The Palace of Heavenly Pleasure (40 page)

‘My son doesn't like it, Jin Lao. He's not a happy boy. And after that incident at the railway depot last week I doubt there are many other citizens of Shishan who'd be willing to entertain a barbarian in their home. Haven't you heard? They're all evil magicians trying to overthrow the Empire. Or so Ren Ren tells me.'

‘What a trying time you must be having.'

‘And now Ma Na Si's bringing in that foreign whore—using my house for his own secret love nest! I don't even get quit-rent.'

‘What foreign whore?'

‘You know. The red-headed woman who looks like a fox spirit.'

‘De Falang's daughter? Well, well.'

‘I thought you knew about it. He told me the Mandarin had sanctioned it. They take over one of the pavilions in the afternoons, fucking and smoking opium. All very furtive. She comes in a closed sedan wrapped in a cloak like you do. I'm the only one who's allowed to know about it. And that's the way I've kept it. Heaven help me if Ren Ren found out. But what am I running here, I ask myself? A bordello for barbarians?'

‘There do seem to be a lot of them about,' murmured Jin Lao sympathetically. ‘De Falang? Is he back too? I'd hate to imagine him meeting his daughter here. That would be a comic scene from the opera.'

‘Spare me. No, he's only been here once or twice with his merchant friends, and always in the evening. I offered him Chen Meina but he wasn't interested.'

‘Pining after little Shen Ping, no doubt. Have you broken the tragic news to him?'

‘Of course not. He thinks she went back to her village.'

‘He always was a credulous animal.'

‘Jin Lao, are you pretending or did you really not know about the foreigner's love nest?'

‘No, Mama, I did not know about it. It was cheeky of Ma Na Si if he used the Mandarin's name to persuade you. You were right to accommodate him, however. We value this man at the
yamen
. But how interesting about the girl. So De Falang's stuck-up daughter is a whore? And an opium smoker? Well, well. I see possibilities.'

‘And so do I, Jin Lao.' The two smiled at each other knowingly.

‘Tell me,' asked Jin Lao, as if he had been struck by an inconsequential thought, ‘how does Ma Na Si get on with Major Lin? Does their unlikely friendship continue?'

‘I can hardly credit it. They eat together. Talk into the night. Sometimes they look at maps and pore over lists and documents. The only person they allow in the room with them is Fan Yimei, but she never tells me anything. Can't think why Major Lin lets Ma Na Si near her. Anyone can tell the barbarian's got the hots for her. Actually, I've half a mind to give the little bitch to him. Get my own back on all three of them in one go. You wouldn't stop me, would you, Chamberlain dear? I know there's no love lost between you and the major. Wouldn't you like to see him cuckolded? Shame that he'd probably murder Ma Na Si when he found out and, of course, Ren Ren would have to punish little Miss Virtue afterwards—well, a visit for her to the garden hut's long overdue. I'd flay the flesh off that one's back myself.'

‘You're in a bilious mood today. Did something at lunch disagree with you? What you propose is diverting, but it's not very businesslike. You are forgetting, I think, that the Mandarin wants both Major Lin and Ma Na Si alive and cooperating.'

‘What are they up to, Jin Lao? All these meetings? What are they plotting? I've been racking my brains about it.'

The old man smiled knowingly. ‘Matters of state, my dear Mama. It is not intended that you should know.'

‘Of course, matters of state are only for you wise ones at the
yamen
. So tell me, where does the Japanese man fit in?'

This time she knew she had taken Jin Lao by surprise. She knew it because his mouth opened and closed, his eyes flicked rapidly from side to side and he tugged at his chin.

‘The Japanese man? What Japanese man? You mean the one who came on the train?' he asked, recovering quickly. ‘The Englishman has brought him to the brothel, I suppose. What of it? I don't see why you are making a mystery of that. Why shouldn't he bring his hunting friend for a night of pleasure?'

‘No reason at all, if that's what it was, but he brought him to see Major Lin. And now the Japanese man comes by himself to see Major Lin, and on these occasions even Fan Yimei is sent out of the pavilion. Major Lin and the Japanese man meet alone.'

He stared at her. She laughed triumphantly. ‘Come, admit it, Jin Lao,' she crowed. ‘You don't know what's going on, do you? This time you're not in the Mandarin's confidence at all, are you? In fact, I would guess that you haven't been for some time. Does he trust Major Lin now and not you?'

