The Silk Merchant's Daughter (22 page)

Nicole read the letter twice before slipping it back inside the book. She wanted to forget she’d ever seen it but even as she stuffed the book back on the shelf, knew she could not. She was intensely relieved her father and Lisa were safe, but how did she feel about Sylvie?

That night she left her window open a fraction, enough for a hint of damp air to drift in. Hearing the footsteps of people passing by, she wondered who they were in a vague sort of a way, the faceless ones who had remained. Maybe soldiers on their way to war? Meanwhile, her sister’s letter played on her mind. Would Sylvie really return to Hanoi?

In the pale grey light of dawn Nicole dared to peer out before closing the window for the day. Everywhere was quiet. In a way, she feared the silence and longed to hear music or the laughter of her family. When happy times came back to her, she cried; but worse by far than her sorrow over bygone times was the thought of what she’d seen Trần do at the camp.
Assaulted by the memory, she crawled into bed, but it was impossible to close her eyes without it all coming back. Though he had helped her escape, she felt frightened that he was no longer such a sweet, impassioned man. As the simple pleasures of a warm kitchen were denied her, she curled up against the wall for comfort. How she wished she had not gone with Trần, had not seen what she’d seen. She kept picturing his dark eyes as he sent the woman and child to their certain deaths.

When she heard banging at the front door that night, she lay awake in fear, her thoughts spinning. The same thing happened a couple more times during the next day.

The second night it happened, she lay in bed and focused on her breathing, forcing herself not to give in to her fear. One palm on her ribs, the other on her belly, she encouraged her breath to settle. She must not panic, but if this was Giraud still coming after her, she would not be safe while Mark was away. As the minutes ticked by she trembled; if only Mark would come back. He’d divert the policeman. When the banging on the door stopped and no other alarming sounds followed, she listened to the pipes, the creaks, the scurrying in the attic and, despite her fear, must have fallen asleep.

But, suddenly, startlingly, she was wide awake once more.

‘Nicole?’

She heard her name again.

‘Nicole?’

As she recognized his voice a feeling of warmth surged through her. Her instinct was to leap out of bed, but she felt so stiff and cramped that she couldn’t move. She shook her head and at last the tears fell.

Mark crouched down beside her bed. ‘Come on.’

She gulped and sat up. With her face close to his, she comforted herself with the sweet, salty smell of him.

‘Will you stay with me now?’ she said after the tears had gone.

‘Of course,’ he said. He stroked her forehead and turned to pull up a chair.

It was impossible to hide her need. ‘I mean in my bed. Can you hold me? Please, Mark.’

Still trembling, she told him about the thumping on the front door. He stroked her face and the feel of his hands on her skin made her want him so much more. What an awful moment to be this close, with him looking after her as if she was a baby.

‘I …’ she began.

‘I’m here now,’ he said as he climbed in with her.

She rested her head on his shoulder and she longed to tell him she loved him. Loved him. Loved him. And that she always had. The sadness was that she could not. He had been kind to her. Just kind.

But then he pulled away so that he could look at her. ‘You feel so fragile, I’m scared that the slightest puff of wind might blow you away.’

‘I’ll be all right. It’s just that when I close my eyes, everything comes racing back.’

‘I know.’

‘And then I get really scared.’

‘I wish I could be here all the time.’

He stroked her cheek and the tenderness in his eyes as he smiled made her spirits gallop. ‘Even frail as you are, you’re very lovely.’

Then he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. She closed her eyes and, savouring the taste of salt on his lips, gave herself fully to this long-awaited moment.

Nicole asked Mark to sit with her. He had done no more than kiss her the night before and she was starting to feel as if she’d imagined it. Self-conscious about her dry, cracked lips, she licked them as he pulled up a chair. The window was only slightly ajar but in the hush of the room it was enough to hear the rustle of leaves outside. A very green tree, the pipal was extremely large, maybe even a hundred feet tall, with a pale trunk about ten feet wide and branches exploding outwards from the centre. It had always been Nicole’s favourite. Best of all was when her father had constructed a rope ladder up to a little platform where she and Sylvie had spied on the world below. It had seemed so high at the time, though it was probably only two or three metres up in reality. She shook her head; she could not let nostalgia cloud her thinking.

