by Zen Cho
Tuesday, 12th April 1921
It is eleven o'clock at night and I have crept to an armchair to write this surreptitiously. I love the feeling of writing in a dark room. One feels like a quiet busy rat, going about its business behind the walls while the humans slumber in their beds.
How cold it is! And it is April. But soon spring will start tapping on the window, thinking of coming in—then May—then warmth, and sunshine again.
I am so happy! Why do my feet and hands not glow with it, why is my hair is not all a-frizz with joy? I feel reborn—newly washed—leagues away from the wailing old misery I was yesterday. Let me try to recount this day in full, so that when I am old and my knees ache, I can read this to cheer myself up.
It was a grey day this morning. I opened my eyes and saw the window silver-beaded with rain. And it kept raining as I dressed and went down to breakfast, and went right on after: a miserly persevering plip-plip-plip, nothing like a proper tropical thunderstorm.
I prefer a storm with some self-respect, one that puts its back into storming. At home you could expect thunder like God rolling barrels across the floor of heaven, and rain like spears that knocked trees over and destroyed gardens.
I sat in my chair in the thin grey light and tried to distract myself with Anne Bronte, hating everyone. Margery for going away, and Ravi for making me love him, and my parents for being tiresomely attached to the idea of my marrying Ng Wai Cheong, and Hardie for implanting me with the worm, and Diana for not hating me. And my poor wormlet most of all, for numerous sins, none of which were in the least its fault.
I was in no mood to see my visitor when Miss Thompson told me I had one. I must have looked terrifically lowering when I dragged myself to the drawing room, holding Agnes Grey like a shield. I thought it must be Hardie or Diana, and rather fancied the idea of hurling the book at them.
I didn't think it would be Ravi.
"Have you ever read David Copperfield?" I said, when I had got my breath back and he had helped me up. "Do you know the part where he goes to see his aunt, and Miss Betsey sits right down on the gravel path because she is so surprised? I was just thinking what an education Dickens is. If I hadn't read him I wouldn't have known that people sat down in times of astonishment, and I might have thought that there was something wrong with my knees. However, as it is, I know I am perfectly normal. It is a great comfort."
Ravi was looking into my face. He looked as if he had found a cold drowned cat crying on his doorstep.
"Your friend Margery Hargreve told me you were here," he said. "I'm sorry I did not find you earlier. Jade, will you come away with me?"
"Please," I said. My throat ached. I felt as if there were a rock lodged in my chest, pressing against my ribs. "Ravi—I have been so unhappy!"
"Let's get you away first," said Ravi.
After that he didn't say much, but was very efficient. I packed a bag of things I would need for the night, and then I crept down the stairs to the gate, where Ravi had a car waiting. As I jumped in and the motor started I saw Mrs. Crowther gaping at me from a window on the first floor. I waved, and we were off.
It is a bit silly now I think about it, because of course nobody was keeping me there and there was no need to stage any sort of escape. But it felt wonderfully liberating at the time. And I shan't go back, though Hardie has paid Mrs. Crowther a six-month advance for my keep. I expect he can afford to write off the loss.
"I have something to say to you," Ravi said when we were safely on the road.
He paused.
"I know you would never say something you did not mean, or do anything you did not want to do," he said. "But perhaps it's worth saying that you do not need to say yes, or give me your reply straight away. At the same time, I hope you will consider it. I think it might be the best solution, if you could bring yourself to do it."
"What are you going on about?" I said.
"I'm getting to that, Impatience," said Ravi. "Jade—Geok Huay—will you marry me?"
How do I describe what I felt then? I felt as if my heart had climbed out of my chest and gone a-roaming. I felt as if my spirit had leapt out of me, leaving me rudderless. A great empty space floated under my ribs, hollowed out by shock.
I said, "What did you say?"
Ravi was glaring furiously at the road.
"Don't reply at once," he said. "Think about it. I know it's not what you want, and you deserve better. But I would help you as much as you let me, and be a father to your child. You wouldn't have to live alone. I know how you must be feeling, but—"
"I'm going to have Hardie's child," I said, too loudly. I swallowed. "I should have told you. I'm sorry."
