‘“No, your joss is good,” he said, with the slightest hint of a smile. Then, to my surprise, he said, “You have brought me good fortune in the past, but now things are bad.”
‘I looked at him, astonished. “But there is a global depression – the markets have collapsed, loh yeh. Now is not a good time to have bought the business back. I have run down our stocks of cotton and silk so that we can close the shantung factory until the market improves, maybe in a couple of years’ time.”
‘He nodded. “But you will keep the crockery factory and export business going because I have decided it will be your reward. See – I have all the papers here for you to sign.”
‘“But it will lose money, loh yeh.”
‘“That will be for you to decide. You are good joss – we have never lost money before. The raisins are still selling well.” I couldn’t tell him that this was because I’d had the benefit of advice from Sir Victor and others, particularly with the raisins. “Put your chop on these papers, No Gin.” It was more of a command than an invitation. I took the papers and hurriedly turned the three pages. The contract wasn’t a complicated one and gave me sole rights to the crockery factory and its profits, as well as to the export business. There was only one anomaly. The entire contract was backdated five years.
‘“Loh yeh, this contract is backdated to when I first opened the factory.”
‘“That is right, please sign.” He was visibly impatient.
‘“But it is not correct – I have never earned a single dollar from this business.” Then I added, “May I see the books?”
‘“It is not in debt,” he replied.
‘“Why does it not show the names of the previous owners?” I asked, desperately.
‘“They are not men of good reputation. I do not want you to own a concern that once belonged to gangsters.” Then he added, “I will lose face. You will sign now.”
‘“I am greatly honoured by such a gift, loh yeh, but I must decline as I am not worthy,” I said softly, trying to keep my voice under control.’
She turned to us to explain. ‘In Chinese, this would be seen as a polite but firm refusal. Big Boss Yu’s purple-ringed eyes blazed as he stood up from his enormous desk. “Have I not given you everything you needed? Have I not changed your fortunes when you were nothing but street trash? You have no country, you have lost your ancestors. I am your country now. I have fed and clothed and housed you. I have changed you into an English lady from a Russian whore and a sing-song girl! Now I give you a gift from my heart and you refuse it? Sign! Put your chop on those papers!” That’s as close as I can get to a translation of what he said in Chinese, but what it amounted to was that he had complete control over me and I had no choice but to sign. So I signed the papers giving me a completely useless crockery business and making me its owner from the very beginning of its existence.
‘The gift, in the peculiar way in which the Chinese think, was to be considered an insult – though why, I couldn’t be sure. Perhaps Big Boss Yu had lost money and wanted me to know that my good joss wasn’t holding up. I imagined I would never know. So I decided to make the best of the situation. Quite plainly there wasn’t much of a market left in America, but I’d keep a small part of the business going. Even in times of depression crockery breaks and needs to be replaced, and mine was cheap. The rest of the business I would mothball until better times came along when I could sell it and make my escape. By giving it to me, Big Boss Yu could boast at parties and receptions that he had been generous, giving me the finance to create the crockery factory and export business – the same way he had taken the credit for the caviar business, which, in his own mind, he had also allowed me to own. I had made him a great fortune from raisins, but he never mentioned that I had created and run every aspect of the business while receiving only two per cent of the profits. But that was the Chinese way, and I felt no resentment. My only concern was the backdating of the ownership of the Red Dragon China and Crockery Factory. Even this was pure Chinese lopsided logic. Big Boss Yu may have wanted to dissociate himself from the Three Musketeers of the French Concession. If their names didn’t appear on any paperwork involving his business concerns he could never be implicated directly with the tongs or gangsters.
‘With the gift of the crockery factory my fortunes began to change for the worse. I had occasion to have lunch with a business acquaintance at the Cathay Hotel as I often did, this time an Australian from Victoria seeking to renew a contract. As raisin importers, we were now of true significance – China had become perhaps the greatest raisin consumers in the world. Afterwards I called on Sir Victor at his apartment in the tower. He was once again leaving for Hong Kong and I hoped to say goodbye in an appropriate way. He’d invited me to come up and I used the lift from the hotel. I had already been seen in the hotel, so going up to see him in broad daylight would not have been considered unusual. After making love and saying our goodbyes I called the ever-faithful Ah Chow, my chauffeur, to pick me up in the new big black Buick that was now mine exclusively, and went down to the hotel entrance to wait for him.
