Flowers in the Blood (80 page)

I recall fragments: a doctor attending me, Wu Bing helping me to take medicines, Jonah assisting. “Nobody ever died of seasickness,” he quipped during a moment when I had rallied enough to sit up in a chair and sip a cup of jasmine tea. “They only wish they had.”

The winds had diminished and the rains had ceased by the time we entered the Bay of Bengal. Nevertheless, we were buffeted by waves rolling perpendicular to the movement of our hull. The ship, our aberrant cradle, rocked from side to side. Sometimes we rode deep in troughs with waves the size of mountains looming alongside. Later we were at the mercy of the ocean's sadistic power to sway us to and fro like beans in a jar.

“This time of year the crossing is supposed to be fairly tranquil,” Jonah explained apologetically. “Unfortunately, the southwest wind has come early.”

The hardiest sailors began to flounder. Jonah took to his bed. Even Gulliver, who had fetched and carried through the worst of the gale, succumbed. Wu Bing was not spared either. She developed dark blotches above her translucent cheeks and her lips lost the natural rosiness that gave her a doll-like prettiness. Valiantly she tried to hide her retching, and putting aside her own tribulation, she continued to tend me. I was immensely grateful, but also shamed by her unselfish ministrations. If we ever saw Calcutta again, I promised myself that I would defend my brother and Wu Bing with my last breath.

 

Thinking of the trials the two would soon endure, I momentarily diverted my thoughts of past terrors and whatever was in store for me. An hour later, I was on the same treadmill of unanswered questions. The future of the company was secure for the present, thanks to the transactions the compradore had concluded. How long would this last? How soon would the negotiations begin anew? The greater issues of the Sassoons of my generation struggling to establish themselves would bring more dissension over time. For the present I was the designated leader, yet was that what I wanted? Although flattered by the position, I wondered how I could manage it effectively and not upset my uncles, cousins—or my husband. Had my Grandfather Moses or Uncle Saul been disturbed by the disadvantages of leadership? Was it different because they were the heirs—the male heirs—whose authority was never questioned? And when all was said and done, did I wish to spend my days in Clive Street? No. Theatre Road was where I imagined myself being happiest.

Who could take over for me? The person I preferred was Edwin, but they would not accept an in-law after Samuel's disastrous rule. Nor did I believe that Edwin could be content if I was given the final say over him, a situation which would be implied even if it wasn't true. Who else? There was Jonah, but he was inexperienced and had done little to win respect. What if I played up his part in the negotiations with the Co-Hong merchants? Even so, I had forgotten about Wu Bing and his choice to make China his permanent home. No, Jonah was out. Then who?

The more immediate problem of making my way to the lavatory halted that train of thought. Catching the motion of the rolls, I swaggered across the cabin and managed to tend to myself. Triumphant with that minor accomplishment, I eased myself to the porthole and studied the watery world below. The sea was the vivid green of emeralds. Foam fluttered from the whitecaps like blossoms in the wind, reminding me of poppies blooming in Patna's fields. How thrilling my first sight of them had been before I understood that the ephemeral loveliness of those delicate petals was transformed into globs of tarry exudate that men—fine men like my father, odious men like Nissim Sadka—lusted over.

For the first time in days, my head cleared. I took a deep breath and was accosted by the staleness of the stateroom. I yearned for fresh air. In rhythm with the bobbing of the floorboards, I managed to dress myself. Holding tightly to the rails fastened along the corridors, I made my way on deck.

My eyes squinted in the harsh light. The fresh salt spray stung my pallid flesh. Filling my lungs was painful at first, but subsequent breaths were easier. Somewhere to the west was the coast of India. There was no land in sight, yet the demarcation of sky greeting the sea on the horizon shone with promise. Much as the thick moisture of a summer's day congeals into puffy white clouds, my future began to evolve from an amorphous cluster into organized segments.

First, I would forgive Edwin and help him to accomplish whatever he wanted. If the man required the comfort of the poppy, why should he be denied it? Now I understood there were far worse vices than a pipe of Patna now and again. After admitting that I might lose the battle to rid my husband of the blight of opium, I determined to lead Sassoon and Company into other lucrative industries. Even though I might not have wanted to stay at the helm, I had to—at least until I had shepherded them into different pastures. Yes, the moment to broach the subject was at hand. I gathered my arguments: the Chinese were growing more and more of their own poppies, the crown was leaning away from supporting the trade, and India was booming.

