The Silk Merchant's Daughter (16 page)

She put one hand where she could feel the swell of her breast, and the other between her legs. Maybe one night with Mark would be enough to dispel the attraction. But how would it be? Would they lie together in silence? Would they talk? She imagined his lips so close to her neck she could feel his breath on her skin and a shiver ran down her spine.

She could no longer hear the sounds of the street as her thoughts ran wild. The air seemed to chill as the truth of her situation gradually dawned on her. She had hoped she could keep the two halves of her life separate, without splitting herself in two, but her feelings were far too complicated. She had to accept that she had already crossed the line. Breathing in the scent of jasmine in the silence of the room, she understood that she might be forced to make a choice. A choice she did not want to make: one that might drive her to the very edge of her world. If it happened, not only would she lose part of herself, but also, of the two men who meant the most to her, she must surely betray one. Between bouts of crying and longing, and with her heart thudding and thumping, the devastating truth of that hit home.

The familiar smells of tomatoes and mushrooms met Nicole as she let herself into the family home. She closed the door behind her and sniffed, her mouth watering at the prospect of Lisa’s slow-cooked chicken chasseur. How long had it been since she’d enjoyed such a meal? Sylvie must have heard her arrive because she came through to the hall and stood hovering in the doorway of the main sitting room. Looking effortlessly chic, she wore a black strapless sheath dress and pointed red shoes. As she took a few steps towards Nicole she held out a hand.

‘Leave your case. The housemaid will take it up.’

Nicole stood still and looked at her sister. ‘I haven’t seen you for ages. Papa said you hadn’t been well and you’d gone away for a break.’

‘Nonsense. I’m back now and I’m absolutely fine.’

‘That’s good.’ Nicole thought her sister looked thinner than usual, but well enough, and she headed for the staircase. ‘I’ll just get out of these clothes.’

‘Why not come in for a cocktail first?’ Sylvie tilted her head towards the sitting room. ‘Papa would love to see you.’

‘I’ll nip up to my old room first.’

Sylvie smiled and rang the bell for the maid. ‘Don’t be silly. Change afterwards. We’ve hardly seen anything of you. Papa’s in there.’

With a slight sigh of defeat, Nicole put down her case. She walked in front of Sylvie into the sitting room, where her eyes fell first on her father and then on the blond soldier, André.
Why was he here? She looked at her father as he got to his feet and she smiled at him. He shifted from one foot to the other, then took a step towards her, holding out both hands. She allowed him to hold her and enjoyed the momentary warmth between them before twisting back to speak to Sylvie.

Nicole’s smile faded as Giraud stepped out from where he had been standing behind the door, gave Sylvie a nod, and then moved into the centre of the room. ‘A pleasure to see you,’ he said with a cigarette between his lips.

Nicole raised her brows but did not acknowledge him. Branded a liar as a child, she knew when to keep her mouth shut.

‘Monsieur Giraud needs to ask you a few questions. Nothing to worry about,’ Sylvie said.

Giraud removed the cigarette and coughed into his hand before he spoke. ‘We’d like to know if you’ve had any further dealings with your little friend.’

Now she sneaked a look at him. ‘What are you saying?’

He smiled as he walked over to a marble ashtray where he stubbed out his cigarette. ‘I think we both know who I’m referring to.’

‘Have you asked me to come home just for this, Papa?’ Nicole said, playing for time while working out how to respond.

‘Of course not. We’ve missed you.’

She pressed her hands together. It might be better to say something rather than nothing, but what she needed was a small diversion. ‘Trần dropped in, but only to say goodbye.’

‘We wanted you to let us know if you saw him,’ Giraud said with a frown. ‘Do you recall?’

‘Why does it matter?’

His frown deepened and he scratched the skin just inside his collar. ‘Winning comes before everything.’

‘Well, I wish you luck,’ she said.

‘
Chérie
, don’t be flippant, you could be in danger,’ her father said.

‘Papa is right,’ Sylvie said. ‘None of us want to see you hurt.’

Nicole shook her head and hoped her face looked sincere as she replied. ‘I’m sure I’m not in danger.’

Giraud narrowed his eyes and then sucked his teeth, deliberately slowly it seemed. ‘We need to know where he is.’

‘He didn’t say.’

‘Nicole?’ This from her father, followed by the same from Sylvie.

Nicole turned on her sister. ‘What are you, Papa’s bloody echo?’

Giraud sighed deeply. Nicole found his exaggerated tolerance annoying and fought to control herself. What did he really want? There was something menacing about his slow approach that made her feel even more vulnerable.

