Mr Chen's Emporium

by Deborah O'Brien

‘What’s changed?’ asked Narelle.

  Angie blushed, but nobody seemed to notice. Anyway, there was nothing going on between her and Mr Songbird.

  ‘Well, I’d like to imagine she married a wealthy man,’ said Jennie, ‘who took her to his grand house in Sydney where they had lots of servants. And they lived happily ever after.’

  Narelle scoffed, ‘That’s only because you’re looking for someone rich who will whisk you away from boring old Millbrooke. But you won’t find him on the net. Blokes like that don’t need to advertise.’

  SPRING

  ‘When Aladdin lifted his head

  and saw her after such a long separation,

  he greeted her with an abundance of joy.’

  ‘Histoire d’Aladdin, ou la lampe merveilleuse’

  Nuit CCCXLI [Antoine Galland c.1710]

  8

  A SECRET INFATUATION

  Then

  Millbrooke in the spring was as enchanting a place as anywhere in Scotland. Daffodils danced in the garden beds. Lilac bushes of white and purple scented the air. New lambs huddled together in the fields. And down in the stream the duck-mole was a daily visitor. Amy could see the ripples in the dawn light as she fetched water from the well. Around noon the creature would reappear, only for a few minutes, and then it would move on. At twilight it returned for a lingering visit, fossicking for food in the pools formed by fallen willow trees and ignoring the ducks cavorting around it. The boys knew the duck-mole’s routines better than anyone. After Robbie’s encounter with the poison spur, they had acquired a new respect for the strangely engaging creature and no longer tried to disturb its burrow or throw sticks at it. Indeed, Robbie and Billy could crouch for an hour on the edge of the stream, observing the ripples.

  One day, when Amy finished her morning chores, she set off to the main street to visit the haberdashery. She needed some lace to brighten up her navy day-dress, which was looking quite shabby. Hanging in the wardrobe was the pink voile ensemble, still pristine. Though it was the kind of gown she could wear with nonchalance in the streets of Sydney Town, it might draw attention in Millbrooke. Nevertheless, she planned to don it this morning. Afterwards she intended to change into something serviceable, before her father returned from his weekly visits to the elderly parishioners of the town. Meanwhile her mother was making a cake for the church bazaar, and the boys were in the dining room, completing the sums Amy had written on their slates. Long division for Robbie and measurement for Billy. He was struggling with rods, poles, perches and chains. Nobody would notice if she slipped out for half an hour.

  Aunt Molly had said that Amy would turn heads in the pink dress, but she had not expected the reaction to be so dramatic. Was it the effect of the matching parasol she held over her head and the hat with its frivolous plume of pink feathers? Millbrooke was a prosperous town with many a wealthy family, yet very few had seen a dress like this, direct from Paris via David Jones’. At the haberdashery she spent considerable time perusing the laces, before deciding on a yard and a half of silk bobbin lace from Chantilly. It was an extravagant purchase. Being silk rather than cotton, it wouldn’t wash well, yet it was the prettiest trim in the shop.

  Amy was already at the butchery when she decided she would buy some jasmine tea – it might cheer her up. Although she hadn’t brought her tin with her, she was sure Charles’s brother could fill a paper bag for her instead.

  She stood at the threshold, listening to the tinkling of the brass bells. Today they sounded cheerful, like the trill of a bird. The aroma of the spices seemed different too, warmer, more inviting.

  Dressed in shirtsleeves and a dark waistcoat, the brother had his back to her, loading shelves with porcelain bowls. When the figure turned, it was Charles himself.

  ‘You’re back,’ she said, forgetting her manners altogether.

  ‘Good morning, Amy.’

  If he was surprised to see her, he hid it well.

  ‘I heard you have been unwell. Are you fully recovered now?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, thank you, Charles. I had a good rest in Sydney with my aunt. When did you return from your travels?’ She tried to sound matter-of-fact, as if she was indulging in a polite conversation with one of her father’s parishioners, but her heart was racing at a ridiculous rate, each beat toppling over the next.

