The Hills of Singapore (33 page)

“He is half Chinese,” Zhen said, anger rising in his voice.

“He is not! He is English. An English boy who speaks Chinese. God help me, I wanted him to speak Chinese. Because, because …”

Charlotte stopped. “Because he is your son, too,” she whispered.

Zhen took two steps. Before she could move, he took her waist in his hands and lifted her into the air, holding her above him. She looked down at him. It was as if the years flew away. They were eighteen again, in the nutmeg orchard.

“A son, thank you,
xiao baobei
, my little treasure.”

She took his face in her hands, and he lowered her face towards his, taking her waist in one arm and pulling her into his body. Their lips were almost touching, but he did not move, waiting for her to close the tiny gap.

If she did it, Charlotte knew, she would be utterly lost and so would Alex. Her mind flew to Charles. She pulled away, pushing against his shoulders, and he lowered her to the ground.

“I am engaged to be married,” she said, and his hands fell away from her instantly and he took a step back. She tried not to think about the trembling his touch had brought upon her. She had to end this meeting as quickly as possible.

“You cannot tell Alex, for it would crush him. At the moment, I think, he loves you. You are his uncle. Maybe in some way he feels a kind of connection to you. I don't know, and I'm sure he doesn't know either. If you want to see him, spend time with him, I will agree, but you can never tell him.”

Zhen's usually well-controlled mind was in turmoil. She was going to marry? The soldier, the one at the bay.

“Marry?” he said, and Charlotte realised he had not heard what she had been saying.

“Yes,” she said and told him a colossal lie. “We will stay in Singapore. You will see Alex, spend time with him, but he can never know. If you want to see him, he can never know, or I will take him away.”

Zhen turned away from her and went back to the table. He sat and picked up the teacup. He did not want to look at her. She was planning to marry the English soldier, to lock herself away from him irrevocably, and, at the merest whim, she would have the power to take his son away. The joy of a moment before was extinguished utterly, and for the first time he felt a cold dislike of her.

He rose and threw the cup across the courtyard with such force it smashed into a thousand pieces. Charlotte gave a cry. He looked directly into her eyes.

“As you wish,” he said coldly and raised his hand in imperious dismissal.

Charlotte felt her heart crumple. The shattered cup told her everything. What had been between them was broken. She had not known what to expect, but this frightening, icy acquiescence was filled with pain.

She turned, close to tears, and went through the doors. She knew he would never want to meet her again, and the feeling was like dropping into a deep dark well.

40

Noan was lying in her bed. The maid had left. Her hair was brushed, and she was in her nightdress. It was of soft, white muslin. The room was cool. It had rained, and the windows to the air well stood open, a fresh breeze blowing the curtains. The pregnancy was almost at an end, she could feel it. The baby was low; it would not be long now. She was glad. This child had tired her out. It would be good to be rid of this weight at her belly. She knew the midwife had moved into the house, downstairs, readying for the birth. Someone had told her.

She did not stir. She felt as if she could not move her body at all. But her mind was working. She was unwell; she knew it. She opened her eyes. Sometimes her vision became blurred, which frightened her, but now it seemed all right. Her face was too red, her ankles had become very puffed, and she had gained so much weight, much more than with her last pregnancies. She remembered looking at herself in the mirror and thinking, I am only twenty-three, but I look so old.

She thought about what Lilin had told her. Her sister, she knew, had meant to hurt her, but somehow she could find no hatred for her. Lilin was the most suffering girl, deeply and desperately unhappy. Noan could not quite understand why, but she knew it had to do with love. It had always had to do with love. She did not love her husband; perhaps she had loved another, who could say? Lilin's life was so chaotic. Fortune seemed at first to have smiled on Lilin, giving her beauty, intelligence and liveliness. Noan had sometimes envied her as a child, for she was not the lovely one, she knew, though her father had loved her so well.

Her father had been unwell. She wanted to give him this child, and she longed for it to be a boy. She knew it would be a balm for his heart: a grandson, finally, to carry on the family, carry out the rites.

