And the Bride Wore Red (4 page)

Fruit was served, then tea, and then it was time for the entertainment. Two girls identically dressed in white-embroidered satin glided in. One, holding a small lute, seated herself, ready to play. The other stood beside her.

The lights dimmed except for the one on the performers. The first notes came from the lute and the singer began to make a soft crooning noise, full of a poignancy that was like joy and sadness combined. As Olivia listened an aching feel
ing came over her, as though the music had sprung all the locks by which she protected herself, leaving her open and defenceless as she had sworn never to be again.

The girl was singing in a soft voice:

That was how it had been; the trees hadn't blossomed this year and she knew they never would again. Andy had been an abject lesson in the need to stay detached. In future no man would hurt her like that because she wouldn't let it happen.

Never again, she thought, not here or anywhere. She closed her eyes for a moment. But suddenly she opened them again, alerted by a touch on her cheek.

‘Don't cry,' Lang said.

‘I'm not crying,' she insisted.

For answer he showed her his fingertips, wet with her tears.

‘Don't weep for him,' he said softly.

It would have been useless to utter another denial when he hadn't believed the first.

‘I get sentimental sometimes.' She tried to laugh it away. ‘But I'm really over him.'

In the dim light she could see Lang shake his head, smiling ruefully.

‘Perhaps you belong together after all,' he said. Suddenly he reached into his pocket, took out his mobile phone and pushed it towards her, then he leaned close to murmur into her ear without disturbing the singer.

‘Call him. Say that your quarrel was a mistake, and you love him still. Go on. Do it now.'

The dramatic gesture astonished and intrigued her. With a gasp of edgy laughter, she pushed the phone back to him.

‘Why are you laughing?' he demanded.

‘I was just picturing his face if he answered the phone and found himself talking to me. There was no quarrel. He left me for someone else. She had a lot of money, so he obviously did the right thing. I believe they're very happy. She bought him a posh car for a wedding present.'

‘And that makes it the right thing?' he enquired.

‘Of course.'

‘So if a millionaire proposed you'd accept at once?'

‘No way! He'd have to be a billionaire at least.'

‘I see.' The words were grave but his lips were slightly quirked, as if he were asking who she thought she was fooling.

But he said nothing more. The music had ended. The singer bowed to the heartfelt applause and embarked on another song, slightly more cheerful. Lang turned his head towards the little stage, but reached back across the table to take hold of Olivia's hand, and kept it.

She found that her nostalgic sadness had vanished, overtaken by a subtle pleasure that seemed to infuse the whole evening. Everything was a part of it, including the man sitting opposite her, looking away, giving Olivia the chance to study him unobserved.

She could appreciate him like this. His regular features were enough to make him good-looking, but they also had a mobility that was constantly intriguing. His eyes could be bland and conventional, or wickedly knowing in a way that gave him a disconcerting charm. She wondered if there was anyone he regretted from his own past. A warm-natured man in his thirties, with a deep belief in the value of romantic love, had surely not reached this point without some sadness along the road.

She began to muse on the subject, wondering if there was a way to question him without revealing too much interest. There wasn't, of course, and an alarm bell sounded in her head. This was just the kind of atmosphere she'd learned to fear—seductive, romantic, lulling her senses and her mind in dangerous harmony.

It was time for common sense to take over. In a few minutes she would suggest that the evening should end soon, phrasing it carefully. She began to plan the words, even deciding what she would say when he protested.

Lang was beckoning to Wei, paying the bill, and ordering him to stop giggling and make himself scarce. Wei departed jauntily. Olivia took a deep breath to make her speech.

‘We'd better go,' Lang said.

‘Pardon?'

‘We both have to work tomorrow, so I'll get you home quickly. I'm sorry to have kept you out so late.'

‘Don't mention it,' she said faintly.

On the journey she wondered what was going to happen now. Lang had recognised that she wasn't ready for a decision, while subtly implying that he was attracted to her. He was charming and funny, with a quiet, gentle strength that appealed to her, perhaps because she could sense something quirky and irreverent beneath it.

