A Place of Birds

by Jane Jackson

She heard the door open but took an extra few seconds to finish entering the figures she had just totalled before raising her head. ‘Good mor –’ She started violently, her intake of breath clearly audible. As she looked into Lowell’s eyes all the barriers she had so painstakingly erected were swept away by a tidal wave of joy.

  ‘We’ve been here before,’ he murmured, his voice unsteady. ‘Five months ago I walked into the office at Braithwaite’s yard in Falmouth and saw you just as you are now.’

  Five months and a lifetime of changes. ‘No,’ she murmured, ‘I’m not the same person.’ She hadn’t expected to see him again, and now he was in front of her, almost within touching distance. It was torture, a bitter-sweet agony of longing and – why was he looking at her like that? He had no right. He was married. She began to tremble. ‘I’m afraid Mr Prakash isn’t here right now,’ she avoided his gaze, terrified he would see things she had neither the strength nor the sophistication to hide. ‘Can I help you?’

  Gathering himself he laid a statement of account on the ledger in front of her. ‘My father’s compradore has sent several reminders –’

  ‘Yes, I found –’ Susanna opened the right-hand drawer, took out a cheque and a receipt and pushed them across the desk. She had to clear her throat before she could speak. ‘Mr Prakash asked me to offer his most sincere apologies. His wife’s illness, and … other matters … caused this to be overlooked.’

  ‘May I?’ Lowell indicated the pen. Scrawling his signature on the receipt he put the cheque in his pocket while Susanna returned the signed chit to the drawer. With business concluded the tension increased. The air was so charged it seemed to vibrate. What he waiting for? Why didn’t he go?

  ‘You must excuse me, Captain Hawke,’ the words stuck in her dry throat. ‘I do have rather a lot …’ she indicated the ledger and the tray of invoices.

  ‘Susanna, please –’

  The chair flew backwards as she shot to her feet. ‘How is your wife? She must be so pleased to have you home. Lady Wilbury was quite upset that you missed the party –’ she broke off, bowing her head, pressing her knuckles onto the desk.

  ‘You don’t understand.’

  Her head jerked up. Tears welled and his face splintered into glittering fragments. ‘No I don’t. But it’s none of my business, is it?’ Her brittle laugh was choked off by a sob. She blinked furiously, wiping her wet cheeks with her palm.

  ‘Please listen to me,’ he pleaded softly, urgently. ‘There are certain things … it’s very difficult –’

  Susanna knew she had no right to feel such heartache. But that didn’t stop it hurting. ‘It would be, with you away so much.’

  ‘My wife prefers it so.’

  Studying his face she saw lines of strain around his eyes and mouth. He looked more exhausted now that he had during the worst moments of the voyage.

  ‘I don’t underst –’ The words dried as he nodded.

  ‘Exactly. We have to talk. But not here, not now.’ His mouth twisted in a weary smile and some of the tension seemed to leave him. ‘How are your cousins? Are they settling in?’

  ‘No. There isn’t a CIM mission in Shanghai any longer. That’s why I’m working here. We’ve been staying in a hotel but our money’s running out. We have to go to Anqing. Lucy is making enquiries about steamers.’

  ‘I’ll take you. I’m going upriver in three days’ time.’ His gaze held hers.

  She looked away in despair. ‘You’re married, Lowell.’

  He gestured impatiently. ‘There’s so much you don’t know. Tell Lucy to forget the steamer. I’ll take you to Anqing.’ Reaching across the desk he caressed her cheek with his fingertips. The fleeting touch made her blood leap.

  ‘Just one thing. The freight I’m taking upriver to Kewkiang …’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘It’s guns. Guns and ammunition.’

  She froze. ‘You’re a gun-runner?’

  A wry smile twisted his mouth. ‘Not on a regular basis. This particular cargo was ordered by the British consul in Kewkiang. The weapons are to protect British lives in danger because the Treaties are being ignored.’

  Listening to the complaints in the Consulate she had felt anger and sympathy for the victims of Chinese refusal to obey the law. But her Quaker upbringing demanded she condemn violence. Torn, she looked up at him uncertainly. ‘Why?’

  ‘Why tell you? Because – Do you remember saying how your whole life has been spent trying to be what other people wanted? And how you longed to be accepted for the person that you are?’

