Authors: Siobhan Daiko
In the Wellspring box at the Happy Valley racecourse, I was tapping my foot and listening to Papa chat with Arnaud de Montreuil, the French Consul-General. I’d much rather have spent the afternoon at home, but my father had insisted on bringing me with him, saying he had important guests and needed me to help entertain them. Also, I suspected he’d wanted me here because he’d invited James.
‘Love,’ Papa had said when I’d told him I hadn’t forgotten Charles. ‘Love comes when you make a life together.’
‘Is that what happened between you and Mama?’ I’d asked. ‘I know the story. After you met her in Southampton at the end of the first war, you came out to Hong Kong to better your prospects. Six months later, Mama embarked on a P & O liner, leaving behind everything familiar to her. You must have loved each other right from the start.’
‘Your mother and I came from the same background.’
I stopped tapping my foot and went to stand next to James, who was watching the race, a betting slip in his hand. An electric machine on the other side of the track showed the enormous sums of money being gambled. People were leaning over the balcony in the next box, the majority of them Chinese. Unlike Papa’s other clubs, the Hong Kong Jockey Club approved of local members.
A tall man turned around. Seconds passed; he was staring right at me. My heart thudded, and my knees began to give way. I stepped back, found a seat and undid the top button of my blouse. The walls of the box were closing in on me. Taking a few deep breaths, I got up and excused myself. ‘I need some fresh air,’ I murmured to no one in particular.
‘You do seem rather peaky.’ James glanced at me. ‘Shall I come with you?’
‘Don’t worry! I’ll be fine.’
Outside, I fought my way through the crowds towards the entrance of the Jockey Club. Across the road, there was a cemetery.
Another damn cemetery!
I walked through the pillared entrance, climbed the steep hillside, and sat on a patch of grass. I had a clear view of the clock tower in the centre of the two members’ stands. On the other side of the valley was Blue Pool Road, where Papa and I used to ride every Sunday.
A lone figure came through the gates of the race-track. He walked just like Charles used to, swinging his right arm with each step. The man crossed the road and climbed up the hill. Sudden fine drizzle fell and soaked my hat.
My heart sang.
It’s Charles! He’s alive!
He stood in front of me and unfurled his umbrella. His adult face had become even more finely chiselled, his shoulders had broadened and his body, under a well-tailored suit, had filled out. But his hair still flopped across his forehead in that same maddening way.
‘I saw you leave and wondered where you were going with such a determined look on your face,’ he said, taking off his jacket and spreading it on the grass. ‘The ground is damp, let’s sit on this.’
Feeling hot, I removed my cotton gloves and stuffed them into my handbag. Charles was looking away, probably to avoid meeting my eyes. As well he might, not having contacted me. Should I ask him why?
No.
He was sitting so stiffly; the years had turned him into a stranger. It wasn’t the sort of question you could put to a stranger.
I pulled down my skirt. ‘Did you know the Japanese kept the Jockey Club open during the war?’
Might as well fill the silence with small-talk.
‘They called it the Hong Kong Race Club and changed the names of the ponies from English to Chinese.’
‘Apparently, they used the ponies to pull passenger carts when the buses stopped running after the petrol ran out.’
‘They even ate some of them.’ I shuddered. ‘How’s your family?’ I was aware of his gaze on my face now.
‘Ruth is doing well at school. She wants to become a doctor.’
‘Gosh, how clever of her!’
‘I expect she’ll come back to Hong Kong when she’s qualified. She keeps going on and on about how much she misses this place.’
I glanced at my watch. ‘I’d better be getting back before they start worrying about me.’
Charles got to his feet and held out his hand. His touch was so familiar a mad impulse took hold of me to reach out and stroke his face. Before I could stop myself my fingers were laced in his and I was kissing him. ‘Oh God, Charles, I thought you were dead,’ I said between kisses. ‘Why didn’t you contact me?’