Ravi blinked. He pulled over to the side of the narrow road and turned to me.
"I know," he said.
"You know?"
"This is not a very gallant thing to say," said Ravi. "But Jade, you're .... "
He couldn't bring himself to say it, so I said it for him:
"I'm the approximate size of St. Paul's Cathedral?"
"And I knew before I saw you," said Ravi. "Miss Hargreve wrote to me saying she thought you needed a friend, and that I ought to come to visit you since she was leaving Mrs. Crowther's. It didn't take me long to work out why you were at Mrs. Crowther's. I wasn't sure if you wanted to see me, after what happened the last time. But I had to try."
"Is that why you're proposing?" I said. "Because you knew about this?" I gestured down at my belly, which for some time now had introduced a pronounced irregularity in my figure.
"Well—" said Ravi. "Jade. May I take your hand?"
I gave him my hand mutely. He held it flat against his palm and looked down at it.
"You know I love you," he said. "I should like to look after you and your child, if you would let me. But I promise I would never expect anything more than friendship from you. I think we could rub along happily all the same. We are friends, aren't we? Will you consider it?"
"You love me?" I said. "Did I know that?"
Ravi's eyebrows drew together.
"I thought you knew," he said.
"Did you tell me?" I said. "No, you didn't tell me. I'm sure I would recall it if you had told me!"
"But—that day, when you came to see me at my office," said Ravi. He looked confused, though he couldn't be any more bewildered than I was. "I told you, I was thinking of letting my parents arrange a marriage for me, since I hadn't had any luck with my choice. I said I didn't mind being in love with you. I thought you understood. You seemed sorry for me."
"I didn't understand a thing," I said.
It was beginning to dawn on me how very true this was.
"But then why did you kiss me?" said Ravi.
"Never mind that," I said, cheeks burning. "If you liked me, why did you stop?"
"It wouldn't have been fair to you to take advantage of your pity," said Ravi. "I knew you loved Hardie and he had hurt you, so you were seeking comfort. I didn't feel I could—"
"Oh, blast Hardie!" I roared. "Will you stop talking about that confounded man? I don't give a fig for Hardie! I shouldn't be sorry if I never saw him again!"
"What?" said Ravi.
"What?" said I.
We gazed at each other in wild surmise, like stout Cortez's men on the peak in Darien. Then Ravi ran his hands through his hair and sat back.
"You are having a baby," he said.
"I certainly hope it turns out to be a baby," I agreed.
"And it is Hardie's child."
"It can't very well be anyone else's," I said. "Biologically speaking."
"But you didn't have an affair with him in Paris, and he didn't drop you afterward."
"That is a nice way to talk about me," I said indignantly. "As if I were a bit of paper to be dropped in the bin. No, we did have an affair in Paris, but Hardie didn't drop me. He wanted to go on as we were. It would've been part of his arrangement with Diana—they have a very modern sort of marriage—but I didn't like to. And I wouldn't have seen
him anymore, except socially, only then I found out the baby was going to come. So we decided I should go to Mrs. Crowther's home to have the baby—discreetly, you know."
"'We' decided?" said Ravi.
"Well, I did," I said. "They wanted me to come to live with them, but can you imagine living with the Hardies? Dinner parties every other day and having to remember everyone's lovers' names?"
Ravi was still looking as if he'd been hit on the head with a blunt object, but he started to grin at this.
"That would be a difficult life," he said. "On the other hand, you'd be able to have tea at the Ritz every day."
"You know me too well," I said sternly. "But even that couldn't tempt me. You see, I like Diana, but Hardie is such a cad."
"Is he?" said Ravi.
"He's a well-meaning cad," I said. "And he's been decent enough to me. But that doesn't absolve him of caddishness. Don't you think he's a cad?"
"The thought has crossed my mind before," Ravi admitted. "But why did you have an affair with him if you thought so?"
