by Dawn Farnham
Cheng waited, hoping.
‘I apologise for my tone on the previous occasion. I don’t like to make threats, but I did not know you then. I cannot oblige you but if you step aside Hong has all the power now. He will certainly take over. Do you think?’ Cheng glanced at Zhen.
What fine sons he and Jia Wen would make. The man was magnificent. The body and the heart of a lion. He had five granddaughters in Riau but not yet a grandson. Cheng had no wish to take another wife. A concubine perhaps, for companionship, when he was settled here in Singapore, but no more wives, and the thought of such a family with this man as his son-in-law, gladdened his heart. He had given Tan a magnificent funeral. The whole town still spoke of it. He would honour him in life and in death. He gazed at Zhen with something like adoration.
‘The spirit farm too has been divided,’ Zhen said. ‘Tay will certainly take Johor. If you bid on the Singapore spirit farm, bid high. Once you have that you are in a better position to take over the kongsi as Tay will probably agree to keep out Hong.’
‘Yes, yes. Don’t worry. There is plenty of money in liquor, I can go high. Make Hong’s head spin.’
These old men and their rivalries. It was precisely this sort of thing that made him steer well clear of these syndicates. But it jogged his memory.
‘If I do this, I need a favour.’
‘I’m listening.’
‘I have a friend. He has fallen on hard times but I want you to stake him into the spirit syndicate. It would mean you advancing him credit which you could recoup against his share of liquor profits, but it would also mean he would be seen to be a trusted individual who has found favour with you. You are not his friend, it would carry more weight.’
‘Naturally. Your friend is mine.’
Cheng nodded to Zhen and made for the door. Then, as if a thought had just occurred to him, he turned back.
‘My daughter is eighteen. A woman, not a girl. She must have a man of course, before much longer. She has the passionate nature of the Javanese. She is the daughter of my Javanese concubine. Now that I am establishing myself in Singapore I would like her to have a husband.’
‘Yes,’ Zhen said. ‘I see. You taught her Chinese ways. It is a wonder. If you permit me to say so, she plays well, wonderfully well.’
‘Thank you. I am so new here, I don’t know the right people. Is there a matchmaker whom I should speak to?’
‘There is. Lao Liu is the most respected. I will ask him to contact you.’
‘Thank you, Master Zhen.’
Cheng bowed and departed.
Zhen went slowly back to his seat and put his head in his hands. The floating sounds of the zither came to him and he looked up.
22
The plan grew almost fully formed inside Alex’s head as he stood next to his uncle Robert at the font of St. Andrew’s Cathedral. He had not slept for two days and nights, his thoughts in a constant ferment. And then it came to him.
‘You are a diabolical and clever bastard, Alexander Manouk,’ he said to himself.
The baby, a four-day-old boy, was baptised, the mark of the cross made on his forehead and he was given the name Robert. His uncle’s nyai was not present. Naturally, as an unmarried woman, she was not in the church. Furthermore, Alex had been told, Shilah had suffered a great deal giving birth and was in bed with a fever, attended by Dr Little.
The ceremony and the Sunday service ended in the sparsely populated church. Charlotte held the baby in her arms and all she could think about was Lily and had to force herself to stop the tears she felt about to overwhelm her. Still no word from Zhen and with each day her heart grew colder and colder to him.
Now she wanted to leave, for what was there to stay for. The Queen would, by her reckoning, be here in two days. The time to take on new crew, load the holds, would be two or three more days. Within a week she would be on board and leave this misery behind her.
They walked back to Robert’s home on Queen Street, the baby now in the arms of his Malay ayah. Charlotte linked arms with Robert.
‘Shilah is unwell. Did you not do as I asked? I gave you the frankincense oils and the paste from the Malay bomoh.’
‘Dr. Little, well, he said, all that was stuff and nonsense and had a frightful row with Dr. Cowper who says the native medicines are efficacious.’
‘Did he? It is what all the women do here. Shilah would know that. Why did not a midwife come? Or why not use Dr. Cowper. He is a good man. He gives medicines to the poor and the missionary families for free.’
