The Silk Merchant's Daughter (30 page)

She aired Celeste’s comfort blanket. When they left, her baby would need it.

The garden, no longer cared for, was tangled and overgrown, apart from the area around the washing line. After she’d pinned up the blanket she checked the back of the baby’s neck. Still a bit too hot and, though her daughter was asleep, it was a restless kind of sleep. She touched the child’s burning cheeks and took off the coverlet. She’d take her inside and cool her down with a wet flannel in a moment. First she needed to see if anything remained in Lisa’s old vegetable patch. Even if they flew to Saigon the next morning, they still needed to eat tonight. Food was scarce and they’d had to make do with endless lentils, the odd scrawny chicken and what root vegetables they could still dig up. She knelt in the damp earth and concentrated on poking about with a trowel, only realizing someone had entered the garden when she heard a cough.

Still kneeling, she twisted round and saw movement on the had other side of the garden where she’d left the pram. Sylvie had picked up Celeste and was gently rocking her with one arm. Her sister’s friend, André, stood at her side. What was he doing here?

‘She’s not very well. I’ve only just got her off to sleep,’ Nicole said as she got to her feet. ‘Can you put her back down?’

Sylvie took a step forward. ‘Do you want to go inside?’

Nicole was taken aback by the solemn look on her face and spotted a small suitcase on the ground between her sister’s feet.

‘There’s no easy way to say this,’ Sylvie said, and Nicole noticed her eyes looked red.

‘What?’

Visibly, Sylvie drew in her breath and held it for a moment before she spoke. She glanced at André. ‘Something terrible has happened. Our army is now in retreat. The French garrison at Dien Bien Phu is about to fall.’

‘I heard that at the pool. Do you know any more?’

Sylvie shook her head. ‘Only that Giap, the Vietminh general in command, has surrounded French positions using a huge network of trenches and tunnels.’

Nicole stared at her sister.

Sylvie gulped. ‘They are overpowering us, Nicole. I didn’t think it would happen so suddenly. I thought we had time. But they have as good as won.’

‘I’ll get our things.’

Still rocking the baby, Sylvie seemed less agitated than she had been for days. ‘No. You don’t understand. I’ve only secured one ticket. I have a taxi taking me to an American armoured vehicle, travelling in a convoy tonight to the port at Haiphong. From there I’ve arranged a berth on a naval liner, hopefully leaving in two or three days for France.’

‘One ticket?’

‘It’s only me who is leaving. It was virtually impossible to get even one ticket for the convoy. They’re taking out officials and army only.’

‘I don’t understand. You mean you’re leaving me and the baby behind?’

Sylvie shook her head. ‘I know it sounds crazy but I thought
Celeste could come with me. I don’t need an extra ticket for a baby.’

Nicole’s brow creased. ‘You’re serious?’

Sylvie nodded. ‘Think about it. Look at her colouring. Bright blue eyes and sandy hair – you know she’ll never survive once the Vietminh arrive.’

Nicole gazed at her baby. Her sister couldn’t believe this was the right thing to do. ‘But I’ve arranged flights to Saigon.’

‘Who with?’

‘A soldier I met at the pool.’

Sylvie snorted. ‘And you believed him? Nicole, you must decide now. I have to go. The taxi won’t wait.’

‘I don’t know. I don’t know.’ Nicole felt her heart pumping. ‘Celeste isn’t well, Sylvie. She has a fever.’

‘This is the best way for her. You look Vietnamese. You’ll get by. She would not. You said so yourself.’

‘But I didn’t mean –’

As Sylvie tightened the blanket around Celeste, her hand was shaking.

‘You said you wanted a way to get Celeste out of here. That’s what I’m offering to do. But there’s no time to lose. Please, Nicole. Let her go. It’s now or not at all.’

As Nicole stole a look at André, he picked up Sylvie’s case. She felt her chest constrict. ‘You can’t separate us like this. You’re my sister.’

‘Did you think of that when you lied about my letter and slept with Mark?’

Nicole stared in disbelief. ‘You want to take my child because of that?’