A light-hearted flirtation could be agreeable, but if he wanted more, if he planned to end the evening in her arms—or even in her apartment—what then? A gentle letdown? How did you half-reject someone you more than half-liked? Again she began to think about what she would say to him.

When they arrived, he came with her to the apartment block.

‘How far up are you?' he asked.

‘Second floor.'

He rode up with her and came to her door.

‘Lang?' she began uneasily.

‘Yes?'

She lost her nerve. ‘Would you care to come in for a drink?'

‘I certainly want to come in, but not for a drink. Let's get inside and I'll explain, although I'm sure you know what the problem is.'

Once inside he took off his jacket and helped her off with hers.

‘You'll need to remove your blouse as well,' he said, beginning to work on her buttons.

‘Lang…'

He took no notice, opening the buttons one by one until he could remove the blouse, revealing her as he had the day before. She was astonished at his effrontery. Did he think he could simply undress her, seduce her, do as he liked with her?

‘Now let me look at that arm,' he said.

‘My arm?' she echoed, thunderstruck.

‘That's why I came to find you tonight, isn't it?'

‘Oh, yes—I remember.'

She had a horrible feeling that she sounded idiotic, but that was how she felt. He hadn't come here to seduce her, but to
tend her. Her wild thoughts had been nonsense. She felt herself blushing from head to toe.

Then she thought she caught a gleam of mischief in his eyes, although it was gone before she could be certain.

With her blouse removed, he held her arm up, moving his head this way and that without appearing to notice anything but her injury. He had no eyes for the peachy, youthful glow of her skin, the way her waist narrowed and the lamp threw shadows between her breasts. It was almost insulting.

‘This is the last time it will need covering,' he said. ‘It's healing nicely.'

He'd brought a small bag in with him, and from it he took replacement dressings. He covered the grazes lightly, and fixed everything in place.

‘Now get a good night's sleep,' he instructed.

Then he was heading out of the apartment, without having touched her, except as a doctor.

‘Wait,' she said desperately. ‘What did you mean about “the problem”?'

He paused in the doorway.

‘The problem,' he said, ‘is that you're still my patient. Later…'

‘Later?'

His gaze moved over her slowly, lingering just a little on the beauty he had so dutifully ignored.

‘Later you won't be. Goodnight.'

 

The school term was nearly over. Olivia was busy writing reports, talking to parents and consulting with the headmistress, who looked in on her on the penultimate day.

‘I'm just making plans for next year,' she said cheerfully. ‘I'm so glad you're staying.'

‘Staying?' Olivia echoed vaguely.

‘You originally came for six months, but when I asked if you were going to stay on you said you would. Don't you remember?'

‘Oh, yes—yes.'

‘You really sound in need of a holiday,' Mrs Wu said kindly.

‘It's just that I've been wondering if I should go home.'

‘But you can do that and still come back next term. From all you've told me about Norah, she wants you to stay here and spread your wings. I hope you come back. You're doing such a good job. But you've got my number if you have a last-minute change of mind.'

Olivia went home, thoughtful. Everything that had seemed simple only a short while ago had suddenly become complicated.

It was true that Norah showed no sign of wanting her early return. Only last night she'd been at her most lively, talking furiously about Melisande's latest lover.

‘You mean, Freddy?' Olivia had queried.

‘No. Freddy's finished since she caught him sleeping with a pole dancer. It's your father.'

‘Mum and Dad? What are they playing at?'

‘I gather he went to see her, seeking solace from a broken heart.'

‘I thought you said he'd made some girl pregnant.'

‘He thought he had, but apparently it's not his, so he went to cry on your mother's shoulder because, and I quote, “she's the only one who understands”.'

‘Give me patience!'

‘That's what I said. Anyway, it seems that they looked at each other across the barrier of years, heart spoke to heart as though time and distance had never been…'

‘What?'

‘I told her to get out before she made me ill. It's just her putting herself centre-stage again, as always.'

