by Dawn Farnham
Alex waited. A light moved behind the shutters here and there. Servants he guessed. He watched as Ah Soon went through this ritual, rushed through the alley to the back door, head covered. The door closed, the lights one by one were extinguished. At eleven o’clock the back door opened and he slipped inside.
‘Does she know?’
‘No. You said don’t tell her and I haven’t.’
‘Where will you be?’
‘There is a small closet attached to the bedroom. I’ll have a pipe and sleep there. When it’s time come and get me.’
Two young maids were snoring lightly in the kitchen. Ah Soon took him to the closet and opened the door to the bedroom. Alex closed the closet door. The bedroom was lit with a low lamp. The bed was Chinese, a square of elaborately carved wood from which silver decorations and heavy embroideries hung. The shutter to the street stood ajar allowing a small breeze to enter.
He went forward and saw her. She was sleeping in white pyjamas, her black hair spread about the embroidered pillow.
This was her wedding night and he intended it to be the most wonderful night of her life. He undressed and lay next to her. She must have sensed movement for she turned suddenly and slapped out. ‘Ah Soon, no.’
Alex took her in his arms, still fighting and then she realised. He kissed her lips and ran his hands through her hair. She looked around, dazed.
‘Where is Ah Soon?’
‘In the closet. So be quiet.’
She laughed lightly. It was funny to think of Ah Soon spending his wedding night in the closet but then she grew alarmed. ‘You should not be here. Are you insane? We agreed.’
‘I don’t care what we agreed. I can’t wait. We are here for six weeks more and I can’t wait.’
She thrilled to this recklessness. He had waited and waited, risked discovery and all for her. She heard the urgency in his voice and felt him grow hard against her leg and looked down. She had seen the dirty pictures, but what could prepare you for this? She gazed at him and put her hand to him.
‘Ah,’ he sighed.
‘You feel wonderful,’ she whispered.
He smiled and kissed her lips lightly.
He took off her pyjama top and put his lips to hers in a deep kiss, pulling her breasts against his chest. She returned the kiss, feeling the excitement growing inside her so strong she shivered.
He felt it and held her tight, putting his lips to her ear. She felt like silk and the increasing passion he felt was as natural as breathing.
She held him tight, loving the feel of his skin on hers then lifted her face and put her mouth to his.
He ran his hand under the pyjamas, between her legs and she looked down, feeling the trembling of her body and the violence of her emotion as his fingers touched her.
‘Don’t be frightened. I won’t hurt you. You will love this.’ He put his mouth to her breast. She let out a low moan and ran her hands over his back, gripping him tight. She had no fear and abandoned herself utterly to this sensation.
28
‘Wake up, sleepy-head.’
Alex turned over and tried to ignore the voice. He was dreaming of Lian. They had made love all night. He couldn’t get enough of her. She had bled a little the first time and she made sure it was on the pyjamas. She was not shy and silly but bold and lusty, wanting him as he wanted her. In every thought they were complicit, as if they were one. It made him light-headed and insane for her.
‘They take it away,’ she said, her lips to his neck, her body tight against his, as she recovered her wits from the intensity of this incredible experience. ‘And test it with lime. They say that lime will wash away all blood but a virgin’s blood.’
He kissed her and turned on his back, carrying her with him, her hair cascading around his face. ‘Sounds like nonsense to me. But no matter. It’s virgin’s blood all right. Shall we do it again?’
‘Alex, wake up.’
He groaned and turned over. It was Amber. He couldn’t believe it. He was stark naked and the day wasn’t yet up. He must have been asleep only two hours. He grabbed a sheet and covered himself. How long had she been standing there?
‘What are you doing?’
‘Can I come in to bed with you?’
Alex sat up, pulling the sheet about his body, like a scandalised virgin. ‘No, are you mad? Get out.’
For answer Amber dropped her nightgown to the floor, exposing her naked body, climbed onto the bed and threw herself against him, raining kisses on his neck, gripping him as if her life depended on it.
