The Shanghai Wife

by Emma Harcourt

  ‘Annie, it is still me. Look at me.’

  Chow took her by the shoulders and forced Annie to return his stare. His hold on her was tight and she felt his fingers digging into her skin. Her throat was dry and scratchy. She licked her lips and looked away again, to the stained walls streaked with water marks, but the fierceness of his gaze compelled her to return his look and she stared at him, fearful of what she might see and unnerved by her vulnerability. Yet he was being honest; she saw it in the raw tenderness of his gaze. In those eyes radiating gentleness was the man she knew. Her shoulders dropped and he loosened his hold.

  ‘Why risk so much, Chow?’

  ‘When the gang helped to bring my sister to Shanghai from our village in the north I became obliged to assist. But I do so willingly, for the future of my country.’

  ‘Are you an opium dealer, an assassin?’

  ‘I do not believe violence will bring about the change that we fight for. But I became a killer when I shot the man who attacked you in the street riot. I could not let anyone hurt you, Annie.’

  ‘I thought it was a policeman who fired that shot.’ Chow shook his head. ‘So, I’m more valuable alive than dead, as part of your strategy to get information?’

  Chow laughed and Annie felt anger flare inside her. ‘You are not that important. I killed the man to save your life, because I love you.

  ‘I should have stopped seeing you, which would have been safer, but I could not. The gang put someone on to work with me a long time ago, someone political and acceptable in Settlement society. I wanted to be released from the gang, Annie; after I met you I saw a different future for myself, for us, maybe a better one. I know now how foolish that was. When I asked for my freedom they threatened Chin Feng and beat me.

  ‘You must stop prying into the gangs, Annie. I saw you at Xinzha Road yesterday. Next time it will be someone else and they will not let you go.’

  ‘I was looking for you. I thought you were sick and that’s why you weren’t at the Club. I wanted to help you.’

  ‘It was too dangerous to stay in my job. There was a chance someone might talk after the Xinzha Road raid; the police interrogation methods are very compelling. It has broken me to leave the Club, but I am careful and clever. As long as I continue to work for the gang they will not harm Chin Feng and the world does not stand still, change will come and then I will see my fate and act.’

  ‘You never told the police about the Chinaman, did you?’

  ‘I could not risk being undone. Now you must return to Mrs Marsden’s. My sister will travel with you.’

  ‘I don’t want to go yet, Chow, I have more questions. This is all so unbelievable, I need time to think.’

  ‘No, it is impossible. You’ve already been gone too long.’

  ‘Please, don’t disappear again.’

  She reached for his hands, and held them briefly, curling her fingers around his so that they twisted together and she held tight.

  ‘My name is Chiao Chin Pao, I was only ever Chow at the Club. You are part of my life now; you should know my real name.’

  The car ride back to Mrs Marsden’s was very quick. Annie didn’t have time to think about the enormity of what she’d heard. She saw the streets in a blur as she went over all that Chow had told her. She couldn’t stop her hands shaking.

  Chow’s sister slipped Annie through the laundry entrance and up the servant stairs to the guest room where she was glad to lie back and pretend sickness. You are part of my life now. Chow’s words looped relentlessly in her mind. This was what she’d wanted to hear from him but the truth of his life was a shock. She didn’t even know what to call him. There was a knock on the door and Chin Feng opened it quietly as Mrs Marsden pushed her way through.

  ‘Are you feeling any better, Mrs Brand?’

  ‘Yes, thank you, though I think it would be best if I go home. I am sorry for my outburst earlier.’

  ‘Never mind, dear, some of the local viruses turn us all into beasts; I’ve forgotten about it already. Let me call your car and we’ll get you home to rest. I don’t like to think of you alone in that house.’

  ‘I’m fine, really.’

  ‘Very well, but you must let me know how you are tomorrow.’

  Annie let Mrs Marsden fuss; her supposed illness distracted her host from the real reason she looked so pale. Even when she was alone in the car, all Annie could do was sit in shocked silence, contemplating the truth of Chow’s story.

