Will stands to leave.
“No, you stay,” Regina orders. “Reggie can do whatever he wants. I really don’t give a fig anymore. I have things I want to tell you, Will, because I think you deserve to know.”
“Regina, I don’t think Will . . .”
“Reggie! ”
Reggie Arbogast looks at Will helplessly as if to say, See what I am dealing with? and then leaves. Will looks longingly at the door.
“Regina?”
“Will, you were one of the ones I had high hopes for when you arrived,” she said, like the high priestess of society she had always styled herself to be. “Reggie knew about you from work and always spoke so highly of you. I wanted to have you to dinner many times.” Regina Arbogast’s dinner parties had been sought-after invitations in Hong Kong for their lavish style, elaborate themes, and restrictive guest lists, for those who had cared about such things.
Trudy had laughed at everything Regina did. “So fussy! So pretentious!” she said. “You know, she was a Manchester shopgirl before she married Reggie. All of her airs are very recent indeed. I heard he used to be a very nice man before he met her.”
“That’s very good of you, Regina.”
“But then you took up with that Liang woman. Did you know about her past? I felt she got her claws into you right away. She knows what she’s doing, that’s for sure, that one. She took you off the market before anyone else even knew you had arrived. You know what they call her, don’t you? The queen of Hong Kong!” She laughs. “It’s so preposterous ! With her queer half-breed customs and way of thinking she is above everything. Forgive me but she is insufferable. I suppose love makes you blind.”
Will doesn’t know why Regina is talking to him as if he were one of her fellow society matrons and they were gossiping over tea at the Peninsula.
“I don’t know that this is the right time or place for this,” he starts.
“Listen. I have a point. You think I don’t but I do.” Regina Arbogast leans forward. “Reggie met with the governor when he arrived. Governor Young had a secret meeting the first week. The day of the Tin Hat Ball. He wanted to get to know some key people in the colony and ask their advice. He was new to the colony and didn’t know a thing about how it ran. He knew the war was getting close to Hong Kong but he didn’t want it to get out and alarm the general public, the nincompoop. So, at this meeting . . .” Regina sits back. “Do I have your attention now?
Will looks at her, exasperated and compelled at the same time. “Regina.”
Satisfied, she leans over again. “At this meeting it was discussed, among other things, what was to happen to the Crown art collection at the governor’s mansion, which, as you might know, contains some priceless pieces, mostly Chinese antiquities that are sensitive because the Chinese think they were stolen, ancient texts and vases and things like that that were excavated. Reggie said they were centuries old, some of them. It was decided that the collection would be hidden away and the location would be divulged to three people in three very different situations so that no matter what happened, at least one would . . . survive.”
Despite himself, Will is listening, intrigued.
“And, of course, Reggie was one of the three.” Regina permits herself a smile of congratulations. “And he told me about it. But he hasn’t told me where. Or who the others were.” Her smile disappears. “He’s always been irritatingly honorable about that sort of stuff. He values country over anything, something bred into him by his family. I really think he would give me up if it came to that. Maybe even the children. I suppose he was a good choice, then.”
She gets up off the bed and shuffles toward the door.
“I don’t have any proper shoes here, and no one has been able to procure any for me. Do you know anyone? All I have are these terrible slippers that look like they belong in a fish market.”
“Regina, why did you tell me this? ”
She smiles coyly. It is a grotesque thing.
“I have a feeling, Will. I know things are going on outside, and I
know that many secrets and plots are in motion. I just wanted you to know.” She reaches over and clasps his hand in hers. They are dry and reptilian. “Consider it a gift from me.”
Trudy turns up the next week in a well-tailored suit and a hat, carrying the most enormous package will has ever seen.
“The outside is so queer,” she says, pulling off her gloves and sitting down. “There is the oddest society of people you’ve ever seen, a motley crew if I ever saw one. All the Russians who we loathed before are everywhere, and they are even more unbearable. They think they’re somebody now that everybody is gone. They’re worse than the Swiss with their self-righteousness. I was at a dinner with the doctor—you know Dr. Selwyn-Clarke, he’s the official medical adviser to the new Japanese governor who’s arrived, Isogai—and Sir Vandeleur Grayburn, who’s still delicious as ever, although terribly down about everything that’s going on, and this Russian girl, I don’t know if you remember her but her name was Tatiana, always out and about town before, but out in that bad way, drinking a little too much, a little too forward, you know, and she just said the rudest thing to him, the doctor, and she is married now to a Chinese man who is in bed with the Kempeitei and so now she’s bulletproof, or so she thinks. . . . Of course she didn’t bring him to dinner. I think she just married him as an insurance policy. I’m going to shoot her myself when this is all over.”
“Where was the dinner?”
“At the Selwyn-Clarkes’, but you know they have to do it so hush-hush. He had to pretend it was a planning meeting, for supplies and things, which it partly was, but they had guards outside, listening, so it was hardly a casual event. And do you know who’s dead? Crumley, the American who was always at the Grill? I remember the day he came in and told us how he had opened his mouth while he was at a picnic in Shek O and a butterfly flew in and he swallowed it, and now he’s dead. Swallowed butterfly or not. That’s what I think about sometimes, you know.” She speeds up, talking about this and that, nonsense about people.