  ‘Only yesterday. I am sorry to be so poorly dressed when you are wearing something so becoming.’

  Was Charles Chen flirting with her? How ill-mannered of him. After all, he was a married man now. No doubt his glossy-haired bride would emerge from the back room at any moment.

  ‘How is your mother, Charles? Eliza told me she was poorly. I do hope she has recovered.’

  ‘Yes, she is much stronger, Amy, but it broke her heart to see me leave. How is your own mother?’

  ‘She is better now, thank you.’ She looked at his face from under the brim of her hat. He was as beautiful as ever. Marriage agreed with him. ‘I trust your bride is finding Millbrooke to be a pleasant locale, although I fear she must be tired after her lengthy journey. Is she resting at home?’ Amy pictured the elegant Mrs Chen reclining on a chaise longue, awaiting her husband’s return.

  ‘No, she is not.’

  ‘Perhaps she is visiting with the Millers?’

  ‘No, Amy.’

  ‘But your bride returned with you from China, didn’t she?’

  ‘I’m afraid not.’

  ‘Is she coming on another ship?’

  ‘No.’

  Amy was perplexed. Where was the bride? Had she remained in China, as his mother had done? What kind of marriage would that be?

  ‘But you were married while you were in China, were you not?’

  ‘No, I could not marry because I already love another.’

  Another? For a brief moment Amy’s heart soared. Just as quickly it plummeted at the thought of Blanche Ingram of the brown ringlets.

  ‘And have you asked for her hand in marriage?’ Although it was a bold question, Amy needed to know the answer.

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Well, perhaps you should do it expeditiously. She may have found another suitor in your absence.’ As soon as the words escaped her mouth, she regretted them. How stupid to encourage him to propose to Blanche.

  ‘I fear that may indeed have happened.’

  ‘But did you not write to her while you were away and remind her of your love?’

  ‘I should have done so; however, the situation was complicated.’

  ‘Why, may I ask?’

  ‘I left for China so suddenly and without explanation, I am afraid she thinks badly of me. But my mother was ill and I had to return home. And I was caught between two worlds. I did not know whether to comply with the customs of my land or abandon the age-old traditions to court the woman I love. It was my mother’s most ardent wish that I marry a bride of her choice. And I wanted to please her because she is my mother and although she is no longer ill, she is not young any more. She would like to see me suitably married before she departs this life. But despite the fact that my mother brought many pleasant and suitable young ladies before me, I could not do it.’

  ‘Does the woman you love know that the precipitous nature of your departure was due to your mother’s illness?’

  ‘Yes, indeed.’

  ‘And does she have any knowledge of the customs requiring you to marry a lady from your native soil?’

  ‘She does.’

  ‘Then I imagine she would consider your decision to defy tradition as an indication of the depth of your love for her.’ What was she saying? She was simply advancing Blanche’s cause.

  ‘But suppose that she loves another?’ he asked.

  ‘Then there is no hope. If the person you love does not love you in return, it is a matter of lasting despair.’

  ‘So what course of action should I follow, Amy?’

  She hesitated. It crossed her mind that this might easily have been a conversation between Jane Eyre and Mr Rochester. She tri
ed to recall what Jane had replied when he asked her a similar question. Finally she said, ‘You must decide that for yourself, Charles.’

  ‘Would you be happy for me if I married?’

  ‘It is not my place to be happy or otherwise.’ A safe reply, guarding her heart from further damage. But where had those words come from? Jane Eyre again? Amy could feel her throat tightening. Tears were threatening. Although she tried to blink them away, a drop had already dribbled down her cheek.

  ‘Why are you sad, Amy?’

  She looked into the golden-brown eyes. If she told him, she would seem like a fool. Worse, she might cry and never stop.

  ‘I’m not sad. It is merely a spring cold.’ She was sniffling. When she looked in her purse, there was no handkerchief.

  Charles produced one from his pocket. Instead of handing it to her, he began to dry her face, dabbing softly at her skin. She could barely breathe. His face was as close to hers as when they were waltzing. Then he pocketed his silk handkerchief and stood back.