Visions formed on the horizon. If the various cousins were responsible for different industries, but were supported by a financially sound structure, Sassoon and Company could be like a great tree rooted in prosperity, with each branch bearing fruit. I remembered Edwin once saying that trading was like a tree. The root of the profession was buying and selling, and everything branched from there. As long as an idea could be traced to the root, it was an acceptable investment. Following the same concept, a small jute mill on the Hooghly might be an excellent place for Asher to begin. Reuben's sons could investigate cotton in Bombay. I would oversee the tea, Edwin the ships. Jonah and Wu Bing might consider handling the Sassoon interests—or even diversifying into real estate—in Hong Kong. And there would always be a need for people like Sayeed and Yedid and their children to administer matters in Clive Street.

The motion of the ship was no longer my enemy, for every heave and recoil brought me closer to Calcutta, closer to my latest revelation, and most of all to Edwin. If only he would forgive my stubbornness!

For several leagues across the trackless ocean, I feared the outcome of our reunion. How mysterious the world was. We always knew what had just passed, but we never knew what even the next second would bring. My life was an ever-evolving story. I helped write the chapters, but an unseen hand manipulated my fate.
The Mystery of Edwin Salem . . . The Mystery of Mr. and. Mrs. Edwin Salem. . . .
Mustering the same determination I had felt when I swore to make Edwin mine the first time, I would win him back. Unlike the unfinished
Mystery of Edwin Drood
, this story's ending would be written, and written by an author determined to make it a happy one. After all, didn't the Chinese horoscope say it was auspicious if a monkey married a monkey?

The wind drew my mouth back into a smile. Every moment, I was sailing nearer to Edwin and my children. The yawning gap of the vast Bay of Bengal was narrowing. Soon I would be with the man I loved more than anyone else in the world, and with my adorable Aaron, the good and true, like the quick-witted horse in the Chinese zodiac. And in my arms I would clasp Jeremiah and Zachariah, my two mischievous twin monkeys.

53

 

T
heatre Road shimmered in the midday sun, a brilliant jewel of a palace in the City of Palaces. A fresh layer of stones covered the drive. The first summer rains had revived the lawns into verdant carpets. Huge hibiscus blossoms yawned in the breeze. As Jonah, Wu Bing, Gulliver, and I arrived at the portico, there was something else that caught my eye. For a few long moments I could not define what dazzled me. Every surface gleamed under recent paint and polish. Varnished trim winked from the casements. A fresh coat of chunam had been applied to whitewash the facade. What were those winking eyes staring back at me? My breath caught in my throat. Windows! Every shutter had been removed. Fresh panes of polished glass reflected earth and sky.

Hanif opened the huge double doors with a flourish. Yali hugged me. My children clustered at my feet. And there, coming from the shadows into the pool of light streaming from the garden, strolled Edwin with an easy smile.

After the clamor of the welcome had settled, we sat in the hall and chattered on. Asher, Pinhas and Simon Tassie, and Seti bubbled with questions for Jonah. I held Edwin's hand and tried to attend the tugs and hugs from the three boys with equal doses of affection.

“The Chinese have accepted our pricing structure,” Jonah announced in a lull.

Edwin was delighted, but his raised eyebrows registered his surprise. “How did you accomplish it?”

“A long story” was all I would contribute, and went back to questioning Zilpah about how the children had fared. Aaron had given the twins chickenpox. The boys lifted their shirts and pulled down their pants to point out the few remaining scabs. We chatted on about family matters: Ruby was expecting again, the Lanyados and Gabriel Judah had vanished well before our arrival, a match had been found for Yedid. This went on for some time, until I noticed that Wu Bing was standing on the far side of the room, in the manner of a servant. Gulliver hovered at her side protectively.

I extricated myself from the embrace of the children and went to her. “This is Wu Bing, the niece of Ming Hien Chang, compradore of our company in Hong Kong.” Perplexed, Zilpah looked from her to Jonah and then back to me. During the difficult voyage, Wu Bing has been like a sister to me.” I kowtowed to Wu Bing and then to my brother. “Happily, she will always be my sister, for she has agreed to marry Jonah.”