“Otsubo adores me now and gives me anything I ask for. Look at all I was able to bring you! Ham and coffee, sugar and powdered milk. I’ve unearthed more of that strawberry jam that seems to be everywhere. Honey, even. You do have cause to be jealous now, darling.” But she looks worse than ever, gaunt, with cracked, dry lips and hair scraped back into an untidy bun. Her blouse is very large on her, the collar gaping up behind her neck, as if she’s sinking into it.
“I’ve been trying to think what kind of man he is, and I think I’ve got it. He’s the kind of person who, when you say something, and he doesn’t understand, he will ask you to repeat it, and then again and again, until he understands, whereas most people would politely pretend to get it after the second or third explanation. He’s unrelenting and has no interest in social graces. I suppose that’s why he’s done so well for himself in his career—meticulous and all that.”
“Are you eating? You look like you’re eating nothing.”
“I took Otsubo to Macau and fed him those “beans,” you know, the baby mice that the uninitiated think are beans? He loved them. And they say the Chinese will eat anything.”
“I don’t care about that . . . you look like death warmed over.” He grabs her hand. “I don’t care if he’s mad about you and you have to do things you don’t want to do. . . . I just want you to be all right.”
She laughs abruptly.
“And how do you know I don’t want to do them?” she asks. “What if I’m a willing participant?”
She thrusts a package toward him. “Here,” she says. “More food.”
“Come into the camp,” he says. “I’ll take care of you.”
“Will, darling.” She cups his face in her hands. “It’s too late. I like it on the outside. I’ve finally got a foothold on the situation, however tenuous.”
The door opens and Edwina Storch comes in with a large package.
“Hullo,”
Trudy says. “Are you here to see Mary?”
“Yes,” says Edwina. “Hello, Will. How are you doing?”
“I’m fine, thank you. Mary is as well as can be expected in here. Her good spirits and courage are a boon to the community.”
“Yes, she’s very good,” Edwina says. “What a horrid situation.” She takes in Trudy’s package with a discerning eye. “You’ve gotten a large ration of the jam, Trudy. And coffee! You must know someone very important indeed.”
Mary Winkle enters and the two women embrace, one large, one small. They go into another room.
Trudy looks at the closing door.
“I see her around all the time now,” she says. “She’s quite in evidence in the postwar world.” She pauses. “But I think I like her.”
Will takes her hand. She looks so lost.
“Do you know my best quality? ” she asks.
“Of your many, I could not say, my darling.”
“I see the best in people. I fall in love with people when I see a window into their beings, their shining moments. I’ve fallen in love with so many people but the trouble is I fall out of love so quickly too. I see the worst in them just as easily.
“Do you know I fell in love with you right away? That day at the Trotters’ I had noted you because you were new, of course, and then you sat down at the piano, and you played a few notes, but you played them so well, with no self-consciousness, and no idea that anyone might be listening. It was in that room off the garden and you were the only one there. I was passing through on the way to the ladies’ room and saw you there. I fell in love with you right then, and so I spilled my drink all over myself so I could meet you.”
“Darling Trudy,” he says.
She stands up.
“I can’t bear it,” she says in a rush. “I just can’t.” And then she turns around and leaves. “Eat what I’ve brought you,” she calls out behind her as the door swings shut behind her with a clang. “You need to be strong.” Her voice fades as she walks away.
“Johnnie, I have to get out of here.”
He says it that night, after they have gone to bed, and he can hear his companion’s breath just deepening into sleep. It stops, then starts again.
“You do? ”
“Yes. I’m losing her.”
“I see.”
“Will you help me?”
“Of course.”
But he didn’t need to ask. Of course, Trudy had another way.
“I’ve gotten you a week’s furlough. Otsubo got me a pass that says you’re to do some work for him. Isn’t that wonderful? ”
“What kind of work am I to do?”
She looks at him as if he’s completely missed the point.
“No idea. Some kind of clerical work which you and only you, the inimitable Will Truesdale, are qualified to do. Proper accounting. Plant watering. Japanese flattering. Does it matter? You get to get out of here! Aren’t you thrilled? That’s gratitude for you!”
“What do I have to do? ”
“Are you a complete moron? Nothing!” she cries. “Absolutely nothing. I thought it would be nice for you to get out and see what’s going on outside. No one else has this kind of opportunity, you know.”
“Well, thank you,” he says. “I do appreciate it.”
“You’ll get to see what life outside is like, what my life has become.”
“Perhaps you’ll do an exchange,” he says. “Come in here for a fortnight.”
“Peut-être,” she says. She always reverts to French when she wants to change the subject.
So the next Monday, Will is waiting by the sentry’s bungalow. He has been treated rather well for the past week. Ohta came to see him with a copy of the furlough order, trying to fish some information from him.
“Otsubo has sent for you,” he had said.
“Yes,” Will nodded.
“He is head of gendarmerie.”
“Yes.”
“You have important skill? ”
“Yes.”
