In the beginning, Nina was slightly afraid of this wild gang, but eventually she realized that the guests needed her much more than she needed them. All of them were after a pretext to show off and look at others.
In no time, Nina had more than a hundred acquaintances but not one real friend amongst them. Maybe some were warm with interesting personalities, but everything was arranged so that serious topics were never discussed at Nina’s house. Jokes, flirting and rumors were the order of the day; no one ever revealed their real face. But that was how it was supposed to be: Nina didn’t want to become close to anyone. Friendship implies sincerity, and sincerity could cost her too much. Her nearest and dearest still consisted only of Jiří and the Aulmans. Lemoine, even though he knew her secret, didn’t count. He was the side of her life connected with port traders and liquor profiteers, which Nina wanted to be as far from as possible.
Towards Jiří, she felt a small glimmer of warmth, but mostly disdainful pity. Nina was grateful that his pretense gave her the opportunity to make money. She took care of him and tried to relieve him of all dealings with Lemoine and Aulman. But Jiří didn’t do anything to make her life easy.
“I know there’re some Czechs in Shanghai, and they’ll soon expose us,” he kept saying. Nina would grit her teeth.
She tried to keep her fears at bay. As soon as they made their first money, she went around flea markets and antique shops, searching for Venetian vases and Dutch silver ladles with mills embedded on bottoms. An abundance of beautiful things made her feel better; it was a symbol of wealth, a symbol that she could allow herself a lot of. The trick was to find a seller who didn’t know the value of his goods, and then after ages of tedious haggling, buy that Tiffany lamp or statuette by the famous sculptor Lanceray.
Nina’s house started to resemble her mansion on Grebeshok Hill— not by its look, everything was very different there, but by what it meant to her. She couldn’t stand darkness, and after sunset, turned on electrical lights in every room. She would read books until dawn, mostly in English.
Amah Qin, her housemaid, guessed Nina was tortured by nightmares. “Where is your husband, Missy?” she asked. “Evil spirits don’t let you sleep because you’re worried about your husband?”
Nina didn’t reply. Every day, she would visit the Aulmans. She saw how Tony would sit next to his Tamara and gently hold her hand under the table, entwining his fingers with hers, tightly wrapped in satin gloves.
All the first-class riches Nina enjoyed were paid for with a first-class loneliness that she wore on her shoulders like a beautiful fox collar, complete with lifeless head and swinging dead paws.
I’m tired of living on my own. With all her efforts, Nina tried to rid herself from this thought. She dissected it, hoping to find the deep-set reasons for her sadness. She used to have love, but it withered because she didn’t have enough money. Now she had money, but it didn’t bring her any joy.
Before, she could totally trust her husband and tell him anything. He would always protect her without asking for a paycheck. Often remorse crept into her heart over leaving Klim, but she would chase it away by imagining him rummaging the back streets of Shanghai with the rest of the bearded, lice-ridden Russian refugees. Her head told her that it wasn’t possible; Klim just wasn’t the type to go downhill, but she diligently tried to convince herself otherwise.
No, by all means, not Klim. What was done was done. She needed new love: a man who would be much cleverer, stronger and richer than her. A man she could feel secure with, as Tamara did, hiding behind Tony’s back.
3.
At the Aulman’s office was a photograph: Tony and Daniel Bernard at some meeting. Nina studied every detail of the photo. Mr. Bernard was pictured from the side; sun illuminated his straight nose and determined chin. He had a hardly noticeable smile line at the corner of his mouth, neatly cut sideburns and a white collar.
Standing beside Daniel, Tony seemed like Dr. Watson near Holmes. Even though Aulman was in the foreground, there was no doubt who the main character was.
“He’s one of the most intelligent people I know,” said Tony, noticing Nina’s interest.
Even though Daniel Bernard had left for Europe half a year ago, his name was still on people’s lips. Some admired his business skills and his charity efforts—Saint John’s University football team was funded with his money. Some were envious and tried hard to make up unconvincing flaws for him.
