White Shanghai

by Elvira Baryakina

  “Do you care where? I’m staying in the Blue Moon Hotel and leaving tomorrow.” He stretched his hand to her. “Are you coming?”

  Ada apprehensively touched his fingers. “Yes, I am…”

  “I’ll be waiting for you in the lobby at seven in the morning. And please, don’t tell anyone that you saw me.”

  He left. For a long time, Ada looked at the empty space between the bottles. There was a poster glued to the opposite shelf: a girl wearing a swimming suit was about to dive into a glass of vermouth.

  “Miss Ada, I want to go home!” Brittany pouted her lips, pulling Ada by her belt.

  “Yes…let’s go. … Come…”

  Ada felt like a frightened little cavewoman who had lost her tribe and was ready to stick to any hunter who called her. And come what may: let him have her as an assistant or travel-companion, let him eat her if he gets too hungry.

  2.

  Ada gave Brittany a bath and read her a book. The poor girl now wouldn’t have anyone left except an always-busy mother. Her father was done for.

  “Good night! I love you very much.” Ada kissed Brittany and switched off the lamp.

  I should say goodbye to the servants, she thought, going downstairs.

  Ada felt anxious and sad. She had spent four years in the Wayers’ house, so much had happened during this time: good times, bad times, crazy times. Now, she was surrendering herself to a person she barely knew and she had no protection, but his love for her.

  Several days ago, Ada asked Mitya to read her palm; he said that a big change awaited her.

  “A good or bad one?”

  “You’ll decide yourself. We can’t choose events, but we can change our attitude towards them.”

  Over the stairs in the hallway, a dim lamp rocked slightly on a long cord. At the bottom of the lampshade was a fallen army of insects.

  Should I write a note for Mrs. Wayer? Ada thought. Probably not, let her consider me missing.

  Lissie appeared on the highest step. “Come here,” she beckoned Ada.

  A night-light was switched on in her bedroom and her bed linen was crumpled. Lissie motioned to an armchair and said with a conspiratorial air, “Have a seat.”

  She locked the door.

  “Dear Ada…” Her eyes had a strange glimmer in the dark. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  Ada felt startled, but somebody’s heavy palm pressed her into the chair. “Sit.”

  It was Johnny Collor. What was he doing here?

  “Brittany told me everything,” Lissie continued. “She’s heard how you planned to do a runner with Mr. Bernard. You see, Daniel is a war criminal and he works for the communists. He killed Edna and I don’t want you to get into his paws.”

  Collor winced. “Lissie, stop this comedy.”

  “No, I want her to know!” Suddenly Lissie slapped Ada in the face. “I trusted you with my child, I was feeding you! And after all that, you decide to run away with the person who killed my sister.”

  She wanted to slap Ada in the face again.

  “A-a-ah!” yelped Ada, but Collor shut her mouth with his palm.

  “Be quiet—you’ll wake the whole house!”

  He moved his scary eyes closer to her and murmured, “That’s how faithful you are to Felix?”

  A minute later, Ada was lying on a wardrobe floor tied with belts from dressing gowns and with a towel stuffed in her mouth. She couldn’t breathe as her nose was blocked from tears and blood.

  Through the heavy haze, she heard voices in the bedroom.

  “Why the hell did you throw that tantrum?”

  “I didn’t!”

  “Sit here and watch her, make sure she doesn’t run away. I have to go—we’ll catch Bernard red-handed.”

  Ada heard the sound of kiss. Oh my God, they’re lovers! Then a short chuckle of Collor, “What a fast girl! First, she caught my friend and now she’s run off with Bernard, the guy who denounced Felix.”

  Ada lost consciousness.

  At dawn, Lissie shook Ada awake. She dragged her outside, slapped her in the face again and told her to go to hell.

  3.

  The foreign concessions were celebrating the New Year of 1927. Ada sat in her room afraid to light a lamp. She was sure the police wanted to interrogate her about Daniel. No work, no money, no friends, no family.

  Maybe Klim could help her or at least give some advice, but it was impossible to get into the radio station.

  “Did he invite you?” a security guard asked.

  “No.”

  “Then, go away.”