Asher blanched visibly. Pinhas gave a low whistle. “When?” Seti asked in a high, excited voice.

My stepmother's eyes flickered across Wu Bing's flat abdomen and up to her hopeful eyes. She sucked in her lips and waited for Jonah to respond.

“After she has received instruction in our faith, she will convert. Until then we will not set a wedding date.”

Asher shook his brother's hand. Edwin came around and patted Jonah on the back. With my arms around Wu Bing's fragile shoulders, I steered her into the circle of Sassoons and kissed her cheek.

 

Later, when we were alone, I told Edwin about Sadka. We lay in the room where my mother had died, a room transformed by the hush of ivory satin draperies that brushed the floor. A light breeze stirred the silk panels that blocked out the starry night. A thick coverlet with squares of silver and ivory brocade, covered the bed. A canopy of pleated fabrics further enshrouded us in a private world.

Edwin held me tightly while I gave a truncated version of Sadka's death and the aftermath. “Thank you for being here,” I concluded, drying my eyes.

“Where else would I be?”

“You said you were going to remain at Free School Street.”

“I did, for as long as it was necessary.”

“I don't understand . . .”

“Don't you?” He brushed back his hair with an exaggerated gesture that forced me to smile.

“No.”

“I can see why the governor of Hong Kong immediately absolved you of any guilt. Your guise of innocence would fool anyone, except a husband.”

“What . . . ?”

“Have you forgotten your conversation with Mordecai?”

“Dr. Hyam!” I pulled away from Edwin. “You spoke with him.”

“Indeed.”

My heart pounded. Don't criticize him, I warned myself, not when we are together at last. Not when I need him so desperately “I am sorry. You were right about everything, even about how being apart would bring me around. How foolish I was to think you were somehow different because of what I discovered. You had not changed, I had! If we can begin anew, I promise I will never mention it again.”

He pressed his finger to my lips. “It's over, Dinah.”

“No!” I cried. “Please, I know I can make it up to you. I cannot live without you.”

“And I cannot live without you, my darling girl. The opium is finished. I have thrown away my pipe.”

Somehow I survived the gyrations of my heart, from the plummeting rush of blood to the momentary stoppage, to the wild beating that ballooned in my chest. “How did . . . ?”

“I always wanted to stop, but I never knew how. You cannot imagine how afraid I was. Fear is what made me reject your concerns. An even greater fear, though, that of losing you and everything we had together, made me want to change. When the doctor told me there were medical ways to assist me, I leapt at the chance.”

“Was it difficult?”

“Yes. Terribly. Suspecting it would be, I remained alone at Free School Street. The doctor sent a medical student to live with me to see me through. Without him I could never have managed.”

“Did you stop all at once?”

“No. I tried the Chinese method.”

“What did that entail?” I asked slowly, guessing it had been torturous.

“The doctor dissolved opium ash, or
yen tshi
, in sherry wine, and I took a tablespoonful three times a day, each time adding wine to the bottle. Soon I was taking only clear wine.”

“And you didn't become ill . . .”

“On the contrary. I underwent a horrible spectrum of incapacitating symptoms. There were stomach pains, diarrhea. My eyes ran perpetually and my nose would tickle, causing attacks of sneezing by the hour. The whole time I felt itchy, restless. I could not sit still. When I tried to rest, my body would twitch, almost convulse. I prayed for sleep and yet could not. Exhausted, I lay prostrate in my bed. If I dozed, there were the nightmares of monsters and murder—straight out of De Quincey. Even more frightening was the lack of control over my sex. Sometimes I would feel myself spurting for no reason, although even that was devoid of pleasure.”

“Oh, my poor darling ...” I clutched at him and stroked his face. “How do you feel now?”

“As if I have plunged out of the darkness and burst into the light.”

“Is it over?”

“Yes, but I must be vigilant. There may be times when my body will ache for solace. I must resist every temptation.”

“Can I help?”

“Yes.”

“I will do anything . . .”

“My requirements are simple.”

“Tell me.”

“Love me.”