‘Really, Papa, he didn’t say. He said he was leaving Hanoi and would not be back.’

‘You see, Nicole,’ Giraud continued and gave her a steady look, ‘we have information that he did a lot more than drop by. Have you lost control, developed feelings for this man?’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

Giraud stepped towards her and held up a finger. ‘Ah, but I think you do. Know that it won’t end there. What do you think the difference is between you and them?’

The tone of his voice had lowered and there had been something in the way he’d spoken. Nicole attempted to reply but found that with a knot in her throat she could not.

‘Are you going to tell her?’ Giraud looked at her father. ‘Or shall I?’

Her father gave an imperceptible shake of his head.

‘Have you forgotten all this, Nicole?’ Giraud waved a hand to indicate the splendour of the room. ‘Have you forgotten
your French family? I must admit, I’m disappointed. I thought we had an agreement and now this lack of cooperation … Believe me, I’m sorry to have to do this, considering your father’s position.’

Suddenly very fearful, she backed towards the French windows. Giraud gave her a cold smile and drew out another cigarette. She glanced around the room, regretting wearing her oldest
áo dài
. It made her feel as if she was of less significance than them. Sylvie was standing in front of the door to the hall, her eyes cast down. Nicole barged right past her and tried to turn the handle. It was locked.

She glared at her sister. ‘Give me the key.’

Sylvie stood firm. ‘I’m sorry. Honestly, I am.’

‘Give me the bloody key!’ On the edge of panic at the possibility of being trapped, Nicole swivelled round. ‘So whose brilliant idea was this? Was it you, Papa?’

Her father looked distressed but didn’t reply.

‘Monsieur Giraud, I demand you let me go.’

‘Sadly, I need more information before I can do that.’

‘Was this your idea?’

Giraud glanced away and then back again. ‘It was brought to my attention that you might be in danger. We can’t have a girl from a French family fraternizing with the Viets. Although, of course, you are virtually one of them.’

‘Just a minute, Giraud,’ Nicole’s father said.

‘You know my views, Édouard. The races shouldn’t mix. They aren’t like us.’

The scornful twitch of his nostrils as he spoke provoked a storm of dislike inside her.

Sylvie stepped forward. ‘It was me who called the police and we asked Mark to persuade you to come home. I thought he might succeed where we would fail. We thought you’d be safer here.’

‘Who are you to decide what I do?’

‘You are clearly involved with an undesirable. I was worried.’

Nicole snorted, horrified that Mark had colluded in bringing her here to be treated like a common criminal.

‘You’ve never had good judgement and you have no sense of propriety. Can’t you understand we did it for your own good? Tell her, Papa.’

Her father nodded his agreement. ‘It’s true your sister has been worried about you. We both have.’

‘You don’t realize how much we care,’ Sylvie added. ‘Please calm down. Everything will be all right.’

Nicole stared at her defiantly. ‘What did I ever do to you?’

‘Enough,’ Giraud said, butting in. ‘In case you want to change your mind, I will give you one last chance to speak.’

‘Or?’

There was a moment’s silence before her father spoke. ‘I’m sorry,
chérie
, but you have been placed under house arrest.’

She gasped. ‘How long for?’

‘Until further notice.’

Nicole thought quickly, remembering Trần would be back in a week’s time for her answer. ‘And if I remember anything?’

‘Then we shall reconsider.’

‘Papa?’

Her father shrugged in a hopeless kind of way.

‘There is one more thing,’ Giraud said. ‘A minor detail. You will be confined to your room.’

She squared her shoulders and stared at the three of them: her father still looking distressed, Sylvie with a totally blank expression and something like amusement in Giraud’s eyes. Because of them a young man was dead; who knew what else they might be capable of, maybe even Yvette’s death. The
thought stopped her cold. But if they imagined they’d be able to keep her locked in, they were very wrong. She longed to tell them what she’d seen Giraud doing at the brothel, but they wouldn’t believe her, and it would only serve to make things worse. Sick to her stomach, she knew his type: Frenchmen who looked down on the Vietnamese but used the women for sex. Before she could say anything more, Giraud flicked his wrist impatiently and continued.

‘It pains me to do this but the door will be locked and an officer will be detailed to watch over you. André here will drop by from time to time. You see, you’re so important you have the full attention of the police and the army. You will have no contact with members of the household apart from the cook, who is under strict instructions not to let you out, except to the bathroom.’

