‘But of course you must have a house boy, a wash amah and other servants too. It’s a matter of social standing. The foreign resident needs such things to set them apart.’
‘You may be right Chow, but it doesn’t mean I agree with the system.’
‘The formalities, the social necessities; this system is arranged by your men to manage us. It doesn’t matter if you agree or not, you are a part of it and that is all; otherwise we might all be living in Nanshi. Now, I must say my goodbyes.’
‘You are so frustrating, Chow, don’t go without letting me defend myself.’
‘You are not under attack—I apologise if that is how you feel.’
The afternoon sky was clear. Beyond the house gate the street was quiet. ‘How I feel is annoyed, and unsettled, and yet I want to keep talking to you. Don’t go.’
‘Good afternoon, Mrs Brand.’ Chow nodded abruptly and then turned and left before Annie could say anything else. There was a squeaking noise from behind. Natalia stood in the doorway, frowning.
‘What is going on out here?’
‘Chow’s gone. We argued over politics.’
Annie heard her front gate close as she and Natalia returned inside. She opened the French doors in the sunroom and stood in the breeze, hoping it would blow away her sense of frustration at Chow’s criticism. But when she thought through Chow’s comments, Annie had to acknowledge he was right; she did, indeed, enjoy the luxuries that came with her status as a foreigner. A deep strip of sunshine brightened the floor by the back doors and its warmth massaged her shoulders. She felt the tightness ease but disappointment still hung in her limbs. She wished Chow had stayed longer and given her the chance to look after him as her guest. Natalia produced a small flask of vodka and disappeared. Annie heard her rummaging through the kitchen cupboards.
‘This will make you feel better.’
She reappeared with two crystal champagne saucers half filled with vodka.
‘We do own tumblers; ask the house boy.’
‘I’m happy to help myself, and crystal sounds so much prettier, don’t you think? I love the shape of these glasses; did you know they say the style is modelled on the breast of Marie Antoinette?’
‘Where do you hear such outrageous things?’
‘My father.’
‘He sounds like a character.’
‘He had strong opinions on everything.’
‘That explains a lot about you. Are you close to him?’ Annie asked the question cautiously. It was the first time that Natalia had mentioned her family and Annie didn’t want to intrude too far.
‘No, at least not anymore; he is dead.’
‘I am very sorry to hear that.’
Natalia leant over and sounded her glass against Annie’s with a ping.
‘It was his choice. My father put all his passion into the imperial cause, there was none left for his family. He never came home from the Russian war; he died for the royal family, for his country. Never mind who would look after us.’
‘Was Moscow your home?’ The alcohol clouded her throat as Annie drank, leaving her warm and tingling.
‘Oh, I wish we had still been in my godfather’s apartment in Moscow, taking lessons with our French governess and eating pirozhki. No, my passionate father made us all move to the far east of Russia where the White Army was stationed. When he died he’d already given most of our money to the war efforts. My mother found it very hard.’
‘What happened, Natalia?’
‘I took care of my mother and my sister. I was the eldest, so responsibility fell on my shoulders. But it was not easy. In the end we joined the other refugees and took a ferry from Vladivostok to Shanghai.’
‘But you said you had no family in Shanghai?’
‘That’s right. My mother died on the voyage. When we arrived in ’22 I still had Akatarina to take care of. I tried to get a job as a governess teaching French, but there were queues of young ladies at every interview, I had no luck. We took a room in a boarding house and I sold any jewellery we had left. The Russian Orthodox Church fed us each night, it was not so bad. Kati got sick a year ago, pneumonia. By that time we were living in a room in another boarding house, not so nice, but we were together.’
‘What a terribly sad story.’
‘I do not want pity. It has been easier since Kati died; there’s no one left to worry about. I tell you so you will stop asking questions. There is sadness everywhere, Annie, life is hard, especially for us women, but I vow never to be powerless again.’
‘I admire your strength.’
‘Za-zdarovye,’ Natalia raised her glass and downed the vodka in one gulp.
