‘My dear, when do you want to talk about all this?’
Annie looked away. The fan’s slow turn marked every new, weary moment. She thought about Natalia’s men waiting for her. She didn’t know if her house in the Settlement was safe from the gang; she wondered if the gang had allowed Chin Feng to return to her village. But it all seemed pointless. Chow’s death eclipsed any future.
Ilma spoke again. ‘This must be terribly difficult for you, but you have trusted me in the past and I ask you to do it now. There are things you must consider. Please Annie, talk to me.’
The house boy had left a sprig of rosemary beside Annie’s bed to help with nausea. It slid in the small pot of water and hung precariously at the edge. Annie propped herself up against the pillows and tucked her legs into her chest, hugging her knees. She rubbed her arms, willing the bruises to disappear.
‘Now you are carrying a child, you cannot avoid the future; there must be a reckoning.’ Ilma’s weight made the bed sag towards her when she sat. Annie reached for the rosemary and held it to her nose. She swallowed hard.
‘The baby is not Alec’s. This is Chow’s unborn child.’
‘I wondered as much. Oh my poor, dear girl.’ Ilma leant over and stroked Annie’s brow. ‘Does he know?’
Annie’s feet were cold beneath the sheets. Her voice sounded foreign.
‘He is dead, Ilma. Chow was killed by the police.’ She heard her friend’s intake of breath but she couldn’t look at her. There would be too much sympathy and it was all Annie could do to keep speaking. ‘They thought he was with a criminal gang working for the Communists. He was, actually.’ She spoke slowly, as though understanding the story for the first time. ‘I had no idea,’ her voice trailed off. Ilma held her close and Annie didn’t resist the soft rocking embrace.
A week later, Annie sat propped in a chaise longue in her garden. The house boy was preparing lunch. Small pieces of ripped-up bread scattered across the back steps and Annie watched as a bird hopped amongst them, gobbling each bite quickly before any other birds joined him. She thought of that long ago afternoon when she let her bird escape and wondered if it had survived all the freedom that Shanghai offered.
‘Here you are. Now, I’ve finalised the ticket and you will meet Mr and Mrs Broadbent at the docks. They are a wonderful couple and you will be in good hands.’ Ilma came up to stand in front of Annie, blocking the view of the garden. She spoke briskly but it didn’t hide the uncertainty in her voice.
An outline of light framed her shape as Annie squinted up at her. ‘I’m really very comfortable with this decision. You’ve no need to worry.’
Ilma had arranged Annie’s passage home with Freemason friends who were returning to Australia. The two had talked about Annie staying in China; Ilma had even offered to help raise the baby. But Annie knew that would not be possible. Even though Natalia had left her alone, she could not stay. Chow’s death had closed the circle of Annie’s life in Shanghai.
‘Sit down, Ilma. You’re hovering again, and it makes me nervous.’ Annie looked out across her garden but it no longer felt like home. It was mostly in shade these days under the many fruit trees whose branches spread in a ramshackle cover. They had not borne fruit as Annie hoped, perhaps next year, but by then it would be someone else’s garden.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Karoola Private Hospital, New South Wales, November 1925
Waking in the countryside of her childhood was always going to be hard. Annie can see the family farm now as clearly as the day she left; the old wooden house transformed by the evening light. Weather-beaten and in need of paint even back then, the sun had licked away all the freshness and rain had made the damp above the door a permanent feature. The verandah was long round the sides, enclosed with wooden lattice to keep out the flies. From the front porch where she and Judy watched the sun go down, she could see across the paddocks to the line of trees where the thick bush scrub began, spotted with cows and hazy in the evening sunlight as a dusting of flies and evening bugs rose from the grass.
Annie lets the early morning breeze fill her room with shivering gusts just to inhale that freshness; it is still such a revelation after the gutter-hot Shanghai air. There is a knock at the door and a nurse hands over a neat stack of laundered clothes. She busies herself refolding the shirts before she puts them away. The Buddha wobbles briefly as she opens and shuts each drawer of her dresser.