‘Truly, no. I really could only get one ticket.’

‘Come on, Sylvie. Why don’t we all go in our car? It would be better, wouldn’t it?’

Sylvie shook her head slowly. The feather in her hat, perched
on the side of her head, shivered in the breeze. ‘No petrol. None for private vehicles anyway. This is the only way.’

Nicole thought quickly. Maybe Sylvie was right. She had no way of getting out of here except for the flight to Saigon. What if the officer had been lying about the tickets? She’d be completely stranded and then what would happen to Celeste?

Sylvie turned to André. ‘Give her the envelope.’

He passed it to Nicole.

‘The house in Huế is in your name now. You could go there, lie low for a while and then follow on when things calm down. I’ll be at our father’s flat in Paris. I’ve made this house over to the army, though much good it will do them. I wanted to sell up, but there wasn’t time. Now it’s worth nothing.’

André stepped forward. ‘Best let the baby go, mademoiselle. The Vietminh would never allow her to live. You wouldn’t be safe either if she was with you.’

Nicole was in tears now. She had to decide whether to trust some unknown officer to get her an aeroplane ticket or trust her sister with her daughter. Both were a risk, but she had to put her daughter’s safety first. Sylvie was going now. Who knew what might be happening by the morning. There might not even be any flights left to Saigon. She made a snap decision and came across to smother her daughter with kisses. She could hardly bear to do it but Sylvie was right.

‘I promise I will take care of her.’

Nicole looked into her sister’s eyes and nodded, then stroked her daughter’s cheek, feeling the softness of her skin. After a moment she managed to speak. ‘There’s a bag of her things in the hall.’

Sylvie turned on her heels, followed by André.

Nicole stared after her, feeling numb. ‘Remember she’s not well,’ she called out with a break in her voice. She listened to the spaces between her own words. Was she insane to let this
happen? The question went right through her but was left unanswered.

She glanced around the garden. How could it look so normal when it was possible she might never see her daughter again? We should have gone before, she thought. She’d known it was foolish to wait yet she’d stayed for Sylvie’s sake. ‘We should have gone before,’ she whispered, ‘we should have gone.’ Mark had told her to go but she had listened to Sylvie instead. Her throat was completely choked and she couldn’t swallow, but a cool breeze on her skin and another rumble of thunder galvanized her into action.

She straightened up and ran after them.

When she reached the hall she saw they’d left the front door open. She took in the scene instantly and flew out of the house, just in time to see André closing the taxi door on Sylvie and getting in himself. Sylvie and the baby were sitting in the back and Nicole could clearly see her little girl’s bright blue eyes fill with tears.

As the car pulled away, she followed blindly, stumbling past anyone who got in her way. By the time they were too far off, she was forced to stop and gasp for breath. Her sister had been acting oddly for weeks, and at times had seemed almost unbalanced. Would she be able to look after Celeste properly? People were staring as Nicole gulped and spluttered. Everything in the street became blurred; people, cars, rickshaws folded into one heaving mass. Then, as night fell suddenly in the way it did, she sat on the ground and howled.

For a few minutes after she’d stopped crying, Nicole’s chest was so constricted she couldn’t breathe. Didn’t believe she’d ever breathe again. She clutched herself and rocked in silence where she sat on the pavement. Nobody stopped. She got to her feet and looked at the street full of people without seeing any of them. Eventually she managed to make it back home where, leaning against their front door, she ached with the need to hold Celeste’s warm little body in her arms. She gazed up at the dark clouds staining the sky in patches of purple then glanced across the street where she caught sight of a couple walking rapidly past on the opposite side. They both carried cases and, from the way the man was lagging behind and the harsh way the woman spoke to him, Nicole suspected the woman would have been running, had she been on her own. Nicole took a step towards them. What if she threw herself at their feet and begged them to help her find the convoy? Then she remembered Sylvie hadn’t mentioned where in Hanoi the convoy was leaving from. She held her throat. There was no air.