They ate sandwich fingers off the gold-leaf dinner service. Natalia chose the best of everything she could find. Annie laughed at her gasps as she discovered another piece of finery hiding in a cabinet, and for that afternoon, her house was like a treat box.
In the bedroom, Natalia ran her hands over the necklaces that hung on Annie’s vanity mirror. The beads and gold clinked harmoniously. The sun warmed the room as they spread the jewellery onto the bed and, sitting cross-legged opposite each other, tried pieces on like they were playing dress-up. Annie picked out a jade and black onyx necklace divided by beads of gold in the run. She put it round Natalia’s neck. Together they looked at her reflection in the wardrobe mirror. Natalia wrapped the beads around her neck a second time, so that one strand sat snug against her throat and the jade’s green paled on her skin.
‘It suits you.’ Annie touched the black onyx, warmed by Natalia’s skin. ‘Take it; I’d like you to have it as a gift.’
Natalia shook her head, but her eyes admired her own reflection.
‘Please, I insist.’
Annie had the wardrobe door open as she spoke. Her clothes clinked and rippled as she touched them. Quickly, she threw one, and then another onto the bed. The satin brushed her cheek as she reached for a hanger. She could hear Natalia in the background laughing at her silliness. Within minutes the bed was covered in a mess of dresses and skirts, so she smoothed them out to lie like women without bodies. A sleeve fluttered for a moment under the ceiling fan’s breath, a skirt quivered. Above the bed, the fan swooped in a slow, mesmeric circle. Annie grabbed Natalia’s hand and together they flopped onto the bed, pushing their arms and legs out like stars.
She felt as free as her younger self once was, jumping into bed in her nightshirt at home, her sister noisy beside her. She gave Natalia a green silk gown to try on, and then pulled her own dress over her head, revealing stockinged legs below the lace border of her slip. Annie looked at the woman in the mirror; her dark curls plumped with air making her look a bit rakish. Then she turned to Natalia, dropped her hand to her side, stretched one leg out the other way, bumped her hips in the opposite direction and pouted.
‘I’m a Russian princess.’
Natalia bowed formally then took Annie’s hand and held it high as they walked through the house. Annie’s silk slip rustled around her thighs. She liked the feeling of weightlessness that the free-flowing material gave her. In the living room she turned on the gramophone and placed the needle onto the lip of the record—a new jazz tune by Fats Waller. The racy beat filled the empty space. Annie and Natalia danced. The song caught on a scratch at each turn of the record, jumping for a second through the notes, but Annie didn’t care. She moved through the darkness behind closed eyes, feeling the music like she was part of the sweet sound. Her arms dipped low to the floor and her slip flew out from her hips as she turned a circle.
For the rest of the afternoon Annie’s necklace swung on Natalia as she moved. At one point Annie caught her holding it to the side so she could spit tea back into the cup. She raised her eyebrows.
‘Cold?’
Natalia wiped her mouth and nodded. It was getting late. Playing dress-up couldn’t last. She waited while Natalia changed back into her own clothes, flicking her fingers lightly across the mess of dresses on her bed.
Once Natalia w
as gone, Annie realised how long they’d spent together; the evening light had drowned the afternoon in its shadows, and she looked out across a garden washed in dark. She shivered and returned to her bedroom where she hung up her dresses. Looking out into the quiet darkness brought back the tingling fear of that morning. She sat heavily on the bed. She’d been lucky Chow had found her in the alley. His unexpected gift stood beside her bed, the Buddha’s belly gleaming.
CHAPTER SEVEN
With only one day left before Alec returned, Annie leant across and smoothed the empty space in the bed beside her before jumping up. She hadn’t seen him for a month and now their reunion was so close she felt a thrill of nerves run through her. The boat trip had been the beginning of a new intimacy between them and even though she’d been angry with Alec for sending her home early, she’d missed him.
It was dull and humid that morning as she picked flowers in her garden. There was a thick layer of clouds that made the sky seem low and the air dense. She cut the stems long so that the full-headed chrysanthemums would stand tall in the vase in the hallway, part of her welcome home preparations for Alec.