I looked down at my hands, folded meekly on top of the slumbering worm.
"I was just so curious," I said. "I wanted to know what it would be like. And he is awfully good-looking, you know. I am sorry, Ravi. You must be shocked at my lack of moral fibre."
Ravi's mouth worked. Then he started laughing.
"I have got hold of entirely the wrong end of the stick, I see," he said. "You've got it all sorted out."
"I thought I did," I said glumly. "But I was really horribly unhappy at that beastly home. I didn't know a person could be so unhappy. I was so glad to see you. It was like the sun coming out after rain. I suppose .... are you cross at me, Ravi?"
"Why would I be?" said Ravi.
"Oh, you know. For being such a fool."
"As far as I can make out, I'm the only fool here," said Ravi.
"If you aren't cross at me, would you still like to marry me?" I said. "I would like to marry you, if you're sure you asked because you like me, and not just because you thought I needed it, and wanted to save me. And if you are sure you wouldn't mind about the baby. You must be sure you'd be kind to the baby."
"Of course I'd be kind to the baby," said Ravi. "I like babies. And your baby would be bound to be nicer than any other baby."
I was pleased by this.
"I had suspected that myself," I confided.
Ravi was pressing his fingers against his forehead. "But Jade, I'm sorry—did you say you would like to marry me?"
"Yes," I said. "Because I love you. That's why I kissed you, if you must know. I don't kiss out of pity. I only kiss people if they're good-looking, or if I'm in love with them. Or both. You're both. Do you still love me?"
Ravi looked at me for so long I felt shy. I raised my hands to my face to cool my cheeks. Ravi reached out and took my hands before I could do it.
"You think I might have stopped since five minutes ago?" he said.
"Well," I said. "I thought I'd best make sure."
There is one last thing to remember. I asked Ravi how he'd known my name.
"Jade?" he said.
"No," I said. "My real name."
"Ah." He smiled: the same smile he'd turned to me the first day I met him, that said, I have always known you.
"You wrote it at the end of the first letter you sent me, about the Waley article," said Ravi. "You crossed it out and wrote Jade in its place. But I remembered."
3 Seddon Street, London
Tuesday, 26th April 1921
My dearest Margery,
I'm sorry I did not tell you I was going to leave before I did it. But when Ravi came I knew I should have to make a break for it, as if I were a prisoner escaping his gaol, or I should never bring myself to do it, but be stuck at Mrs. Crowther's forever. It was my decision to go there and I felt duty-bound to stick by it.
Well, a foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, Emerson says. I think I shall work on having a great mind from now on, like yours. Ravi is consistent, but that is because he is always right about everything. It comes to him naturally, as singing does to a nightingale.
My blessed girl, thank goodness you wrote him. I shall never be able to thank you enough for the favour you did me then. I shall dedicate my next article in Milady's Boudoir to you—it is a delicious piece on this spring's hemlines—but that can only go a very little way towards repaying the debt.
There is another thing I have not told you, and you will quite justifiably be cross that I haven't, but I hope you will see why it had to be done in such a hurry. I have got married to Ravi. We are tremendously happy, though not entirely respectable: we are living in his lodgings in London, but the landlady doesn't like it, and it is no place to have a baby in any case. My two other friends have offered us the use of their country house in Sussex for my confinement, but we shan't be staying there too long, I hope. We think of heading eastwards soon.
If you are vexed to have missed my wedding, as rushed and prosaic an affair as that was, imagine what my mother will have to say to me. I shall be very glad to see my parents again and to meet Ravi's family, but I may pack a full suit of armour in preparation—and fireproofed underthings.
It seems rather cold to be at Brighton, but I hope you are having a wonderful time with Cordelia and even Reginald. If you aren't too busy looking charming in a bathing suit and building rock castles with shingle from the beach, will you come and see me in Sussex one of these days? We shan't be going anywhere until the baby is born, and I should love for you and Ravi to meet. You would like each other, and even if you do not, I have enough liking for the both of you to go around. Do let me know if you can come—and write, whether you can or not.