  ‘Oh yes.’

  He shrugged. ‘You must see me as I am, Susanna. Not as you might wish me to be. Do you understand?’

  She blushed furiously.

  ‘And will you trust me?’ His expression was hard, almost arrogant. But the harshness in his voice told her how much her answer mattered.

  Helpless, she nodded.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Lowell watched as Susanna helped Meredith. Her shy uncertain smile wrenched his heart. What right had he even to hope? Yet when she looked at him …

  Tearing his gaze away he drew Lucy aside. ‘Are you sure this is wise?’ They both glanced at Meredith leaning heavily on Susanna’s arm, a perceptible tremor shaking her head as she stared vacantly into space. ‘Wouldn’t she be better off staying here to be cared for by the nuns? I’ve heard they have a particular understanding for this –’

  ‘I can’t.’ Lucy said simply. ‘I’m sure the nuns are kind. But she’s my sister. How can I ask someone else to take care of her? She is not always like this. There are times when she’s perfectly lucid. How do you think she would feel to realise I had abandoned her? And what would the Chinese think? They have a great reverence for family. How could I ask them to listen to me talk about God’s love for all mankind if I find caring for my own sister too great a burden? Please don’t worry, we’ll be fine.’

  Reluctantly Lowell turned away and gave the order to cast off, watching Susanna until she disappeared from sight down the companionway. Patrolling the deck, ostensibly checking the condition of the ship, he thought about his wife.

  Despite the disaster she had maintained their customary routine, particularly when the servants were about. It was a brave effort. For her entire future – her reputation, friends, position in society, social life – hung on his decision. But he was no nearer making it now than he had been five days ago. He could have killed her father with his bare hands. But the man was already dead, drowned with his mouse-like wife in a typhoon two years ago. Which meant Marjorie had no one. Yet, God knew, he owed her nothing.

  When he told her he was leaving earlier than planned to go upriver she had made a valiant effort to hide her dread and behave as though nothing unusual was happening.

  ‘Do you think John will come back?’

  He shrugged. ‘If I can find him I’ll give him father’s message. But it’s his decision.’

  ‘And the missionaries? Will they be safe there?’ Seeing his eyes narrow she added quickly, ‘Geraldine Wilbury called yesterday afternoon while you were out. She mentioned them.’

  Lowell felt a quick flare of anger. Geraldine had initiated their liaison, contriving meetings with a flair that demonstrated considerable practice. But at a party one evening at the height of their affair, overestimating her power she snubbed Marjorie. He had ended it there and then. She had never forgiven him. Yet driven by motives he did not pretend to understand she still called regularly on Marjorie. ‘Did Lady Wilbury also mention how she knew they were going to Anqing?’

  ‘Apparently she overheard one of them in the chemist’s shop in Nanking Street, a rather excitable woman with a carrying voice. Geraldine was surprised to hear that you were carrying passengers. I told her these were unusual circumstances.’

  ‘They are.’ Lowell looked directly at her. ‘Quite exceptional.’ She nodded slowly her bruised eyes fixed on his face. He saw her throat work. ‘I suppose I’ve always known that one day … Lowell, if
this is –’

  He raised one hand, cutting her off. But his voice was gentle. ‘When I know, I’ll tell you.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She attempted a smile. ‘It’s just … well, I’d hate to hear it from anyone else.’

  ‘Gossip never bothered you in the past.’

  ‘No, but that was …’ She bent her head for a moment, then looked up at him. ‘It’s different this time, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes. It’s different this time.’

  ‘I can’t,’ Susanna raised her horrified gaze from the Derringer lying on the hatch cover between them, and shook her head. ‘Please don’t ask me to.’

  ‘So someone else must carry the burden of your safety?’ Lowell arched one dark brow. ‘What sort of independence is that?’

  ‘You’re not being –’

  ‘Fair? Do you think the river pirates or the renegade soldiers will be fair? Do you imagine that once they realise there are women on board they’ll bow politely and attack some other vessel instead?’

  She winced at his sharpness. ‘This is a fast ship. Can’t you simply avoid trouble?’

  His laugh was brief and humourless. ‘I wish it were that easy. I’d back my crew against any on the Yangtze. But in these waters skill with firearms is as important as seamanship. I can’t spare men for guard duties, Susanna. You must share responsibility for your cousins’ safety, and your own.’