‘Georgii Petrov, the doorman I’d befriended since meeting him on my first awkward visit to the Palace Hotel, approached me with a concerned look on his face. “May I speak to you, Nicole?”
‘“What’s the matter, Georgii?” I asked.
‘“Can we go around the corner?” he asked quietly. I followed him and we stood together around a small, curved buttress, the huge doorman with the almost transparent blue eyes towering over me.
“Nicole, I don’t know how to say this – God knows, everyone is sleeping with everyone else in Shanghai. If you only knew what goes on here – who and when and where – you would be astonished.” Georgii wasn’t known for his subtlety, but then he said, “You’re a single woman and he’s a bachelor – so what’s the harm, eh?”
‘“What are you trying to say, Georgii?”
‘“You and Sir Victor. Nicole, all the Chinese staff are talking.”
‘“That’s very unfortunate,” I said, my heart thumping. “They know the hotel rules, the three monkeys – see, speak, hear no evil. It was drummed into all of us when I worked at the Palace.”
‘“Yes, of course, Nicole. But there was an incident last night just as the cocktail hour began and the foyer was full of people. Sir Victor dismissed the Chinese second chef for being drunk, and he later came down into the foyer and yelled out to all the guests that Sir Victor was, you know, ‘doing it’ to you – only he used the dirty word. There must have been a hundred people who heard.”
‘“Did he make this announcement in Cantonese or English?” I asked. I knew the man in question, a sullen character who caused trouble among Sir Victor’s other servants. Victor had considered dismissing him several times, but he was an exceptional French pastry chef and so had been tolerated.
‘“Of course I dragged him out by the collar, boxed his ears and threw him into the street,” Georgii said in digust. “But several people followed him out and others were arriving, some of them bigwigs. He wouldn’t let up and threatened to tell your taipan, Big Boss Yu. So I ran after him and grabbed him and handed him over to a Sikh policeman, saying that he’d threatened me with a doh. He had his chef’s cleaver in the bag he carried over his shoulder, so it sounded quite plausible.”
‘I must have looked like a ghost. “Thank you, Georgii Pavlovich Petrov,” I said, using this formal address to show my respect and gratitude.
‘He handed me a slip of paper and I glanced at it to see it was his address, though written in Russian it was indecipherable to most Chinese. “You can come at any time, Nicole,” he said quietly. “My wife’s name is Elizaveta.” Then he added, using her Russian familiar, “Leza will welcome you if I’m not there.” I realised to my consternation that while I’d known him and thought of him as a friend ever since I’d arrived in Shanghai, I had never visited his apartment.
‘Once I’d thought it over, I wasn’t too concerned about Sir Victor
’s second chef spilling the beans to Big Boss Yu. He was too low a personage to be granted an interview, and could easily enough be discredited. Moreover, he was in police custody and would probably be locked up for a week, or if they took the threat of the doh seriously it could be for a couple of months. When he sobered up he’d realise that saying anything about the behaviour of the great English taipan was unthinkable if he ever wished to work for a European household in Shanghai, or even in a restaurant other than a lesser Chinese one. It was the thought of who else might have been in the foyer at the time that troubled me.
‘On the way home Ah Chow was unusually quiet – normally he was a bit of a chatterbox. I was rather grateful for this and thought he must have sensed my mood, but when he dropped me off he looked deeply concerned and farewelled me in a very formal manner. Bowing deeply, he wished me a hundred years of good joss and many male children.
‘“Whatever is the matter with you, Ah Chow?” I asked, but he simply bowed again and I could see he was close to tears. “What is it, Ah Chow? Have I offended you?” I cried, moving towards the car. But before I reached it he’d driven away. To my surprise Ah May was not at the door to welcome me home, although when I turned the knob it was unlocked. I thought that perhaps she had needed some ingredient for her cooking and had slipped out for a moment, though it was not like her to leave the door unlocked. As I stepped into the darkened house I was grabbed from both sides, and before I could scream a hand closed over my mouth while my arm was twisted behind my back.’