‘B . . . b . . . but I did. I wrote to you.’
‘Well, I didn’t receive your letters.’
‘I wrote every month for a year.’
‘How can they have all gone missing?’
‘I wrote to your address on the Peak in the hopes someone would forward them.’
‘I never received them,’ I repeated, looking into his eyes.
‘I was worried you’d had second thoughts, but then I told myself you’d never do that. I’m right, aren’t I, Kate?’
I kissed him again, full on the lips, and it was like coming home after a long, long journey. I was where I should be, in Charles’ arms. How could anything ever part us again?
As if he’d read my thoughts, Charles said, ‘What about your father? Do you think he could have intercepted my letters?’
‘No, I’m sure he wouldn’t have. I expect the letters got lost in the post. Or they weren’t forwarded. That’s much more probable.’
Charles took my hand and kissed it. ‘Your father didn’t approve of us in Stanley. He’s hardly likely to have changed his mind now. Perhaps we should keep our love a secret until we know where we stand with him? I don’t want to cause a rift between you.’
A bubble of disappointment formed in my chest and I turned away from him. ‘I don’t care about that, my darling. I don’t care about anything but us, and I want to tell everyone.’
‘We will when the time is right,’ he said, turning me towards him. He stroked my cheek. ‘Oh, Kate, how I’ve longed to do that. I want everything to be perfect for you. No arguments with your father. And I need to prepare my family as well.’
His family? Surely there wouldn’t be any problems with them? ‘Why’s that?’
‘My uncle and aunt have become very Chinese since the war. I’m sure they’ll grow to love you, but I need to give them time to get used to the idea.’
‘It’s all so complicated. I wish people were more open-minded.’
‘Hong Kong has become a melting pot of China. A place of refugees and my uncle and aunt fit in better with the Chinese community than the English. There’s an old saying: all rivers running into the China Sea turn salty.’
‘What’s that mean?’
‘All ethnic groups living in China get assimilated eventually.’
‘I think they’re privileged to have a dual background.’
‘How can they fit in with both cultures?’ Charles shrugged. ‘Before the war, they could be part of the Eurasian community. Where’s it now? Disappeared.’
‘I suppose you’re talking about yourself as well.’ I reached for his hand. ‘What about me? Am I too English for you?’
Charles gave one of his heartbreakingly beautiful smiles. ‘Oh, my sweet love. I don’t think of you like that. You’re Kate, the other part of me. Together we can overcome all this prejudice. I’m sure of it. We just need to take things slowly so we get what’s best for us.’
‘Fair enough. Only an hour ago I believed you were dead. Now I know different my life has meaning again. I’ll be satisfied with seeing you in secret for a while.’ I sighed. ‘How will we know when the time is right to tell everyone, though?’
‘We’ll know. Will you trust me?’
‘I suppose so. At least come back with me to the Wellspring box and say hello. That can be the first step.’
‘Of course,’ he said, and we kissed again.
In the race-stand, Jessica and Tony welcomed Charles as if he were a long-lost friend. And Papa’s guests seemed fascinated to meet him, the nephew of millionaire Phillip Noble no less! The French Consul-General even promised a dinner invitation. But Papa stared at Charles as if he’d seen some sort of apparition.
Charles exchanged business cards with James and Arnaud. ‘My uncle is expecting me. Nice to see you again, Kate.’
‘Nice to see you too.’
How long will I be able to keep up this silly pretence?
From the other side of me, James pointed. ‘You’ve dropped one of your gloves, Kate.’
Before I could do anything, Charles retrieved it. The message in his eyes was clear: love mixed with the fundamental decency that was essentially Charles. My Charles.
***
In the car on the way home, Papa lit his pipe. ‘Did you know how Charles Pearce’s uncle came to be so filthy rich?’
‘Filthy rich. What a horrible expression. Please enlighten me!’