  She gave a shaky nod. ‘Yes. I do see.’ The dull metal gleamed like polished pewter. It looked like a toy. Yet those tiny twin barrels spat death.

  ‘Pick it up.’ When she hesitated, his voice grew harder. ‘Go on. It won’t bite you.’

  Stung, she reached for the gun then glared up at him, only to meet a look of such tenderness and understanding that her heart turned over. How well he knew her. And how many others? Her answering smile faltered and she looked away, biting the inside of her lip.

  ‘I never expected this … you.’ She had to strain to hear his whisper. ‘I’d accepted … I thought I could cope. But everything’s changed. Not just meeting you. There are things I didn’t know about. Marjorie and I … It is not a proper marriage. It never has been. My bride was … is … unable to be a wife. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

  Blushing crimson Susanna nodded. ‘I think so. But why? I know some women find the early days of marriage difficult –’

  His brows climbed. ‘How –?’

  ‘My sister … Her husband behaved in a most peculiar …’ she shook her head. ‘But you wouldn’t … I can’t imagine you doing anything –’ she stopped in confusion. She was betraying thoughts and feelings about him to which she had no right. He reached out to take her hand just as an able seaman trotted past, and brushed imaginary dust off his trouser knee instead. ‘Surely this isn’t the right place to be talking of such matters,’ she whispered.

  ‘It’s the safest place,’ he was grim. ‘God knows I’d rather be alone with you. But you’re sharing my quarters because your cousins trust me not to take advantage of the situation. It’s a trust I’m finding very hard to honour.’

  His burning gaze sent shivers of strange and exquisite sensation through her. The ship’s bell clanged, making her jump and breaking the tension. Lowell explained how to load the tiny gun. ‘Now come over to the rail.’

  As the schooner rose and plunged on the lumpy water she staggered. He caught her instantly, his hand warm, steadying. She glanced up in gratitude. And looked quickly at the murky water. ‘Why is it so rough?’

  ‘The melting snow draining down from the mountains causes the river to rise more than forty feet at this time of year. But even this volume of water can’t hold back a rising tide. It’s a battle between two powerful opposing forces.’ His tone was dry and self-mocking, ‘and creates enormous turbulence.’ After a brief silence he pointed to a rock-fringed wooded island. ‘See the temple near the summit? Aim at that and pull the trigger.’ As she swung round, eyes wide, he gently deflected the gun from his stomach.

  ‘Oh! I’m s-sorry.’

  ‘It’s all right. No damage done … this time,’ he added darkly. ‘You won’t hit the temple. A gun this size has a very short range. Go on. Fire. And don’t close your eyes.’

  He made her re-load and fire until she no longer flinched at the report. ‘Well done.’ Sagging with relief she offered him the gun back. He shook his head. ‘I want you to keep it on you at all times. Somewhere out of sight but easily reached. Wait here, I’ll be back in a minute.’

  She tried the gun in the pocket of her dress, but it thumped uncomfortably against her thigh when she moved. After a moment, shielded by her cloak, she felt for the garter just above her knee and tucked the little gun into her the top of stocking. Leaning her folded arms on the gunwale she stiffened as she caught sight of a large steamer lying on its side half-submerged in the yellow-brown torrent.

  ‘He probably ran onto a mudbank,’ Lowell said from behind her. ‘The force of the stream is enough to capsize ships twice as big. But that won’t happen to us. The schooner has a much shallower draft which allows for more leeway outside the channel.’

  ‘Oh, good,’ she croaked. Then saw he was holding a rifle.

  Lying on her back, the curtain open just enough to admit a narrow band of comforting light from the oil lamp, she listened to footsteps on the deck above her head and the calls of the crew standing a double watch. Lowell was still on deck.

  Though she was physically tired her thoughts wouldn’t let her rest. Handling firearms out of necessity was one thing. Discovering she had a natural aptitude with them was quite another.

  Lowell hadn’t been able to hide his amusement. She couldn’t altogether blame him. Her own feelings were decidedly ambivalent. Ministers thundered ‘thou shalt not kill’ at every opportunity. Which was fine provided everyone obeyed the rules. But, as she had seen for herself, too many didn’t. On reflection she was reassured rather than shamed by her competence.