Olivia had had to agree. She'd seen, and suffered from, enough of her parents' selfish grandstanding to dismiss this great romance as just another show in the spotlight.

You could say much the same of all great romances, she thought. Her father would let her mother down again, because that was what men did. It was what Andy had done. And who cared if Lang called her or not?

Several days had passed since their last meeting. After talking so significantly he had fallen silent, and with every passing hour Olivia had condemned herself more angrily as a fool.

It wasn't as if she hadn't been warned, she told herself crossly. When Andy had appeared in her life, she'd abandoned the caution so carefully built up over a lifetime because she'd convinced herself that
this
man was different.

But no man was different, as she'd learned in anguish and bitterness. She'd vowed ‘never again', but then she'd been tricked into ignoring those resolutions because Lang had charmed her.

No, it was more than charm, she admitted. It was the sense of quiet understanding, the feeling that his mind and heart were open to hers, and that she would find in him generosity and understanding.

Heart spoke to heart as though time and distance had never been.

Her mother's melodramatic words shrieked a warning in her head. She and Lang had met only a couple of times, and came from different worlds, yet time and distance did not exist, hadn't existed between them from the first moment.

Which meant that she would fight him all the harder. If she made the foolish mistake of falling in love with Lang, the misery would be far greater than before.

It was useful that he'd shown his true colours in time to prevent a disaster. She repeated that to herself several times.

But no way would she stay here, pining. If she didn't return to England, she'd go somewhere else. She got a brochure advertising cruises along the great Yangtze River and booked herself a cabin. She would board the boat at Chongqing, leave it at Yichang and travel on to Shanghai. After that, who could tell where she would travel? And what did it matter? What did anything matter as long as she had no time to think?

O
N THE
last day of term Olivia counted the minutes until it was time to go. Just a little longer and she need never think of Lang again.
Concentrate on the Yangtze. Think of Shanghai.

The last pupil had gone home. She was gathering up her things when a buzz made her look at her mobile phone, where there was a text:
I'm outside
.

For a brief moment her heart leapt, then indignation took over. Cheek! Like he only had to announce his presence and she must jump.

She texted back:
I'm busy
.

The reply came at once:
I'll wait
.

Mrs Wu looked in to say goodbye and they left the building together.

‘Have a good holiday,' she said. ‘And please dispose of that young man hanging around the gate. Loiterers are bad for the school's reputation.'

‘He's nothing to do with me.'

‘Of course he isn't. That's why his eyes are fixed on you. Goodbye for now.'

Lang was leaning against the wall as though there was all the time in the world, which did nothing to improve her mood.
She advanced on him in a confrontational mood, and thrust out her arm, from which she'd removed the dressing.

‘Just a few scratches and healing nicely, thank you,' she said in a formal voice.

‘You don't know how glad I am to hear that.'

‘And the headmistress says I'm to get rid of you. You're giving the place a bad name.'

‘In that case, let's go.'

‘I don't think—'

‘Let's not waste any more time.' He already had hold of her arm and was ushering her into his car, which he started up quickly, as though afraid to give her time to think.

Had he known it, she was beyond coherent thought, beyond anything but wild emotion. He hadn't abandoned her, hadn't turned away, leaving her desolate. He had come for her because he could no more escape the bonds tightening around them than she could.

She knew she should try to control the heady, idiotic feeling that pervaded her. It was too much like joy: terrifying, threatening, destructive, glorious joy.

At last she managed to speak and ask where they were going. At least, that was what she thought she'd asked. She was too confused to be sure.

‘I'm taking you somewhere that will help you get over being grumpy,' he replied.

‘I'm not grumpy.'

‘Yes you are. When you saw me outside the school, you glared hard enough to terrify the devil.'

‘Well, it was very inconsiderate of you to arrive in the last five minutes.'

‘You couldn't possibly have been hoping to see me earlier?'

‘Certainly not. You just disrupted my schedule. I like things done in the proper order.'

‘Just as I said, grumpy. Meihui used to have a way of dealing with my bad moods—several ways, actually—but this was our favourite one.'