Ohta stood for a moment, trying to see if Will would give him anything. When he didn’t, he threw the order on the floor and said he should wait by the gate on Monday. But then Will noticed that all the guards were more polite and that he was not subject to taunts and searches anymore.
Trudy pulls up in a convertible and insists on driving although she is alarmingly bad, screeching the gears and turning far too wide. “What happens when you have a driver all your life,” she says with a shrug when Will finally demands she pull over so he can take the wheel.
“You look well,” he says, glancing over. She’s in a spring dress, now that the weather has gotten warmer, and a wide-brimmed yellow straw hat.
“I found my old tailor, and he whipped up a few things for me. He desperately needs the work and I have events I’m supposed to look nice for.”
He doesn’t ask.
She takes him to the Peninsula.
“It’s the Toa now, remember,” she says.
Trudy is greeted with smiles and bows as she sweeps through the formerly grand lobby, which is now filled with soldiers, steel tables, and other grim army-issue furniture.
“Otsubo has a suite of rooms here so Dommie and I stay in them. He’s requisitioned a place up on Barker Road for himself. It’s better here than the rat hole we have outside. We’re lucky. You wouldn’t believe how people are living outside, two or three families in a flat. Rather appalling, but I suppose it’s wartime. My old place has been requisitioned for some midlevel soldier. Insulting, isn’t it? I thought it was quite nice, myself.”
“How’s your father? ”
“Fine,” she says abruptly. “He’s fine.”
“What are you doing for funds?” Now that he is outside, he is thinking of matters he has not had to worry about in weeks.
“We’re allowed to withdraw a little money every week, but it’s touchy. Not large amounts, obviously, but nonetheless it’s odd for them to know you have accounts that you’re drawing against. You don’t want to make them wonder too much. Everything’s fluid, in a bad way. There are no rules, and even if there were, they could be changed at any moment.”
“Do you have to look out for yourself? Isn’t Otsubo the magic trump card?”
Trudy considers. Her mouth draws into a bow. Will resists the urge to kiss her small, self-preserving face.
“Mmmmm . . . I wouldn’t say a trump card because he’s rather mercurial. He does favors and then regrets them. He gives and wants to take away. And he has to be persuaded rather strongly not to. Not a generous man. Powerful men usually aren’t. Here we are.” She opens a door into a room that is a veritable palace compared with his quarters back at Stanley. A suite with large windows overlooking the blue sea dotted with boats, plush carpet, thick silk draperies, and fans that swing lazily around and around.
“Welcome to the Pen!” Trudy curtsies.
“Look at this,” he says, sitting on the bed. “A bed made up with actual linens! Curtains to draw against the sun! And I wager there’s even toilet paper in the bathroom.”
“You would be right. And now, do you want to thank me, you ingrate? It’s been complaint and suspicion ever since I cooked this up. Thank me.”
The reunion is sweet, the late afternoon sun slanting through the window, the flat horizon of the sea and the boats floating in the harbor, and Trudy, right here, right next to him. He has thought of her for so long, missed the feel of her skin and the smell of her breath, that he moves as if he’s in a dream. She is quiet, more than usual, and seems skittish. They are both too sapped, too thirsty, to ever be quenched by something as mundane as the physical.
“Tell me the truth,” she says, sitting up afterward, clutching the sheet, “is there a hussy you have in Stanley? Some American vixen who’s stolen your heart? Surely you can’t have been celibate all this time, someone as voracious as you. What else do you have to amuse you in that dreary camp?”
“I’m only voracious around you, you know.” He d
oesn’t ask her the same question, feels any answer would be unbearable. If he can keep some small part of her for himself, it might be all right. “Don’t mind about those things, and I won’t either.” He extends this olive branch so that their time together might be enjoyed.
She relaxes and curls into him.
“It’s been horrible,” Trudy says. “The Japanese are rounding up Chinese who are sympathetic, shall we say, or pretend that they are, for business purposes, and holding these absurd dinners where their policies are toasted with champagne and they’re lionized as if they’ve made enormous contributions to society. All quite surreal. Victor Chen is hot and heavy with the Japanese, of course, and trying to do business with them every which way. I’m worried about Dommie. Victor is just using him.
“We went to one of these dinners, and an old family friend of ours, David Ho, stood up and offered a toast to Pan-Asian superiority. Now, mind you, he was married to an Australian woman, and devoted to her, but she died a few years back, and he remarried, lucky for him, to a Chinese. He’s such a coward. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. He has children in school in Australia. Don’t know how he’ll be able to look them in the eye now. They are the funniest dinners. They have them in the ballroom of the Gloucester and try to make them fancy but they are just the worst functions you’ve ever seen. Propaganda films, bad alcohol, and hypocrites. Nothing worse.”
“So why do you go to these things?”
She gets out of bed, her body a long rebuke.
“I had forgotten what it was like to have my conscience with me always. Sometimes, Will, you have to do things you don’t want to. We can’t all live in perfect harmony with our integrity.”
He hears her turn on the water. She has always loved baths and used to spend so much time in them she would emerge with her glossy skin pruny and her face glowing with the absorbed heat.
“How’s the water here?” he calls out, by way of apology. Their time is too short to be beset by old complaints.
The Piano Teacher Page 17