What else has she missed of home? Only those who no longer exist; and even then, Annie realises, being home offers her nothing more comforting than a closeness to the memories of her mother and her sister.
She closes the window. Today it will gust and billow outside if the early morning breeze keeps up, and rain will follow; that glorious pounding of water on earth that makes you shout to be heard.
It rained that hard the day of her mother’s wake. She remembers the sound of it tumbling upon the roof as she occupied herself with supplying cups of tea or whisky, or both mixed together, to the small gathering of their family friends. No one saw her flinch when a teacup slipped through her fingers to the floor. She just brought out the broom and swept away the broken china, one less of her mother’s to wash up in the morning. She sent her younger sister to bed early that day, so she didn’t have to watch their father crumple with grief and whisky. Then Annie crept into Judy’s bed when everyone had left, and held her warm sleeping body, slotting herself into the curve of her sister’s back and legs, as she tried to suffocate her own sadness.
She never understood why people thought it would be a comfort to give her sentimental keepsakes after their mother died; the lace-edged card with a black silhouette of her mother’s face, or the returned handkerchief her mother sewed for a neighbour as a present one year. Annie hid these things in a drawer in the kitchen, too afraid to open it and be reminded of those unbearable weeks of mourning.
She took over the job of looking after her sister once their mother died. In the beginning she held her breath when Judy needed a hug, so strong was the smell of their mother in the child’s hair. But through the years, Annie learnt to ignore the ache in her chest and be strong. She loved Judy fiercely; proud that only she could make things right for her little sister, whether it was a tickle to stop the tears or an hour-long chat about her day. It was a job she loved. Those long years of hard work flew by as Annie watched her sister grow up. It was as though all the richness of their lush, river-bound farm was sucked up by Judy. Annie saw it in her bronzed skin and flushed cheeks, in the way she ran barefoot across the paddock to catch sight of the nesting owls in the crooked gum, turning to wave in huge skyward sweeps to Annie watching from the kitchen window. Annie knew Judy’s contentment was due to her, which is why she never forgave herself that one moment of looking the wrong way.
Annie picks up the Buddha statue and holds it to her face, breathing in the rich smell of scented wood. He is her keepsake now, her reminder. In the bungalow in Shanghai the house boy would be rolling out the winter rugs in readiness for the colder months. The Yangtze tides would be too low by now to navigate very far north so the Club would be even busier than usual.
Outside, a group of women dash from a bus in the drive for cover from the first dollops of rain. They shake the water off their hats, laughing with the exhilaration of running, as they wait for the doors to open. Annie sees her visitor, Molly Lowe, amongst them. She wasn’t sure Molly would come today but the sight of her is a pleasant surprise. At least Annie can distract herself with conversation and Molly does make her laugh. She has a dry humour that borders on rudeness, which any other patient would find offensive. But Annie knows Molly well enough to hear the pain beneath her sarcasm; an ache that is deserving of compassion. Molly told Annie she couldn’t have children. Annie sensed a gritty sadness beneath the surface of Molly’s confession but she said nothing further and Annie didn’t pry.
In the entrance hall, Molly busily folds her raincoat into a neat bundle.
‘I was worried the weather migh
t have put you off visiting today.’ Annie hugs her friend through the damp feel of her loose hair.
‘Of course I’m here. Aren’t we childhood friends who have some catching up to do?’
‘Thank you, Molly; your visits are the highlight of my week.’
‘They make my week extra special too. Now, let’s move through to the lounge or we’ll both catch a cold in this damp and they won’t let me visit again if I make you sicker than when you arrived!’ Molly’s chuckle cuts through Annie’s thoughts and as she leads the way to a spot in a corner of the communal lounge room she considers her friend. Here is a generous, hard-working woman who laughs more than she complains. She really does look forward to seeing Molly. Today her friend pulls out a coconut slice, sweet and juicy.