No, not the pretty one, but she had received a gift, an unexpected gift. She had been married to Zhen. He had given her joy and pain—no more, she supposed, than most women experienced. She loved him utterly. She stared deeply into her mind and read there this love of him which sustained her. He did not love her like that, she knew. He loved the woman, the white woman who had given him a son.

Lilin's words reverberated in her brain. Noan could be sure that when this birth was over he would not come to her again. She had better expect to see very little of him in the house and almost certainly never again in her bed. Their father was ill. He had passed his businesses to Zhen. Zhen was the head of the house now, and nothing would stop him doing exactly as he wished. He would take this woman, this white whore, as his concubine.

Lilin had spat these words out, the spittle of venom landing on the table which separated them. Noan had become accustomed to Lilin's attacks, her constant ravings about Zhen. But this time, something felt true. He had a son by this white woman. Noan had not given him a son. She could not be sure, despite the birth predictions, that this child was not another girl. Her fear, her greatest fear, was real. A concubine. Another woman had given Zhen a son. Once a man took a concubine, he never came to his wife again. Suddenly everything had come crashing down for her, like a house that had been lashed by storms and resisted as long as it could. Finally the tempest had arrived, and there was nothing to hold up the crumbling foundations.

She had collapsed. Lilin had sprung up and around the table, supported her sister, afraid, suddenly, horrified at her words. The maids had come and carried Noan to her bed. The midwife had been sent for and her mother had rushed back to town.

The herbalist came and gave her acupuncture and herbal drinks. The maids bathed her and kept her clean. Her mother cried softly at her bedside, but she could not do anything about it. She saw it but could not respond. When she was awake it was as if she was asleep and dreaming.

Zhen came and sat at her side, took her hand, but it seemed as if she could not see him. Against objections he sent for the English doctor, Dr Little. His examination, difficult and cursory, in the presence of her suspicious and hostile mother, nevertheless established her state of health. She seemed well, though the swelling in her legs was not a good sign. Her breathing, however, was unconstricted, her pulse a little fast perhaps, but the baby was alive. He estimated labour onset within a few days.

If the maid raised her and offered her food, she ate, she drank water. But otherwise there was almost no reaction. She seemed, he reported to Zhen, well … stupefied.

Zhen did not understand. Dr Little explained, there were cases when a patient responded to nothing—febrile negativism, it had been called. No one was sure what caused it, but cases of shock, a terrible experience perhaps. This science was in its infancy. Was there anything like that?

Zhen had shaken his head. He did not know what was happening.

Then, unexpectedly, Lilin had asked to speak to him.

Zhen hesitated. He viewed Lilin with constant and unremitting suspicion. Her actions towards him were always inappropriate and alarming. Her stubborn and shameful actions to her husband were beyond anything. Her attitude to her parents was unfilial. She was the cause of constant concern and worry to everyone. If Zhen could truly say he hated anyone, it would be Lilin. In China, Ah Teo, with such a wife, would have been justified in selling her or returning her. No one would have blamed him. But here in Singapore, to whom could she be sold or returned? She had never left her own family.

Though suspicious of her motives, he agreed and met her in the courtyard. Lilin looked different; that was what he first noticed. She wore no paint on her face, her skin was washed and clean. She was dressed conservatively, in a long
baju
and sarong. Her hair was neatly arranged. This transformation was extraordinary, but Zhen believed nothing.

She sat across the porcelain table from him and lowered her eyes. Modesty, he thought, and looked at her more sharply.

“Thank you, brother, for meeting me. I wish to speak about Noan.” She did not raise her eyes. He remained silent.

“Your wife thinks that you will leave her after the birth of this child.”

Zhen said nothing, waiting, knowing now that she was responsible, yet again, for catastrophe in this house. He wanted to rise and take her and break her neck, but he sat impassively, waiting.

Lilin realised that Zhen was not deceived by her changed appearance and became slightly afraid. She decided that honesty with a touch of emotion would be the best course of action.

“I was jealous of Noan,” she confessed. “I said things I should not have said. She is pregnant, and I was jealous. I have lost a boy, a son.”

Zhen did not react. Lilin kept her eyes resolutely down.