  She sat up in bed that afternoon, rubbing her wrists which still ached from the tight binding. Her book of Yeats lay open on her lap. In the past, when she needed comfort, Annie turned to it. On the ship to Hong Kong, it helped her grow accustomed to losing her history, her family and to a future without her father. In the days following her wedding to Alec, Yeats fed her poetic notions of romance, and even dull afternoons at the Club were more bearable when she opened the well-worn cover. Now she hoped it would give her a sense of resilience and the constancy to get through the next weeks.

  A page turned and she stopped it with her thumb. ‘Aedh Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven’. This was the poem Chow knew. When he recited the first line to her all those weeks ago, it had bound her inextricably to him. She read it again, seated in the garden that evening with a drink—their worlds were not so far apart. He was not a stranger, even if there were things about him she was only just discovering. There was so much of herself that Annie hadn’t told Chow either; how could she blame him for keeping secrets, when she’d been avoiding her past ever since she stepped off that boat in Hong Kong.

  She began pacing the grass and pressing the soil around a tree down firmly with her shoe. The house boy approached with a note. It was from Ilma, reminding Annie to join her at Mrs Marsden’s the next day for the monthly Moral Welfare League meeting. She expected Annie to bring the picture of the Ichang fish tattoo with her.

  Annie stamped her feet into the soil with vigour. She’d completely forgotten about the meeting. But she’d promised to return the image of the fish tattoo. At least it meant she could get a message to Chow through his sister while she was at Mrs Marsden’s. Nerves pinched in her stomach. There were so many unanswered questions she needed to ask Chow.

  The next morning Annie found herself returning again to Avenue Joffre and the Marsden’s mock Tudor mansion. Mrs Marsden frowned when she saw Annie enter her parlour. She disappeared soon after to finish getting ready and left Annie alone and wondering where were the other League ladies? The parlour was a small and friendly space, where Mrs Marsden’s unfinished needlework took up the table. The two little pugs yapped at Annie’s ankles before rolling over noisily and chewing each other instead. Annie watched the door for Chow’s sister. Mrs Marsden reappeared and Annie listened patiently to her description of the latest work of the Moral Welfare League. She was tempted to suggest that it was because the Moral Welfare League had forced most of the brothels and opium dens outside the International Settlement that the criminal networks were flourishing. The gangs offered protection to the now illegal businesses as well as supplying the opium. But she knew how much that would distress Mrs Marsden, founding member of the League, and even though she was an old rhino, her passion for the cause was genuine.

  ‘I’m sorry I am so early, I think Ilma may have given me the wrong time,’ Annie looked around hopelessly at the empty room.

  ‘Never mind, the household is running slowly today, I’m afraid, but the lemonade should be here shortly.’ Annie tried to focus on the conversation as Mrs Marsden continued. ‘I thought we’d had enough drama yesterday with your episode, Annie, but I fear you’ll find my household is fraught with problems. It’s exhausting.’

  ‘I hope I haven’t inconvenienced you too much.’

  ‘I don’t like to share mishaps to do with the servants, it seems so common, but I am miffed, I must say. One of my best girls has gone missing. It’s sent the others into a proper flap in the kitchen over who’ll take on her duties. I like to think I run a fair
household, and my staff has no complaints. Now I’ve got to ask the others to do extra work while I find a replacement.’

  ‘Which girl was it?’

  Annie tried to keep the apprehension out of her voice. She had a terrible feeling she knew what Mrs Marsden was going to say and that it wasn’t a coincidence this had happened the day after she saw Chow and met his sister.

  ‘Quiet young thing from the country, so much promise, although she had a horrible mole on her lip that was an utter eyesore for the guests. I suppose we all have to compromise these days.’

  Annie nodded. ‘Will you try to find her?’

  ‘Only if there’s jewellery or money missing. I put her in the Mingxing Boarding House for servants in Fukang Li Alley, on Xinzha Road. To think she could be so ungrateful after all my generosity! Don’t expect she’ll wait around to be discovered, though she was such a friendly thing, I feel I knew more about her than most of the servants. There you go though, can’t pick who will be reliable these days.’

