The Silk Merchant's Daughter (12 page)

The next day Nicole’s head hurt like hell when she opened the shop – too much brandy pilfered from her father’s cellar the night before – and though she had discovered alcohol did help her forget, it also made her feel more maudlin. She swept the floor, polished the furniture and was about to start on the windows when she spotted Yves with his daughter Yvette walking past on the other side. Yvette grinned and they came on over, narrowly missing a vagrant chicken running between their legs.

‘I looked for you earlier,’ he said, ‘but the shop was closed.’

‘Did you need me?’

‘I was going to ask if you could keep Yvette with you for a few hours. I’m off to the hospital.’

‘Nothing serious?’

‘A check-up. It doesn’t matter now. She’s coming with me.’

Not wanting to miss the chance to spend a day with a child whose straightforward happiness was so infectious, Nicole shook her head.

‘Don’t be silly. Let her stay here,’ she said. ‘If we’re not too busy I’ll teach her how to cut silk.’

‘You don’t mind?’

‘Not at all.’

‘Here’s the key to the cafe, if you wouldn’t mind fetching Trophy.’

Nicole held out a hand to the little girl and after they’d waved Yves off, they collected Trophy and took him through to the back, then began to wash the shop windows. It was a lovely day with the smell of lime in the air, a clear blue sky and
a breeze so fresh it didn’t matter when more of the water soaked the girls’ clothing than went on the glass. And afterwards it was perfect to sit on the step to dry off and watch the world go by.

As the air thickened with the smell of lunch, their attention was drawn to the spot where a small group of dancers was assembling at the painted gates of a temple. Beside them a man wearing a gold outfit sat on the pavement with a drum. As he began to play, the dancers swayed slightly, gradually building up to a spinning movement. Another group of women began to sing. The serenity and sensuousness of the dancers was tantalizing. Enthralled by the scene, Yvette gripped Nicole’s hand and squeezed.

‘I don’t suppose you remember your mama?’ Nicole whispered in her ear.

‘No.’

Yvette’s mother had been a Vietnamese dancer of great beauty, but during the war she had attracted the attention of a Japanese commandant and that had been her downfall. He had become enraptured by the complexity of the siren-like dancer who, at the same time, embodied utter purity, and had requisitioned her to dance only for him. Except it was never only dancing.

They continued to watch until the dance was over.

‘Shall we cut some silk now?’ Nicole said. ‘I’ve got the biggest shears you’ve ever seen. What colour shall we have?’

‘Cream, please.’

Before they could get on with the lesson a stream of customers came in. One of Nicole’s favourite customers was among them, an old, heavily lined woman with only a few teeth remaining who bought silk for her granddaughters. Despite what must have been a hard life, her eyes still sparkled and she always had a smile for Nicole.

When the shop was quiet again, and once Yvette was standing safely on a stool in order to see, Nicole began to unroll the fabric. It was of the highest quality and, shot through with gold, it shimmered as the sun caught the threads. After she had it laid flat on some fine paper she covered it with another sheet of paper.

‘What’s that for?’ asked Yvette.

‘If you cut silk between paper the silk behaves like the paper and it’s much easier to cut. First we’ll cut one metre for you to take home, and then I have to cut and parcel up eight metres for Sylvie. She asked for it ages ago but I just kept forgetting.’

‘It’s a lot.’

‘Isn’t it?’

Yvette hesitated before she spoke, but looked up at Nicole with shining eyes. ‘When I’m grown up, could I work here with you?’

Nicole was touched and gave the child’s thin shoulders a squeeze. Sometimes Yvette felt more like a sister than Sylvie ever did. ‘Not with your father in the bakery?’

‘Maybe both?’ Clearly still thinking about it, Yvette giggled. ‘Don’t tell him, but I like silk better.’

With heads bent, the girls worked on the task, Nicole explaining how silk helped to retain heat in cold weather and got rid of excess heat in hot weather.

‘Silk is strong too,’ Nicole said. ‘Finer than human hair, yet as strong as an iron wire.’

‘I love it,’ the child said. ‘The way it shines.’

Nicole was enchanted by Yvette’s obvious interest and only the shop bell broke their concentration.

‘Hello,’ Trần said. ‘Two little
métisses
working hard, I see.’

Nicole looked up and bristled. ‘I wish you wouldn’t call me that.’

He laughed. ‘Sorry, young French mademoiselle!’ With a
wide sweep of his right arm he bowed and she couldn’t help but smile. He looked different. In fact, each time she saw him he looked different as he melted in and out of her world. Today he looked like a student.

He held out a hand to help Yvette down from the stool. ‘What do you say to some ice cream?’

Yvette’s eyes lit up and she glanced at Nicole.

Nicole nodded and he started to leave the shop with Yvette in tow.

‘No, leave the child. Get the ice cream and bring it here.’

He looked at her with a slight frown. ‘You really don’t trust me, do you?’

‘Is there any reason I should?’

