The Silk Merchant's Daughter (27 page)

Nicole decided her sister must have mellowed.

‘No more worry,’ Sylvie said. ‘And don’t think about your little friend, Trần, either. I’ve employed an armed guard to protect the house at night.’

‘Is he here now?’

Sylvie smiled. ‘Rest assured, your Vietminh past won’t be able to touch you. You will give birth here in the house. Now concentrate on getting better. For the sake of my little niece or nephew.’

Nicole gazed at her sister. ‘Why are you doing this for me?’

‘You’re family. Now I must go out for bread and milk. Tomorrow I have a business to get back on its feet.’

‘You still believe the French will win?’

‘Of course.’

Nicole frowned. Her sister seemed so sure of herself. ‘Don’t you think we’d be better off cutting our losses and returning to France?’

‘And what would we live on if we did? Anyway, you shouldn’t travel in your present condition. Wait until the baby’s born. Then we’ll see. Don’t worry about anything. All the downstairs windows have bars.’

While Sylvie was out picking up their supplies, Nicole chose Lisa’s favourite chair by the conservatory door, where she once used to keep an eye on her vegetable plot. The dark clouds had shifted now and, sitting alone in Lisa’s chair, Nicole tried to imagine her there. What would their old cook have advised her to do? The night before, her longing for Mark had been intense and she’d lain awake until exhaustion finally closed her eyes. She thought of her father too. Her entire childhood might have been different had her father not allowed Sylvie to believe his lie about their mother’s death. If she and her sister were ever to truly trust each other, the time for secrets was over. If she was going to give birth here, she and Sylvie would need to talk about the past, no matter how hard it might be.

As soon as she heard her sister come back, Nicole called up the stairs. ‘Have you got a minute?’ She began to bite the loose skin at the edges of her thumbnail.

Sylvie came down, fetched a glass of water and sat at the table. Nicole stayed where she was, leaning against the kitchen sink, comforted by the warm glow of their kitchen bathed in low evening sunlight.

‘What is it?’ Sylvie said. ‘Gosh, it’s nice to catch the last of the sun, though it’ll be dark any moment.’

Before she began, Nicole took a moment, resolutely keeping her eyes on Sylvie. ‘I saw Papa shoot Trần’s brother at the ball.’

Sylvie did not lose eye contact either, though she looked startled and her eyes widened. ‘You saw that?’

‘I was in the corridor.’

Sylvie shook her head. ‘All this time you’ve kept it to yourself?’

Nicole wasn’t sure if her sister was worried because she’d witnessed it or was nervous she might have told somebody. The silence between them went on too long and, though Sylvie’s face was composed, she began to tap her foot.

‘Are you sure you kept it to yourself? You didn’t tell Trần?’

‘Of course not.’

Sylvie frowned. ‘Why not?’

‘You said it yourself. You’re family. He’d have looked for revenge.’

Sylvie gulped down her water. ‘I’d have been out of your way.’

‘Sylvie!’ Nicole gasped, and sat down opposite her sister. ‘How can you even think something like that?’

Sylvie leant back in the chair and stared at the ceiling. ‘We’re different, you and I.’

Nicole thought about it. Perhaps they were. As children Sylvie had been the quiet one, whereas Nicole had been accustomed to having her fingers slapped, usually after dipping them into Lisa’s homemade plum jam or nipping into the larder to pilfer a slice of cake. She’d always been in trouble for racing up the stairs or shouting down from the top, for sliding down the banisters or falling into ponds, and later, on the terrible day when they’d taken the boat out without permission. Despite Sylvie’s denials, Nicole had known it had been her sister’s idea. That the whole thing had been Sylvie’s fault. Any further than that she never dared recall, wanting only to turn her back on feelings that still retained the power to shake her. Once you come close to drowning, it never lets you go.

Sylvie coughed and Nicole came back to the present with a jolt. ‘What I want to know is why Trần’s brother was killed.’

‘We didn’t know beforehand,’ Sylvie said.

‘We?’

‘Mark and I.’ Her sister straightened up but still seemed all nerves. ‘Jesus, I could do with a cigarette.’

Nicole couldn’t help smiling. ‘You don’t smoke.’

‘No, but I wish I did. Listen. It’s all water under the bridge now. No need to go over old ground.’

But Nicole, propelled by the need to know more, continued. ‘All this time I have wondered why Papa had to kill him there.’

Sylvie sighed. ‘It was a secret interrogation cell with another exit through the grounds. He was a Vietminh and suspected of the assassination of a French officer.’

