at the memory. He stood out because he was a good head and shoulders taller than the other servants, and undeniably good-looking. Annie knew he would be easy to spot. He was serving wine at the next table but he caught her eye and nodded; a slow charming movement like a boat sliding down a wave, sliding towards her.
She turned her attention back to her own table and saw Miss Sosnovsky lean over and give Will Piper a kiss on the cheek before turning to face Annie.
‘Mrs Brand, how are you this evening?’
‘Very well, Miss Sosnovsky, that colour is so striking on you.’ Her thick red hair was tied to one side in a large silver bow. She wore a vibrant cobalt-blue silk dress with an elaborate design of peacock feathers around the neckline. It gave her a regal look, as though she had on a fine ruff collar.
Their conversation was interrupted by a toast to the Club. Annie excused herself, and stood quietly in the hallway. She ran her hand along the smooth wooden curve of the grand staircase. She needed just a few moments of solitude away from the suffocating superiority that filled the ballroom. It was all so pretentious. She held onto the balustrade, enjoying the cool sensation under her palm. The carpeted stairs swept around and away to the spacious upper floor landing where carved black wood chairs lined the corridor of guest accommodation. Everyone said the Club had the feel of a private home, but for Annie there was something missing. It had been built by a British trader for his family, all of whom drowned en route to join him. She wasn’t surprised to learn he sold the house before any children had stepped across the threshold.
Standing at the base of the grand staircase, Annie remembered the story and shivered. She turned to re-enter the ballroom and saw Miss Sosnovsky slip out through t
he door.
‘Are you in need of some fresh air too? Sometimes I find these functions can be quite suffocating.’ Miss Sosnovsky swung round at the sound of her voice. Annie was surprised at how quickly she moved. ‘Excuse me, I didn’t mean to startle you.’
‘Not at all, I’m looking for the powder room.’
‘That way,’ Annie pointed to a door at the other end of the corridor. ‘See you back in there,’ she called after her, but there was no reply as the Russian hurried off.
‘No shouting in the Club, please.’
It was Chow, in mock sternness, watching her. He held the door and as she passed through he leant forward ever so slightly and spoke softly.
‘It is very nice to see you.’
Annie stopped still, his voice a warm whisper in her ear.
She felt his presence behind her as she moved into the room. It cloaked about her like a buffer from the insincere laughter of the ladies and the undeserved praise bestowed upon the military men.
When he told her ‘sit down madaaahm’, his voice echoed in her head: it was the highly articulated vowels in the learnt English that sounded so mellifluous. She imagined the extra moment the O’s and A’s sat on his tongue before he let them drop off into voice.
He pulled out her chair and she gave him a smile. She watched his slender fingers move her cutlery ever so slightly to perfection. Just-so, she thought. Under the white gloves she imagined his long, smooth hands. He stood, silent and obliging as she sat. Then she heard his voice, close enough to tickle the tiny hairs prickling at her inner ear.
‘Madaaahm, would you like some water?’
‘Yes, thank you, Chow.’
Mrs Marsden rose, signalling time for the women to leave the men to their cigars and Annie could only watch as Chow walked away.
In the ladies’ lounge a young musician in a white tuxedo played the baby grand. He was on his feet in exaggerated enjoyment, his hips twisting in rhythm to the Cole Porter tune. Annie moved past him and stood apart from the ladies politely finding seats. She took a moment to run her hands down her neck and smooth the curls that twisted over her ears. Miss Sosnovsky walked towards her, and Annie adjusted her belt a little tighter, to ride on the slim bone of her hips without slipping, before greeting her.
‘Did you enjoy dinner?’
‘The food was not to my taste, too bland. But the company was excellent.’
‘Is this your first Club dinner?’
‘Yes, I pleaded with Willie to bring me along. He was worried I wouldn’t fit in. What do you think, did I pass the test?’
‘You stood out for all the right reasons. Your hair is stunning.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Brand.’
‘Please, call me Annie; this place is far too formal.’
‘And I am Natalia, although you already know that. It has been a pleasure talking to you Annie. Now if you will excuse me, I must go and find the powder room.’
Natalia wandered off. Annie moved closer to the piano to watch the musician’s enthusiastic playing, thinking how elegant Natalia looked in her silk dress, much more stylish than her own outfit. She’d ask her where she bought the dress when she returned. A bemused frown crossed Annie’s brow as she remembered bumping into Natalia earlier on her way to the powder room. She couldn’t have forgotten its location already? Annie followed Natalia out into the corridor. She was standing with Chow. The two stopped talking when they saw Annie.
‘I beg your pardon, I didn’t mean to interrupt. ‘
‘Are you checking on me, Annie?’ Miss Sosnovsky laughed cheekily.
‘Come, let us see if there is any of that French champagne left.’ There was no denying Natalia’s enthusiasm as she bundled Annie’s arm into her own and drew her through the door.
‘I was asking Chow to arrange a day trip for me to the Old City. You should come.’
Annie was surprised by the invitation. She really didn’t know Miss Sosnovsky, Natalia, very well at all.
‘We will go to the willow-pattern teahouse. It is supposed to be very beautiful.’
Annie had wanted to see the famous teahouse.
‘Chow has offered to act as guide for the day. It is all set for next week.’ Natalia reached into her purse for a cigarette. ‘I don’t have any girlfriends in Shanghai; women don’t seem to warm to me. The day would be more fun if we went together. Please join me?’