In the beginning, Nina didn’t pay much attention to all the gossip, but gradually she grew curious. Aulman often talked about his friend; they were both members of the same committee at the Shanghai Club. According to Tony, Daniel was not only the epitome of manliness, but also had incredible moral virtues.
“When China announced war on Germany and Austria-Hungary, all the nationals of those countries were ordered to be deported from Shanghai,” he told Nina. “But Daniel, at his own cost, completely equipped a transportable hospital for them. Please note that it was done by a Czech, a representative of the nation always oppressed by Germans.”
Amah Qin told Nina that destiny constantly sends signs to people, and the most important thing is to be able to recognize them. Everything was heading in one direction: Nina thought up the Czechoslovakian Consulate, and Daniel turned out to be a Czech. He went to Europe to give Nina some time to establish herself. He was a friend of Aulman, and Nina could find out information about him.
When Tony said that bandits captured Mr. Bernard, she didn’t hesitate, rushing to Jiří’s apartment. “Get ready. We’re going north to save your fellow countryman.”
The fake consul was terrified. “He’ll report us to the police!”
Nina hissed in reply, “Do what you’re told!”
Jiří obeyed, though during the entire train ride, hassled her with questions, “Why did you decide to go to Lincheng?”
She could never tell him that it was all due to a sunlit profile in a photo she fancied.
At the station she found chaos and filth. It was impossible to get any information on what was going on.
Nina came off her romantic high. Why did I come here? Why did I drag Jiří along? He needs a doctor to remove his plaster. There’s no Daniel—I imagined it all.
Soldiers brought a body of a young Chinese man stabbed to death by the bandits. His mother bellowed in grief, rolling on the ground. A crowd gathered, watching.
Local hotels were fully booked, so Nina and Jiří had to stay the night in a railway car. She was so ashamed by her stupid behavior she wanted to cry. And then she met Klim.
4.
Jiří rushed into the railway car to share his stunning news. He ran through the corridor, missing Nina’s compartment, then backtracked. The door wasn’t closed properly, and he could hear an unknown voice from inside. Jiří looked through the slit and froze.
Klim Rogov, Nina’s husband, was sitting on her bed; he wore a hat on the back of his head and suspenders on his bare body. He obviously had spent the night here.
“Where do you think your king of clubs is?” Klim asked, winking.
Nina was out of Jiří’s sight. “At the bottom?” she asked.
Klim triumphantly took a card from behind his ear. “That’s where!”
Sunlight fell on crumpled sheets. Klim was barefoot, disheveled and happy. Jiří’s hand went numb and started to itch under the plaster. He pulled the door, but it got stuck and wouldn’t open.
“Wait!” cried Nina.
The door slid open, and Jiří saw his tormentor in her poppy-flower dressing gown, her curly hair loose over her shoulders.
“What?” she demanded.
“Pan Daniel just arrived,” said Jiří not looking at her. “The bandits threw him out, and now he’s meeting Roy Andersen.”
CHAPTER 15
ESCAPE FROM BANDIT CAPTIVITY
1.
Nina was imagining what would happen if she got back together with Klim. What his feelings about her scam would be? What would Tamara and all
the others think of her if they learned she was married to a journalist from the North China Daily News?
“So, what’s your position at the paper?” Nina asked Klim.
He laughed. “I’m listed as a courier, but I hope to have a promotion soon.”
The blood emptied from Nina’s heart. Hopeless. Her parties were for respectable people. And who’ll be greeting them? A courier in a smoking- suit and a bow tie? No respectable guests—no money. And then, all over again: back to her misery and desperate fury against Klim.
She tried to conceal her disappointment, and when Jiří announced Daniel’s arrival, she asked Klim to leave. “I need to meet Mr. Bernard. I’m sorry, but you shouldn’t have come.”
Klim’s face tensed as if he was struggling to understand her.
Nina shuffled for her shoes under the table, stood up, opened her suitcase and started to fold clothes. Her chest went tight, every exhalation—a sob.