‘He hadn’t been tried.’

Sylvie got to her feet. ‘Inciting rebellion against the French. Wasn’t that enough? An example had to be made.’

‘And you didn’t know it was going to happen?’

Sylvie shook her head but there was a pallor to her skin that hadn’t been there before.

‘Why did our father have to pull the trigger?’

‘It was his job. I suppose he had no choice. He’d been a businessman with links to everyone and he was well placed to find out anything going on. But he had married a Vietnamese. That was a black mark and because of it the French government used him.’

Nicole felt the blood pumping through her veins and, even though it was almost dark now, got up to open the door for air.

Sylvie took the cap off a fresh bottle of milk. You should drink a litre of this a day,’ she said.

Nicole nodded. She still wanted to talk to Sylvie about what had happened the day she was born, but felt it would have to wait until they’d built up more trust. In the meantime she’d
write to her father telling him that Lisa had revealed the truth. Perhaps that was the best place to start unravelling such a sensitive issue.

She stretched to shake off the tight feeling in her muscles, then moved around a bit, keeping her eyes on her sister. ‘Maybe we need to talk about Mark.’

Sylvie didn’t speak but something flickered on her face.

‘Sylvie?’

‘There’s nothing to say.’

Nicole thought about it. ‘You liked him, right? In America?’

Her sister bowed her head for a moment then looked Nicole in the face. ‘Yes, but when he arrived in Hanoi …’

‘Did you believe he loved you?’

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘But, Sylvie –’

‘I said I don’t want to talk about this.’ Sylvie slammed the milk bottle down with such force the bottle cracked and milk started leaking all over the table. ‘Now look what you’ve made me do!’

Perhaps Mark had been right when he said her sister was far more troubled than people knew. ‘Did you believe he loved you?’ she asked again.

Sylvie glanced at Nicole while she was mopping up the milk. ‘Just leave it. All that matters now is that we prepare for the baby.’

Nicole went upstairs, her head spinning.

On her way to her room she passed the long mirror on the landing and stared at her deeply rounded belly and full blue-veined breasts. At least her hair had stopped falling out when she brushed it, and she no longer had to pick strands out of the washbasin. Her face was softer too; it was as if she was seeing herself with new eyes and, for the first time, she was astonished to see real beauty in her Vietnamese looks.

Before lying down on her bed she wrote to Mark, telling him what the doctor had said and that the baby was now moving around. When she had finished she could have sworn she smelt a trace of Camembert baking. In a flash she was back with Lisa in their kitchen in Huế and it felt so real she had to smile. Tomorrow she’d write to Lisa too. The past was a powerful place and she so wanted her child to have happy memories to look back on. Memories rooted in a life full of love. Her own childhood had been so mixed, and there were moments when she could hardly think beyond remembering how difficult it had sometimes been.

When Nicole thought about the future it was still with a sense of unease. Whatever Sylvie said to the contrary, there was little doubt in Nicole’s mind that sooner or later the Vietminh would come. They had thousands of people on their side, thousands and thousands of people who believed their cause was just, and while it saddened her to realize the old days were gone for ever, she had seen enough to know they had right on their side.

Once she was a little stronger she walked early in the day to steer clear of people. She avoided reading the newspapers, where she knew French victories would be proclaimed, while their losses would go unreported, especially where the battles raged around the Red River Delta. She’d seen how people ignored what had happened during the terrible battle of Hòa Binh in 1952. The French commanders had refused to see how their losses there had foretold the future, but Nicole had known the Vietminh first-hand. They were single-minded and their focus would see them through. She couldn’t help but admire that, even in the face of the mighty French army, they would never give up, and though their rhetoric was extreme, their passion couldn’t be denied. Yet, despite their just cause, she knew many more people would suffer for it during what lay ahead.

On the day a letter arrived from Mark she had been trying not to obsess about him, though she worried constantly about where he was and if he was safe. If anything happened to him now she just couldn’t bear it. She went upstairs to her room to
open the letter in private and was pleased to read that he hadn’t yet left for – and there he left a blank. She knew what it meant, though of course he couldn’t write it down. At least he was still in Saigon and not in Russia. He had received her letter and said that he longed to put a hand on her stomach and feel the baby kick. He also suggested they liquidate their remaining assets in preparation for leaving soon after the baby was born. While Nicole was overjoyed to hear from him, she choked back tears at the thought of what he might have to face in Russia.