Annie felt a tug of pity in her chest, and something from deeper within that pressed on her heart. The last true friend she’d had was her sister. She knew what real loneliness felt like. ‘All right, I’ll join you.’
The clock in the room chimed ten and they were forced to turn back and join the daily toast to King George. The room was still while all around people stood in silent importance as though each had a personal connection to the absent monarch. Even the staff paused the drinks service. Annie had come all this way from home and still ended up in the equivalent of the CWA.
Natalia moved off to find Will Piper. Annie chose an armchair and took out her diary to make a note of the day trip to the Old City. The cushion sank comfortably beneath her weight. She heard his melodic voice before she saw him. Behind her Chow leant in to offer Mrs Pike a mint julep and the mother of five laughed coyly at his theatrical bow. Annie shook her head at the older woman’s silliness, as though a professional like Chow would be flirting. But she found herself assessing Chow through Mrs Pike’s eyes. His thick black hair was slicked down, parted to the side and neatly trimmed around his ears and neck in the European style. His jawline was square like a picture theatre star, balancing out the handsome symmetry of his face. She had her finger marking the page as she watched him. He held a tray, white cloth over his arm. But it was his face that she was drawn back to: smooth, unblemished skin, broad lips and lines that belied his age around curved eyes; warm and friendly, alive with light. The gossip in the Club said his mother was a foreigner, more than likely Russian, and that accounted for his exquisite composure. The Russian option was taken up with gusto and there was much talk of the latest soup craze whenever Chow served table. Could a woman sound more insincere than Mrs Alice Hill as she enquired if borscht was a local recipe, brows arched, and all heads leant forward in eager anticipation at the poor man’s response. How simple did they think he was?
Ten minutes later, Annie stood outside, waiting for her car. Rain had started, hard driving sheets of it, blurring the distance, wetting her clothes even under the arched driveway. There was still a bustle of activity inside the Club. Annie turned as the young Mr Piper bumped past her. His friends followed, hooting and whooping into the rain. She saw Natalia walk slowly out after the others. A long, thin cigarette hung from its holder in her lips, as though she could let it drop or swallow it. It felt as though she had no interest in any of them.
The air momentarily filled with the sounds of Cole Porter as more revellers exited the lounge, faces flushed and eager to move on to one of the many late night supper clubs. The call went out for a chaperone from amongst the older members so they could begin the real fun of the night, in the few hours left before the new curfew set in. Then they bundled into waiting cars and were gone.
The quiet hung about Annie like someone left behind after the earlier rush of excitement. Then the gravel crunched with the sound of her car approaching. Farther away, a tyre skidded noisily and Annie looked out across the lawns, through the iron gates to where the road swung past.
CHAPTER SIX
The next morning, Annie hailed a rickshaw for the journey to Xinzha Road. She walked briskly to the corner after asking the driver to stop a little distance from the address. She wanted to take her time and see what the building looked like before deciding whether to knock. The street was still in the International Settlement zone but it was an area she was unfamiliar with. A group of Chinese schoolgirls ran past, their long thin plaits whipping back and forth. She listened to the sound of their laughter as they disappeared behind her.
There were different shopfronts a
long the road and dotted in between were private doorways. Annie ignored the dressmaker selling cloche hats and looked for number 23. It was a plain building. She stood a few doors down, considering what to do. The street trade began to circulate around her. A man set his barrow down filled with sesame cakes and fried dough sticks. The sweet, warm smell wafted across the air. Annie watched him fit a neat cap on his head, tuck a cloth into his rope belt and begin sliding the cakes around on the hotplate with a pair of long chopsticks. He attracted business by shouting out to passers-by in a sing-song voice.
Another man walked past with a portable kitchen strapped to his back—at one end a boiler balanced on top of a wood-burning stove and at the other end there was a small cupboard. He laboured heavily under the weight of his load as he beat the bamboo paddle he carried to signal his presence to customers.
Annie felt emboldened by the street traders and the air of normalcy their presence created. She shielded her eyes from the hot sun as she approached the door and knocked. In the moments before it opened a rush of nerves made her throat tighten and she thought she wouldn’t be able to speak. She swallowed hard. A small girl opened the door, then dashed away. An old woman rose from a straight-backed chair beside the door. She pumped her hands into her thighs as she got up, making a tut-tut sound of annoyance at her old bones. Annie could make out very little of the interior because of the brightness in the street, but a corridor ran from the front door to a back room and there was another room off to one side closer to the entrance where she stood. She smiled broadly at the old lady.
‘Is Li Qiang here? I’m a friend, I know him from his workplace.’
The old lady stared blankly at Annie. Then she let out a cough and a drizzle of spittle hit the pavement near Annie’s shoe. She turned and disappeared down the corridor.
Annie waited. There was a strong smell in the air and a scratchy jazz tune played from somewhere inside. She didn’t want to enter without being asked so she stood patiently on the doorstep. Her feet started to ache and tightness settled into the backs of her knees from standing still. The soup-dumpling seller had a customer and Annie turned to watch as he set down his kitchen, taking his place on the stool between his stove and the cupboard which he opened. He pulled out some dumpling skins which he filled with minced pork and herbs. Within minutes he’d offered his customer a steaming bowl of soup dumplings. The smell was fresh and spicy.
The Shanghai Wife Page 8