by Jean Moran
A sense of helplessness fell over her. Reassuring herself that Luli had always been kind, she let go of her daughter’s hand and watched her toddle after the Han girl.
‘What did you mean?’ she asked him.
‘I am not a brute, my dear, but if you insist, I will return both of you to the camp. You have a better chance of survival here, where the child will be well cared-for and so will you. You have endured horrors and have now returned to a higher standard of living. The child has gone through a period of neglect. She needs to recover. She also deserves a nurse.’
The way he spoke was meant to reassure, but she couldn’t help thinking that he’d meant what he’d said as a threat. Yet why should he?
‘You are overtired and weakened by your experiences.’
Taking hold of her shoulders, he turned her to face him. When he smiled she forgot what he was.
‘Soon I will visit you, but only when you are fully recovered from your ordeal.’ His fingers stroked her tangled hair back from her face. ‘Trust me, my dear, and all will be well.’
*
Her clothes were burned and replaced with sumptuous robes and dresses, tunics and trousers, mostly in silk, some in fine wool and cashmere. Her hair was washed, a bath was filled, and oils, creams and Western-style make-up were put at her disposal.
She asked him if she could see Dawn more than once a day. ‘I could do with the company. There’s nothing else for me to do.’
‘You are still feeling tired?’
She agreed that she was.
‘You may be carrying some illness from the camp.’
‘I’m a doctor. I would know if I was.’
‘Ah! Physician, heal thyself. Listen to what I say. It is not an ordeal to be taken lightly. You need good food, drink and medicines to make you whole again. And rest. Plenty of rest. The child is being taken care of. You will rest and regain your strength. You are very much thinner than when I first saw you.’
To some extent she had to concede that he was right about her physical state. She was far thinner than she had been, her hair less glossy, and at first her stomach rebelled at the food she was offered.
Kim was especially attentive and appeared to have thought of everything. ‘I have given instructions that you are given only plain food, which will not upset your stomach. We also have a cure to purge any parasites from your body.’
She had to agree that what he said was only basic common sense. A number of her fellow prisoners had suffered from parasitic infections. She’d done her best to treat them, but she’d lacked both Eastern and Western medicine, so her task had been difficult.
Once she was subject to the new food regime, she found that she slept the whole night through, but woke in the morning only slowly. The glossiness returned to her hair, her skin cleared, and her nails were less brittle.
The truth was there for her to face. Sickness and death stalked and claimed those weakened by lack of food, fresh water and medicine. There was no telling when she might have succumbed to disease and ended up in the ground where so many she’d known were already buried. Gradually she had to concede that Kim had saved their lives and did not deserve her condemnation. All the same, she felt terribly alone and persisted in asking to see Dawn more than once a day.
‘I’ve been alone all day. I would like to dine with my daughter.’
‘You need to rest.’
‘I am rested.’
‘You saw your daughter this morning?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then tonight I will dine with you. Dress yourself as though we were going out to dine at the Savoy in London. Can you do that?’
‘Yes,’ she said, a sudden wave of happiness flooding her. ‘I look forward to it.’
She felt almost girlish as she made herself ready, as though about to embark on her very first date. It seemed an age since she had not been working on a ward or living from hand to mouth in a prisoner-of-war camp.
The light was fading when he kept his promise, sweeping into her room followed by a servant with a tray of food, which was set down on a black-japanned table inset with figures made from pale shades of mother-of-pearl.
The servant dismissed, he flung his robe out behind him and sat beside her on the wide divan.
At first her eyes were drawn to his bare chest, but by lowering her eyelids perhaps it didn’t seem as though she was looking.
Kim appeared not to notice. He handed her a pair of chopsticks. ‘I recommend the fish. It is very good for you.’
‘You’re right. It looks delicious, but I’ve never been very good with chopsticks.’
‘Then I will do it for you.’
With delicate precision he picked out small portions of fish and fed her, as a father might a child.
She insisted she could manage the wine glass herself, but still he held it for her, the rich liquid seeping into her mouth and tingling on her tongue. ‘That’s a whole glass,’ she said.
‘Just one. You can manage two. It is French. A fine vintage. Here.’
The wine nudged her memory, reminding her of a family holiday when they’d driven through French vineyards and she’d taken her first sip of wine. Such a long time ago but fondly remembered. The thought, like the wine, took her back to a time before she’d experienced the horrors of war and in her dreams there were no ugly faces but a blue sky and rows of vines ripening in the French sunshine.
*
That night she sensed his shadow falling over her bed and feared what might happen next. Her heart raced. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited for him to make his presence known.
His shadow receded and she heard the door closing. One half of her was relieved. The other wanted him to come back, but it was too late. The moment of decision was over but she knew there would come a time when it would have to be made. Resistance is futile, she thought, smiling as a line from a novel she’d once read sprang into her mind. In fact, she wasn’t sure she would resist. She’d only know that when the time finally came.