Images of grey communist buildings and ruthless men filled her mind. He’d said he would have to discover the whereabouts of a missing agent. That the man might well have defected. What would happen to Mark if he was captured? She was weighed down by the dense shadow of the war within Vietnam; death was everywhere, even if she could not see it. Nobody knew for certain how much of the land the Vietminh had already taken, nor how deeply involved the Russians were. For Mark’s sake, she hoped it was minimal.

The winter months passed rapidly and Nicole had been excited to receive two letters from Lisa. Her old friend sounded settled in her new life and Nicole was relieved to hear it, but as February approached she was feeling increasingly worried about Mark. She had not seen him since just after her release from prison and hadn’t received a reply to her last two letters either, which had to mean he was now in Russia.

One afternoon Sylvie had her head buried in a book on childbirth, and Nicole was sitting on the sofa attempting to knit the baby a blanket, but kept on dropping stitches. Mark had been right about that; she was hopeless at knitting. She couldn’t get him out of her mind and constantly thought about where he might be and what he was doing. Already beginning to think of the future, she wondered if supplies of silk were readily available in the villages around Saigon. If he could work out of Saigon when the war was over, that might be the way ahead for her. She had never been south herself but her father had said it was a teeming city with none of the serene charm of Hanoi. She’d also heard that, while the use of opium was only moderately widespread in Hanoi, in the Cholon area of Saigon it was everywhere. The city was corrupt, but it was the place where many were fleeing.

She glanced up at Sylvie. ‘What if something happens to Mark?’

‘He can take care of himself.’

‘I don’t want my baby to grow up fatherless.’

Sylvie put her book aside. ‘We both grew up without a
mother, so of course I understand. You weren’t the only one who felt different, you know. All my friends had mothers and then suddenly I didn’t any more. They turned their backs on me.’

‘At least you had her for five years.’

‘But because you never had her you didn’t know the difference. I felt as if you could have punched me in the stomach and your fist would go right through. There was a big hole inside me.’

There was a long silence as Nicole thought about how awful it must have been for Sylvie to lose her adored mother at the age of five. It would be more than enough to alter a small child’s life and instil a deep-seated insecurity.

‘I understand. I felt there was a hole in me too,’ she said in a small voice.

Sylvie came over, knelt beside her and took her hand. ‘Well, we have each other now.’

Nicole nodded and Sylvie straightened up again.

There was something else Nicole had been thinking about. ‘What’s happening with my shop, Sylvie?’

‘People don’t have much to spend. O-Lan is still there but we’re struggling to make a living from it. But we have other businesses and I feel confident, if carefully managed, we can retain our assets rather than having to sell.’

Nicole wasn’t sure. ‘You do remember what Mark said in his letter about the liquidation of our assets?’

Sylvie gave a short, scornful laugh.

‘You don’t want to believe everything he says, Nicole. We have standards to maintain and when we win the war we’ll need everything we’ve got.’ She rubbed her hands as she walked back and forth, almost muttering to herself. Her eyes were darting here and there, and then she lowered her voice. ‘We have to be careful not to be overheard.’

Nicole frowned. ‘By who?’

Sylvie didn’t seem to hear her and carried on talking to herself. ‘It will all be fine. Yes, absolutely fine. Everything all right. Just as before. Exactly as before.’

Then she turned to Nicole as if suddenly remembering she was there. ‘We will remain here. Don’t worry. It’s all under control. There’s nothing to worry about. We’ll have a lovely time when the baby comes. I wish it would hurry up.’

‘You can’t dictate when a baby will be born.’

‘You’re right, nature will take its course.’

‘You seem unsettled, Sylvie. Is something wrong?’

Sylvie sighed deeply. ‘Nothing at all. Now, I’ve found Lisa’s old recipe for your favourite lemon cake. Shall we give it a go?’

‘After the baby comes I think we should go straight to France. French people and Vietnamese too. So many have already left for Saigon.’

‘Cowards. In any case, the government has forbidden further departures.’

‘You think that will stop them?’

Sylvie shrugged. ‘Now, I know you like the cake –’

Nicole felt a sudden twinge and doubled over.

‘Are you all right? You look a bit odd.’

‘I feel rather more than odd,’ Nicole gasped.

But the twinge passed and they headed down towards the kitchen, Nicole pressing a palm against the wall to steady herself.

‘These steps are treacherous,’ she said.

‘You used to race up and down.’

‘I used not to be pregnant.’