‘Dr. Little would not have a native midwife. Said the birthing women were no more than sorts of witchdoctors. And after the row with Cowper, he refused to talk to him.’
Charlotte shook her head.
‘They do nothing but fight and argue. In the meantime lives are lost.’
‘Surely Dr. Little knows what he’s doing,’ Robert said, looking aggrieved and distressed.
‘I had all my children in the Indies and the midwife always made me use smoke or oil. They birth in water too, which is quite different to here.’
‘Charlotte, for heaven’s sake, that’s enough. I can’t talk about such things. I can’t tell Little his job. Surely Shilah will be well.’
Charlotte frowned. She could not pursue this with Robert, for whom the subject was clearly embarrassing and distressing. She had no proof that the Malay and Indische midwives knew better than British doctors. But she suspected it. She regretted not attending on Shilah before now, but the birth had begun so suddenly in the middle of the night and by the morning she was delivered. Robert said it was all very fast and she was resting peacefully. So indeed she was when Charlotte had gone to the house the following evening.
Robert moved ahead and joined Arthur Graves, his new inspector from Penang. A small baptismal celebration had been prepared in his garden, to which many of Robert’s policemen had been invited.
Alexander joined his mother. ‘Mother, how are you?’
She put her arm through her son’s. ‘Grief is slow to part, son.’ She smiled at him. ‘But you have been wonderful. Thank you.’
‘Are we friends again?’ he said. He had not told her he had been to see Zhen. It was cruel to relate the man’s cold-heartedness.
‘Yes.’
‘Good, then I shall please you more. I have decided to bow to your wishes. I shall marry Amber and go with you to Batavia.’
Charlotte examined her son. He seemed genuine.
‘Well. Good.’ She hugged his arm and he smiled.
The plan, he thought, had begun. He intended to marry Amber as his mother wished. Amber was so besotted with him that he could do anything with her. Once she was pregnant, he would while away his time with the local women. Such dalliances were quite acceptable in the Indies where wealthy men had as many nyais as they could afford.
Then, when Lian was married to Ah Soon, he would make the offer to bring his friend to his estate where he would work with him at something Alex hadn’t thought about yet. She would come and then he would have her. Why would Ah Soon not agree? He would escape his father, have a life of luxury and opium, have women, as many as he wanted. And in return he, Alex, would have Lian, virginal Lian, for he did not intend Ah Soon to sleep with her. He would write to him this very afternoon.
‘There is a condition, however.’
She looked at him, wary.
‘On the day I am married to Amber, Brieswijk, all of it, will come to me.’
Charlotte gave a laugh of astonishment. ‘What a request. What do you know of running such an estate?’
‘I shall learn much faster if it is mine.’
Charlotte hardly knew what to answer. ‘But you need time, a year or two, to learn …’
‘Mother, I will be the master or I will not go. A man needs respect.’
She saw he was adamant and heard it in his voice. He waited whilst she reflected. He was almost certain she would give in. Adam was never going to inherit, and who else was there?
; ‘I shall draw a percentage of the profit whilst I live,’ she said.
He smiled. ‘Yes, of course, that is not an issue. But all the control, all the decisions will be mine and mine alone. I will not consult you unless I need your advice.’
‘And the company. It is still mine, you know. Nicolaus had charge of it, but it is mine.’
‘The company, Buitenzorg, the fleet, these you must decide about when you are there. What is profitable keep, what is failing sell. It is all too big anyway.’
She was slightly impressed with this attitude of authority. And he was right. The trading company of Manouk & Son, which was Tigran’s heritage, had been wealthy and well run when he had taken it over. He had added to it and by the time she had married him it was a vast enterprise with interests through the East Indies. Without him, it lacked the hard and steady hand it needed and had become too vast to be controlled by his sons, the best of whom had now died.
‘Well, well. I suppose this is a good thing. You are being sensible.’
‘Very. And you shall have grandchildren. As many as Amber can bear.’
