The city was in turmoil. The smell of the river intensified each morning and with it the stench of fear. Men were employed to sweep the shoreline along the Bund with nets, catching dead rats and debris, in an attempt to ease the smell: forever under the watchful eyes of the Volunteer Corps. Street patrols were increased too, calling on the services of any young, fit foreign resident men willing to protect their own. The gaol houses filled and their occupants were regularly shipped to workhouses or discreetly disposed of in order to make room for the next wave. Clean water was monitored closely, in case the heat left a fetid film across its surface that brought malarial fever and dysentery to the foreigners. Time still took each day to its conclusion, the police to raid more tearooms and mahjong halls, a shop to close its shutters, the tide to turn and settle into the shallows. But inside Annie’s house, time and everything connected to it stopped.
She lay in her garden, with the smell of hot earth in her nostrils. The sun burnt into her hands, it was almost too hot to stand. But Annie stayed there, feeling herself melt into the grass where she’d sat with Alec. Her mind went back to their last picnic in the garden. His tenderness towards her had started then, like an unexpected green shoot on one of her trees, fresh and hopeful, ready to grow. But the possibility of sharing intimate truths and fears with him was gone forever. She rolled over and pressed her face into the grass, suffocating the thoughts that tormented her daily, only lifting her head when the need to gasp a breath was overwhelming.
The house boy appeared on the steps. ‘Mister Chow, come look see.’ He’d been to the house every week since Alec’s death. Annie didn’t know what to say to him. She stood wearily and shook her head. Seeing Chow would mean dealing with what had happened and she couldn’t do it, not yet, maybe never. The house boy disappeared.
There was a commotion inside. Voices shouted loudly and banging carried down the corridor. Annie looked up to see Chow hurrying towards her, the house boy chasing him.
She stood quite still, overwhelmed by the sight of her friend. ‘Leave us,’ she told the house boy. Tears slid quietly down her face. A bird ruffled its feathers in the branch above her head and flew away. Annie shook silently and hung her head. The sight of Chow had brought it all back; the panic, the fear, her shocked disbelief and the utterly overwhelming sadness. Then she felt his hand softly lift her chin, forcing her to look at him.
‘I failed you.’ He spoke simply. ‘I failed Captain Brand.’
Chow held her silently. Annie pressed her eyes tightly shut and the red pain of loss filled her vision as she shook and cried uncontrollably. His body was taut and still. Even when she’d calmed down and offered him her handkerchief to wipe the wet marks off his jacket, Chow remained still and calm.
‘I’m sorry you had to see me fall apart.’ Annie spoke unevenly through heaving gasps as she tried to quell the final untempered emotion from her speech. Chow handed back her refolded handkerchief.
‘I know you came to see me and I’m sorry I couldn’t …’ Annie’s voice trailed off.
‘You do not have to explain. We are here now.’ A shadow fell across them as he moved to stand beside Annie, his presence close and comforting. She led them back into the house. Tea was waiting in the sunroom and so they sat for half an hour in companionable quiet. From a bag Chow produced a round of thin red paper which he laid on the table between them.
‘I have some ceremony to show you. It is customary for such a time as this. We must cover any gods you have in the house with this paper. Even though it is already too late, this is the right thing to do.’
‘I don’t think I’ve got anything like a god?’ Annie looked confused.
‘You have the statue of Buddha I gave to you. He must not be exposed to death.’
‘I see.’ Annie led Chow to her bedroom where the statue stood. After placing paper over the Buddha’s head, Chow walked to the living room. They stood before the fireplace where a photograph of Alec in his naval uniform stood on the mantelpiece.
‘May I?’ he asked as he reached into his bag.