The kitchen was clean but not the place it used to be: the hustle and bustle, the delicious aromas, the radio turned up too loud with Lisa singing along – all that was gone. Nicole sighed and opened the door of the conservatory for the smell
of damp earth and trees to drift in. It was a lovely February day and really quite cool. She thought fondly of Yvette and of the Saturday mornings when the little girl, followed by her dog, Trophy, would bring their treats. Though so much of the past had gone, Nicole felt sure the baby would bring them fresh hope for the future.

Sylvie pulled out one of Lisa’s old recipe books from a drawer beneath the table. She flicked it open. ‘It’s written entirely by hand. I left a scrap of paper to mark the place. But goodness, her spelling is awful.’

‘She wasn’t an educated woman.’

‘Here it is. We need eggs and flour. And lemons. Can you get the sugar from the larder?’

Nicole found an opened bag of sugar in the larder. It had to be kept in an airtight canister or ants would take up residence. She checked to make sure the ants hadn’t got in, but another strong twinge made her gasp and she accidentally tipped the sugar over herself.

‘I think the baby is coming.’

Sylvie looked up from Lisa’s book. ‘You’re sure?’

Nicole felt prickly. ‘No. I haven’t done this before, remember?’

‘I’ll fetch the midwife. I’ll only be half an hour. At least she can have a look at you.’ Sylvie closed the book. ‘We’ll do this another time.’

‘What if it comes while you’re gone? Can’t you phone?’

‘The line is off.’

‘Again?’

Sylvie nodded. ‘The whole area.’

‘I want you to stay.’ Nicole was sobbing now. ‘Look at me. About to have a baby and covered in sugar.’

Sylvie gave a short laugh. ‘I’m no use at that sort of thing.’

‘I need the downstairs bathroom to get all this sugar off.’

‘Very well, I’ll help you get comfortable and then go.’

Nicole reached out a hand. ‘Please don’t leave me.’

‘Come on, Nicole. Just up to the ground floor. Women give birth all the time, don’t they? You’ll be absolutely fine.’

‘You wouldn’t say that if it was you. Think of what happened to our mother.’

Sylvie looked at Nicole pointedly. ‘Ah, but it isn’t me, is it?’

‘But I don’t know what to do,’ Nicole wailed.

‘Instinct will kick in, won’t it?’

As they made their way up the stairs, Nicole hoped her sister was right. Instinct might be all they had. She washed the sugar off in the bathroom and then went into the sitting room, where Sylvie organized some cushions on the sofa. ‘There. Will you be comfortable?’

Nicole nodded and sat down. Then a truly awful pain twisted her insides. ‘I can’t do this without Mark. You have to stay. Please.’

Sylvie agreed to stay after all and almost immediately the pains ceased and Nicole felt fine. False alarm, she thought. Wasn’t there a name for it? They had both read that childbirth book, but it was old-fashioned and the information had been veiled in odd little euphemisms. She struggled to her feet and Sylvie helped her walk about.

‘It might be a false alarm, but maybe I should go for the midwife now?’ Sylvie said.

Nicole felt small and tearful. It felt like it was happening but not happening at the same time. What if the woman came too late? What if something happened to the baby? She began to panic. ‘I really don’t want to be on my own.’

Sylvie nodded. ‘All right. We’ll do this together.’

Nicole smiled through her tears.

It was just as well Sylvie stayed because a few minutes later the waters broke and a ferocious new pain stabbed at Nicole’s
stomach. She wrapped her arms round her middle in surprise. It had not been a false alarm and now she knew with absolute certainty that this was it. She searched for reassuring thoughts, trying not to think about what had happened to her own mother. Sylvie was right. Women did this all the time, often out in the fields. She was stronger now, wasn’t she? She could manage.

Another contraction seized her lower back and she cried out.

‘Let’s get you to bed.’

Nicole shook her head. ‘I can’t. This sofa will have to do.’

‘I’ll get towels.’

While her sister was gone Nicole tried to focus on her breathing to help with the pains. But with each contraction it felt as if her insides were being pulled and squeezed beyond endurance. Why hadn’t anyone said it would hurt like this?

She kept her eyes shut and counted to ten. She did it again, hoping to count away the pain. She tried to tell herself she could cope without Mark, and of course, she could. But she longed for him to be there in the next room, or at least within calling distance, while their child came into the world. She consoled herself by picturing him holding her hand and stroking her back, could feel him inside her head, talking, encouraging, willing her on. As she imagined being swept up in his arms, something new kicked in, something that made her feel alive, and so full of energy she felt the urge to whoop out loud. She, Nicole Duval, was about to become a mother.