More than that he would not say, but he drove for half an hour in silence, glad of the chance to say nothing and collect his thoughts. Unusually for him, they were chaotic.

After their last meeting he'd resolved not to approach Olivia again, at least, not soon. He was an ambitious man, and his career was beginning to look promising. He needed no distractions, and the sensible course would be to let the summer vacation pass before they met again. The passage of a little time would put him in control of himself again.

It had all been very simple. Until today.

The summer break from his job had already started, which was unlucky, because if he'd been at work he couldn't have yielded to temptation. As it was, the realisation that she would be leaving any minute had galvanised him. Suddenly his resolutions were rubbish, his strength of will non-existent. He'd barely made it to the school in time.

Now he was calling himself names, of which ‘weakling' was the kindest. But the abusive voice was bawling only from the back of his head; the front was full of relief that he'd made it in time.

There was another voice too, not yelling, but muttering. This was his conscience, warning him that there was something he must confess to her without delay. He wasn't sure what her reaction would be. That troubled him more than anything.

‘Here we are,' he said, drawing up outside a huge gate.

‘You've brought me to a zoo?' she said, astounded.

‘Meihui said nobody could stay cross in a zoo. So let's go in.'

He was right, after only a few minutes of wandering around the animals, her spirits lightened. Who cared about
anything else when there were lions to be viewed, bears to watch, exotic birds?

Lang was like no other man. When was the last time anyone had taken her to a place like this? she wondered as they gazed at the giant pandas.

‘I've never seen anything so beautiful,' she murmured.

‘They're magnificent, aren't they?' he agreed warmly.

‘But how do you tell one from the other? Pandas all look exactly alike.'

‘The one over there on her own in the tree is the female. Earlier this year she was in heat for a couple of days, and had all the males swooning after her. Now she's safely pregnant, and they can go and jump in the lake for all she cares.'

‘I wonder which male she favoured.'

‘The highest ranking one. He proved his status by knocking seven bells out of the competition.'

‘Very sensible,' Olivia said. ‘None of that sentimental nonsense. If ever I'm reborn, I shall come back as a panda.'

He laughed but said, ‘Why do you have to be so severe?'

‘I'm not severe.'

‘You are from where I'm standing.'

‘Oh, I see, a
male
version of severe—meaning a woman who doesn't collapse in a sentimental heap at the mention of
lurve
.' She gave the word a satirical inflection that made him wince. ‘
That
kind of severe.'

‘You put it very crudely,' he complained.

‘The truth is usually crude, and definitely unromantic. Like life. We just have to face up to it.'

She was saying the first thing that came into her head and enjoying the sight of his face. For once the confident Dr Mitchell was struggling for words, and that was fun.

‘Why are you so determined not to believe in love?' he asked. ‘I know you had a bad experience, but so have most
people, and they don't abandon hope. I didn't give up when Becky Renton told me it was all over.'

‘Oh, yes? And I'll bet the two of you were about twelve when that happened.'

He grinned. ‘A little older than that, but you've got the right idea.'

She wondered if this handsome, assured man had ever been dumped in his life. Not by anyone he really cared about, she would have bet on it.

‘Joking apart,' he resumed, ‘people really do do things for love. I know you don't believe it, but it's true.'

‘If you're talking about your romantic ancestors, allow me to point out that there's no reason to believe that Jaio was ever in love. They were going to lock her in the tomb and Renshu offered escape. She might simply have thought that going with him was better than dying.'

‘But what about him? He must have loved her a lot because he sacrificed everything to be with her.' Lang added provocatively, ‘Perhaps it really means that a man can love more deeply than a woman. It could even be doubted that women know how to love at all. They believe in logic rather than sentiment—like pandas.'

Olivia eyed him askance. ‘Did you say that just to be annoying?'

‘No, I think it's an interesting theory.' Catching her expression, he couldn't resist adding, ‘But I must admit I also enjoy annoying you.'

‘You'll go too far.'

‘I hope so. Better too far than not far enough.'

His grin was her undoing, leaving her no choice but to smile back.