‘Alex, please. Please. Why wait? You did it with those other women.’
Alex pushed her away and rose, the sheet about his lower limbs. ‘Get dressed. Stop acting like a complete whore. I’m tired.’
Amber looked at him in shock, burst into tears, then grabbed her nightgown and flew out of the room. He locked the door and went back to bed.
* * *
He woke at mid-day, bathed and went downstairs. He took up the red invitation to the reception for Lian and Ah Soon and strolled into the dining room.
‘Well, here you are,’ Charlotte said, examining her son. He had returned home very late but she did not scold him. In towns like these young men just did these things but she was concerned nevertheless.
‘Keep yourself clean,’ she said, and gave him a piercing gaze.
‘Mother,’ he said, actually shocked. ‘I was playing billiards and drinking a little too much.’
She gazed at him a moment longer then went back to her lunch.
The servant brought curry and rice, a roast chicken and vegetables and a large plate of fruit. He began forking food onto his plate. ‘God, I’m starving,’ he said.
Charlotte contemplated him.
‘Have you seen Amber this morning?’ he said between mouthfuls.
‘Yes, she went back to Robert’s. She said she’d rather be there at the moment.’
Alex nodded, relieved. He tapped the invitation on the table. He wanted to go to this. He wanted to look at her knowing she was his, that the wedding night had been his, to have that secret between them in the face of all her family.
‘This reception, I should like to go. Congratulate Ah Soon you know. Will you come?’
‘No,’ Charlotte said and placed her knife and fork in the plate.
‘Mother, because of Zhen?’
‘I can’t understand even receiving this. He knows how I feel about Lian marrying Ah Soon.’
‘You don’t approve.’
‘No, I do not. The girl came here scared witless but he is immune to my appeals. He has become as cold-hearted as a lizard.’
‘Do you dislike him, Mama?’
Charlotte shook her head and drank the glass of water at her side. His child was here in her belly and she had no answer to that. Alex saw her distress.
‘Sorry, Mama. May I go? I am Ah Soon’s oldest friend.’
‘Yes, go,’ she said and rose.
He picked up the paper, finished his lunch and decided he needed to sort Amber out once and for all.
He walked to her house. Raja let him in and he went into the day room. His uncle was out, returned to the police station. Several gang fights had broken out in the town, so he had read, and a spate of burglaries in Chinese houses. The baby was crying somewhere in the house.
Amber came into the room, her face shut down, resentful. He went to the door, locked it and came back to her swiftly. He put his two hands to her bodice and ripped it, the tearing sound shooting like gunshot through the room. Amber gasped. Alex dropped his mouth to her exposed bosom, biting and gripping her roughly, twisting her nipples. She cried out, desperately trying to pull his hands away.
He pulled her hands behind her back, holding her tight and hard, then with the other pulled up her dress and ran his hand between her legs, through the pantelletes and into her so hard she let out a cry of anguish. He dropped his hand and pushed her away. She was in disarray, half naked and trembling.
‘Lik
e this? Is this what you want? To be treated like a whore?’
She whimpered and pulled the tatters of her bodice over herself.
He pulled her towards the sofa and took her on his lap. ‘Or this?’
He released her hand from the bodice and gently touched her, moving his tongue around her breasts, sucking lightly on the nipple, kissing her neck. Her head fell back. He stopped.
‘Which one, Amber?’
‘Oh Alex, I’m sorry.’
He remained hard-eyed. ‘Which one?’
‘This, this.’
She put her arms around his neck and dropped her head against his shoulder. He allowed this for a minute, stroking her hair. Then he put her off his lap and stood. ‘Then you will not act like a whore, do you understand?’
She dropped her eyes.
‘You will behave like a lady. And when I choose, after we are married, when I choose, then I will come to you. As little or as often as I like. No man wants a whore for a wife.’
She looked at him with eyes of total adoration.
‘Do you understand, Amber? Or do you want to break our engagement? Now is the time.’
She came to him and fell at his feet. She took his hand and pressed it to her lips. ‘No, no. I want to marry you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’
He walked to the door, unlocked it and left the room.