Sylvie came back in. ‘You look better. You were awfully pale before.’

‘I think it’s going to be okay.’

But the pain came back in a wave. Sylvie sat beside her and held her hand.

‘Remember to breathe, Nicole.’

Sylvie’s presence helped. A few minutes later Nicole was dying for water, but before she could ask, her sister had brought her a glassful.

‘You seem to know what I need before I even say it.’

Sylvie smiled.

Nicole wanted to be fearless but for the next few contractions she felt as if she was drowning all over again. She had not foreseen any of this. Her pulse seemed to be going too fast and she was scared.

‘Don’t fight it,’ Sylvie was saying. ‘Go with the pain. Let the wave pass.’

It felt like being trapped with no way out and for a few minutes she howled with pain. When she stopped, a short silence fell over them during which Nicole felt strangely distanced from herself, as if she was somewhere on the outside looking in.

‘You can do it,’ Sylvie said. ‘One day this will just be a memory. Keep going.’

Nicole felt the baby’s head pressing. ‘I need to push.’

‘Then push. It’s your body telling you.’

Nicole groaned but was relieved Sylvie’s earlier agitation had been replaced by sympathy and understanding. She felt her sister was right there with her and, judging by Sylvie’s red face, they really did seem to be doing this together. It went on and on. Nicole grew more and more tired with every push, but Sylvie encouraged her to take breaths in between. In one of the quiet moments, Nicole drifted away. She wanted to see the moon, look at the stars, feel the earth beneath her feet. She wanted to sing songs with Lisa, cut silk. Anything. Anything other than this. Then she felt a terrible burning and stinging as if she was being ripped apart.

‘Oh my God. It’s close. This baby is killing me.’

‘I think now’s the time to pant.’

Sylvie smiled so calmly it touched Nicole.

Something changed in her again. Though bruised and exhausted, her fear evaporated. Sylvie was right. Childbirth was something she had been born to do, and this was her moment. Hers and her baby’s. She was not going to let her child down.

Just a few minutes later the baby was born. With tears in her eyes Sylvie held up the grey, blood-streaked wriggling baby. ‘It’s a girl, Nicole. A lovely little girl.’

There was a loud screech from the baby and Nicole broke down and wept as exhaustion and relief collided.

Sylvie patted her hand and passed her a handkerchief. ‘Come on. You’ve got a little girl waiting for you here.’

Nicole smiled and wiped her wet cheeks. ‘I have, haven’t I?’

‘You did really well. I’m so proud I could burst. Shall I clean her up?’

‘Not yet. I want to feel her against my skin.’

Sylvie wiped the baby down as she lay her against Nicole’s chest. With a soaring sense of relief and overwhelming happiness, Nicole gazed at her newborn child. Who could have told her it would feel like this? ‘Is she real?’ she asked.

Sylvie nodded, seemingly as full of feeling as Nicole was.

The baby had now turned pink, with fair hair, wrinkled hands, tiny nails and downy cheeks. She opened her eyes and Nicole saw they were blue. Bright blue. Nothing could ever match a moment like this and she felt certain the memory would last a lifetime. She looked up at her sister. ‘Thank you.’

Sylvie was trying to hold back tears. ‘I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Just look at her. I never thought she’d be so beautiful or that you’d be so brave.’

‘I couldn’t have done it without you.’

‘You’d have coped.’

The baby was sucking at air and both sisters were crying now.

Sylvie wiped her eyes and recovered first. ‘I’ll help put her to the breast.’

The baby continued to suck at air for a bit longer, but eventually latched on.

‘She knows what to do,’ Nicole said in bemusement.

‘And now that we have an addition to our little family,’ Sylvie said, ‘I’ll see if there’s a way to get hold of Mark.’

While Sylvie was gone, the room dissolved around Nicole. She stared at the wrinkled red face of her daughter and felt such a surge of emotion it overwhelmed her. She felt worn out, but this tiny dot was her own little baby, and such a toughie, surviving her mother’s imprisonment and her father’s absence. Nicole kissed the child’s perfect cheeks.

A little later she delivered the afterbirth alone.

But how lovely it had been to have Sylvie with her for the baby’s birth. It had been a hugely poignant experience; she’d never felt so close to her sister before. She’d wanted to discuss the baby’s name with Mark, but she knew he might not be able to come soon.