  “I’m his friend!”

  “All the admirers are his friends. Not allowed.”

  Ada didn’t dare to go to Klim’s home. Mitya had disappeared.

  Next week she had to pay for her room. First, she would sell her books, then Victrola, then her samovar. She would have only one dress left and they would throw her outside. Starvation, pneumonia, death.

  Behind her wall she heard laughter and the strum of a guitar. In the morning, she had seen her neighbor carrying provisions from the market. Now everybody was carousing, celebrating the New Year.

  Ada grasped a coat and wrapped a scarf around her neck. I need to go to Betty. She is most likely working—doesn’t matter. Martha won’t throw me out, I’ll wait somewhere in a corner. I just can’t be alone, sitting in the dark.

  Snow was falling and melting as it touched the ground. A liquid gleam of the streetlights shone on the road, mixed with tree shadows. Frozen rickshaw boys smoked one cigarette, sharing it between three.

  Two Japanese girls came from around the corner, their faces—like white masks; wooden sandals on their feet clunked hitting the road.

  “Hey, ladies! Come with us!” some sailors shouted.

  The closer Ada went to the Northern Sichuan Road, the thicker the crowds became.

  Drunken people danced right in the street. Boxers Café-Buffet, Crystal Garden, El Dorado—music and clanging of dishes were heard from every door. A girl rushed to a passer-by, begging, “Would you buy some wine for poor Sonya?”

  Martha’s was packedю Everyone wore masks and pointed hats made of golden paper. All the crowd’s shoulders and hair were covered with ringlets and paper streamers.

  A clown with a monkey in a red wig ran around the stage. The audience screamed with laughter.

  Ada got through to the bar. “Where’s Betty?”

  The barman measured her with a look. “Upstairs with a client.”

  “And the Madam?”

  “At hers.”

  Ada didn’t know why she went to Martha. To complain about her life on the New Year’s Eve?

  She walked upstairs covered in confetti. A bottle of champagne popped open somewhere.

  “Hello!” Martha was looking at her through the open door of her office. “Come over.”

  In front of Martha was a bottle of cognac. She opened a glass cabinet, took out a shot glass and filled it up to the rim. “Here, drown your grief. Such cold fingers you have, like a frog!”

  “How do you know that I have grief?” Ada asked.

  “I doubt you came to my place, on the verge of tears, just to wish me happy New Year.” Martha threw open the doors of a wardrobe.

  “Here, a dress…shoes…what else? Go change and get downstairs. Put on a mask so no one can see your blubbering face. Go get drunk— tomorrow your head will start cracking with a hangover and you’ll forget all your troubles.”

  Ada obeyed. Without feeling shy, right in front of Martha, she stripped off her clothes and pulled the dress on—it was a bright red one with a pompous knot on the hip.

  “Come, I’ll put some lipstick on you,” Martha said. “You’re paler than mold.”

  A woman in a black mask looked back at Ada from the mirror. She had thin shoulders and a vulgar dress with a plunging neckline. Her hair was parted at one side with a cheap hairpin.

  “Give me more cognac,” Ada asked.

  She drank it all in one gulp and s
taggered downstairs.

  “Smile!” Martha screamed after her.

  “What?”

  “Smile! Men here are not after women and wine, they’re here because we have no problems they need to solve.”

  Ada pinned a smile on her face.

  4.

  Robert Wayer was sitting on a bed looking at his reflection in the mirror. Martha had arranged every room in a special style: a French boudoir, a ship’s cabin, a stable with horse-collars on the walls and a heap of hay on the floor.

  In this room, everything was covered with theater placards. Big chests on the floor were filled with costumes, wigs and hats. A bed was like a stage with a velvet curtain.

  A girl lay there, hiding her nose in a pillow. In the mirror, Robert could see the back of her head bandaged in ribbons from a mask. Never before had he made love to a woman whose face he couldn’t see.

  He also had a mask on—somebody put it on him when they were singing Happy Times. He stretched his hands, wanting to take it off, but the girl wouldn’t let him.

  “Don’t,” she said, barely audibly.