‘I didn’t bake this,’ she explains. ‘I’m good in the shop, not so good in my own kitchen. Don’t laugh, Annie, I know a poor cook in a bakery is an oddity but then, Mr Lowe never married me for my cooking. I always thought I’d have a daughter to help me, maybe even someone who enjoyed baking. But there you go, wasn’t to be. Poor Mr Lowe thought he’d be passing the business on to a son. His cousin arrived from Victoria last week. They say it’s a family visit, but I can see he’s eyeing up the bakery for his own boy. What a cheek. Mind you, we’ve no son to pass the business onto so perhaps we should consider it; always got to see the positive.’
Molly licks her fingers and brushes coconut flecks off her skirt. Annie realises Molly will always be ‘childless Mrs Lowe’ to the world, and her future will forever be defined by that one fact. There’s no escape for Molly.
‘That’s decades away, Molly. Goodness me, I believe you can sell that business for good money and set yourselves up very nicely. Don’t be bamboozled by your husband’s cousin.’
Molly pats Annie’s knee; it’s a motherly gesture and reminds Annie of her dear friend Ilma. ‘What’s wrong?’ Molly slides forward in her chair as Annie pulls away.
‘It’s been a long time since I felt genuine affection; the nurses don’t often wrap you in a hug, more the cod liver oil approach. Now, tell me some news of the outside world, please.’
‘Nothing really to share, Annie, business is good. The local minister cleaned up his spare room to rent it out. Always the same guests who claim they’re spending the night to be closer to God, just coincidence the pub is two doors down from church. That’s one way to increase your Sunday congregation! But I haven’t come here to talk about my own boring life. How are you feeling?’
‘One day at a time is my approach. I’m as well as can be expected, a bit uncomfortable, that’s all.’
‘Have you thought about the future, Annie? What are you going to do?’
‘The only thing I know: get up and keep going. I can’t plan more than that Molly. It might sound unreasonable to you, but at least I’ve only got myself to worry about, it’s much easier than considering a future with a husband and a business, a home as well. I don’t have any of those things.’
‘Have you thought any further about seeing your father? I know how hard it is for you but he’s family, the only family you have it seems to me, and that’s not something to dismiss.’
‘You’re my family Molly, you and this godforsaken hospital.’
‘Now I know you’re joking. Of course you are family to me, Annie, and very welcome at our home for as long as you would like. I’d be excited to have some female company.’
‘What would Mr Lowe have to say I wonder?’
‘You leave him to me, there’s ways to get around a man, don’t worry about that!’
‘I have absolute faith in your abilities. I’m lucky to have such a kind and thoughtful friend, even after I left you behind when I ran away.’
‘We both had dreams, Annie. I chose to stay, but I didn’t begrudge you leaving.’
‘It all seems far too impulsive now.’
‘Are you disappointed things turned out this way? We all want a husband and a home to go to.’
‘I thought I did, for quite a long time I tried that life. But something in me wouldn’t settle.’
‘Don’t blame yourself; it takes two people to make a marriage work.’
‘You are a modern thinker, Molly. What does Mr Lowe say when you talk like that?’
‘I’d never talk to Mr Lowe like this! I’m happy to be his wife and take care of him. Home and husband is enough for me, I am settled, unlike you. But I do enjoy thinking about your future, a woman on her own.’
An hour later, the bus horn sounds to tell them that its time the visitors return to town. Molly hovers a moment as she puts on her coat. She leans in close to Annie and speaks softly.
‘It wasn’t your fault, Annie; tragedy can be horribly random and you suffered as much as your father. Go and see him, please.’ She squeezes Annie’s arm with encouragement and leaves before Annie has time to reply.
The corridor is quiet after the visitors depart and the hospital’s main door closes. Inside reverts to the familiar hush of the nurses’ silent faith, behind which everyone is hidden.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
December 1925
The hospital is quiet; most of the patients have left on a day trip into town to shop for small Christmas presents. But Annie turned down the invitation, choosing instead to wander the corridors and roam through the lounge in self-imposed isolation. There is no one for whom she wants to buy a gift. She doesn’t expect to receive any either, and that suits Annie. She remembers the general store on Rudder Street where her father bought tobacco—her nose came up to the counter just high enough to see the rolling forearms of Mrs Hewitt as she stuffed the leaves into a pouch. The possibility of seeing her father in town makes Annie sick with nerves. She presses a hand to her throat and feels the throb of her pulse.