Unable to control the flash of temper, Nicole walked up to Sylvie and slapped her hard across the cheek. She stared with satisfaction as a red mark developed on her sister’s surprised face. It wasn’t going to help her cause, but if they thought she was going to submit meekly …! She faced the door fighting the hurt that was tearing at her self-control, then twisted back to Giraud.

‘And in case you’ve forgotten, Monsieur Giraud, even though she may look French, my sister Sylvie is also half Vietnamese,’ she said. Then, keeping her voice as level as she could, she added, ‘Shall we go?’

Once in her room and hearing the key turn in the lock, her bravado deserted her. How could Mark have done this to her? Trần was right, Mark had manipulated her by making her feel she might not be safe at the shop. He’d forced her hand by using the old attraction between them. Utterly betrayed but trying to hold on, she felt like weeping. Her room was the
same as it had always been, except that it felt airless. She thumped her pillow then flung herself face down on the bed, hoping the musky night-time smell might ground her, but the pillow smelt only of lavender. She couldn’t bear them to hear her crying, so forced a handkerchief into her mouth to muffle the sound as the tears fell, but the lack of air was suffocating and her scalp began to prickle. She glanced around at all the familiar things she hadn’t bothered taking to the shop, her glass beads and the clothes Lisa must have folded. Her palms grew sweaty so she rubbed them on her eiderdown. With a flash of hope she thought of the window and tripped over in her rush. Fresh air – if she could open the window.

She tried the handle. The window was locked.

She glanced up at the sun. Not so high in the sky now.

Her heart began to flutter like a tiny bird, first missing a beat, then adding several extra as her fear began to rise. It went on and on, as if her pulse had lost its way back to a regular rhythm. She placed a palm on her chest and ordered it to come back to normal; the fluttering grew worse and made her dizzy. She surveyed her room, looking from one thing to another, searching, hoping for something to anchor her.

Determined not to cave in, she picked herself up. But the memory came rushing back, clearer than ever before and sucking the air out of everything. Within moments she was eight years old again and drowning. The water wasn’t cold. Warm like a bath, Sylvie said.
Let’s do it. Let’s do it
. They said she’d imagined it. Sylvie full of smiles.
The water is warm
.
It’s warm, Nicole. Why not jump?
Whose idea had it been? Sylvie had told them it was hers. Had Sylvie pushed her in?
Let’s swim
, she’d said.
Let’s jump
. In a flash, something had gone wrong. Where was Sylvie? In the boat or in the water too? As she heard her sister’s words Nicole saw herself jump in, saw herself go
under, heard the booming sound of the water. The icy cold. The dark.

Nicole began to shake. She ran to the door and thumped, battering and jolting her body until her fists became bruised and her arms ached.

‘Sylvie!’ she shouted while the feeling of dread mounted. ‘Papa!’

Nobody came.

‘You know I can’t stand to be confined. Sylvie!’ She shouted her sister’s name again, then screamed as loud as she could.

‘Papa, I’m claustrophobic!’

Sweat poured from her head, plastering the hair to her neck. She tore off her clothes in an attempt to lessen the feeling of confinement. Her head began to explode as images flooded her mind. The water. The sun shining on the surface. She raised an arm as if to fend them off, and then forced herself to listen. But there was no sound. In fact, the house was strangely silent. All she could hear was the blood thundering in her ears. She tried to tell herself it was all in her mind – just her imagination – but when her throat closed and a horrible sensation of choking stopped her breath, she dropped to her knees. She felt herself slipping under, and with all the air squeezed from her lungs they remained constricted. She was at the bottom of the river again, hearing the river roar, its voice thudding and thumping in time with her heart. She doubled over, touching her forehead to the cool of the floor. And with the cool, a single thought consumed her. Even if her father didn’t realize how deep her terror of confinement was, Sylvie knew.

Nicole’s hysteria did not subside. Just when she thought she could stand it no longer, Lisa came in and threw a glass of icy water in her face, then held her while she gulped, spluttered and coughed. Finally, paralysed by the shock of it, she calmed.

‘Oh my dear, how did it come to this?’ Lisa said as she got up to leave.

Nicole clutched at her sleeve, comforted by the smell of cigarettes and cooking clinging to her. ‘Please don’t leave me, please.’

‘I’ll stay for a few minutes but they’ll be on at me if I stay longer.’

She held Nicole, rocking her back and forth in the silence.

‘What on earth has been going on?’ the cook eventually asked, holding Nicole at arm’s length. ‘What has happened to you?’

‘I just don’t know who to believe any more. I thought I trusted Mark but it’s his fault I’m locked up here. He’s not who I once thought he was.’ Nicole shook her head. ‘It hurts, Lisa. It hurts so much.’