He shrugged and released Yvette’s hand. As he left the shop Nicole noticed the purple birthmark again. Too hot for a neck scarf, it was almost entirely visible. She doubted if he would come back with ice cream, but he did, and the three of them sat on the step to eat it, along with O-Lan. Nicole had mango and passion fruit sorbet and the others had a mix of chocolate and coffee. Afterwards they sang a couple of Vietnamese songs. Trần joined in and Yvette hummed. He was so sweet with Yvette that, despite his extreme views, Nicole couldn’t help liking him.

After a while O-Lan went back indoors and Yvette slipped through to the courtyard to release Trophy for a few minutes.

Trần turned to Nicole. ‘Have you thought about it?’

‘About what?’

‘Helping us.’

‘You think you can buy my allegiance with ice cream?’

He laughed. ‘No, little one, but you do know you are living with a false sense of security? The war of resistance will only grow stronger now we have the peasants on our side.’

‘I thought you were one!’

‘I am, but I was lucky enough to receive an education paid for by my uncle, and now I am using my brain.’

‘Was your brother killed because he really did assassinate that French official? Or was he a smuggler?’

‘There is no evidence he assassinated that man and he was no smuggler. But as I said before, we do believe that, as a known agitator, he was killed in revenge for the assassination. For show, if you like.’

‘How was he known?’

‘There are spies on both sides. We too have to gather information on French military operations, as well as American interventions.’

She pulled a face. ‘You must be mad if you think I can help.’

‘You have an American friend.’

‘I think the word you’re looking for is
had.
Anyway, he’s only a silk merchant and wouldn’t know anything.’

‘You believe that?’

Nicole looked away. ‘As I said, he is no longer my friend. Not that I’d spy for you anyway.’

‘
Bắt cá hai tay
. You cannot run with the hare and hunt with the hounds. There will come a day when you will have to choose whether you are French or Vietnamese.’

She narrowed her eyes and scrutinized his face. ‘You seem very sure, but I am both. I can’t change that.’

‘A matter of time. You must have seen the condition the workers live in? The sanitation? The poverty? Does it not fill you with dismay?’

He said no more as he got up to leave, but it wasn’t hard to imagine.

‘One of these days I shall open your eyes still further,’ he said.

After he left Nicole slipped upstairs and pulled out the little
embroidered purse she had found on her first day working at the shop. She hugged it to her chest as she waited for Yvette. Whenever she was sad or low, or even just a bit unsure of herself, having the little purse in her hands always made her feel better. And, right now, Trần confused her. Even with his black hair slicked back and the beginnings of a moustache, there was still something raw and unfinished about him. She couldn’t deny that his full lips and burning dark eyes were attractive, and there was something exciting about his youthful idealism. But it was the passion she saw in him that truly inspired, even if it was all nonsense.

The day Sylvie came to the shop to pick up the silk, Nicole had left the front door open to air the place while folding off-cuts into little squares to be sold.

‘I’m between meetings so I haven’t got long,’ Sylvie said, looking smart in a simple white shift dress, with a little feathered hat, grey crocodile-skin shoes and wrist-length gloves. She peeled one off to run her fingertips along the counter. ‘You’re keeping it clean.’

‘It has to be clean to cut the silk.’

‘Of course.’

Nicole felt drab in comparison to her sister and wished she hadn’t worn her oldest Vietnamese work clothes. She carried on folding. ‘Is there anything else?’

As Sylvie glanced around, Nicole noticed that her sister was jittery, not her usual cool self. ‘I’ll need to look at the figures to get the whole picture, but I can see the shop’s looking good. In fact, you’ve made it beautiful.’

Nicole stopped folding and gazed at her sister. ‘Thank you.’

‘It must mean a lot to you.’

‘It means everything.’

‘I didn’t expect you to take it so seriously.’

They went on to talk about the family’s main department store on Rue Paul Bert and how the profits were dwindling. Sylvie had plans, she said, big plans for when the present trouble was over. She seemed so certain it would be over.

‘Look, I wish we could start again,’ Sylvie said.

‘From when?’

‘Way back … when we were children, I suppose.’

Nicole sighed. If only it were that easy. ‘Do you remember when you told everyone I was adopted?’

‘Oh dear, I was awful, wasn’t I?’

Nicole grinned. ‘Only sometimes.’

‘It wasn’t all me. You left a dead mouse in my bed.’

‘You and your friends excluded me.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Sylvie paused. ‘Can’t we try a little harder?’

‘To do what?’

‘To like each other …’

There was a brief silence while Nicole thought about it. The truth was that when they were children there had been times when Sylvie had stuck up for her. She’d helped with maths homework too, and had been kind when Nicole woke trembling from the nightmare of drowning in the Perfume River. A sister relationship was complicated, and so heavily rooted in half-remembered childhood events.

‘Tell you what, I’m going to the lantern village tomorrow,’ Sylvie said. ‘There’s a festival. Would you like to come too?’

Nicole didn’t answer but bent down behind the counter. She came up with a string-tied white paper parcel. ‘Here are your eight metres. It’s lovely, this cream. The best silk we have. What do you want it for?’

‘Just my bottom drawer.’

Nicole didn’t raise her eyes. What was really going on? Could her sister be hoping that Mark would propose?