After a moment she felt for the door handle and let herself back into the house. She gazed at the four walls of the hall, at the glass cupola, at the floor, and finally at the phone, now reconnected and sitting on the hall table next to the drawing-room door. She wiped her face and forced herself to think rationally. She rang the police. They told her they had more important issues to deal with, like looting on the streets and losing the war.

‘But my daughter’s been taken to Haiphong,’ she pleaded.

‘By your sister, you said.’

‘Yes. But I need to go too.’

‘And she went with your permission?’

‘Well, yes. But my daughter isn’t well.’

‘Then it’s a family matter.’

‘Can’t you help me get to Haiphong? At least tell me where the convoy is leaving from.’

‘We don’t give out that information.’

She slammed the phone down, then sat on the stairs with her head in her hands while every cell of her body screamed with the loss. Who could help her follow them to Haiphong at night? There had to be someone. She stood and walked back and forth, clinging to the hope Sylvie might change her mind and return.

In the silence she heard the squeak of a rusty bicycle chain, some mother calling to her child and a siren in the distance. The prolonged hooting of an owl brought her back with a jolt. Other people were on the move so why wasn’t she? She switched on the radio and listened to the news. It was true. The French had as good as lost the war. They still held Hanoi and Haiphong and the road between the two cities, but it wouldn’t be long before the Vietminh would be scouring the streets. The news was followed by a recording of the Marseillaise. She remembered the times she had heard it in Huế when she was a child and then, thinking of Huế, recalled how the silvery sky used to hang so low over the icy-blue river you felt you could touch it. During a very long night her memories went on and on, but there were gaps too, whole stretches of time she couldn’t remember at all. She bit the skin round her nails until it bled, and as the light from the cupola signalled the change, she watched the first crack of dawn appear.

With daylight, she felt more convinced that there must be a
way to get to Haiphong. There was no point thinking of flying to Saigon now, and she was glad she hadn’t paid for the tickets. She’d use the money she’d raised to follow Sylvie. She’d take the car. There had to be somebody with petrol to sell. The railway would be out of the question, even if there were trains running. Everyone knew the line would be mined.

When it was light enough to see, she went into the garden and found the envelope Sylvie had given her on the grass, now a little damp with dew. She sat down on the grass feeling hot and a little bit sick, wiped her hand across her forehead and pushed the damp hair from her eyes. She ripped open the envelope and saw it was true. She owned the house in Huế, though what use would that be without her baby?

As the tears began to spill again, her darkest fears surfaced and something collapsed inside her. Mark might be dead and now her little girl was gone too. She missed them both so much the pain was physical, but now she blamed herself for not thinking it through properly. She had been so surprised and shocked by the suddenness of what had happened that she hadn’t truly considered Sylvie’s shaky mental state, but now she couldn’t silence the whispers in her head. Her sister was ill.

Trapped in indecision, Nicole watched as the sun inched across the sky. If only Mark were there. But his last letter had been dated March and now it was May. Surely if he was alive he would have written again? She was certain of it. She clung to the hope that maybe he had and Sylvie had hidden that letter too. She gazed at the herbs and flowers grown wild in the garden and listened to the birds as they flew in and out of the trees. She went indoors and picked up a knitted matinee jacket discarded on the floor, held it to her nose and smelt the sweet scent of her baby. Every moment she’d spent with Celeste catapulted into sharp relief.

When an idea finally came to her she dug out her old Vietnamese clothes and, feeling sticky, struggled into them. She took a taxi – quicker than a
cyclo
– and felt even hotter sitting in the back of the stuffy cab. She wiped her forehead with her skirt, then wound the window down and the smell of dust and summer drifted in. Sylvie had been acting strangely lately and she couldn’t picture what might be in her sister’s mind. What if Sylvie had been lying? What if she had no intention of going to their father’s flat?

When the taxi dropped her close to the silk shop, she paid and ran over to unlock the door. She felt fragile and, needing to steady herself, held on to the door frame for support. A drink of water. That would help. She hadn’t eaten either. Not that she felt like it.

O-Lan must have been gazing out of her window, because she came out straight away.

‘I heard you’d had the baby. Is everything all right? I haven’t seen you for months …’ She paused and held out a hand. ‘You look terrible.’