Seemingly unfazed, Papa sucked on his pipe. ‘His father was an ordinary Portuguese Eurasian bank clerk. I believe Phillip Noble was educated at one of those elite schools that offered scholarships to local boys.’
‘Oh?’
What was he on about?
‘Before the war, he’d already started building his real estate empire. From the safety of Macau, he gave instructions to his contacts to buy up duress notes.’
‘Duress notes?’
‘Hong Kong dollars issued by local bankers under Japanese orders. Noble got them at a fraction of their face value. Of course, on liberation, the Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank honoured the notes at their full worth and he made millions.’
‘That’s not exactly dishonest. He gambled and won.’
‘We’re getting too many of these rich Chinese in the colony. Place isn’t the same at all.’
I clenched my jaw. It was useless to argue with Papa and far too distressing. Didn’t he realise Hong Kong was changing? I saw it all around me. More and more people were flooding in from China. Because of all the wealth the rich immigrants were bringing with them, the shops were booming. The Chinese
taitais
went on shopping sprees all morning and played mah-jong all afternoon, just like the bored British missies did before the war. In the old days, they only went to Lane Crawford’s and Whiteaway’s department stores. Now there was much more choice and you could buy anything - if you had the money.
It was such a contrast to the abject poverty of those who’d crossed the border with nothing. Beggars thronged the streets and shanty towns were springing up everywhere. Papa seemed oblivious to their misery, but I couldn’t ignore it. I was determined to find a way to help; I just hadn’t found it yet.
I thought about Charles, and happiness fizzed through me.
Hopefully, it won’t be long before we can announce our love to the world.
Charles was one of the first guests to arrive at the Consul-General’s villa. He was standing in the garden with a glass of chilled white wine and gazing at the view. Balanced on a rocky promontory between Repulse Bay and Deep Water Bay, the property overlooked Middle Island and the South China Sea beyond.
‘Just like the Côte d’Azur,’ Arnaud had said a minute ago before he went off to greet other people.
Charles hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Kate since last Saturday. Mid-week he’d called her, but her father had answered the phone and he’d made up the excuse of a wrong number. Although he had no evidence, he was certain Henry Wolseley had intercepted his letters. A gut feeling. How to win the man over? Charles wanted everything to be perfect for Kate, for her to have the wedding of her dreams with her father in doting attendance. He chewed his lip and looked around.
Arnaud, a flashy character, was circulating among his guests. ‘I only invite beautiful women to my parties,’ Charles remembered him saying when they were introduced at the races. The Frenchman had stared pointedly at Kate. As if on cue, her laughter tinkled from the other side of the lawn.
She was standing next to that Englishman, James. Kate looked across the garden and met Charles’ eyes.
I’d give anything to sweep her off to a quiet place and make love to her.
He stood in the shadows and watched her. In the camp, she’d almost been a beauty, but semi-starvation had kept her from blooming into the lovely woman she’d now become. Her bow-shaped lips parted in a half-smile and his heart-rate quickened. She was still slim, even thin, but her figure was curvy.
Don’t do this to yourself! Be patient!
At dinner, he sat next to Jessica Chambers. She must have been in her early thirties, and the years as well as his new position in society had shrunk the gap that used to exist between them. Jessica leaned towards him. ‘How do you find life in Hong Kong these days?’
‘Different in some ways, yet fundamentally it’s the same old place.’
‘Where are you living?’ She lifted her soup spoon and swallowed a mouthful of
vichyssoise.
‘Still at my uncle’s but I’m moving into a flat in Pokfulam next week.’
‘And how is work?’ Jessica’s bright red lipstick had smeared the wine glass she held to her lips.
Most of his cases involved petty family disputes. Bigger cases would come his way once he became better known. ‘So far so good. It helps to have the right contacts, of course.’
‘Of course.’ Jessica stared around. ‘Isn’t this an interesting mix of people? Quite different from the stuffy parties we used to go to before the war.’