Her father’s farm is only a short drive from Karoola, close enough to visit. She remembers his favourite motorbike, the second-hand Invincible JAP, strong and lean, like those racing dogs stretching out to catch a rabbit. Two twist grips (throttle on the right, ignition on the left), foot clutch, foot brake and hand change, plenty to fiddle with while riding. He let her ride it on her eighteenth birthday, as a treat.
She flew straight up the fence line of the home paddock, then moved slowly through the grass and dirt of the cow yards, one foot on the ground, careful not to lose her balance. Somewhere behind, her father stood watching and waiting. Don’t dare look back, she told herself as the bike wobbled, challenging her concentration. She bent her head low to the metal dome and let the bike roar, feeling the speed by the wind that caught at her mouth and whipped the saliva from the edges of her smile.
Cows shied and stumbled away as she rode too close to the fence. Ahead, her father’s big hands waved. It was exhilarating, terrifying and fast as hell. The corner came up quickly. Her turn was overzealous. She fell sideways, and lay listening to the engine growling beside her as the bike tipped into the grass.
Her father’s worried face loomed close as she grabbed his outstretched hand and hauled herself up.
‘That’ll do for today, missy.’ The motorbike was as special as his prized bull and it made her feel special too. She’d left it to rust, abandoned in Sydney.
A sound from the hallway makes Annie look towards the door. Surely no one is back so soon? Molly rushes in the moment Annie turns the handle. Her face is flushed and blotchy from crying and she falls into Annie’s arms.
‘My dear, what on earth has happened? What are you doing here?’ Annie helps Molly to a lounge chair and pulls one closer for herself, holding onto her friend’s knees as though she will slide off the chair at any moment.
Molly wipes her face, crushing a cotton handkerchief into her eyes and nose. She breathes unevenly, sucking air quickly in a jagged, messy rhythm and then slowly breathing out again. Annie waits while Molly regains some control.
‘It’s not me after all, it’s him, Annie. All this time I thought I was the failure, I was to blame, and he never said a word. But it’s him that’s
got the problem, Mr Herbie Lowe himself.’
‘I don’t understand. What problem? What is this about?’ Annie strokes her friend’s hands as she speaks.
‘He can’t have children, it’s his fault.’ Annie falls back into her chair at the anger in Molly’s voice.
‘He’s the barren one, not me,’ Molly screams the words out into the empty room. Her hot breath rushes into Annie’s face. ‘All this time, keeping it quiet while I cried and apologised.’ She talks quietly now, crying again.
‘My poor, dear friend,’ Annie speaks softly too. ‘How did you find out?’
‘He told me, finally. Said he couldn’t bear to see me so unhappy, couldn’t bear keeping the secret, knowing it was hurting me.’
‘It’s all very well to be caring now, what about these past years? How long has he known?’
‘It was a childhood illness that did it to him; he was only a young boy. He said he thought I wouldn’t marry him if he’d told me the truth back then, and he couldn’t bear to lose me.’
‘What’s changed now I say? The stakes are still the same.’
‘No, they are not; he knows I love him. I could never leave him now.’
‘Don’t be a fool, Molly. You can divorce the cad and find a man who wants children as much as you. It may not be the norm, but I can tell you it will mean a happier future and that’s the most important thing, your happiness. Come and let’s walk in the garden.’
For Annie, the limitless sky and familiar bird sounds in Karoola’s small patch of grass give her the courage to consider alternate endings to her own predicament and she hopes the fresh surroundings might offer the same to Molly. They are not so different, she surmises; both struggling to define themselves in a world where motherhood, marriage and home are all that matters.
Molly shakes her head at Annie’s outstretched hand and remains seated as she speaks. ‘That’s just the thing, Herbie wants children as much as I do; I know that he’s torn up about this just like me. We both wish for our own little family. I could never leave him, especially now he’s told the truth. We’re stuck with each other.’
The Shanghai Wife Page 22