  Robert obeyed. This girl was to his taste. A tight, sleek tummy with bones sticking out on the sides. No waist and breasts just beginning to take shape—How lovely, how touching! Red make-up smeared around her lips, as if the little girl had taken mommy’s lipstick and had spread it around unskillfully. She wants to be a big girl, Robert thought. Doing what big girls do…but became all confused: sat on the side of the bed with her knees pressed together.

  Robert loved her tenderly. He looked through the slits in the mask at her dilated pupils, kissing the dark lock of hair stuck to her forehead.

  “Are you pleased with me?” she uttered. Under his fingers, he felt her spine sticking out of her hunched back, as if someone made a tight plait under the skin.

  “I’m very pleased with you,” Robert said. “You’re wonderful.”

  Then he watched her get dressed—all those sweet details of a women’s attire: knickers, camisole and stockings. The dress she wore was beautiful, festive, but the underwear—worn out from endless washing. As if this girl wasn’t even working here and had just come to Martha’s to have some fun.

  Oh, how wise and inventive women are! Robert thought. No one can beat them in the art of creating beautiful illusions.

  CHAPTER 71

  THE SOVIET STEAMBOAT

  1.

  Lemoine knew life. Like an experienced chef who can predict the taste of soup by glancing at the ingredients, he predicted the outcome of the events, looking at people. So, he was not surprised when he heard the news that Mr. Bernard was arrested. Policemen arrived, kicked up a fuss, and a little shooting started. Daniel injured one of them.

  What was Paul Marie to do? Take to his nonexistent heels before it was too late.

  The Avro-504 airplane was dissembled and packed in boxes, parcels and any other packaging to make it look like spare-parts for factory equipment. Nina Kupina demanded to have Mr. Bernard brought to her—she wanted to see his grateful eyes. In the interests of the investigation, the newspapers hadn’t written about his capture, and she had no idea about Daniel’s present predicament.

  Lemoine explained to the pushy woman that Mr. Bernard had left to Hankou. It was just too dangerous for him to stay in Shanghai and he’d authorized his friend, Paul Marie, to transport his airplane and leave the lovely lady with a thousand compliments and a kiss.

  Nina didn’t believe him. “I’ll come with you,” she said.

  This plan didn’t make Paul Marie happy at all. He wanted to sell the Avro-504 to the Hankou government and this was the only scenario that warmed his heart.

  One-Eyed gave his special signal that it would be a piece of cake to break the dame’s neck—he was always ready if required. But Lemoine liked Nina; it would be such a shame to finish her over a trifle like money. He tried talking her out of her idea, describing the dangers in picturesque detail. But it only infuriated her.

  “Don’t bullshit me!” she interrupted. “A steamer could take us there. I have nothing to do in Shanghai while my employees are doing their volunteer duty.”

  What was Lemoine do? He shrugged and sighed.

  After all, the main cause of mortality on earth is not starvation or war. It’s stupidity: that’s the scourge of God, that’s the eleventh Plague of Egypt.

  2.

  Klim watched Nina as she packed her suitcase.

  “Are you leaving?”

  “Yes.”

  “Which direction?”

  “Hankou.”

  “Decided to give yourself up as a prisoner in advance?”

  A scornful silence followed. His wife folded her shirts, stockings and a warm woolen dress.

  “Leave some space for sea biscuits,” Klim said. “On your first day in Hankou, the communists will jail you as an enemy of the working class. Stock up on cigarettes too, it’s the best currency in penal institutions.”

  Nina turned to him, pale and furious.

  “The Revolutionary Army is not against foreigners, but against the warlords who tore this country to shreds. Chiang Kai-shek is already in negotiations with Fessenden to peacefully resolve the issue. No one wishes us evil.”

  “And I suppose the marines are coming here from all over the world for the winter holidays.” Klim stood. “My dear, I think you just want me to talk you out of it…but you won’t listen anyway. Let me cross you, kiss you, and on Sunday, Kitty and I will go to the church and light a candle for you.”

  Nina slammed her suitcase shut and tightened the fasteners. A servant appeared.

  “Take it to the car,” she ordered.

  “So, why are you going?” Klim finally asked.