29
She did not come to the reception and Zhen waited until all the foreigners had left. Alex had come and presented his congratulations in the manner required. Zhen could see clearly what perhaps no-one else could. His daughter never once looked up, as ritual decreed. Her eyes stayed resolutely on the floor as the guests passed by murmuring congratulations. But Alex’s eyes ate her up. He couldn’t help himself.
The next morning Zhen spoke to Wang. He nodded and departed. Ten minutes later Zhen walked across the footbridge unrecognisable as the wealthy towkay. He was dressed in coolie trousers and an open jacket, with a straw sunhat on his head and sandals on his feet. He walked quickly along the padang to the great banyan tree by the creek. There Wang was waiting with the driver of his covered gharry and Zhen slipped inside.
Zhen knew Wang well enough now to know he would do anything for him. Wang was a romantic. He believed the myths of the Triads with their warrior ethics of strength and undying loyalty. To him, Zhen was Lui Bei and he, Wang, was Zhang Fei, undying companions of Guan Di, a sworn brotherhood sprung complete from the pages of the Romance of the Three Kingdoms.
The gharry pulled up under the porte-cochère. Zhen leapt down and rang the bell. Malik opened the door. He gave a look of horror at the sight on the doorstep.
‘Back entrance,’ he said and made to shut the door. The coolie put his foot against it and gave it a shove.
‘Where is your mistress?’
Malik was about to shout when he recognised the voice and his mouth dropped open in surprise. Zhen took off his hat and Malik, intimidated by his tone and shocked at his dress, pointed upstairs. Zhen took the stairs two at a time and opened her bedroom door.
She was lying on the bed in semi-obscurity. He went to the shutters and opened them.
‘I need to talk to you.’
She sat up, pulling her robe around her. She stared at him, looking him up and down. He was dressed the way she had met him for the first time in her life. His jacket swung open over his chest, the hard muscles, the tan skin, the tattoo of Guan Di. Ordinarily she might have been thrilled to see him like this but today she felt too sick to even care and filled with anger at him.
‘I haven’t seen you for months. Why are you dressed like this?’
‘Never mind.’
She felt nauseous. The morning sickness was strong and she still concealed it from everyone. ‘Go away.’
He ignored her. ‘Get dressed. You’re going for a ride. Alone. To Katong. I will meet you at the cottage in one hour.’
‘Get out.’ She lay back on the bed in an attempt to stop the nausea. He frowned. She was pale and wan.
‘Are you sick?’ he said, suddenly worried.
‘What do you care?’
He came towards her and she sat up and put her feet to the floor.
‘Shut up,’ she said, ‘and get out.’ Her anger was real and deep. ‘Get out. I had no right to shame you in Chinatown and you have no right any more to be here.’
He regretted his sudden incursion and his absence from her. He regretted everything. ‘I’m sorry, Xia Lou.’
‘Go away,’ she said and walked to the closet.
He wanted to go to her but something in her attitude gave him pause. And he dared not stay longer. ‘ Something is going on between Lian and Alex. Please come.’ He left the room and raced down the stairs.
Charlotte stared after him. What could he mean? She went into the closet and threw up. The new maid she had engaged was Malay. She never wanted a Chinese servant in this house ever again. Thank goodness, the Malay maid knew nothing of her and disposed of everything without a thought. She lay back down on the bed and waited. The nausea would pass. She drank some tea and felt better. The nausea was worse in the morning and gradually faded in the day, coming back with a vengeance in the evening. It had never been like this. She had never felt so ill and she thought it was, perhaps, about her age.
Finally it passed. She dressed and arranged a hat to protect her from the sun. She had to go and not only to find out why he had come to her in such an extraordinary manner. She wanted to have it out with him. All this. All the pain about Lily.