She felt a burst of anger, her heart banging against her ribs, and she only looked up when she was confident that her distress didn’t show. But still it felt like a punch to the stomach and she was sick with jealousy. If he and her sister were as close as Sylvie was implying then it really was all over for her.

‘So how is Mark?’ Nicole said, aiming for nonchalance, but desperate to find out more.

Sylvie tapped her watch repeatedly. ‘Oh, busy, you know. Like me. In fact, he’s away in Saigon most of the time. So do you want to come to the festival? We could meet at Hoàn Kiếm Lake at four?’

The festival of lanterns was an evening affair, but Sylvie had suggested arriving early so they could watch some of the lanterns being made. Nicole had only agreed to go in order to quiz her sister about Mark, and had decided to invite O-Lan to come along for moral support.

‘The lantern makers here came from Hoi An originally,’ O-Lan was saying as they left the car and walked into the heart of the village, where lanterns were hanging in readiness for the evening. While some were in the shape of dragons’ heads, others resembled fish and a few were simple boxes decorated with streamers. ‘The frames are made of aged bamboo,’ O-Lan said. ‘They soak it in salt water for several days.’

‘Why?’ Sylvie asked, seeming like her usual calm self again.

‘It protects them from worms and moths.’

‘The silk is beautiful,’ Nicole said, fingering a red lantern recently displayed. In the shape of a mythical beast, the colours looked as if they were on fire.

‘All the silk comes from my family’s village,’ O-Lan said.

Nicole nodded. ‘Let’s buy one, Sylvie, for the garden at home. We could have a full-moon party.’

‘I’m not sure Papa would agree to that, but it would look lovely. These are much bigger than the paper lanterns we have at home.’ Sylvie grinned. ‘In fact, I think we should buy several. And you could hang one in the shop.’

They went into a shop to watch the owner making one. A strong smell of incense rose from a coil in the corner and Sylvie began to cough. They went back outside, where the scent still lingered but was less overpowering.

‘Heavens,’ she said, ‘how many different herbs were in that?’

‘As many as fifteen,’ O-Lan said.

‘Too many for me. By the way, how’s your mother, O-Lan? I heard she was ill.’

Nicole was surprised at this. She couldn’t remember telling Sylvie.

‘A bit better, thank you.’

As the daylight faded and the November air cooled, the lanterns were lit and, once the night had properly settled, dozens of them punctuated the darkness, making the sky seem even blacker in contrast. The main road was only a dirt track but it was well trodden and not muddy.

The girls walked on and, reaching a crossroads, came to a simple stage, surrounded by smaller lanterns suspended from ropes between the trees. Excited children were running round the stage, calling to each other and dodging the adults busily trying to collar them. Half a dozen dogs joined in too and the atmosphere was buzzing.

As several musicians took to the stage and the sound of drums took over, Nicole swayed to the music; inside, though, she was so full of anxiety she was surprised it didn’t show. Three men came on to dance with a huge red and gold silk dragon. The men held it high above them, each one carrying two long sticks which they used to articulate the creature; its monstrous head, bulging eyes and the paper flames pouring from its flaring nostrils were mesmerizing.

The older Vietnamese still believed everything contained a spirit, including lakes, rivers and trees. The festival was a ritual to honour the spirits of light and it was critical that every year they make it as beautiful as possible to ensure the continuing of the sunlight. The belief was, if mankind did the right thing, they could influence the spirits to look on them with benevolence.

Nicole could see the way the dragon symbolized power and prosperity, and turned round to speak to Sylvie, but her sister wasn’t there. O-Lan, caught up in the show, carried on watching as Nicole fought her way through to the back of the crowd.

‘There you are,’ she said when she spotted Sylvie.

‘I’ve bought two dragon heads. Look!’ Sylvie held them up. ‘Of course, they’ll look better with light inside, but aren’t they beautiful? And I knocked the man down on the price.’

Nicole ran her fingers over the silk. ‘They are exquisite,’ she said.

‘Here, you carry one.’ Sylvie passed a lantern to Nicole and then linked arms with her. ‘It’s so nice to spend time together, isn’t it? We don’t do it enough. Shall we find something to eat now?’

‘We need to wait for O-Lan.’

‘Oh yes, of course, I didn’t mean we should go without her.’

‘Actually, why don’t you wait for O-Lan and I’ll run back to the car with the lanterns? If we try to eat while carrying them, they’ll only be ruined.’

Before passing her the other lantern Sylvie touched Nicole’s arm. ‘I know I should have said so before but I am sorry about what happened at the ball.’

‘Mark?’

‘I meant the dress.’

‘Oh.’

‘But Mark too. I didn’t realize you thought there was anything more than friendship between you.’

Nicole shook her head. ‘There wasn’t anything more than friendship. Not really.’ It wasn’t true but she didn’t want to give Sylvie the satisfaction of knowing how devastated she really felt.

‘Well, I realize now you hoped there might have been. I wish there was something I could say to make it all right.’

Nicole looked into her sister’s eyes. Lit by a lantern hanging from a branch just above her head, Sylvie’s eyes looked moist and sincere. Instead of asking questions, Nicole felt more confused and worse than ever.