Charles studied the other tables. Kate was at Arnaud’s table and James had been placed to the left of Arnaud’s wife, Adèle, at the head of her own table. Two standard poodles sprawled at her feet, and she was feeding them scraps from her plate. The other guests were a varied bunch, and the ladies beautiful.
Charles listened to the woman on his left. Statuesque, blonde, probably Danish judging by her accent, with a voluptuous bosom in danger of escaping from her low-cut dress. She was discussing a development at exclusive Shek-o with the Englishman on her right. ‘I don’t understand why they don’t let the Chinese buy houses next to the golf club.’
Hong Kong was changing, but some changes were taking longer than others. Charles was the only Oriental at his table. He gazed around the room again; each table had its own token local representative. How open-minded of Arnaud . . .
The blonde now smiled at Charles. ‘I’m delighted to meet you. I hardly meet any Chinese. Everyone here keeps to a small social circle of like-minded people, inviting each other and being invited by each other to an endless round of parties. I do think Arnaud is clever to give these mixed dos.’
After coffee, the ladies disappeared to the powder-rooms, and the men smoked cigars and drank port. Charles lowered himself down next to Tony Chambers on a plush, white sofa. Through the open doors, servants were clearing the tables from the terrace. ‘What happens next?’
Tony blew cigar smoke. ‘Usually dancing to gramophone records.’
Charles took his leave and wandered into the garden, separated from the main road by a high boundary wall with Chinese roof tiles on top. He walked to the place where he’d stood earlier. A full moon reflected in the inky blackness of the sea below. On the horizon, the lights of the fishing sampans flickered in the September night. He wasn’t surprised when Kate came up; their minds had always been in tune.
‘It’s glorious, isn’t it?’ she said.
‘Absolutely.’
‘Can you smell those roses?’
Bushes lined the bank below and steps led down to the beach, where white sand glittered in the moonlight. Kate’s floral perfume mixed with the heady scent of the flowers. If only he could take her in his arms and crush her against him! He gripped the iron rail so hard his knuckles turned white.
The Englishman appeared at his elbow. ‘Ah, here you are, Kate. I’ve come to claim you for a dance. Good to see you again, Charles.’
Kate walked to the veranda with James and they performed a slow waltz. Was something going on between them? Charles shoved his fists into his pockets. No, Kate wouldn’t . . .
He strode across the lawn and bumped into Jessica. She grabbed his arm. ‘I hope you’re a good dancer.’
The music switched to a tango, and he led Jessica in an open embrace. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kate standing on the side, watching him. Jessica performed a leg hook and, after what seemed like hours, the record finished.
‘I’m exhausted,’ Jessica said. ‘Let me hand you over.’
What could he say? He was holding Kate before he could think of anything, and doing the slow-slow-quick-quick of a foxtrot. ‘You’re good,’ she whispered. ‘I knew you would be.’
Charles held her gently, not too close, but she pressed her lovely body against his and he started to respond.
‘I was expecting you to ring me,’ she said.
‘I did, but your father answered. I think it’ll be better if you rang me.’
Kate leant back and regarded him in a thoughtful way. ‘All right.’
Charles felt her melding into him again.
Oh God! Oh God!
He wanted her so desperately it was like a knife twisting his gut. ‘Do you mind if we take a break?’ He dropped his hold. ‘I’ll get us some refreshments. What would you like?’
‘A brandy soda, please.’
Ten minutes later, he returned with their drinks.
Damn!
She was sitting on the side talking with James. Charles handed Kate her brandy and pulled up a chair, but she was giggling at something James had said and hardly seemed to notice him.
Damn again!
The Englishman had taken her hand and was patting it while laughing at himself. Charles could feel his cheeks burning. Perhaps there
was
something going on between them? No. Kate was a beautiful young woman and was bound to have admirers. Especially as she’d thought he was dead until a few days ago. He could trust her, he knew he could. Whether he could trust James Stevens, however, was another matter . . .