‘Yes, do what you wish.’ Annie watched as Chow lit a stick of incense and placed it in a holder to one side of the photograph, bowing and chanting as he did. The stick hissed momentarily. She took a step back to allow him the space to continue and perched on the edge of an armchair. He lit a white candle and placed it on the other side of the photograph. Alec’s portrait glowed in the flame’s light. Chow placed a piece of joss paper into the flame and it flared up before curling into a dusty black scrap. He burnt prayer money next and Annie knew this was to help Alec pay his way in the afterlife. The house boy came into the room at the smell and silently joined Chow in front of the fireplace where they both knelt. Chow held a hollowed block of wood called mu yu, a ‘wooden fish’ and as they chanted the Buddhist scriptures he beat the rhythm on the wood. The knocking sound absorbed Annie. After a while she joined them, whispering the Lord’s Prayer while slivers of tears slipped down her cheek. The house boy went to a small gong which he had placed to the left of the front door and the rich full sound resonated around the room.
‘He says the taipan spirit does not know how to leave the house, so he is helping.’ Chow whispered to Annie before joining the house boy who had opened the door as he continued to sound the gong. Warm air blew through Annie’s hair. A car horn sounded and some leaves danced across the porch. The pale afternoon light stood out against the dark wooden doorframe. Annie closed her eyes.
‘Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.’ She repeated the words the minister had spoken as they buried Alec, only it felt like letting him go this time. Her skirt flew out and her hair flapped into her eyes as the breeze blew straight into her.
‘Tomorrow we will light a string of firecrackers to drive the bad luck out of the house, if you feel able’ Chow stood beside her.
‘Yes, tomorrow.’ Annie closed the door.
‘I think we’ll have a drink—whiskey, if you’ll join me, Chow?’
‘I would be honoured.’
Annie waited until Chow had his glass. She filled a third glass and gave it to the house boy. ‘Let us all drink together.’ When they’d finished, she sat tucked into the armchair like a cat. The house boy gathered the empty glasses onto a tray and disappeared to the kitchen.
‘I didn’t think I’d ever be able to contemplate that day, but you’ve helped me do it. I don’t know what happens now, though. What is my future to be, where will I go?’
‘Why must you go anywhere if you are content to stay here?’
‘I’m a widow, with no support. I don’t think I get to decide.’
‘Then who does? I don’t understand this logic. You are in mourning; it is not the time to think about the future.’
‘Yes, you’re right. The problem is I don’t ever want to think about my future. I want to stay here, in my safe little house with my books.’ Annie reached for her volume of Yeats. She stroked the gold-embossed cover.
‘You must keep living, that is all.’
‘Will you visit me again?’
‘Yes, I will, each day if you allow me.’
Chow kept his promise, arriving at a different time each day but always there. Annie could tell from his energy if his visit was timed before he began work at the Club or if he arrived at the end of a long day. He was considerate, bringing her small things like the latest copy of an American women’s magazine, or a parcel of small egg custard tarts sprinkled with nutmeg and still warm. He brought news too, none of it good. A formal state of emergency was declared and Annie’s Club friends barricaded themselves at home, many employing private bodyguards as fear for their own safety mounted. There was little time for social niceties. The bridge games and tea dances, the cocktail hours and evening promenades in the Public Garden—all the usual gatherings were cancelled as Shanghai’s foreign community focused on self-preservation.
‘I was such a fool to believe I could save one boy from the Green Gang’s perfidious hold. Judging by the news
reports, they’re getting bolder every day, arming the discontented and well and truly fuelling this unrest.’
‘You had good intentions but this city is riven with dark and deceitful entanglements. Why should you know how to battle this when even your top men do not?’
One day Chow arrived with a bird in a cage, concealed under a cloth. He set the cage down on a table in the sunroom and pulled off the cover. The moment light hit the cage there was the sound of song. Annie saw a small, perfectly shaped bird— red beak, yellow feathers, small and skittish, it flew from perch to floor to cage bar. She ran her hand over the elaborate box design. The wood was smooth and soft, bent into the curve of a roof and arched high into a miniature cathedral-like dome. The bird jumped to the other side; wherever her hand touched, the creature retreated in quick response.
‘She is so delicate.’
‘You can train it to leave the cage and sit on your shoulder. But we must be careful she does not throw herself against a closed window.’