‘Shall I get your blanket?’ Mark asked and began to rise.

She waved him down and then began, attempting a neutral tone as she spoke. ‘While you were away I found a letter hidden in one of my books.’

There was a short silence.

‘I didn’t know what it was at first.’ She looked away, couldn’t bear to see what might be in his eyes when she spoke again. ‘It was from Sylvie.’

He seemed to hesitate and she glanced at him. ‘That’s wonderful,’ he said, but she couldn’t read his expression. She carried on to say that her sister was safe in Paris. And that Lisa was living with her sister, Alice Brochard, in the Languedoc.

She’d been working up to telling him that Sylvie was
coming back, but dipped her head and, hiding behind her hair, held her tongue. After a moment she looked up and smiled.

‘Sylvie said that they managed to sell the department store. They’ve returned to live in France on the proceeds. She said they waited for me.’

She held out a hand to him. This was it. The lie that might change everything and ensure Sylvie was out of the picture, or at least in Mark’s mind. ‘She is engaged to someone in France, Pierre somebody or other.’

He glanced down at the floor for a moment. She felt a knot tighten in her stomach. Mark had brought her back to life, saved her, and Sylvie was safe in France. She couldn’t really be coming back – it would be madness – and he denied ever having been with Sylvie anyway, so it was hardly a crime.

‘She said she’d met the man in Hanoi and he’d proposed. A life in France must have seemed like the safest option.’

‘Perhaps it’s for the best.’

The silence hung between them. Nicole wondered if he was thinking of Sylvie and couldn’t quite work out why she’d lied.

‘Penny for them?’ he said.

‘It’s nothing.’ But she didn’t want her sister to end up like the ghosts in the garden, not there, yet always present. She felt a rush of guilt, then thought of how he’d looked after her so lovingly and that brought tears to her eyes. He genuinely cared for her so why shouldn’t she do everything she could to keep it that way?

‘What about the remaining shops?’ he was saying quite calmly, not seeming at all upset by what she’d said about Sylvie’s engagement.

She studied his face. Perhaps he had told her the truth about his relationship with Sylvie then? Her sister had got herself caught up in a fantasy about Mark and then couldn’t bear to have to back down.

‘As the shop in the old quarter is yours, it might be an idea for you to move back there. People know you’re a
métisse
, yes, and I realize it’s going to be risky anywhere you are, but at least there you can melt away into the crowds more easily.’

‘You may be right. Mark, you’ve done so much for me. And I am truly grateful.’

There was a long stretch of silence before he spoke again.

‘I’m afraid there is something else. I found out Giraud knows I’m living here,’ he said. ‘We are not on the best of terms since I reported him for using American cash to fund African prostitutes.’

‘So it was true. Lisa said as much. Do you think it was him at the door?’

‘It may have been. Even if it wasn’t, I don’t think it will be long before he comes sniffing around.’

‘I love my little shop, but I don’t feel strong enough to move yet.’

‘And I don’t want you to overdo things. You might find it takes some time to recover from everything you’ve been through.’

She nodded but didn’t tell him how unwell she still sometimes felt. ‘A friend is taking care of the shop. O-Lan.’

‘Look, I’ll keep an eye on you there, and I have a Vietnamese man I trust. I’ll get him to check on you too.’ He put an arm round her shoulder and stroked her cheek. ‘Come on, my brave little one. We’ll leave it for a few days longer.’

A day later, while he was sleeping, she made it down to the kitchen and went straight to a small cupboard under the pastry shelf in the pantry. She opened the wire door and found a bottle of Bénédictine and brandy liqueur. It was Lisa’s favourite and only Nicole knew the cook kept a secret bottle in what looked like a cheese safe.