  ‘I hope your cold will soon be better, Amy.’

  ‘Thank you, Charles. I’m sure it will improve with the advent of warmer weather. I must take my leave. I have arithmetic to mark. Good morning.’

  Amy was saddened by her unexpected meeting with Charles and the strange conversation which had ensued. No matter how hard she tried to concentrate on preparing for Eliza’s lesson, her thoughts kept straying to him and the dark-haired girl he wanted to make his bride. He might even be asking her at this very moment. And Amy had no doubt what the answer would be. Yes, yes, yes.

  When Eliza arrived, they decided to sit on the boulders down by the creek while her horse Neddy grazed nearby on the thick spring grass. Although Amy was certain Eliza would know the identity of Charles’s young woman, she was equally determined not to raise the subject. She wanted her friend to think she was over her infatuation with Mr Chen and indifferent to his choice of a bride. As it happened, Eliza seemed to have other things on her mind.

  ‘I have brought a French book for us to translate,’ said Eliza, producing a volume with a black cover.

  ‘What about ‘Aladdin’ or even French without Tears?’

  ‘This is more important. My father took out a subscription for me. It is a periodical from France.’

  Amy expected it to be full of the latest gowns from Paris, but instead it was a journal about medicine and science.

  ‘Why would you wish to read about medical matters, Eliza?’

  ‘Because I intend to be a doctor.’

  Amy laughed so loudly that Neddy turned towards her with a curious look. ‘Girls can’t be doctors.’

  ‘Of course they can. There are women doctors in America.’

  ‘I have never heard of a lady doctor. Only nurses like Miss Nightingale.’

  ‘Well, perhaps I will be the first in the colony.’

  ‘And how, pray, did this interest in doctoring develop? It is a most unladylike hobby.’

  ‘I do not perceive it to be either unladylike or a hobby. Quite the contrary. Medicine is a serious occupation, befitting the woman I wish to become.’

  It was the first time Amy had ever heard Eliza sound cross. She was such a placid girl, never ruffled by anything, yet now she was all fiery eyes and flushed cheeks. Suddenly Amy felt ashamed. Eliza had harboured a special dream, and her best friend had just belittled it. Dreams were such fragile things that even the slightest bump could damage them. And Amy had just trampled over Eliza’s. Was she her father’s daughter after all? Just as she bore his fair complexion, did his holier-than-thou voice live inside her, impossible to silence?

  ‘I am sorry if I have offended you, Eliza, but it is just that I find this notion difficult to understand.’

  ‘Long ago I lost a brother and a sister to illness. I was only a baby and I don’t remember either of them, but I do know that my mother continues to grieve – even now. It is my desire to learn as much as I can about the afflictions which curse our lives. Already there is hope that we may be able to guard ourselves against at least some of these scourges. Imagine a world without smallpox.’

  ‘That is not an earthly prospect, Eliza. It is the paradise which God offers to those who believe in Him and His Son, a place free of sickness and pain.’

  ‘One day God will grant us this paradise on earth.’ Eliza spoke with such determination that Amy felt like smiling, but adopted a solemn expression instead. She didn’t want to upset Eliza yet again.

  ‘Eliza, where will you learn to be a doctor? What school or university would allow a young lady to study medicine?’

  ‘I am intending to write to the University of Sydney, asking to be considered for enrolment as soon as they establish a medical school.’

  ‘I didn’t see any ladies when I was there. Only gentlemen.’

  ‘That is true. But times are changing and it will not always be that way.’

  ‘And in the meantime you’re planning to read medical journals.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And deliver calves.’

  ‘And last year I set Daniel’s leg when he broke it. Doctor Allen was out at Cockatoo Ridge and he couldn’t get back until the next day. When he returned, he said I had done such a good job it didn’t require re-setting.’

  ‘You are determined to do this.’

  ‘Yes, indeed. And my father supports me in my quest. He is purchasing a microscope for my birthday. Furthermore, he has asked Doctor Allen to order another subscription for me – to the Boston Medical and Surgical Journal.’