Nicole shivered. ‘I just need water.’

‘Coffee. I’ll make you some.’

‘I have to get to Haiphong.’ Nicole’s teeth began to chatter. She heard them clicking in her head, as if they belonged in someone else’s mouth.

‘You can’t go in that state.’

‘I’ll be all right.’ Nicole’s eyes watered but with no time for tears she brushed them away. ‘I let her take my baby, O-Lan. But Celeste’s not well and neither is my sister. I have to go after them.’

O-Lan looked at her strangely. ‘Have you not heard the news? Dien Bien Phu has fallen. The French are retreating. There are thousands dead and thousands wounded too. They’ll be trying to bring back the walking wounded so the roads will be chaos. Easier to get to Saigon.’

‘No. Sylvie went to Haiphong. She has a berth on a liner leaving for France. I have some money but I need more if I’m going to follow her.’

‘The US are evacuating French and Americans for free, I heard. At least to Saigon. But first you need rest.’

Nicole shook her head. ‘I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate but it’s the only way I can think of to get to Haiphong. Could I take your cousin’s motorbike?’

O-Lan smiled. ‘It still has petrol. If it’s the only way, then you must take it.’

‘You’re sure? You may never get it back. I’ll send the money for it when I can.’

O-Lan shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘I’m sorry I didn’t bring Celeste to see you. I was scared Trần might be here.’ Nicole closed her eyes for a moment and felt her head spin. She couldn’t be ill again now.

O-Lan felt her forehead and the back of her neck. ‘You’re burning up. You’re coming to my house.’

Nicole leant against O-Lan as she helped her inside.

‘What about your mother? Won’t she mind?’

‘She died, Nicole.’

Nicole stepped away and gazed at her friend. ‘I’m so sorry.’

O-Lan shrugged. ‘She’s with the ancestors now. But if he comes, Trần will look for you at your shop or here. As soon as you can, you must leave.’

Nicole bent over slightly and put a palm on the wall to support herself. Her head felt so heavy that everything went out of focus and her legs turned to jelly. ‘I’m so sorry –’

Over the next few hours the fever worsened. O-Lan said it was an illness that had been going round and, though horrible while it lasted, it was usually short-lived. As it raged, the hollow feeling inside Nicole derailed her. Her thoughts revolved around her child, but she had to accept she wasn’t in any shape to ride a motorbike.

All day she felt ice-cold, and that night she started to be sick. As O-Lan brought her a bowl and held her head, Nicole worried that Celeste was suffering from the same sickness. Sylvie wouldn’t hurt the child, but her daughter was so small and so vulnerable. Would her sister know what to do? The thought of her baby dying without her mother left Nicole shaking uncontrollably and, as the hours passed, she felt she was shrivelling inside.

‘I’ll get her a blanket,’ she heard O-Lan say as she turned to somebody outside the room. ‘She’s still shivering, though her temperature is high. Can you make her a warm drink, please.’

Nicole heard a man speak but didn’t see who it was. She mourned the loss of her daughter but an absence of feeling was what she craved now. She couldn’t cope with anything more. On hearing vague noises coming up from the street, she sensed
something abnormal was going on, but felt too tired to ask what.

By the next morning she had emerged from the depths of the fever; though still feeling insubstantial, she lay awake, her eyes growing accustomed to the gloom. She heard a noise on the small landing outside her room and, fearful of what was beyond the door, she stiffened. She picked up the peppery smell before she saw him and felt a jolt of fear pass through her.

Trần was in the room and walking towards her with a glass of water.

‘I will open the shutters,’ he said as he put the glass beside her.

‘No. Please. The light hurts my eyes.’ It was true, but more than anything, she didn’t want to look at him and her heart was knocking at the thought of being confined together in such a small room.

When he was close she sneaked a look. The devastating fall-out of war had marked him and his once proud demeanour had changed. In fact, he looked defeated, or at the very least, disillusioned.

She struggled to sit up and picked up the glass. ‘How long have you been here?’

‘Since last night.’