‘Jesus!’ Jimmy gasped. As for me, I was too stunned to utter a word.
‘There were two of them, and they forced me into my bedroom and threw me onto the bed. I struggled wildly, but I was helpless against them. They gagged me using a silk stocking and then tied my hands and legs to the bedposts, again using silk stockings, so that I lay spread-eagled. They then proceeded to cut the clothes from my body, warning me to keep still or I would be hurt by the sharp blade. I lay naked on the bed, weeping and close to hysteria, waiting for them to rape me. To my astonishment they bowed formally as they might to a superior, and left the bedroom. Shortly afterwards I heard the front door close.
‘I struggled to get loose but soon knew it was pointless – I was helpless against my bonds, which cut deeper the more I strained. After a while I began to gather my wits. What became clear was that I was being sent a message. It could only be from Big Boss Yu. But what was he trying to tell me? That I was worthless and could be given to any man he wished? That I didn’t own my own body and I was his personal property? That if I continued to be Sir Victor’s whore he would destroy me? That this was simply the ultimate humiliation, a severe warning that I was not free to do as I wished and that he was punishing me? This last notion seemed to fit best, because it illustrated his Chinese way of thinking. The attack on me was punishment and humiliation that perfectly befitted a warning. I was expected to resume my duties and carry on but relinquish my affair with Sir Victor. Technically and physically I had not been sexually violated. This would be important. Physical harm would have indicated malice when he intended only to warn me, scare me off. It was the mental violation that counted – the demonstration of his power and will over me. I soon convinced myself that this was the case and so I waited for Ah May to return to cut me loose, attend to my wrists and ankles and to bathe and comfort me.
‘I was suddenly overcome by a great weariness. I can only describe it as years of weariness – endless, grinding despair. The flight from Russia in the old dumb man’s ox wagon, my life in Ah Lai’s village, the dreadful months with my mentally disturbed father, the nightclub in Harbin, Mrs Worthington, going directly home after the performance every night, the cutting and burning of my hair, the years working for Big Boss Yu’s good joss, building his raisin empire, losing my crockery factory to the three gangsters . . . and the small satisfaction I’d enjoyed with the connection I’d established with my family’s ancient glory as purveyors of the world’s best caviar until it had been dashed by the collapse of the New York Stock Exchange. I had never had a moment when I belonged to myself, when I wasn’t ordered or owned but free to go my own way. I hadn’t even visited Georgii Pavlovich Petrov’s apartment or met his wife, Elizaveta! I couldn’t remember having any real fun from the moment my mother died until I lay in Victor Sassoon’s arms for the first time and he had taken my virginity, a gift that was my very own to give. As I lay gagged and tied and naked, an entire lifetime of weariness seemed to weigh heavily upon me. I started to weep for my life, the sad and senseless passing of my young and innocent years, until eventually I must have cried myself to sleep.’
‘Dat a real sad story to bear, Countess,’ Jimmy said, shaking his head in sympathy.
‘I woke up with a start to see Smallpox “Million Dollar” Yang standing naked beside the bed, his small penis erect at the level of my head. In his hand he held a wineglass filled with lemonade, or perhaps it was soda water. I could see the tiny bubbles rising to the surface. He grinned, then dipped his forefinger into the glass and brought it to his mouth and sucked it. “No gin,” he said, then he splashed the contents over my face and slapped me hard across the side of my head before repeatedly raping me. “My seed will smoulder within you and destroy the foreign devil’s,” he spat, then, reaching for the glass, he tapped its rim on the edge of the bed, breaking it, and stabbed the broken wineglass between my legs.’
‘Oh, Jesus, no!’ I cried, leaning forward with my hands covering my face.
