The Shanghai Wife

by Emma Harcourt

  In the water, Chow dived under and swam out from the shallow verge. His rolling arms broke the surface in rhythmic splashes.

  ‘Swim back to me.’

  But Annie didn’t really want him to stop. She sat up and leant forward to see how far out he’d gone. A twinge of concern made her strain her neck; deep water always made her nervous. But Chow was in no trouble. The joyous freedom of his swimming was intoxicating. He rolled onto his back as she watched, and waved at her. He dived and dipped, showing off his style and Annie clapped and laughed. She wondered if he knew what he was doing, did either of them.

  Later, he joined her on the hillside above the riverline.

  ‘I believe I will remember this day for all time.’ She rolled onto her side to face him. ‘Thank you for bringing me here.’

  ‘It was your suggestion, remember? I should be thanking you.’ Chow shook his hair about as he spoke and drops of water splashed on Annie’s shoulder and cheek. She felt a glorious liberation with each cold dash; as though all the rules she was brought up to follow were swept away. She laughed for the pure joy of the moment, raising her arms in mock protection from the shower of water.

  Chow stretched back into the grass and closed his eyes. Annie traced the line of him, down through his neck and shoulder blades to the delicate muscle contours outlined across his torso. She wanted to touch his skin. Water droplets were suspended in his eyelashes. She could just see his fingertips pressed into his thick, dark hair. His wet trousers clung to his thighs, already drying at the ends so that the colour changed to a dark shade of water at the waistband.

  Then Chow propped himself up on one elbow, hanging over her. His eyes were smiling, little lines creasing up around each one like the sun’s rays warming to her. Only a slim line of grass separated them but Annie thought about how much lay between them. Then he moved her hair, pulled a curl through his fingers and tucked it into another one, clearing her face. She followed his hands with her eyes as he reached for her and she felt the rise and fall of his breath in the slight movement of his wrists as he gently traced each line on her open palm.

  ‘Beautiful girl,’ he said and kissed her. She arched her neck so she felt the kiss in her body. And she hung, suspended in that space with him where only the feeling of the moment mattered.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  With Chow, Annie didn’t have to protect herself from memories; the only storyline they needed was each other; the past was never questioned, nor the future talked about. He slipped into her life easily, as though there had always been a place waiting for him beside her.

  Annie soaped her arms and lay back in the warm water of her tub, waiting for Chow’s daily visit. They had fallen into an easy routine. Chow came to her house at whatever time he was able, with a nod to the house boy who let him in and then disappeared. Annie listened to the melodic drip of the tap. She rubbed the condensation off the brass with her toe and the water splashed over the edge as she slipped back down to rest her head on the rim. How far away she felt from the wife who’d sat in this bath nervously contemplating her husband’s presence. Alec was gone and she missed him every day but now, waiting for Chow to arrive, happiness stirred in Annie.

  There was a knock and she hurriedly slipped on a dressing gown before letting Chow in. He’d come straight from work. The formality of his dress coat made her picture him serving the Flues in the Club. She pulled him towards her and tugged on his sleeves, shaking the coat off. Then she stood back, admiring him. There was a dry patch on her bottom lip that her finger caught on as she brushed across it. Chow held out his arms, his head cocked to one side. She unclasped the small ivory cufflinks on each of his wrists, kissing the soft underside of skin as she freed them. Then she slowly undid each button on his crisp white shirt. He stood before her, half naked, a mixture of surprise and pleasure playing on his lips. Annie met his gaze. The silk dressing gown clung to her body.

  ‘If you catch me, you can wear this,’ she taunted him, holding her arms out wide so that the deep blue floated away from her. Then she turned and ran down the corridor, the material flying behind her like a kite. She squealed at the sound of his feet on the floorboards. He caught her quickly, wrapping his arms around her so that all she could smell was him and the freshly cleaned silk.