  Annie didn’t stay for the League meeting. She gave Mrs Marsden the envelope with the image in it for Ilma and made her excuses, all the while distracted and unfocused. Her mind was already at the boarding house.

  Annie told her driver to leave her on Xinzha Road; it was a beautiful afternoon and she would take a rickshaw home. She didn’t want her driver knowing where she went. She recognised the road; she was not far from number 23 where she’d seen Chow.

  As Annie walked she listened to the click of her shoes on the stones, attempting to pace her racing heartbeat with the rhythm of her gait. A group of men sat around an upturned box, drinking tea and talking. The alleyway was part of a densely clotted neighbourhood of shikumen houses. She walked briskly, trying to appear confident. Voices from the open windows above made her turn her head towards the sky. Laundry hung from long struts of wood attached to windows; it was like a welcoming fanfare.

  But further down the alley there were no old men playing board games, or children running about. This part of the lane felt abandoned and even the sun was eclipsed by the condensed buildings that seemed to collapse in on one another and obscure the light. Annie stopped by a doorway where a sign hung vertically on a swinging pole: the Mingxing Boarding House.

  The front gate was open and what would have been a small outdoor terrace was now crowded with washing, chairs and upturned baskets. A crease of light spilled out from the doorway, stretching across the stones to the lip of the gate. It felt later in the day than it was and she looked back towards the main road where traffic moved. But there was a sense of wakefulness in the open door.

  A thin staircase ran against one wall. The front room downstairs had been converted into two separate dwellings. Annie couldn’t see down the dimly lit corridor to the back of the building. She stood a moment, considering whether to knock on one of the doors, but light spilling from an open doorway upstairs caught her eye. It was very quiet for a boarding house and as she climbed the stairs she saw a damp patch had painted a corner of the ceiling in ugly browns and greens.

  Her feet felt their way slowly across the wooden boards. She stood cautiously on the doorstep. There must be forgotten food inside, a musty smell hung in the air.

  ‘Hello,’ she called out nervously.

  There was no reply. A dog growled and barked and she took a step back towards the staircase. The house creaked in response, as though the tired stairs and walls were trying to tell her something. Annie listened but there were no further dog noises. She looked through the door cautiously, and could just see laundry hung on the back of a chair and strung across a wardrobe. It gave the space a homely feel. The dog must be in another room.

  She moved further into the room. There were two single wooden beds, a small square window strung across with homemade curtains, and a kitchen corner set up with a rudimentary-looking stove over a dead flame. No one seemed to be home.

  The bed closest to the door was covered in a richly woven bedspread, embroidered with lengths of ivy and small motifs. She ran her hand over the material, uneven and soft as she looked around the room. The other bed was close to the window, and Annie could see something had pushed the covers off and into the thin recess between the bed and the far wall. She walked over to have a look.

  A man’s body was crumpled on the floor. The sheet had caught around his torso and legs, half wrapping him in a mummified bundle. Soft messy pulp oozed from a bullet wound where his head was ripped open. Thick black hair stuck in a mass to one side of the smashed skull. Annie fell backwards against the bed in shock. Her hands scrabbled frantically across the sheets. She pushed and kicked her legs away as though fighting off the horrific sight. The solid bed head pressed firmly against her back and she stopped still. She held her breath and listened. Her knuckles were white where she clutched the bed. She focused on any sound that might mean the killer was nearby—the creak of a floorboard, a rustling of mice. Her heartbeat deafened any sound in the room, though there was no noise except her own whimpers of fear. She was alone.

  A ripping pain in her stomach pushed the air from her throat as she vomited. There was so much blood, pulling her into the richness of its colour. Her shoe slid in the stickiness as she gingerly leant forward to check the body. She hesitated as her hands shook. A choking, blinding heat razed through her, roaring in her head, suffocating her thoughts.

  She dropped to her knees beside the body, smoothed out his crooked, still warm hand, rolled her fist over and over in the softness of his palm. It was always his hands. Chow was dead.