There was an awkward moment of mutual hesitation. Where to begin? A tentative touch. A kiss. A button undone. A petticoat drawn over the head. A gathering confidence narrowed the channel and we melted together, like well-trained dancers. The merging was so natural I could not imagine life without it ever again. He exhausted me with his insistence on my pleasure, which was propelled by the imposition of his own.

In the stillness that followed, we were silent for a long while. My mind brimmed with the infinite possibilities. I did not yet realize that ten months after the night of my return, our fourth child—and only daughter—would be born there in the brocaded bed. We would name her Clara Luna Salem. When I look at her now, I think I must have, in some small measure, known about her on that glorious night when almost simultaneously some mysterious stirring had us again reaching for each other and we began anew.

I lifted myself atop Edwin and he drew me onto him. We kissed fervently. I arched my back and opened my eyes. Tiny lights, like diwali lamps floating in a misty current, sprinkled the room. Blinking at the fantastic vision, I moaned, “Never, never have I felt like this before.”

“What do you mean?” he mumbled as he kissed my breasts.

“Every time you touch me, I see bright lights,” I murmured in awe.

He glanced around. “I cannot take the credit for that.” His chest and pelvis heaved with laughter. “Fireflies have arrived to welcome you home.” He plunged even deeper into me.

Closing my eyes to the luminescence, I gave myself up to the concentric circles of pleasure that crested over me. In the pause between the mild and violent bursts, my thoughts wandered back in time to the days after our wedding on the country boat, and I realized that we had known nothing compared with this. It was miraculous that something this precious could be renewed. Memories, splendid memories, could be revived. Pains, hideous pains, could be buried. My fingers burrowed into his back. His face nestled in the curve of my neck. I marveled in the forgetfulness of love. This is what endures, nothing else. Only this. Banishing Luna and Sadka and Amar and Edwin's addiction and my intransigence, I released a flood of adoration from every pore. Hungrily we grappled with each other, dispelling ghosts and renewing pledges.

Edwin shuddered. “I love you!”

“Yes, me too,” I gasped as, expertly, with measured bursts of force and release, we satisfied each other again. And again. And again.

 

The story continued, but my record ends today, the last day of May 1953, because there is no more time. Outside the window I can see the last of the furniture from the hall being carried out in the crates destined for London. Following in the footsteps of my children, my family, my friends, and so many members of the Jewish community in Calcutta, I am leaving Theatre Road and Calcutta. In less than an hour they will be coming for the bed in which Clara Luna was conceived and born. Soon they will be carrying the Clive desk halfway around the world. What will happen in the future seems of little consequence compared with what we accomplished in the past.

On the day Edwin and I were reunited, I did not know that the stand I would take to diversify the Sassoon investments would be in line with the most progressive thinking of the era. A few years later, an International Opium Commission would meet in Shanghai. To forestall criticism at home, the British government would decide to reduce the export of opium from India by one-tenth each year after 1907, if China would reduce her home-produced opium by the same amount. In 1908 the government of Hong Kong would be ordered to close the opium divans in the colony. By then the Sassoons were out of the flower business entirely and were prospering with a galaxy of other investments that have sustained the family until now and, with prudent management, should suffice for generations to come.

How pleased I would have been to know that Jonah and Wu Bing would marry and return to Hong Kong to raise a family of eight. Eventually they would control enormous parcels of prime real estate. The leader who emerged in the next generation of Sassoons turned out to be Yedid, convincing me that people who have experienced pain and loss in childhood learn they can rise above other difficulties to accomplish great deeds. Although no parent wishes to subject his child to the agonies that Yedid or I suffered, he might consider the advantages in not sheltering his offspring from absolutely all the world's woes.

Together Edwin and I would watch our children strike off in directions we might not have selected for them, but which led them to adventures, sorrows, and fulfillments of their own. And while our family expanded and progressed, we also endured the upheavals that accompanied two wars, the finale of the British raj, and India's struggle for independence and its bloody aftermath. As was true for Jews around the world, the formation of, the state of Israel united us in a different direction. Thousands of us—Baghdadis and Bene Israels and Cochinis—from across the subcontinent chose to make
aliya
and return to our restored homeland. Others sought to protect our prosperity in London and New York. Unlike many other places in the world, India had always welcomed Jews. Edwin used to say the various religious and political factions of Indians had no time to hate us, for they were too busy hating one another.