‘Let's find the snack bar,' he said, slipping an arm around her shoulders.

As they sat down over coffee, Lang suddenly said, ‘I hope you can forgive my clumsiness.'

‘About what?'

‘That remark about choosing a mate through logic rather than sentiment. It's exactly what your louse boyfriend did, isn't it? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you.'

‘You didn't,' she said, realising that it was true. She hadn't even thought about Andy. Nor, now she thought of it, had she ever enjoyed such a day as this, strolling calmly through pleasant gardens, teasing and testing each other.

There had been no jokes with Andy, only passion and violent emotion, which at the time she'd thought was enough. But with Lang she was discovering how emotion could be tempered with humour. He was a patient man who knew when to back off. It made him a restful companion, as well as an exciting one, and that too was a new pleasure.

‘I've dismissed Andy from my mind,' she told him, adding with a flourish, ‘It was the common sense thing to do.'

‘That easy, huh?'

‘Of course. Logic over sentiment any day. I reckon the female panda knows exactly what she's doing.'

‘Then I'm glad I'm not a panda,' he said, matching her flourish with one of his own.

Before they left the zoo he took her to the gift shop and bought her a small soft toy in the shape of a panda.

‘She's a female,' he declared.

‘How can you tell?'

‘Because that's what I want her to be,' he said, as though explaining the obvious. ‘Her name is Ming Zhi. It means wise.' His eyes gleamed with mischief. ‘It was the nearest I could get to logic and common sense.'

‘Then she and I will get on very well,' Olivia declared, taking the delightful creature and rubbing her face against its soft
black-and-white fur. ‘If I forget what's important, she's bound to remind me.'

‘To the victory of logic,' he proclaimed.

‘Every time.'

‘Let's go and have some supper.'

They found a small, old-fashioned restaurant.

‘Why were you in such a bad mood when we met earlier?' he asked when they were settled. ‘Is it me you're annoyed with?'

‘No, my parents. According to Norah, they've rediscovered each other, acting like love's young dream.'

‘Which could be charming.'

‘If it was anyone else, it could, but this pair of raging play-actors are heading for disaster.'

‘Don't be so sure,' Lang said. ‘Maybe they just married too young and were always meant to find each other again.'

She gave him a look.

‘Maybe not,' he said hastily.

‘In the end it'll collapse in lies, as it did the first time.' Olivia sighed. ‘And there's nothing so fatal as deception.'

‘Sometimes a deception can be fairly innocent,' Lang observed casually.

‘But it's always destructive,' she insisted. ‘Once you know he hasn't been straight with you, it's over, because—I don't know. I'm going to eat.'

Concentrating on her chopsticks, she didn't see the uncomfortable look that came over Lang's face.

‘This food is nice,' she said after a while. ‘But not as nice as at the Dancing Dragon.'

To her surprise he didn't respond to the compliment. He seemed sunk in thought, and strangely uneasy.

‘Is everything all right?' she asked.

‘No,' he said with an effort. ‘There's something I have to tell you.'

There was a heaviness in his voice that filled Olivia with foreboding.

‘I must admit that I've been putting this moment off,' Lang continued awkwardly. ‘I was afraid it would make you think badly of me. I know I've done wrong, but I didn't want to risk not seeing you again.'

Now she knew what he was trying to say: he had a wife.

Impossible. In that case he would never have taken her to the Dancing Dragon where they would be seen by his family. But perhaps the family's attitude had simply been curiosity that their foreign relative was playing around. She tried to recall exactly what they had said, and couldn't.

‘Will you promise to let me finish explaining before you condemn me?' he asked.

By ill luck, Andy had said much the same thing: ‘If only you'd let me explain properly, it really wasn't my fault…'

A chill settled over her heart.

‘Go on then,' she said. ‘Tell me the worst.'

Lang took a deep breath and seemed to struggle for words.

‘The fact is—' he began, stopped then started again. ‘When we met—' He was floundering.

‘Look,' she said edgily, ‘why don't we just skip it and go home?'