She didn’t need any Daniel Bernard. Klim was the same; he hadn’t changed at all—my dearest, my very own. But they couldn’t give each other what was necessary. That’s why he would always look at her with dark accusing eyes, and she would be subconsciously searching for a way out—for that other man.
“You came to me, got what you wanted…” Nina said abruptly. “Everyone is happy; it’s time to say goodbye.”
On purpose, she cut it short. Let Klim think she was stupid, let him blame her—this way it would be easier for him to live through all this. Why on earth did she call him in—disturb the old wounds?
Klim stood up, silently put on his shirt and tightened his suspenders. “I’ve already forgotten how seriously you take your precious self.” He grinned sardonically. “If I’d have told you I’m a deputy editor-in-chief or at least a columnist, we’d have had a totally different talk, right? But what if I’ve lied to you? Just to see your reaction?”
The door clanged shut behind him. Nina grasped her temples. Must not cry, not cry…
Klim will never understand that the whole problem was not her meanness. For a married couple to be happy, they should have similar dreams. But Nina dreamed of a secure castle and Klim was content with love in a tent.
2.
Daniel Bernard was so sun burned that his face resembled a red flaking mask. One of the captives happened to be a doctor who told the bandits it was leprosy. So, Daniel was chucked out.
He arrived at the train station riding a donkey, in the company of two Chinese soldiers who he’d met on his way back. He wore pajamas and a hand-made turban-hat; frayed peasant sandals clung to his feet.
His appearance caused a great stir, and he was immediately attended to by doctors. Roy Andersen visited him in person. Journalists with notepads and cameras crowded in front of his car’s windows.
Daniel was having lunch in the dining car surrounded by a bunch of elated officials. He told them that the Blue Express was attacked at night by about a hundred bandits. They stopped the engine and ordered everyone out in their pajamas and nightgowns. The luggage was pillaged.
Then the captives were marched into the mountains, but it turned out that three hundred hostages were too many to manage. A few of the passengers could barely walk—they didn’t even have shoes. Also, the captives had to be fed and guarded. Daniel heard the gang leader was thinking about letting the women and children go: they were the biggest liability.
Nina insisted that she and the Czechoslovakian Consul were present at the lunch with Mr. Bernard. She expected that when she saw him her heart would give her a special sign, that she would feel some chemistry between them. But nothing happened. She could not think of anything but Klim. Snippets of their talk were still buzzing in her head. An odd feeling took hold: she wanted to freeze her emotions to make herself less alive, less receptive.
My God, he’s ugly, Nina thought looking at Mr. Bernard and right away started to reassure herself: His burned face is not a tragedy, it will heal. Goodness gracious, am I persuading myself to fall in love with Mr. Bernard?
“We sent supplies to the captives—did you receive them?” Roy Andersen asked him.
Mr. Bernard shook his head. “The bandits threw out everything except the canned ham. They were afraid the provisions would be poisoned. There was one jeweler among us who always lamented, ‘What a life for a poor Jew? We need food, and kind Christians send us pork; we need hope, and they give us the Bible.’”
Everyone laughed except Nina. Suddenly she had a frightening thought: Maybe Klim had lied to her? His suit wasn’t bought on a courier’s wage. And even if it was true, Klim was a clever and talented man and wouldn’t run errands for long. Oh my God, what have I done?
She forced herself to turn to Mr. Bernard. “Do you think the same accident can happen again?”
For a moment a sunbeam accentuated his profile—the same as in the photo at the Aulman’s office.
“Of course it can,” Mr. Bernard replied. “I understand some of the Chinese dialect: the locals called the bandits patriots and fighters against occupants. They think it’s unfair all the riches flow into the claws of the foreign devils. Though the truth is that even if there were no foreigners left in China, the common people wouldn’t get anything anyway. But the central feeling here is hope. An Asian man will never become white, but what about becoming rich?”