She called for her carriage and took off quietly along North Bridge Road. She crossed the Rochor and then the Kallang on the new iron bridge, passing the gangs of Indian prisoners digging ditches and repairing the roads. She turned down the road which had been made for the fort Collyer had mapped out at Tanjong Rhu but which had been abandoned, as all his constructions had suddenly met with resistance even in India, where they were judged too extravagant and unnecessary. This road led to the dirt track which led to the cottage by the beach Robert had constructed years ago. He had built two more further along the coast but this had been the first.
She hadn’t been here in years and neither, by the look of it, had anyone else. The wooden verandah was eaten away by white ants and sagged into the sand. The roof had fallen in. She pulled the horse to a halt and tied it where it could eat the grass.
He appeared out of nowhere.
‘It’s falling apart,’ he said.
She turned to look at him. ‘A metaphor for our lives.’
He frowned, not understanding her English. The paleness of her skin had gone. She looked flushed from the ride, her cheeks pink. Her hair was in vague disarray, just as he loved her, all mussed up from him. He had difficulty not putting his hands on her.
‘What do you want?’ she said, her voice hard and cold.
He turned and looked out, through the leaning coconut palms, out to the glints of the sea. At this hour it had no colour, only brilliance.
‘Something is going on between Lian and Alex,’ he said.
She ignored him, the urgency of what she wanted to say overwhelmed her. ‘You do not say sorry?’
He turned around.
‘For Lily? For not coming to me?’
‘I mourned Lily. I mourned her and prayed for her. I could not come to you.’
‘We lost our child and you could not come to me. What kind of thing are you?’ She raised her hand. She had begun to feel sick again and wanted to stop it. ‘Never mind. What is it you want to say about Alex?’
He gazed at her. It was taking strength for her to be here. He saw it and felt terribly sorry. He could not explain about Lily and he did not wish to upset her further.
‘He is in love with Lian. I know it. I recognise it.’
Charlotte shook her head. He had made no reaction to her condemnation of him. That he no longer cared was blatantly obvious. She collected herself and a note of steel entered her tone. The nausea abated.
‘I don’t understand. Li
an is married, is she not? As you decreed in your vast wisdom. Condemned to a life of misery with Ah Soon.’
‘It does not change the fact that Alex is in love with her. And they are sister and brother.’
‘Alex will be married to Amber in Batavia. My ship will return in five weeks and we shall all depart. Then whoever loves whomsoever will not matter one whit for we shall all never see each other again.’
Zhen’s English was good but this speech defeated him. So he ignored it.
‘You must tell him.’
Charlotte turned, sick of it all, and walked back to her carriage.
He took her arm and turned her towards him. She looked at his hand on her arm as if he was a cockroach whose filthy passage had been left on her dress. He dropped his hand. He had not expected her to genuinely hate him and he felt it in his gut, and a wave of panic overtook him which he had difficulty controlling. Only the knowledge of Wang in the trees stopped him from beseeching her.
‘So much has happened,’ he said softly. ‘But it will soon end. My obligations will soon end. I’ll be free again. Will you come back, Xia Lou? I should like …’
She turned. ‘I don’t care,’ she said and got into the carriage. ‘I will not tell Alex anything. We will depart and he will never see Lian again.’ She picked up the reins. ‘And I will never see you.’
She clicked the horse into movement. Wang emerged from the trees ready for some idiotic act of heroic loyalty to his lord. Zhen signalled to him to leave her.
She drove the horse forward, fast, and a great ball of dust spat from her wheels.
30
The Malay police peon turned as he heard the blood-curdling cry suddenly cut short. He raced down South Bridge Road and turned into Cross Street. He saw the man lying in a pool of blood. Several shopkeepers had attacked the two thugs brandishing knives, slashing and running as they went.
He stopped in his tracks. At least ten men, armed with clubs and staves, were setting about each other. They didn’t pay him enough. He blew his whistle which might bring another peon but had no effect on the gang fight taking place in the middle of the street. A great crowd had gathered and all commerce ceased. An Indian driver pulled his bullocks to a halt, slipped a quid of sireh in his mouth and sat, waiting and chewing, spewing blood red spittle onto the dusty ground from time to time.