In the evening she rooted around in the bathroom cabinet. Perfect! A few drops left in a bottle of Coeur Joie. She had no perfume of her own and sprayed a little of the scent on her neck and between her breasts. She slipped on a silk robe held loosely together by a ribbon tied at the top, then found a pair of tweezers and shaped her brows. After that she smothered her lips in Vaseline. Though in need of a cut to get rid of her split ends, she brushed her hair until it shone, pinched her cheeks and then slipped downstairs where she checked the shutters were closed and the curtains drawn. After that, she carried through the cheese and bread he’d bought and lit some candles to make the comfortable corner of the sitting room cosier. She considered lighting a fire, but abandoned the idea. The smoke from the chimney would give them away.

When she heard him enter the hall, she lay down on the sofa with her eyes closed and, apart from his footsteps, there was silence when he entered the room. Even with her eyes closed she could sense him staring at her. She opened her eyes.

‘You look so beautiful,’ he said.

She sat up, smiled and showed him the bottle. ‘I found us something special to drink.’

He grinned at her and came to sit close by while she poured them both a generous glassful.

‘Would you like something to eat?’

He shook his head. ‘I’m not hungry. Maybe later.’

‘Wouldn’t it be nice to play some music?’

‘No electricity. And anyway –’

‘I know.’

They sat in silence and she poured them both another glass of the liqueur.

‘Mark, what is it you’re doing here?’

‘Here, in this room?’

She laughed. ‘You know what I mean.’

‘I’m currently charged with getting the CIA out of Hanoi and the entire north, should the Vietminh win. But my orders may change.’

‘You think they might?’

‘If they do, and I have to leave suddenly, it’s another reason you might be better off in the Vietnamese quarter.’ He pushed the hair from her brow and studied her face. ‘You look different; your face has changed.’

‘I’m too thin, but at least I have cheekbones now.’ She grinned. ‘Sort of. Starvation diet will do it every time!’

‘That’s not even funny.’

They drank a few more glasses until the bottle was drained. For Nicole, unused to alcohol as she now was, it went straight to her head.

He leant against her. ‘You smell –’

She laughed. ‘I smell?’

‘Delicious.’

She felt his breath on her neck and as she leant back he stroked the soft skin at her temples. She felt her pulse racing but maintained control.

He pulled away suddenly and searched her eyes. ‘What about your Vietnamese boyfriend?’

She gazed back at him, horrified. ‘Trần? He’s not my boyfriend.’

‘Sylvie told me you were living with him in the north.’

‘Of course I wasn’t.’ She paused. ‘You thought that? He’s never been my boyfriend.’

He shook his head and gave her a half-defensive, half-warm smile.

‘But it’s why you’ve sometimes been a bit distant, isn’t it?’ she said.

‘Not only that. Nicole, you spent six months with known
terrorists who’ve committed terrible atrocities. It makes me very sad but we can’t dodge that issue.’

‘You were sad!’ She felt a burst of anger and got to her feet. ‘What about me? And what about the French and American atrocities? I know I made a dreadful mistake going north with Trần. But don’t you have any idea how much I wanted to be with you?’

He shook his head. ‘I thought so at first, then everything suddenly changed after the ball.’

‘Yes, I know. I didn’t want it to but it did.’

They stared at each other.

‘Then after you helped them put me under house arrest, what else could I do but go?’ At the memory of that she took a step back and shook her head.

‘No!’ He sprang up. ‘You can’t think that. I swear I didn’t know the house arrest was going to happen.’

‘No?’

‘No!’

Then he came to her and held her so tightly she thought she might break. She tried to resist and struggled to free herself from his grip, but when his lips brushed her neck just behind her ear, she felt as if her skin had unpeeled. He began to kiss her and she arched her back, feeling so much a part of him that her inner self unrolled and lay bare before him. The sensation of being known was so intense her legs began to tremble.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

‘Me too. We have wasted too much time,’ he whispered. ‘Are you sure you want this?’