“You don’t think much of China and the Chinese, do you?” asked Roy Andersen. “
I respect the Old Celestial Empire, but modern China has lost its magnificence. It blames foreigners for all its troubles and does nothing to stand on its own feet.”
“But what about Chinese nationalism?” Nina asked, surprised. “All the latest Chinese riots were the doings of patriots.”
“Those who trade guns, sew flags and sell newspapers shout loudest about patriotism. I’ll believe in it when the Chinese government opens patent agencies and begins supporting its own inventors, not the warlords. There is a clear connection between the wealth of a country and the respect to those who think up new ideas and developments. Until this happens, China will be struggling with disease, starvation, yearly floods and bullies from the Great Powers.”
“Hmm, that’s right,” nodded Roy Andersen. “At the moment, in China, they call patriots those who kill the most of their own countrymen from a neighboring province.”
“They’re trying to pull out of the historical trap as hard as they can,” Mr. Bernard said. “Rigid traditions, Eastern despotism and also the love to write pompous diagnoses without any understanding of the disease— that is the precise description of what’s going on here.”
Nina muffled her laugh. She was sure, when Mr. Bernard spoke of the pompous diagnoses he was not talking about the Chinese but about the white colonialists, including himself. But no one else had noticed his irony.
Someone from the outside shouted, “Mr. Bernard, please, a few words for the journalists!”
He stood up and winked at Nina as if there were a secret understanding between them.
“Have you sent a telegram to your wife that you’re all right?” asked Roy Andersen.
Nina was struck: Bernard has a wife?
“Yes, Edna is on her way to Shanghai,” he answered. “Thank you for your concern.”
3.
The train was going south. Jiří asked Klim to join him for a drink of whiskey in the dining car.
“I also hate her,” he said smiling sympathetically. “There is no hope now: no music, no Prague. They’ll hang me because of Nina.”
Klim frowned. “What are you talking about?”
Jiří started to laugh knocking his fingerless palm on a tablecloth. “Everything is bullshit: I’m not a consul and the papers are faked. The Aulmans use us; they’ll send us to prison, but they’ll be clean. Lemoine is also a scammer.”
Jiří told Klim how Nina forced him to pretend to be a Czechoslovakian Consul to fool the customs.
Klim looked blankly into his glass. God save you, my dearest. How far can your lying go? If you got into th
is scam then you’d better sit quietly, but instead you’re set on stealing Edna’s husband now. That’s what you have on your mind, isn’t it?
Klim dragged drunken Jiří out of the dining car into an empty smoking area and pressed him against the wall.
“I’m a genius—that’s the core of the confusion,” mumbled Jiří beating his chest with his plastered arm.
Klim opened a window to let warm wind rush onto Jiří’s face.
“I was seven years old. I listened to someone playing a cello in our town hall,” Jiří whispered. “My heart trembled and wanted to fly away with the music. Then all my life I tried to be like that musician, to make hearts fly away. It’s my nourishment, do you understand? It cannot be bought in a restaurant—only prepared by yourself.” He pressed his fingerless hand to his lips. “But now I can only be invited to somebody else’s feast.”
Klim watched rail tracks running past outside the window. In the Morse Code, zero is five dashes in a line. The tracks—endless melted zeros in two rows. Nina had a new Czech fancy—Pan Bernard. This redskin chief was sitting with her in the first-class compartment and talking about inflation rates in Germany: Now the Germans use banknotes to heat their houses—what a historical irony!
Like German money, Klim’s love cost nothing. Every day he printed it, signed it, and warned people to beware of forgeries. And then he saw it used for roll-ups. Nina had hissed, “You’ve got what you wanted.” He looked at her face, at one point, between her eyebrows. What was he hoping for? That she would run after him? As always, Nina would rather run him over.
The rail tracks were spreading across the hills. Where are you, daring bandits? Klim thought in despair. In this train there’re a lot of wealthy people. I can even join you…to raid and rob to my heart’s content. Or maybe it’s better to destroy everything—to bomb it all to hell.
CHAPTER 16
NANNY JOB
1.
White Shanghai Page 10