*
The routine of dining together prevailed, and as she began to know him better, her initial distrust vanished. She was beginning to enjoy these moments.
Each morning Dawn was brought to her. On occasion they had breakfast together. Rowena noted that the little girl was filling out, thanks to the better food, and the same was happening to her.
The days seemed long but she had taken note of Kim’s advice to rest and regain her strength. With each day she found herself looking forward to the evening when they would dine together, although she had still not mastered the art of using chopsticks. Not that she was in any rush to do so. She liked things the way they were.
She laughed when he used the chopsticks to tease her, offering food then taking it away. He did the same with the wine, passing the glass under her nose, then retrieving it.
After half of the second glass had been consumed, he held the wine equidistant between them at face level, his expression serene. A sudden smile flickered at one corner of his mouth, so he looked almost quizzical.
‘Do you want more wine?’
She smiled. ‘Yes.’
‘Very much?’
‘Yes, please. It’s very good wine.’
‘Is it?’ He arched his eyebrows.
‘I’ve just told you it is.’
‘What will you do for one more taste of it?’
Unsure how she should answer, she tilted her head to one side. ‘What do you want me to do?’
A slow smile lit his face. He said nothing but raised the glass and tipped it against his chest. The little wine spilled from the glass trickled down the crease between his well defined chest muscles.
Without a moment’s hesitation, she leaned across and licked the wine. She was lost. Her tongue travelled on down, her senses revelling in his scent and the slight saltiness of his body.
She felt his hands peeling off her robe, but couldn’t have stopped him even if she wanted to. And she didn’t want to. What he was offering was s
ex on her terms. He had invited her to indulge. She had not been forced and that in itself was a kind of healing.
The robe fell in a silken heap leaving her shoulders bare. He brought her head back up so they were facing. His lips were cool on her lips and her shoulders. His hands cupped her breasts, his fingers gently caressing her nipples.
The divan was wide enough to take both of them, their robes floating to the floor.
Nothing about sex with him bore any resemblance to that other time, those other men, whom he had killed.
She’d often considered his admission of having killed those men, and not once had she felt sorry for them. They had violated her, left her pregnant and wary of ever trusting a man again. Kim might have been a criminal, but she could forgive that because he’d made her feel whole again and for that she was eternally grateful.
He ran a hand down her back caressing one buttock then the other. ‘You are regaining some weight.’
‘Too much?’ she asked, in mock disappointment.
‘Just enough,’ he responded, both hands now resting on her behind.
She felt no shame at doing this with him, no fear of getting pregnant because somehow she expected he’d taken care of everything. That was the kind of man he was. She had no need to worry about anything, just to receive the gentleness of his body, the warmth of his breath, like the sound of a waterfall against her ear.
They lay there afterwards, his arms around her, his face buried in her hair.
‘The child. Tell me how it happened.’
Rowena froze. ‘I don’t want to.’
‘I understand. How did you feel once the child was born?’
She closed her eyes, pushing the painful memory of rape deep into her subconscious. And then she told him, unburdening her soul in a way she’d never done before. ‘I didn’t want her. How could I? It wasn’t her fault she was born but every time I looked at her I saw them – their faces. I know you had them killed, but it doesn’t make any difference. It happened and is still in my mind.’
‘Do you still feel that way now?’
She frowned as she thought about it. ‘I’m her mother. It’s my duty to look after her.’
‘That’s not what I asked.’
‘I would never want any harm to come to her.’
‘I realise that. But it must be difficult.’
‘It’s better now.’
‘You could have her adopted.’
‘No. I couldn’t do that. I’ve adjusted. Everything will be all right.’
His lips brushed her shoulder; his fingers fondled the nape of her neck. ‘But each time you look at her you see them.’
As she squeezed her eyes shut, a tear seeped from one corner. ‘Sometimes.’
‘Come here.’
She rolled underneath. He rolled on top, his exertion as gentle as it was before.
In the morning he was gone.
*
The following morning, she felt guilty, not so much because of the lovemaking but because she’d told him how she’d felt about her daughter. He’d promised to dine with her that evening. She hoped also there would be more sex. She hadn’t realised how much she’d missed it.
Dawn had adapted well to her new life. Dressed in a silk pyjama suit that echoed an adult ensemble, she bubbled with excitement, trying to form words like fish and monkey, the latter tied to a long rope in the room she shared with Luli.
Rowena’s mind wandered as she listened to the child’s babble, shivering at the thought of him, tingling at the experienced and gentle way in which he’d touched her until she felt as though her body was bursting into flame.
Thinking of the undoubted skill of his lovemaking brought a question to mind.
She asked Luli the whereabouts of the other women she had seen when first entering the house. ‘I see them in the garden sometimes and thought I heard children laughing.’
‘That is what your daughter has been telling you. She has been playing with the other children. Did you not see them outside?’
Rowena had to admit that she had, but had presumed them to be servants’ children. ‘Are they here in this house?’
‘They have their own quarters. Not with you.’