  Annie’s thighs pushed against Chow’s. They lay on her bed, the curtains drawn so that a shaded afternoon light surrounded them. He reached inside her dressing gown and she felt the heat of his hands on her stomach. His finger lightly trailed up from her bellybutton and circled her nipple. The liquid pleasure of his touch was overwhelming. She arched her back and the dressing gown slid to the floor. He kissed her small breasts roughly and she groaned and pushed against him. Then his warm breath was on her cheek as he traced the line of her face and neck, bringing his forefinger to rest in the little pool of skin where her collar bone dipped; she felt her pulse through his finger. Annie squirmed and slid her hand around the nape of Chow’s neck, pulling him closer until there was nothing between them except the taste of each other.

  Later, they sat together while eggs bubbled in a pot on the kitchen stove. He perched on a stool in the black-blue dressing gown that folded over his legs to the floor like seeping ink. She fed him a ball of deep yellow yolk and he held onto her wrist a moment.

  ‘My beautiful bird,’ he whispered, kissing her.

  She noticed dried blood caught under his nails.

  ‘You’ve hurt yourself?’

  ‘No, silly thing, it’s just red paint. I thought I’d cleaned it all away.’

  ‘What have you been painting?’

  ‘We are short of staff at the Club with so many afraid to come to work, so I am getting my hands dirty as they say.’

  The house boy coughed discreetly behind them and Annie stood quickly.

  ‘Yes, what is it?’

  ‘Lady visit come see.’

  ‘A visitor? I wasn’t expecting anyone. Tell her wait, we’ll have tea in the lounge.’ Annie hurriedly disappeared to change. Chow threw off the dressing gown and rolled it into a ball before retrieving his shirt and pants from the corridor where they’d fallen. He hovered by the lounge room door, out of sight.

  Annie dressed quickly, wondering who was waiting for her. The state of emergency meant there were very few foreigners out and about, and Annie was surprised one of them would take the trouble to call on her at home. She cursed softly as she mismatched the buttons on her shirt and had to start again. She certainly hadn’t entertained for quite some time. She tucked her curls tightly behind each ear and assessed her reflection in the mirror. It would have to do.

  Before entering the lounge, she stopped, pressing her finger to her lips in silence as Chow moved towards her. She peeped into the room. Mrs Ilma Pitt stood in front of her escritoire, admiring the wooden figurines. Annie’s chest dropped with a relieved laugh as she quickly went to greet the older lady.

  ‘Mrs Pitt, what an unexpected and wonderful surprise. How good to see you.’ Annie clasped Ilma’s hands in her own.

  ‘Mrs Brand, my dear.’ Ilma’s sympathetic expression told Annie she knew about Alec.

  ‘You don’t need to say anything.’

  ‘What a waste of a young life. I only wish I had been here to comfort you.’

  ‘Well, you are here now. Tell me, why are you in Shanghai?’ There was a cough at the door and Annie saw Chow, waiting expectantly.

  ‘Please, come in. Mrs Pitt, this is Chow, my friend and the maître d’ at the Maritime Club in Shanghai. He was visiting me when you arrived.’ Chow shook Mrs Pitt’s hand before taking a seat on the edge of the sofa. ‘Some tea will be here shortly,’ Annie continued quickly. She turned her attention back to the older lady. ‘Do tell me what brings you to Shanghai, Mrs Pitt?’

  ‘Like you, my dear Annie, I have lost a loved one. Fred passed away a month ago.’

  ‘I am so very sorry to hear that. I know how close the two of you were.’

  ‘Indeed, my body is still whole but I a
m not. So I find myself in Shanghai, as there is no longer a home for me in Ichang. The Club has a new manager who needed accommodation so I had to leave. Unfortunately, Fred and I made no retirement plans beyond the Club.’

  ‘What will you do now?’

  ‘I dread the thought of returning to England, so I must sort out something here.’

  ‘If you need somewhere to stay you are very welcome in my home. There is more space than one widow needs.’

  ‘I have taken a room at the Maritime Club for a month, as of today, and I can’t think further than that for now, but thank you.’

  The tea arrived and gave the three a reprieve from conversation. Annie looked from Chow to Mrs Pitt and wondered what the old lady made of him.

  ‘Are you from Shanghai, Mr Chow?’ Mrs Pitt asked politely.