Annie’s hair twisted and curled in the humidity as she moved about, plucking dead leaves off the bushes and thinking through how she’d tell Alec about her involvement with Li Qiang and his death. Alec would be angry and shocked to learn how far she’d gone to find the boy. A flash of horror seared through her at the memory of her visit to Xinzha Road. She cut another chrysanthemum stem and dropped it into her basket. Alec would completely disapprove of what she’d done and they’d end up arguing. Annie didn’t want that. She decided she wouldn’t tell him about Li Qiang or about the visit to the old town; there was nothing to be gained.
Annie ran her hand across the flowers lined up neatly in her basket. The delicate petals felt as soft as the graze of her sister’s eyelash kisses. But some of them were already wilting. So she dipped her hand into the watering can and flicked droplets onto them. The petals were pale pink. She saw her sister’s sleepy morning blush in their colour. There were small splashes of bruise now where the water droplets had landed. They would only live for a few days. She thought about Natalia’s story and felt a tug of empathy. No wonder she seemed haughty at times. There was enough heartache in her past to turn anyone to ice. Annie admired her passion. She hoped her friendship with Willie Piper might turn into something more lasting. Natalia deserved some good fortune.
The following afternoon, Annie was busy in the garden again, this time preparing a surprise picnic dinner for Alec’s first night home. As the hour of his return approached, nerves sparked and flashed inside her. Annie laid the picnic rug by the line of fruit trees, where the grass was soft and green. The garden glistened with freshness, washed clean by last night’s rain. She hung lanterns from the branches of a few trees and covered the tartan with the white cotton and lace tablecloth they saved for parties. Cushions from the sofa were piled in one corner.
It seemed so long ago they were together on the boat. Alec told her he was happy and behind his words she knew he loved her. His energy was rough and strong; she was drawn to it when they met. She’d needed a safe harbour, and with Alec she could stop running. He caught her arm as she tripped one day. His hold was too firm to be comfortable but it stopped her falling.
‘Let’s try doing this together from now on,’ he’d said.
Another time he came into the bathroom while she was in the tub and leant over with a towel. ‘Try putting this behind your head, bit of extra padding, like a pillow. It was my mother’s trick, made those bubble baths last a whole lot longer.’
She took the towel that he had rolled into a snake-like headrest and, lying back against its softness, closed her eyes, unsure how to react. His attention was so practical, yet he was looking at her naked in the bath. She wondered if he might step into the tub with her. But when she opened her eyes he was gone.
She plucked a few leaves from the low branches and ripped them apart as she assessed her handiwork. The garden was still a bit damp but with a rug down they wouldn’t even feel it. She sat and waited. Moths fluttered near to the lantern’s swinging dome, their transparent wings glowing warmly.
Annie rearranged the cutlery, wrapped in napkins and neatly lined up beside two plates. She lifted the bamboo dome to check that the large platter of Chinese pork and sliced tomatoes and cucumber was still fresh and flyless. She jiggled the bottle of white wine around in the ice in its silver bucket. Two large glasses lay cushioned in the material. Goosebumps tingled on her arms as she leant back against a tree and closed her eyes.
The sound of someone moving through the house made her sit up and watch the back door expectantly. She decided to wait for him in the garden, in her picnic oasis. Her legs were tucked underneath her bottom so that her dress fell around her like a cloak. She was nervous with excitement and a little anxious for fear he wouldn’t enter into the fun of the picnic.
‘Out here in the garden,’ she called after a few minutes.
‘What’s all this?’
Alec stood bemused in the frame of the door, looking down at her.
‘Welcome home, my love.’ She breathed in the smell of him as she wrapped her arms around his neck. ‘I thought we’d do something a little different. It’s a picnic supper—surprise!’
He held her tightly. ‘It’s good to be home.’ Then he let go to stand back and admire her. ‘Loneliness suits you, blossom.’
‘Only because I knew you were coming back.’
She watched him looking down at the rug and tablecloth, the plates, the lanterns.
‘Where are the chairs?’ Alec seemed intrigued.