Annie reached in to the cage and placed a small pot of water on the floor. She tried not to bang her hand against the bars but it was impossible and the bird flew against her skin; she felt its tiny beak. The peck was insignificant but it felt as though the bird had marked her and for a ridiculous moment as it hopped along the swing, that it was making room for Annie. She placed the cage where the bird could hear the garden sounds, and feel the breeze through the doors. It flew around frantically. The space was too small; its little body seemed to move more quickly than ever as it found the boundaries of its home and back again.
‘It feels cruel to keep her caged.’
‘This is all she has ever known. I am sure you have seen the birds in the market. This one will have a good life with you and now you have a companion. Bird song is a happy sound.’
‘Thank you, what a beautiful thing to do for me. I will take good care of her. Now, tell me news of the Club. What are the ladies up to?’
Chow settled himself opposite Annie on the cane chair. He accepted the cold glass of sarsaparilla which the house boy brought without being asked. Annie smiled at the familiarity which had evolved between the two. She shook her head when he offered her a glass and sat back into the sofa, eager to hear Chow’s news.
‘It is still very quiet. The fear stops many from going out, different to your own.’ He nodded respectfully in acknowledgement of Annie’s self-imposed house arrest. The way he made it seem normal allowed Annie to relax. She knew she couldn’t stay at home forever, but Chow’s daily visit enabled her to put off thinking about it.
‘It must be strange not to have them all milling about at the Club. How do you spend your time?’
‘Well, as of tomorrow, I may be busy again. Admiral Marsden is fed up with his Club being empty so he is inviting people to a special evening of cocktails and dancing to reinvigorate the community, as he puts it. He is inviting some members of the Chinese community also, as a show of collaboration and unity. I wonder if you may feel able to attend?’
‘I don’t know, Chow; it sounds like a grand affair. When is it?’
‘It is next week.’
‘That’s very soon. I can feel my heart begin to race just thinking about it.’
‘Mrs Brand, do you think that perhaps it is time you rejoined your society? I am sure Captain Brand would not want you to hide away at home forever. If you will allow me to escort you out for a walk, you will find the streets in the Settlement are well protected. I have walked to your house each day to make sure. Will you let me do this for you?’
‘You’ve been walking here each day to check my street. Chow, I had no idea. You are so kind to me.’
‘It is my duty, and my pleasure.’
‘You’ve become such a dear friend; I asked you once before to call me Annie. Please call me by my name.’
‘Well then, Annie, what do you say; shall we venture out together?’
‘Very well.’ She smiled. ‘But I can’t guarantee I will go far.’
The next afternoon Annie waited nervously for Chow. She was ready early, in her long coat and wide-brimmed hat. She opened the front door at the sound of footsteps clipping past her house, but closed it again when there was no sign of Chow. The house boy ran out, thinking he’d been lax in his job, but walked slowly back to the kitchen when he saw it was only his mistress in her skittishness.
When Chow did arrive, Annie linked her arm through his and grasped his hand with her other arm. Despite the heat, she was cold. She turned back as the gate creaked shut and for a moment stood still. Her house had settled into the warm flood of afternoon sun, the trees were still in the breezeless air, it was all very normal. She felt Chow’s gentle press.
‘Shall we go?’
They wandered along Carter Street and took the turn that led them away from Nanking Road. Chow chose their route without asking. He talked about the weather, and pointed to where a cat lay sunning itself. Annie pressed closer to him when a group pushed past but they were gone in a moment and Chow kept walking and her heartbeat slowed. He hesitated at the next corner and Annie saw that just ahead of them a small crowd was gathered outside a shop.
‘What is it?’ She couldn’t keep the panic out of her voice.
‘Just people waiting to buy hot water from the tiger stove shop. That is all, nothing to alarm us. But we can turn around if you are not comfortable?’
The tiger stove was a large wooden barrel on top of an oversized wok, and there were four smaller boilers right in front of the big one. A fire of coal dust and wood chips smouldered beneath the cement tabletop. The queue moved forward and customers jostled to place their container onto the long wooden table in front of the small boilers where a man ladled boiling water into each one. Annie felt her body stiffen despite the fact no one paid them any attention. Voices rose and fell in the general melee of conversation.