Nicole Lenoir-Jourdan started to weep, softly at first before increasing to a wail like a small child. Jimmy leapt to his feet and, lifting her into his huge arms, began to rock her as one might a distressed child. She clung to him, her arms about his neck and her head against his chest. ‘Yoh gonna be okay! Yoh gonna be okay, Countess. Yoh gotta let it come out, baby. All da hurt, it gotta come out. It poison, yoh hear! Yoh cry now, yoh cry real good – der a lot o’ sadness an’ it gotta go away. It gotta wash out, it gotta be ex-punged. We loves you, baby. Brother Fish and me, we loves you dearly,’ he said, his words gaining momentum while the tears rolled down his cheeks.
After a while she calmed down, and Jimmy sat her back in the wicker chair. ‘I think we should call it a day, Countess. You’re whacked, and need to rest.’ It was all I could think to say. Jimmy had said the words I’d like to have said, but that was never going to happen with a McKenzie. Gloria would often say, ‘The men on both sides of this family have got emotional indigestion.’ I realised how very much I had come to love Nicole Lenoir-Jourdan, how she had become such an important part of my life that I could hardly imagine it without her. But, of course, I’d had to rely on Jimmy to say the right words and to include me with them.
Fortunately Sue had given me a clean handkerchief, which at least I could offer to her, her own having turned into a wet ball she held clutched in her right hand. ‘Thank you, Jack,’ she said softly, wiping her eyes. Then she looked in turn at both of us, her blue eyes swollen from crying. ‘Please, I crave your indulgence. I have never spoken of this to anyone, and if I don’t get it all out now I don’t believe I shall ever again have the courage.’
Jimmy nodded. ‘Dat good. Yoh talk. Yoh do dat, Countess,’ he encouraged softly, his voice as comforting as the notes coming from a cello.
I could see she was about to cry again, but then somehow managed to control her tears. ‘Smallpox “Million Dollar” Yang stood over me. “If you mention my name to the police, you will not die,” he said smiling, as if to reassure me, “but we will chop off your hands.” He held up both his hands with the palms turned inwards and with his fingers stretched, then suddenly snapped his hands into fists and pulled them inwards so they appeared to be stumps on the end of his arms. “No Gin, no hands!” he cried and, bending almost double, his hands resting on his knees, he giggled in a high-pitched, almost hysterical feminine voice. Then with a sudden jerk he straightened up and, fierce-faced, pointed to the blood running down my legs. “This is the mark of the whi
te paper fan, so that you will remember to obey your dragonhead.” Then he dressed slowly, stretching up each sock and attaching a suspender, then pulling over them light-brown pointed alligator boots, smaller but similar to the ones Big Ears Du had worn that fateful night in Big Boss Yu’s office. He placed one boot on the bed beside me and, using a piece of my ruined dress, bent over me and polished it conscientiously, repeating the process with the other boot.
‘He was an utterly repulsive-looking man, with his face, neck and shoulders deeply pockmarked so that he appeared to be wearing a hideous tight-fitting hood that covered his face and dropped to his shoulders. No trace of smooth skin showed between the ugly craters that seemed to stretch his face to even wider proportions, giving him the appearance of having a head too large for his narrow frame. His incisors were gold, and when he smiled his eyes returned to deep slits as if they had been ripped into his face. His appendage had sunk like a shrivelled worm under his potbelly and he was almost completely bow-legged, his body bearing all the signs of a childhood spent in abject poverty. He slipped a long black Chinese silk gown over his head and, like his dragonhead master, Big Ears Du, placed a black-silk top hat on his head. Then he turned to look directly at me and, bending, brought his forefinger down to touch the inside of my leg. When he brought it up again I saw a tiny drop of blood on the tip. He touched the tip of his forefinger to his tongue. “No gin,” he said, giggling, then turning on his heel he walked from the room.
‘I lay on the bed weeping, the silk-stocking gag cutting deeply into the sides of my mouth as my head jerked convulsively. At one stage I thought I heard the front door opening but I wasn’t sure. Then a short while later Ah May appeared. She had been crying and was obviously distressed. She looked at me and brought her hands to her face. “Aieeyaaa!” she wailed, repeating the sound several times as she began to cry. “What shall we do, seal jeh?” she said, using the Chinese words for a superior who is unmarried. “What shall we do?”
Brother Fish Page 79