  Around her the room blurred as Annie leant down and took hold of him. She lifted his head to see his eyes but her hands slipped hopelessly with the unexpected weight of his lifelessness. One of her fingers dragged his slack lip down as she grabbed at him, but she was oblivious to the incongruity of what she was doing. She sat down solidly to get a better hold of him. Wetness soaked her stockings where the blood seeped in. She pushed him heavily to get him to sit up but his body slumped. She caught him as he toppled. Even limp as he was, the feel of his body leaning in close was instantly familiar. He fell back against the window. She wanted him to sit up, it was essential. The heavy pounding in her head made Annie shake.

  For a moment she rested back on her haunches, looking at Chow through a disoriented haze of grief. Gently, tenderly, she wiped the blood from his face and from in his hair. A clump came away in her hand. It was muscle and skull, wet and warmly congealed. His hair was twined in the thickest bit of it. About her the room watched quietly. She pushed Chow’s skull back into the bloody gaping hole, patched it with her fingers, patted it down and watched him hopefully.

  His body slid loosely sideways again. A fresh line of blood dragged down the wall. His skin was warm as she stroked his cheek and held his chin. She didn’t taste the acidic, richness of his blood as she licked her handkerchief and wiped, over and over, like a mother to a child, like she used to clean little Judy’s cheeks after a sugar bun. But the open bullet wound continued to weep liquid down his forehead. She breathed in one long, thirsty moment of hope, looking towards the empty doorway. Then she crawled in beside Chow, oblivious to the blood and smell, hooked his arm around her body, wrapped her leg over his, and closed her eyes. He still felt warm and soft. She buried close into the forgiving darkness, unable to do anything other than cling to him and moan.

  ‘Annie?’ A hand was on her shoulder. Annie was cold, she didn’t know how long she’d been in the room but her body shook uncontrollably and her limbs were screaming with the pain of immobility. She huddled closer to Chow.

  Arms reached down to help her. She let them take her weight.

  ‘Get up, it’s time to go.’

  She was relieved it was Natalia. Annie couldn’t think past Chow’s dead body to why Natalia was there helping her. It was enough to have her friend find her. But when they got to the staircase Annie remembered Chow’s jade ring and she couldn’t leave without it. Natalia was holding her firmly, but Annie twisted free and ran back to
the room, stopping abruptly at the sight of the Alsatian dog standing over the body, sniffing curiously. The animal must have slipped in to the room as they left. It looked up at her and growled low and deep. Annie didn’t move; her legs had petrified. For a long moment she wondered why she’d come back into the room, trying to find some logic in the thick haze of fear and shock and grief. But she couldn’t form any full thought in her mind, every snippet flew out of her head the moment she tried to think. Then she heard herself scream. The dog was snuffling around Chow’s body, licking up the mess of blood and brains.

  Natalia dragged her roughly from the room and down the stairs. Annie stumbled and fell, ripping her stockings on the nails in the floorboards and bruising her palms. Natalia picked her up and pushed her out into the lane. She gasped and retched uncontrollably. Then she was pushed into a car and they drove away from the alley, away from the boarding house, away from Chow.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Annie must have fainted. When she woke she was no longer in the car. She lay on a bed in a small, poorly lit room that smelt of a dusky, sweet vapour. Her stockings were ripped where she’d fallen down the stairs and there was dried blood smeared across her clothes, across her hands, everywhere. She gasped with horror at the sight, as though seeing it for the first time.

  Annie’s eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness of her surroundings. Rough matting covered the dirt floor and something rustled beneath it. There were small holes where an animal had chewed through the material. A murmur of activity from the other room made her sit up and listen; she heard a jazz tune playing. As her eyes adjusted she saw she was not alone. Someone was in the corner, though the girl was quiet. Her head slumped forward and her shoulders bunched together slackly where her arms were tied behind her. Annie didn’t dare move. The girl was unconscious, or worse. An air of defeat festered in the silence and curled about the legs of Annie’s bed like a creeping mist. Under her dress, her skin itched. She wanted to take it off and scratch away the dried blood and dirt. Instead, she concentrated on the single, high window above the bed, painted firmly shut. It was the same window she’d seen in the room where Chin Feng had taken her to Chow. She was back in that room.