The worm sends its love, and so does
Yr affate
Geok Huay (Jade)
Thank you!
Thank you for reading The Perilous Life of Jade Yeo.
If you liked this novella, you may enjoy my other stories, several of which are available to read for free online—check out http://zencho.org/short-fiction.
If you would like to know when I have new stories out, you can visit my website at http://zencho.org, follow me on Twitter at @zenaldehyde or on Facebook at zenchobooks, or sign up to my mailing list for updates on new releases.
Other books by Zen Cho
Sorcerer to the Crown is my debut novel, the first in a historical fantasy trilogy set in Regency England. Zacharias Wythe, England's first African Sorcerer Royal, is trying to reverse the decline in England's magic, when his plans are hijacked by ambitious runaway orphan and female magical prodigy, Prunella Gentleman. The book is out in the US from Ace/Roc Books and in the UK and Commonwealth from Pan Macmillan from September 2015. Click here for more information and details of how to buy it.
Spirits Abroad is a collection of short SFF stories by me, published by Malaysian indie press Fixi. It is a joint winner of the Crawford Fantasy Award. The print version is available from Fixi in Malaysia and Amazon.com outside Malaysia. The ebook has additional content and is available on Smashwords.
Cyberpunk: Malaysia is an anthology of short cyberpunk stories by Malaysian authors, edited by me. Buy the print version from Fixi (in Malaysia) or Amazon.com (outside Malaysia), or get the ebook from Smashwords or Google Play.
If you'd like to read an excerpt from Spirits Abroad, please turn the page.
Spirits Abroad preview
The First Witch of Damansara
Vivian's late grandmother was a witch — which is just a way of saying she was a woman of unusual insight. Vivian, in contrast, had a mind like a hi-tech blender. She was sharp and purposeful, but she did not understand magic.
This used to be a problem. Magic ran in the family. Even her mother's second cousin, who was adopted, did small spells on the side. She sold these from a stall in Kota Bharu. Her main wares were various types of fruit fried in batter, but if you bought five pisang or cempedak goreng, she threw in a jampi for free.
These embar
rassing relatives became less of a problem after Vivian left Malaysia. In the modern Western country where she lived, the public toilets were clean, the newspapers were allowed to be as rude to the government as they liked, and nobody believed in magic except people in whom nobody believed. Even with a cooking appliance mind, Vivian understood that magic requires belief to thrive.
She called home rarely, and visited even less often. She was twenty-eight, engaged to a rational man, and employed as an accountant.
Vivian's Nai Nai would have said that she was attempting to deploy enchantments of her own — the fiancé, the ordinary hobbies and the sensible office job were so many sigils to ward off chaos. It was not an ineffective magic. It worked — for a while.
There was just one moment, after she heard the news, when Vivian experienced a surge of unfilial exasperation.
"They could have call me on Skype," she said. "Call my handphone some more! What a waste of money."
"What's wrong?" said the fiancé. He plays the prince in this story: beautiful, supportive, and cast in an appropriately self-effacing role — just off-screen, on a white horse.
"My grandmother's passed away," said Vivian. "I'm supposed to go back."
Vivian was not a woman to hold a grudge. When she turned up at KLIA in harem trousers and a tank top it was not through malice aforethought, but because she had simply forgotten.
Her parents embraced her with sportsmanlike enthusiasm, but when this was done her mother pulled back and plucked at her tank top.
"Girl, what's this? You know Nai Nai won't like it."
Nai Nai had lived by a code of rigorous propriety. She had disapproved of wearing black or navy blue at Chinese New Year, of white at weddings, and of spaghetti straps at all times. When they went out for dinner, even at the local restaurant where they sat outdoors and were accosted by stray cats requesting snacks, her grandchildren were required to change out of their ratty pasar malam T-shirts and faded shorts. She drew a delicate but significant distinction between flip-flops and sandals, singlets and strapless tops, soft cotton shorts and denim.