  “I’d like to see how people, who don’t care about all this, live,” she moved her hand around the room, including Klim in the gesture.

  He gave a whistle. “Why go that far then? In Shanghai’s opium dens, there are plenty of sages lying on the plank beds.”

  A clock ticked loudly. Klim opened the venetian blinds slightly. Nina was in her car. She climbed out to give an order to the chauffeur. As he ran back to the house, she stared intently at the windows on the second floor.

  She’s going to Bernard after all, Klim thought. He’s surely in Hankou with his communists.

  Klim looked vacantly at the lacquered end of Nina’s Ford. A black smoke burst out of the exhaust pipe. His wife left.

  3.

  Nina watched clouds hang low and flags tremble in the wind as her car roared down the street. A flock of pigeons took flight from an eave on the Holy Trinity Cathedral, disappearing into the sky.

  I’ll never return to Shanghai, Nina decided.

  It seemed that she wasn’t the one who was leaving, but the city itself was slowly sinking like Atlantis. Soon it would disappear into the blue and nothing would be left of it except memories turned into tall tales.

  Once Tamara told Nina that Shanghai was a proving ground where people unintentionally test the future order of this world.

  “Eventually different nations, social classes and cultures will mix with each other, but before this happens, people of diverse origins need to learn how to live side by side. Shanghai is one of the first drafts, that’s why everything is spotted with corrections here. But it’s impossible to create anything decent without rough copies.”

  “It’s a pity all rough copies sooner or later end up in the rubbish bin,” Nina laughed.

  Tamara nodded, “Most likely our Shanghai will disappear and something else will emerge in its place. But, that’s how it should be.”

  Yes, that’s how it should be. Nina’s Shanghai was sinking beneath the water taking everything dear to her: Klim, Kitty, her house and her business.

  As she always did, Nina became angry with her husband’s caustic words. He wrapped himself in them like in an ice shield, and anything she gave him or threw at him slid off. His shield wouldn’t melt either— she’d tried many times to get through. To all her timid attemp
ts, Klim would give her the usual sneering, Oh my dear.

  Yes, it was her fault. Yes, he had his reasons to hate her.

  Winter in Shanghai was somewhat similar to Russian spring. The air smelled of change. A passing car splashed through a puddle and sprayed Nina’s window. The chauffeur swore, but she laughed. She wound down the handle, lowered the window and raised it up again: there you go—almost as good as new.

  Reckless gestures had their charm. Daniel told Nina about the Revolutionary Army, about Chiang Kai-shek and his foreign advisors— one massive, cynical, romantic madness. If Daniel was happy with these communists, then Nina could also adapt.

  No plans, no goals, only living for today, committing great deeds— not for high ideals, but for fun.

  Lemoine met Nina at the quay. “Still want to come? Mark my words—I warned you!”

  She imagined for a second, how she would arrive back with her suitcase. Klim would raise his eyebrow. “My dear, what’s happened? Did you miss a turn? The quay is straight and to the left.”

  “If I’ve decided to go, it means I’ll go,” she said to Lemoine.

  He waved with his hand nonchalantly. “As you wish.”

  Smoke belched from the Soviet steamer Pamyat Lenina— Commemoration of Lenin. The deck was wet with fog; steel shields were spread along the boards in case of shelling. In war, anything is possible.

  Sailors lifted the ramp up as they departed. It was strange to hear them speaking Russian. It was even stranger that a couple of weeks ago they had actually been in Russia. It was a different world—beyond Nina’s understanding.

  A hooter sounded, then another. The steamer slowly started to turn.

  It’s all over.

  4.

  Nina stayed in her cabin for the whole day and read last year’s issue of the magazine World Pathfinder. From behind a thin wall, she could hear Lemoine’s voice. He was telling One-Eyed off.

  The buzz of the engine, the splash of the waves; barren fields and gloomy dark villages disappeared in the dusk. The curtain over the porthole was strange with its tractors and haystacks and slogan of Glory to Labor!

  “Hey, Miss Kupina!” Lemoine bumped the wall. “Dinner is served. I ordered them to bring it to my cabin. Let’s eat together so it’s not too boring.”