A thought entered her head. ‘Do they live in a harem?’
‘I do not know this word.’
‘A seraglio.’
‘This word is also unknown to me.’
‘Do they have a separate dining hall?’
‘They have meal wherever they want. Outside when sunny, inside when rainy or cold.’
‘Are they all servants?’
Luli blushed. ‘Not servants.’
‘So what are they?’
‘Pinfei.’
‘Pinfei? What does that mean?’
‘Not wives. Pinfei.’
‘Concubines. Am I a concubine?’
Luli looked away, picking up a red silk tassel and inviting Dawn to reach for it. ‘I do not know.’
She frowned, poured herself water. Somehow the whole idea of Kim having taken her to be a concubine seemed quite ludicrous, the stuff of cheap novels. She had felt great joy in their lovemaking, but now it was as if she’d let herself down.
She took a sip of water and thought about how she was feeling. I want him again, she thought. I want to be his above all others. Now if that isn’t the stuff of romantic fiction, I don’t know what is.
*
She waited for him that night, sitting in a loose black robe, the food on the table, the male servant who waited on them every night standing by.
He didn’t come. On the last occasion he’d been late for a meal, in Hong Kong, he’d swept the food onto the floor declaring it unfit to pass his lips, and blazed with anger when she’d admitted eating some sweetmeats.
Even though her stomach was rumbling, she ate nothing, wanting to please him, wanting him to feed her again and afterwards make love to her.
The candles burned low. The lanterns in the courtyard outside attracted myriad moths and still there was no sign of him. Ordering the food removed, she took to her bed, staring through the darkness, her ears tuned for any sound that heralded his return.
Alone in the darkness she ran her hands down her body, a feeble alternative to having the hard body of a man who exuded danger and desire in equal measures. The mix was exciting and, despite all that had happened, he made her feel as though she was his and his alone.
The next morning, breakfast arrived, and because she’d had nothing the night before, she ate hungrily. Once bathed and dressed, she waited for Luli to bring Dawn to her.
Time passed but they didn’t come.
On hearing the sound of chattering children out in the courtyard she looked out, saw Dawn with the other children, marching in crocodile formation and disappearing out of the gate. Luli was one of the women accompanying them.
Swiftly donning a pair of slippers and an extra shawl, she headed for the door and found it locked.
‘Let me out!’
Her shouts and the hammering of her fists brought no response.
She went back to the window. The courtyard was empty now but she thought she heard the sound of a vehicle and was immediately filled with dread.
‘Where are they taking her?’
Just when she was considering climbing out of the window, even though it was too narrow to squeeze through, she saw Luli running back into the courtyard and looking as though she was coming her way.
When she waved, Luli waved back. At the same time she heard the bar being slid back on the outside of the door and within minutes there was Luli, her cheeks pink from running.
‘Where’s Dawn?’
‘Gone to mission. To school.’
‘She’s too young for school.’
‘Nursery. The mission has a nursery and Dawn wanted to go. She is happy with other children.’
‘But why didn’t you bring her to me first?’
‘No time.’
Exasperated, Rowena didn’t press her to say why
there had been no time. ‘Then I’ll see her when she gets back. You will let me know when she returns?’
Although Luli nodded her eyes evaded Rowena’s.
‘Is it the same mission school where you went?’
Luli nodded. ‘Yes.’
The sudden sound of footsteps came from overhead and made her look up. ‘The other women?’ She refrained from saying ‘concubines’ but Luli knew whom she meant.
‘Yes.’
‘Sometimes I see them over there on that balcony. Are some of the children theirs?’
‘Yes.’
‘Can I meet these women?’
Luli blinked. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Can you ask them if I may visit, or they may prefer to visit me? I promise I won’t get you into trouble. I’m sure the luoban won’t mind,’ she added, seeing fear on Luli’s face.
Luli still seemed undecided.
‘Can you ask them? For me?’
It was not a very enthusiastic nod, but at least she’d agreed.
Like some latterday Mother Goose, she followed Luli out into the courtyard holding back to wait for approval.
Luli’s expression was strained as though she was still undecided.
‘Go on,’ whispered Rowena.
A final decision and Luli was running up the opposite staircase and along the balcony on which three of the women had appeared. She saw them bend their heads, then eye each other in amazement as Luli explained.
Three white faces and heads surmounted by pillows of glossy black hair turned to look across the courtyard in her direction, then at each other before nodding in unison.
Rowena followed Luli across the courtyard and up the steps. At the top she slid back the retaining bar.
Their rooms were unremarkable in that they were as beautiful as her own with panelled walls, ebony fretwork and a painted dragon slithering across the ceiling.
She returned the women’s welcoming bows and smiled. Two of the women smiled shyly back at her. The third, slightly taller than the others and exceptionally beautiful, retained a guarded look and did not attempt to rise from her divan.
Rowena kept smiling. ‘Would you tell them my name, Luli?’
‘They already know it.’