‘We can keep going,’ she sounded overly bright but she repeated herself. ‘Let’s keep walking, Chow.’ The words were a challenge to her own nerves. She wanted to be able to walk in the streets again without feeling this fog of fear. Chow nodded and they began to move past the queue. She felt his arm move protectively across where she held onto him. The heat from the stove blanketed them both. Then Annie accidentally bumped an old woman who shuffled slowly along the line. Her metal pot banged onto the footpath noisily, and the water hissed and splashed. Annie froze. She could hear the grandmother’s incomprehensible ranting but a grey haze blurred her sight. The heat off the fire pressed into her skin. The woman was shouting and the noise was unbearable. It brought a Sikh constable running to them from his position on the road. He grabbed the old woman, twisting her arm painfully so that she was forced to fall to the ground. He was adamant she apologise. Annie’s head filled with blood and a flash of shame ran through her.
‘How dare you treat her like that? Help the old lady up immediately.’ The authority in her voice came fast and strong. ‘I will report you to your superior if you do not assist this woman right now.’
The policeman did as he was told before marching back to his position directing traffic without so much as a nod to Annie. In his hand he carried the metal pot. Chow ran after him and Annie didn’t call him back. Instead she turned and offered her handkerchief to the poor woman. She had no right to be mistreated, she was someone’s mother, but respect had clearly disappeared in the streets these days and moments like this one seemed to escalate too easily. Annie stood back since the woman was ignoring her offer of a handkerchief. She heard the egg crack on her back before she felt the wet yolk sliding down her leg. It smelt foul; she guessed the egg was rancid. She waited for another smack of shell against her skin, but felt nothing. Then she heard the old woman shooing away some children who must have been the culprits. Chow hurried to her side with a fierce look of protection on his face, but Annie didn’t feel threatened. The old lady hugged the pot Chow had returned to her and the two women looked at each other in silence.
‘Come, I will take you ho
me.’ Chow spoke gently, taking hold of Annie’s arm but she shrugged her shoulders. The afternoon had not turned dark and troublesome and the queuing customers were not interested in the foreign lady and her companion; there was nothing to fear.
‘Children’s games—if only I had an egg to return fire.’ As she smiled her shoulders dropped and Annie realised her fear had gone. She looked about as they walked home and breathed in the welcome smell of sweet jasmine that trailed a stone wall. She plucked a sprig; it was good to be out again.
‘Will you be at the Club on the night of the cocktail party?’
‘Of course.’ Chow led her through the gate.
‘Then I will be there too.’
CHAPTER TEN
Annie spent longer getting ready for the cocktail party the following Friday, pairing her cream dress with just the right shade of sapphire earrings. She smudged her lips with a deeper red than was her usual and stood back to admire the warmth the colour gave to the rest of her face. Her bird twittered a final song as the evening closed in around them and a rattling noise sounded from the bird’s cage; Annie knew it meant the house boy was covering it with a cloth. She considered her reflection; a photo snapped before the girl was ready. Those red lips warmed her eyes but couldn’t cloak her pain.
‘Be quiet,’ she whispered to the bird that was already silent. ‘Be quiet.’ She grabbed a cotton handkerchief and roughly wiped the red from her lips. Then she stepped out of the dress and threw it to the floor. There was the naked face she recognised. She chose a black velvet dress instead and wore it unadorned by jewellery or makeup.
Even though strict curfews still applied, the Marsden’s subdued party at the Club was anticipated with excitement. It would be a show of strength to the rabble-rousers. There were fairy lights strung along the high perimeter wall, and through the trees that lined the curved driveway from the outer gates to the Club’s entrance. The lights disguised the barbed wire. Annie held a damp handkerchief to her forehead. A breeze played amongst the trees, making it appear to the guests as though the fairy lights were dancing to the music that wafted out from wide-open doors. A chorus of voices sang out a tune loudly and Annie took one last, deep breath before moving inside.
The Shanghai Wife Page 14