‘No chairs tonight—cushions and the grass for our bottoms.’
‘If it makes you happy, then pass me a cushion and make some space!’ She helped him off with his jacket and put some cushions behind his back as she moved beside him. He held the heavy glass of white wine and flicked his fingernail against the crystal so that a light, high sound momentarily flew out into the air. ‘I love these glasses; we hardly ever use the good stuff.’
He laughed as he said it. Annie passed Alec his cutlery and plate and watched as he tucked the napkin into his shirt collar and tried to balance his wine glass on the rug. She realised he was positioning things to mimic the dinner setting at the dining table, as though there was hard wood underneath their glasses instead of grass.
Annie turned and served him some Chinese pork. Then she picked up a piece for herself, letting her fingers linger in her mouth long enough to suck off the juice. She could see that Alec was watching her with bemusement.
‘It tastes better if you use your fingers, Alec.’
He picked up a piece and then another, eating both in quick succession. ‘You’re right!’ Then he laughed, a big open sound. ‘I’ve missed the way you make me relax.’
Annie leant over with a piece of pork in her fingers and Alec hesitated, then took the meat with his teeth, nibbling a tiny bit of her fingertip in the process. They both laughed at the novelty of feeding each other. He nodded his head in a gesture towards the plate and Annie fed him another piece of meat. This time he didn’t hesitate. He grabbed her hand before she could move away, holding onto her there, as they looked at each other. His face was close; she saw the familiar crease in his earlobe, the dusting of grey bristles at his jawline. She ran her finger gently along the scar below his left eye where it felt soft and crinkled. Then she kissed him.
‘Thank you for an unusual supper.’ He pulled her close.
The dusk had turned the lanterns into many small moons suspended through the garden. There were bugs flying into the plate of half-eaten food, but neither of them noticed. The empty wine glasses tipped drunkenly into the grass. Alec shifted on the picnic cloth so that he was leaning against a tree trunk and Annie rested against his chest. It was comforting to be leaning into Alec’s familiar body.
That night, she rolled towards him in the bed. His body was warm and hard. Arms reached arou
nd and under her nightdress. She felt his lips on her belly, in the curve of her waist, grazing her nipple. She pulled him close, curling her fingers round his neck. The weight of him pressed against her and she breathed in the smell of the river in the salty strands of his hair.
Annie felt Alec shift beside her in the morning. He pushed the curtains open to let light flood the room.
‘This is much better than waking up in my poor man’s bunk on the water.’ He rolled over and draped an arm across her chest. ‘What’s been happening while I was gone?’
She pushed herself up to sit against the warm, downy pillows. ‘The usual bridge and lunches for me; everyone’s about, all looking forward to the May Ball tonight. Mrs Marsden’s in a flap over last-minute details, but I’m sure it will run like clockwork.’ Annie lifted Alec’s arm and gently placed it on the sheets between them before throwing her legs over the bedside. ‘Time to get up for me, but you lie there if you like, I’ll bring some more tea.’
She hovered at the end of the bed; now would be the perfect moment to tell Alec about Li Qiang. Annie didn’t want to have secrets. Li Qiang’s cheeky smile came into her head, and the way he’d patted her arm so proudly when he first met her and helped her across the Bund. She felt a heavy weight in the pit of her stomach. It was your fault, the voice in her head whispered.
‘You all right, blossom?’ Alec had hauled himself upright and was looking at her with a worried frown.
‘Just Mrs Marsden on my mind; there’s no way she’d let the ball be derailed by what’s been happening. The city could be under attack by an army of Communists and she’d still insist on replicating her hometown King’s College tradition.’ She continued quickly. ‘The trial of those arrested students took place too, you may have heard?’
Alec ran his hands through his messy hair.
‘I did hear they’d been convicted; good news travels fast.’ He hadn’t yet shaken off the soft intimacy of their shared sleep; she could hear it in his voice. ‘I’ve got to head to the office this morning, a day of going through the ship’s log with the boss. But I’ll be home by six so we can travel to the ball together.’
The Shanghai Wife Page 11