Nicole sipped the water. ‘She told you I was here?’

‘She didn’t want to.’

She felt that her sickness embarrassed him, saw it in the way he continually adjusted his scarf while remaining silent. His eyes kept sliding to her face for a moment and then he’d look away. Not once did he really see her.

She finished the water. ‘Where’s O-Lan?’

‘Selling your stock for you. She asked me to watch over you.’

‘So now you’re my guardian angel?’

‘I have something of yours.’ He reached into a small satchel and drew out Nicole’s antique purse.

‘Oh,’ she said with a smile. ‘You found it in the tent.’

‘I rescued it.’ He smiled. ‘So you see, I am your guardian angel.’

‘Thank you,’ she said, but didn’t dare look to see if the photo of Mark was still inside.

Now he looked at her properly for the first time. She saw his eyes change and hoped that he had mellowed.

‘I risked everything to help you escape.’

‘And I was grateful.’

His head was shaking. ‘You don’t understand. The
métisse
among the party are no longer welcome.’

As she watched him, he fidgeted constantly and cleared his throat more than once. She hoped O-Lan would be back soon.

‘I shall have a position in the new state,’ he said at last. ‘You don’t look French. When you’re well we can be married.’

Nicole gasped and looked at him in alarm. This wasn’t what she’d been expecting. ‘You said
métisse
were not welcome.’

She scarcely remembered what had once connected them. The light had gone from his eyes and it seemed as if the passion had drained from his heart. A man whose revolutionary fervour had dried up. Had he become what he had really always been; not a visionary at all, but rather a practical man, who, like so many others, had been too young to know any better?

‘You don’t understand,’ she said. ‘I have a child.’

He knitted his brows together and took a step back.

‘My sister has her.’

‘Once a French whore!’ he snapped, and she could see the disgust in his eyes.

She wanted to offer him something but he ignored her outstretched hand. She shook her head. ‘Trần, I’m sorry but you have to let me go.’

‘I do not have to do anything,’ he said, clearly upset and not
attempting to hide it. ‘I have a mind to inform the authorities that you are here.’

‘The Vietminh isn’t in charge yet. As far as I know the authority is still French.’

‘Hanging on by a thread. You have time to change your mind.’ His face softened and a shadow from the past slipped back; just for a second, there was a trace of the old Trần.

‘We can be happy living together above the shop,’ he said.

She shook her head. ‘You aren’t listening. I have a baby. I have no desire to be a docile Vietnamese wife.’

He went over to the window and threw open the shutters. A terrific banging and clattering rose up from the street accompanied by the sound of angry voices, the noise exploding into the room, assaulting her. She rubbed her eyes, then used her hands to shield them from the light.

‘It will be best if you give me the silk shop,’ he said as he twisted back to regard her with sterner eyes.

‘Much good a silk shop will do you when the regime is seizing everything,’ she said. ‘But I’ll leave the keys and the deeds of ownership when I go.’

‘I hope you will not be going anywhere.’ He smiled. ‘It will not last. Things will go back to the way they were. I’ve never been a proprietor before. We shall run the shop together. When the time comes. You will see.’

Fearing her feelings might show in her face, she tried to calm herself, but her body felt heavy and her heart was going way too fast. She needed to keep the atmosphere calm; not by agreeing, but not being openly defiant either. Much as she wanted to, she didn’t dare slam the door in his face.

‘Are you all right?’ he said.

She nodded. ‘How will you be able to keep the shop open?’

‘I won’t. Not at first. They will want everybody on the land or in large municipal factories. There will be no private trade.’

‘Let me think about it,’ she said. She leant back against the pillow and closed her eyes. There was nothing to be gained from crossing him. She hoped O-Lan would know how to tempt him away so that she could leave.

She felt rather than saw him kneel beside her bed.

‘Nicole, I came back for you.’

She felt dizzy again. ‘It was such a long time ago.’

‘I told you I would come back for you.’

‘You’re crazy. None of this is real. But, please, I’ve said I’ll think about it and now I have to sleep.’

Convulsed by grief, she turned her face to the wall and heard him creep out.