  ‘Does Doctor Allen approve of you reading medical journals?’

  ‘At first he thought it unseemly that a young lady would want to know about the workings of the human body, but my father convinced him otherwise. And I promised him an English précis of the important articles in my French journal.’

  As Eliza shot her a cheeky grin, Amy wasn’t sure whether to be galled by her friend’s affront or to marvel at the dedication with which she pursued her dream. ‘Show me this French periodical, Eliza Miller. Where do you wish to start?’

  Eliza chose an article about a Professor Pasteur whose work on fermentation had led him to discover strange creatures called germs that were so tiny you could only see them through a special magnifying device – the microscope of which Eliza had spoken. The translation was an arduous process, much more difficult than ‘Aladdin’. Although they used a dictionary, many of the long words were not French but Latin or Greek. It was most confusing, like solving a jigsaw. Nevertheless, Eliza remained enthusiastic, spurring Amy on to the next paragraph and then the one after that.

  ‘How amazing,’ Eliza declared, when they had finished translating the first two pages. ‘Germs can live on your body and you wouldn’t even know. And all the while, they could be spreading disease, like an invisible army.’

  ‘I always thought sickness was spread through poisonous vapours infecting the air,’ said Amy.

  ‘You mean miasma. That is what most people believe.’

  ‘Are you saying there is no such thing?’

  ‘I wonder if it might be a myth, like a fire-breathing dragon.’

  Amy was shocked. It was as if the basis of everything she knew was crumbling before her. If these germs caused you to become ill and they were unseen and omnipresent, how could you escape them? At least with the bad smell, you would know it was there. You could hold your breath or cover your face or even run away.

  ‘I don’t think I want to translate any more of this text, Eliza. It is too frightening. Far more disquieting than The Woman in White.’

  ‘It is a time of hope, Amy, not fear. Scientists are making new discoveries all the time. That is why I need to read the journals.’

  The sun was low in the sky when Eliza finally set off for home. Amy put the dictionary aside and lay down in the soft grass next to the boulders. Hidden in the reeds, two frogs were having a mumbled conversation. A magpie hopped among the blades of grass, burying its beak in the ground as it looked for
worms. The duck-mole was probably playing among the fallen willow branches, but Amy was too tired to look. She must have nodded off to sleep because she dreamed that Charles Chen was standing above her, smiling. When she opened her eyes, he was there.

  ‘Did I disturb you, Amy?’

  Realising she was lying on the ground with her skirt in disarray, Amy tried to stand up. A hand reached for hers and lifted her to her feet.

  ‘Shall we sit here?’ he asked, indicating one of the lower boulders.

  They sat close together.

  ‘Amy, following our talk earlier, there is a matter which requires clarification.’

  ‘Does it pertain to the lady of whom you spoke?’

  ‘It does indeed.’

  ‘Then, I think it is best that you speak to her.’

  ‘I thought so too.’

  ‘I saw her at the Millers’ dance. She is very pretty.’

  ‘I think there has been some confusion, Amy.’

  ‘I am not sure what you mean, Charles? You were in animated conversation with a young lady who has dark ringlets. It was before you asked me to waltz.’

  ‘I do not recall that.’

  ‘Are you mocking me?’

  ‘Not at all. But there is something I must ask you, Amy. I trust you will not be offended.’

  ‘How do I know if I will be offended until you ask me?’

  ‘It concerns Joseph. I saw you with him at the dance and then he took you home after the meeting in the School of Arts.’

  ‘Yes, that is correct.’

  ‘Are you and Joseph courting?’

  Amy laughed before she could stop herself. ‘Why don’t you ask him?’

  ‘I was intending to. But as you know, I am only newly returned to Millbrooke, and Joseph is out at Cockatoo Ridge, helping with the shearing.’

  ‘In that case, perhaps I can save you the trouble. Joseph is my friend. It can only ever be a friendship. Nothing more. I have never indicated otherwise. Besides, my heart lies elsewhere.’

  ‘Are you certain?’

  ‘As certain as I have ever been. If you are entitled to ask a question, then may I do likewise?’