‘Oh God,’ she murmured and felt the heat of his hand on her breast. ‘Dance with me, Mark, like we did before.’

They moved together while she whispered the words of a song. After a few minutes they stood still and she pressed against him with only the robe between her breasts and his
shirt. She felt him shudder, then he held her away and touched his fingertips into the hollows of her throat. She gasped and he began to undo the ribbon at her neck, looking deep into her eyes with a silent question. She nodded and he quickly finished the job. When the garment slipped from her shoulders it fell to the floor and she stood before him, physically naked, just as moments before she had felt emotionally naked.

He stared at her, then cupped her breasts with his hands. When he bent his head to take a nipple in his mouth, she unzipped his trousers and pulled him to the floor. She lay back and parted her legs as he removed his shirt and trousers. He wore no underwear.

He sank back on his haunches and they gazed at each other. She tilted her head back; now that her body was coming back to life, she gave herself to the sensation. He leant forward and caressed both breasts before his mouth slid to her stomach. She held the back of his head and groaned as his lips moved to her inner thighs, and finally reached the damp curls between her legs. Then she could take no more and pressed her hands beneath his armpits and pulled him up to her.

‘Now,’ she said and gave a shudder as he entered her. They began to move in rhythm. It was hard, fast and wild, the tension between them far too strong for the first time to be a gentle release. Then he cried out and she did too.

Sometime after that they lay flat on the floor, side by side, both slippery with sweat, and with a sensation of peace unfolding around them. She could never have anticipated how incredible this would make her feel. This had been nothing like her one time with Trần. Mark had made her feel truly wanted.

He propped himself up on one elbow and pushed the strands of her hair away from her eyes. ‘So,’ he said and grinned.

She gave a sigh of pleasure before reaching up and tracing the contours of his face. ‘Again?’

As France’s hold on the country stuttered, their time together was all they had, the danger of war adding to the tension and ensuring the release of sex was even sweeter. She felt sure the more they could be together, the deeper their bond would become. Often they studied each other silently. The way he narrowed his eyes and smiled and the way he sometimes looked so mischievous when they made love, made her think he could see inside her head.

She was lying alone late one afternoon trying to sleep when she heard the buzz of a bluebottle in her room. She covered her head with a pillow. Nicole had no fear of spiders or snakes, but the sound of a large fly continually buzzing drove her to distraction. Even beneath the pillow she could still hear its annoying whine. After a few more minutes she threw the pillow on to the floor and sang to herself to drown out the noise. Still the buzzing went on and she soon realized it was actually in duplicate; there were two little demons in her room. Low in the sky, the afternoon sun had cast a golden glow around the room, so she climbed out of bed, wearing just her pants, and opened her bedroom door, hoping the insects might find their way out. She watched, wafting the air to encourage them, but they declined to leave. She began to stalk them and, picking up the pillow again, made a leap, smashing it against the wall. The annoying drone continued. In fact, the more irritable she became the louder the buzzing. She whacked the pillow against the wall again but missed the flies.

After ten minutes of hurling herself around as she chased after them she stood in the middle of her room, sweat dripping from her. The light was fading. Then she spotted both flies together on the door frame. This was her opportunity, so
she closed her eyes and threw herself, pillow in hand, at the spot. She opened her eyes just as the pillow burst, bits of fluff rising like a snowstorm in the air and then a rain of white feathers curtaining the doorway. As they cleared she saw Mark standing there, picking feathers from his hair, his forehead and the shoulders of his shirt. She stepped back and looked at him in horror.

He coughed and blew the feathers from his lips. ‘Whoa. What have I done to merit this?’

‘I didn’t see you. I was chasing flies.’

‘As one usually does wearing just –’ He pointed at her.

‘You think
I
look funny?’ She began to laugh.

‘You will pay,’ he said and picked her up as if she was a feather herself and threw her over his shoulder.

‘Put me down.’

He ignored her.

‘Where are you taking me, you horrible man?’

‘Horrible? I think you’re forgetting I’m the injured party here.’