  She pictured Lowell’s hands, strong and weather-beaten, his fingers swift and efficient on the rifle. Those fingers had caressed her cheek. She had believed him gone from her life forever. Now they were together once more. But for how long?

  ‘Trust me.’ His voice echoed in her head. And where for so long there had been only dark desolation hope glimmered like a newly lit candle. She slept.

  Men shouting. Feet pounding along the deck. The boom of cannon and scream of grapeshot. Susanna shot upright, eyes wide, heart racing. Was it a nightmare? Then more shouts from above and the piercing sound of Meredith screaming told her whatever was happening was all too real.

  Leaping from the bunk she flung her cloak round her shoulders, pushed bare feet into her shoes, and seizing the tiny gun ran out through the day cabin. Her cousins’ door was open revealing Meredith slumped on the floor hammering the deck with her fists, her mouth wide open in a non-stop scream. Crouched alongside Lucy had hold of her sister’s shoulders.

  ‘Meredith, please –’ The clatter of a machine gun, loud and very close, made all three start. As Meredith whimpered and cringed Lucy’s shocked gaze met Susanna’s. ‘Wait, Susanna, don’t –’ But as Meredith’s moan rose swiftly to a shriek, she was already half way up the brass stairs.

  Bursting through the companionway hatch she stopped abruptly. Dense fog shrouded the schooner, made worse by thick, evil-smelling smoke. Screams and splashing came from somewhere near the bow.

  ‘You got the bastards, Cap’n! Jesus, that Gatling’s some gun.’

  Coughing and gasping, holding the tiny pistol tightly in a shaking hand, Susanna covered her nose and mouth with her cloak and felt her way forward, clinging to the gunwale. The smoke stung her eyes and tears streamed down her cheeks. She tripped, crying out as she sprawled over a body. Coughing and gasping for breath she scrambled backwards pointing the little gun at the crumpled figure, terrified in case it moved.

  ‘He’s going to hit us!’

  There was a crash and the schooner shuddered. Feet pounded down the deck toward
s her.

  ‘He’s capsized!’

  ‘Bloody thing’s sinking!’ A ragged cheer went up. ‘’Ow many d’you reckon?’

  ‘Eight, at least.’

  ‘That’ll teach the buggers!’

  A crewman emerged from the murk. Seeing her and the body he skidded to a halt. ‘Jesus! Don’t shoot, miss. It’s Cecil.’ Crouching, he turned the body over and recoiled in disgust. ‘He got hit by a stinkpot.’ He yelled over his shoulder, ‘Somebody bring water!’

  Susanna stumbled to her feet. Her legs felt like jelly. It was easier to breathe now but the fog still drifted and swirled like veils. Lowell appeared with a bucket and threw water over the seaman who grunted then sat up, shaking his head. ‘All right, someone give him a hand then get back to your duties. And keep a sharp look out. There’ll be others.’ Gripping Susanna’s upper arm he hustled her back along the deck towards the companionway. ‘You shouldn’t be up here.’

  ‘I heard gunfire and –’

  ‘You were supposed to remain below. You could have been hurt.’ Beneath the dark stubble a nerve jumped in his jaw.

  ‘So could you,’ she retorted.

  He hauled her round to face him. ‘I gave you the gun to protect yourself, not me, or the ship.’ He looked towards the companionway. ‘What in the name of God is all that screaming?’

  Susanna gulped. ‘Meredith. She was frightened by the gunfire.’

  ‘In future you stay below unless I tell you otherwise.’ He shook her. ‘Do you understand?’

  She nodded, her hair blowing wildly in the wind. He caught a handful and gave it a warning tug. ‘I can’t be dealing with pirates and worrying about you.’ His scowl softened. ‘Scally’ll bring your water in a minute. In the meantime for all our sakes try and shut Meredith up.’

  Susanna swallowed the last mouthful of her tea. She was very tired. During her brief visits topside she had seen two other ships attacked. But Lowell’s consummate seamanship had kept the schooner free of further trouble.

  Beside her Lucy ate slowly, dark circles of fatigue beneath her eyes. Even her resilience had eventually crumbled under the strain of watching Meredith reject every remedy Susanna prepared, and she had fetched the chloral hydrate.