Something in his tone sounded strange and she glanced at him. But she sensed a resolution, even a maturity in him that had not been there a few days ago. And he would relieve her and an aging Takouhi of the responsibility. To go to Brieswijk, to see Takouhi, see her son married, these were truly joys. Suddenly a life without this Zhen, so cold and untrustworthy, seemed perfectly possible.
‘We shall go to the lawyer and draw up the papers tomorrow,’ he said.
At the house, as the guests gathered in the garden, Charlotte went up the stairs to Shilah’s room. It was darkened and she pulled the curtain a little. She signalled the maid to leave and went to Shilah, taking up the water and the cloth and bathing her forehead. She was hot, feverish, shaking. Charlotte locked the door and went back to the bed. She pulled back the sheet and raised Shilah’s nightgown and pulled away the wadding holding the blood. It was smelly and she knew instantly.
She called for Amber, who came promptly. ‘Listen. She is very sick. Dr. Little is like all the men. He won’t listen. This is women’s work. You must go to my house and ask the maid for my small red leather case. Hurry.’
Amber was annoyed to be asked this. She wanted to be with Alexander but she obeyed and left the house.
Charlotte took away the bloody cloths and called the maid back. Together they washed her. Charlotte added the tea tree oil to the water. This was a Malay remedy she had learned for cleansing. The Javanese used turmeric and honey too but she did not have these at hand.
By the time Amber returned, she and the maid had cleaned away the foul-smelling blood and Charlotte took the frankincense oil and applied it all around the vaginal area and as far as she dared inside. Shilah had split and the wound was horrible to see, swollen and purple. The labour had been fast but, she could see, it had also been brutal. The maid put back clean cloths and they pulled the sheet over her.
‘Keep bathing her,’ she told the maid. ‘I will come back this evening.’
She leant over Shilah who had opened her eyes. She had been prescribed tincture of opium. The bottle stood on the bedside table. ‘Take heart. I’m here.’
Shilah closed her eyes.
She washed her hands and went downstairs. She sent a note to Dr. Cowper, for Dr. Little was so arrogant and greedy that she did not trust him.
Amber was next to Alexander, hanging on his every word. Alex ignored her and Charlotte frowned. Was this the right thing to do? He clearly did not love her.
But she joined them and for several hours the house was filled with the pleasures of the baby. Charlotte looked up at the window where Shilah lay. She had come to her four days after the birth. Was it in time?
Dr. Cowper arrived and went upstairs. When all the guests had departed and Robert had gone to see Shilah, she called Amber to her.
‘My dear, Alexander has asked for your hand in marriage.’
Amber’s face was so filled with light and joy that Charlotte’s heart went out to her niece.
‘Oh Aunt Charlotte. I am so happy.’ She rushed into Charlotte’s arms.
‘You must make your goodbyes. We shall all depart when the Queen is ready. Perhaps six or seven days from now. You will be married in Brieswijk. All your trousseau will be prepared over there as mine was.’
Amber left Charlotte and danced around the room. ‘Married at your estate. I have heard it is marvellous. Is it, Aunt?’
‘Most beautiful, and Alexander will take charge of it and you shall be its mistress as I was.’
Amber, suddenly serious, threw herself at Charlotte’s feet.
‘I have wanted Alex all my life. I will make him the best, most devoted wife. Thank you.’
She took Charlotte’s hands and kissed them. Charlotte was moved but a sudden shadow crossed her mind. Amber loved Alex but Alex did not love her.. She dismissed this thought. Love could blossom anywhere. And Brieswijk had made her love Tigran. Hand in hand the two women went to Shilah’s room.
23
‘The servants have told me of …’ She waved her hand. ‘Episodes.’
Zhen sat silently as his mother-in-law spoke.
‘The child can no longer stay there. A report has come of scandalous things.’
The old woman chewed her betel and let slip a long stream of spit into the pot. Zhen found this habit unpleasant. Noan had chewed sireh and it gave her breath an odour that he found repugnant. But it was a ritual with the nonya and they carried their splendid sireh sets of silver and tortoiseshell and gold when they visited their friends. Like his hair, Zhen took prodigiously good care of his teeth with herbal rinses and pastes made from his own compounds.