  ‘No, I am from a village in the north. But I have lived in Shanghai for some time.’ He stood. ‘Ladies, if you will excuse me, it is time I left. Thank you for the tea.’ Annie walked Chow to the door. She felt Mrs Pitt’s gaze upon them.

  ‘It’s been a pleasure seeing you, goodbye.’ She curled her fingers through Chow’s hand a moment, resting her palm in the warmth of his before watching him go.

  Annie sat beside Ilma on the sofa and took both her hands once more. ‘How are you, really?’

  ‘Surviving, my dear, although I never wanted to outlive Fred. I scattered his ashes across the river before leaving Ichang and it feels as though I left myself behind with him.’

  Annie thought about her own experience. Alec’s funeral had been a subdued Shanghai affair held in Holy Trinity Cathedral. She had sat between various Flues and listened to Admiral Marsden give the eulogy. The day was a blur; she remembered the hard wooden pew pressing into her back and the hollow sound the handful of earth made when it hit the wooden boards of Alec’s coffin. It reminded her of scattering seeds in the house garden at home, such a long time ago.

  ‘You will find your way through this, just as I have.’

  Ilma patted Annie’s hand. ‘Yes, I will. One must accept death, however much one rails against the grief. So, I will try not to be maudlin.’ She got up and closed the door into the hallway before sitting down again beside Annie.

  ‘Tell me, what is going on in your life?’ Ilma’s question sounded innocent but her raised eyebrows implied otherwise.

  For a moment, Annie froze. She hadn’t told a soul about Chow. But she edged forward on her seat and rubbed her damp palms roughly against her skirt. She closed her eyes and Chow’s face came before her with a wash of certainty.

  ‘I’ve fallen in love with a Chinaman, with Chow in fact.’ She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. ‘There, I’ve said it.’

  ‘I might have been surprised had I not met Chow just now, and seen the two of you together, but never judgemental; you would remember that about me, I hope? There’s an electricity that pulses between the two of you, even as you walked him to the door, I felt it.’

  ‘So you’re not shocked? I can’t quite believe it. I haven’t told a soul, you see. I truly expected you to be appalled, yet I couldn’t keep the secret from you.’ Annie sat back and let her head fall against the soft cushions. There was something luxurious about having confessed.

  ‘He’s given you life again and passion. Perhaps I need a lover too?’ Ilma laughed until the sound became a croak in her throat. ‘Age does not favour the idea I fear.’ Then she leant forward and grasped Annie’s hands. Her mouth pressed into a firm line. ‘Unfortunately, my opinion is not the one you need to worry about. Do you plan on going public with this affair? My dear, have you thought seriously about what this will mean for your future?’

  The future; it struck Annie like a blow across the face. Chow would be part of her future; she didn’t doubt for one second that he’d agree with her and, Annie realised with clarity and relief, she wasn’t worried about living with Chow in Shanghai. It was her home now because this was where Chow belonged, so she would too.

  ‘I’ll be quite relieved to stop pretending that I agree with all the patronising ignorance of the Club ladies. I won’t have to stay silent any longer when they insult the Chinese. I can cook and clean and shop—I did all that before coming to China. I actually might enjoy feeling tired at the end of the day rather than just too bored to stay up.’ She turned to Ilma with a shrug of her shoulders.

  ‘Don’t make fun, it’s not that simple, and you know it. Before you start living this idyllic life you first have to survive the scandal and the judgement of all your peers. You’ll be banished from every social circle in China, life will never be the same, and it will be a very difficult and poor life at that.’

  ‘I’m not afraid, Ilma. Didn’t you once say that knowing where home is makes you stronger and that with your husband at your side, you could suffer any criticism? Well, I’ve found my home here with Chow and I can face anything the future throws at me with him by my side. He’s my Fred.’ How easily she’d spoken the truth, yet it had taken so long to find it.

  ‘This will be the biggest challenge you are ever likely to face.’

  Ilma was right. Annie hoped she was strong enough to withstand the gossip and the hatred they would elicit, from her Club world and Chow’s world. She knew so little about his family. But she would ask him to tell her about his childhood; it was time to share her own story too.