“Please forgive me. Speak to Noan. Reassure her. In return I will stop my wild ways. I will be obedient, return to the family—help take care of the children.”

Lilin looked up suddenly and saw Zhen's eyes on her. She felt a thrill, the old thrill, the old and never-ending desire for him. But she lowered her eyes again quickly. “Please help her. I beg you. Please forgive me.”

Lilin spoke in Baba Malay. Zhen's proficiency in this language was much better. He understood most of what she said. But he did not trust her. He narrowed his eyes, thinking. He could do little to bring this woman under control. Confinement had not worked. She had made the lives of her relatives, her husband and her parents' miserable. But if she calmed down, if somehow she felt contrite. He was not convinced, but what alternative was there? And she had admitted her evil towards his wife. Now he could try to help Noan.

Zhen realised, with a sudden clarity, that he loved Noan. Not like Xia Lou, of course, that was impossible. But in a deep way, Noan was his wife, the woman who made his life comfortable, who strove to please him, to cook the food he liked and make him at home in this house where he had been a stranger. She had given him three children whom he loved, and now a fourth was waiting to come. Waiting to come, and Noan unresponsive. The thought was chilling, and he rose. Noan needed him, needed to wake from this horrible place, give birth to their child.

He stood looking at Lilin. She did not move, her face looking resolutely at the floor. His presence was always a powerful excitement. She sensed him, standing, looking down at her, and wanted to fall at his feet, then kiss them, crawl up his body, wind her arms around him, feel his skin on her skin. But she sat, trembling inside, waiting.

“You will obey your husband. You will obey your father. You will obey me. You will go to your room now and stay there until I tell you to come.”

Lilin nodded her head. How predictable was his response. Everyone would be delighted at her obedience. These men—that's all they understood. Tacit obedience. Her mistake, she now realised, was open rebellion. The appearance of obedience was all they required. Why had she not understood this years ago? She was bored with it, this constant struggle against them, bored with Gaston, whose wife had decided to return, bored with that life.

Zhen would help Noan, and the thought gave her great relief. For the first time in her life, Lilin wanted something for someone other than herself. Whatever revenge she wreaked on Zhen, she did not want anything terrible to happen to Noan. She understood this now, quite suddenly. She felt regret.

She let her head droop unconsciously, in an expression of sadness. Zhen saw it and felt the honesty of the movement. He looked at her for a moment and then moved away, towards the bedroom.

Lilin rose, watching him climb the stairs, his body lithe and supple. The emotion of a moment before evaporated. But her resolution remained. She went to the nursery where Lian was sleeping and bent her head and kissed her pretty pink cheeks.

Zhen closed the door quietly behind him. This bedroom was where they had been married. He looked at Noan, lying silently on the bed. He had tried to be a good man to her. Perhaps he had not been the man she wanted. Zhen knew well how Noan felt about him, but his heart had always lain elsewhere.

He went up to the bed and took off his jacket. He lay behind Noan and took her into his arms, cradling her. Though she was unresponsive, he began to kiss her neck and shoulders, touching her gently with his hands. She was swollen, not only her belly but her feet and ankles. He felt a great compassion for her.

“Noan, Noan, soon we will have another child.”

He kissed her gently, nuzzling her neck. She felt him move next to her, but still it was as if she was dreaming him.

“You bring me joy. Boy or girl, it will bring me joy. And we shall make more children, many more.” Zhen caressed her belly.

“Lilin is cruel. An unhappy, cruel woman. Do not believe what she says.”

Noan lay still, unresponsive. It was as if she could not hear.

Zhen turned her to face him. Her face was red, bloated. He knew there was something terribly wrong. He put his hand on her belly and felt the movement of the child.

“Tomorrow I will bring herbs for you to drink. But you must wake up.” He took her face in his hands. Her poor, bloated face. “Wake up, Noan.”

He remembered that Xia Lou loved it when he kissed and nibbled her lips, as if she was sweet sugar that he could not resist. He touched his lips to Noan's and began to kiss and bite gently, the lower lip, the corner of her mouth, taking her lips in his softly, sucking and nibbling. He put his hands in her hair and held her.