‘What things?’
‘A boy, the English boy, came to the house. It is the greatest scandal. From what I have heard, Lilin asked him to come and then she attacked him. It is too much. The whole family’s reputation will be ruined.’
Zhen showed nothing of the shock he felt. The English boy must be Ah Rex.
‘This is punishment. This child dying. A child of an abominable relationship.’
Zhen rose and the old woman looked away. He was the head of the household, but she had to have her say. The child with the English concubine, well, of course she had died. A child like that, made from this white woman. She remembered her own child. Noan, the sweetest, most obedient child any woman could have. She had died giving birth to his son. It had killed her husband and she, herself, had taken a long time to recover. But he had never married again. Never honoured the family with more grandsons.
Now her second daughter, Lilin, was insane and she wanted her here with her. Lian she wanted gone, married away as quickly as possible. The girl was hideous, disobedient, and a freak with her English education.
She waited but Zhen said nothing, staring out of the window.
He ignored her views on Lily. She was a beloved child and this superstitious and ignorant old woman’s ideas meant nothing to him. The news of Alex and Lian was shocking but not in the way his mother-in-law imagined. He knew now that Alex wanted Lian. In his youth he had intimated it and now he was seen hanging around her as if the years between had not happened. He knew everything about obsessive love. He had felt it for Xia Lou for twenty years. And it had not gone away, not for him. He knew there was bad feeling between them, but surely, when this obligation of his was over, surely they would find a way back to each other.
The widow Tan waited as the silence lengthened, chewing. A gob of red spittle landed with a plop in the porcelain spittoon.
He turned towards her. ‘Lilin will come here. She is beyond our reach and you must take care of her.’
She nodded, glad he had finally spoken.
‘Lian will come here also. Arrange the Cheo Thau ceremony. Lian and Ah Soon shall be wed as soon as possible.’
The widow Tan bowed to her son-in-law. He had made the correct decision. As he left the room she rose and called the second concubine. When he
r husband had died, this girl had been twenty and obligated to a life of servitude to her, the principal wife. She had done her best to make this girl’s life misery and she did not intend to stop now.
Zhen knew he had to speak to Xia Lou before something terrible happened. In the carriage ride back to town he thought hard and long how he could meet her. Now he knew he had to, he wanted to with all his heart. He had left her in anger and anguish and they had lost their child.
But he had never been more supervised. Wang had his men everywhere and since the public break with Xia Lou he did not want more interest in his private life. He called at Hong Kong Street and greeted Min. She smiled, happy to see him.
‘You feeling better?’ she said.
No-one was more familiar to him than Min. They were friends. He shared more with her than anyone, not Qian, not even Xia Lou. He and she had come together as lowly creatures in a hard world and had helped each other along the way. He went into her room and lay down on her bed.
‘Eyes everywhere. I’m not enjoying my job,’ he said and she grinned.
‘Hard to be adored,’ she said. ‘Ironfist Wang thinks the sun shines out of your arse.’
He laughed. ‘I need to meet her. Privately. How?’
Min nodded. She knew who he meant. ‘After that fight, won’t be easy. Not here. Over there somewhere. Kampong Glam?’
‘Plenty of Chinese living there.’
He remembered the house in Katong. Her brother’s cottage by the beach. The whole of the area had been opened up since they had been there last. It was no longer necessary to sail there. A road led to Katong. He would write and request a meeting there. He rose and kissed Min on her forehead.
He walked from Hong Kong Street down towards the harbour. He needed a clear head, and looking at his ships always reassured and buoyed him. He made his way to Johnstone’s Pier and gazed out.
There were his ships, two sail, two steam. Three bound for China, one for Semarang. Then he saw it. The black ship with white sails, the white flag with a black panther. It was the most distinctive ship he had ever seen. It was her ship, The Queen of the South. This ship rarely called at Singapore for it plied the local Indies trade. It came here only when its mistress called.