  ‘Your support means the world to me, Ilma. If Shanghai won’t accept us, then we will just have to find somewhere else to live. You did.’

  ‘I may be eccentric, but I’m English, and so was Fred. There is no comparison to you and this Chinese man. My dear, the only foreign women I’ve heard of being with natives are in the brothels.’

  ‘I’ve made so many mistakes before now; but I won’t give up on this chance with Chow. He’s a good man.’

  ‘I believe you, but I will be the only one who does. Are you sure you are ready to give up on the life you know?’

  ‘What life, Ilma? I’m a widow with no children and no home. I don’t belong anywhere anymore.’

  ‘Very well, my dear, I will help you if I can but I do hope you know what you are doing.’ Ilma stood up and stretched her arms back. ‘My old body is stiff; I can’t sit still for long anymore. Would you pass me the pot of tiger balm in my purse? I find if I rub it into my wrists it helps the aches.’

  Annie opened Ilma’s bag and pushed aside handkerchiefs and packages looking for the pot of cream. The purse was a disorganised mess and she tried not to take any notice of the papers as she rummaged around, searching for the tiger balm.

  ‘Finally, here it is.’ Annie’s hands caught hold of cold glass and she pulled out the pot. As she did a leaflet fluttered to the ground too. She saw the familiar colours of the Moral Welfare League.

  ‘Do you mind if I take a look at this?’ She held it out for Ilma to see.

  ‘Not at all, I’ve been a member of the League for years but not in Shanghai so I’m looking forward to attending this month’s meeting. They’ve finally managed to get rid of most of the opium hongs and brothels inside the International Settlement. It’s very impressive.’ Ilma chuckled as she rubbed her palm over her wrist, massaging in the tiger balm. The cream was so strong Annie’s eyes began to sting. Annie opened the pamphlet. She already knew most of what was written inside—of Shanghai’s dangerous gangs and debauchery; the bars and brothels which serviced the floating population of seamen, never their own men of course. But it reminded Annie that Chow hadn’t told her how his conversation with the police went. She thought by now they would have at least taken the Chinaman in for questioning and Chow would certainly have told her if they had. But he hadn’t mentioned it since that day.

  ‘I’m hoping the League will help me with the programme in Ichang and encourage the local men who are now in Shanghai to go home to their villages. It’s just getting worse and worse—the numbers leaving for Shanghai to join the Green Gang is terrible. I befriended a boy who got me a copy of the tattoo which the local river gang uses.
He thought he was humouring an old woman’s painting hobby,’ Ilma chuckled again. ‘But I’m taking it to the meeting. Hopefully it will make it easier to find the Ichang men and with the help of our programme, encourage them to go home.’

  Annie took the small square of paper which Ilma held out. The tattoo symbol was innocuous as an image; she imagined it would be a dragon or some other intimidating animal. But it was beautiful, the small fish turning as though in the water, with each scale symmetrically placed.

  She’d seen the image before, on the silver cane of the Chinaman. She distinctly remembered it because he’d been so rude and garish, brandishing his cane in her face that evening at the Club.

  ‘Are you sure this is a Green Gang tattoo?’

  ‘Yes, I told you the local river gang in Ichang sends our young men to the Green Gang in Shanghai and this is the branding they all receive before they leave.’

  ‘Can I hold onto it for a few days? It could be very important.’ Annie knew she had to get this information to the police. It proved beyond doubt that the Chinaman was in the Green Gang, from Ichang of all places. When this new development was coupled with the information she’d already given to the police which put the Chinaman in the house with Li Qiang the day he died, then it seemed to Annie there was a good chance he would be charged with murder.

  ‘Is it that important, Annie?’

  ‘I promise to get the picture back to you, Ilma, but right now I really need to get this to the police. It may be an important clue in the murder of a young boy I knew.’

  Ilma nodded. ‘The meeting isn’t until next week so just get it to me by then; I’ve come a long way with this bit of paper not to lose it at the last minute!’