‘We are both of us servants of the
yamen,
' he said, in a small voice, his brow furrowing. ‘The Mandarin tells me only what I need to know and no more. I have always served him faithfully.'

‘You're so modest,' said Mother Liu.

He frowned, ignoring her sarcasm. He sipped slowly at his cup of tea. ‘Yes, the Major did seem to recognise the Japanese when he first arrived,' he said. ‘I thought that it was strange at the time. But what possible relationship could there be between Major Lin and the Japanese? We know Lin was once a prisoner. I'm missing something,' he said. ‘Something else is going on, which I don't see.'

‘More than matters of state, perhaps,' said Mother Liu, grinning broadly. ‘I told you the foreign boy has a paying customer. Who do you think it is?'

‘Of course,' said Jin Lao. His eyes shone palely. A gentle smile radiated his pale features. He looked more than ever the ancient scholar. ‘Of course. And Lin arranged it?'

‘Major Lin did—and he paid. First money I've ever taken from him,' said Mother Liu.

‘Was it, indeed? Well, well, an officer of China procuring on behalf of the Japanese Imperial Army. Makes you wonder about their relationship in the past, doesn't it? My dear Mama, how pleased I am that I have a friend such as you. I never come away from your sitting room disappointed.'

‘I'm sure you don't, if every time you take away three hundred taels.' She laughed.

‘Now, now, what's a small amount of money between friends? Forget about all that. My mind is fixed on pleasure:

“The bee steals wild nectar

And savours its first taste;

The golden oriole pecks at the peach

Melting the soft pulp in its mouth…”

‘Come, you have deprived me of my foreign boy, what other diversion have you planned for me this afternoon?'

‘You can watch the Japanese stepping tigers with the foreign boy,' she said, ‘but that might make you jealous. How about something more exotic? What if I take you to see the lovemaking between a foreign devil and a fox spirit? Does that appeal?'

‘They're here this afternoon?'

‘They are. And after you have laughed at their antics, you can go to the hot tub I have prepared for you, and there a handsome young flautist from Yang-chow will be waiting for you, with instructions to satisfy your every desire.'

*   *   *

‘It's no longer any fun, is it?'

They had made love and were lying spooned against each other on the red sheets under the garish hangings embroidered with menageries of mythical beasts. Henry gently removed his hands from Helen Frances's breasts, rested his head on his elbow, and contemplated her quietly. ‘Why do you say that?' he asked, after a long pause filled only by the tick of the grandfather clock in the corner of the room.

She did not reply. A tear welled from her eye and dropped on to the brocade pillow. Carefully Henry removed a strand of hair from her sticky forehead.

‘Hold me,' she said, in a small voice. She turned and burrowed her head against his chest.

‘I know you never loved me,' she said after another long silence. ‘No, don't say anything, darling. I knew from the beginning it was just a—a game for you. You've been loved by so many beautiful women. I was just a—'

‘Don't,' he said.

‘I didn't love you either at first. I was flattered and curious and excited … And it was wonderful. In the cave, and after. That night when you climbed through the window, and the doctor…'

‘… walked up and down on the lawn outside smoking his pipe and gazing at the moon.'

‘Yes. And never saw your horse though it was tethered right in front of him. That was so funny.'

Neither of them laughed.

She tightened her grip on his back. ‘Christmas was such hell,' she said, her voice breaking.

He kissed the top of her head. ‘I know,' he said. ‘I felt for you.'

‘Tom's so much in love with me.'

‘You don't love him,' he said.

‘No, but I'm fond of him. And my father thinks of him as the son he never had. The two of them were so happy. Wearing those silly hats, trying to light the Christmas pudding.'

He stroked her hair.

‘I'm not sure if I can pretend any more,' she said.

‘What has changed?'

‘Tom, I think. He's more serious. Maybe it's his work. Maybe it's all this talk of Boxers. Sometimes I can't help thinking he suspects something's going on between you and me. He's grown solemn. He used to be boisterous and playful. Now he's stiffer. No, that's not the word. He's become more thoughtful and responsible.' She laughed bitterly. ‘He's even taken up smoking a pipe. He was furious with you, by the way, after that ghastly ceremony at the railway when you were being so beastly to Herr Fischer.'

‘Tom's an Englishman. He likes fair play.'

‘But he's no longer the big, good-hearted idiot he used to be. It was easy in the beginning, when he first came back from Tsitsihar. He'd pick me up in his arms, and swing me round the courtyard, always inanely happy to be with me, showering silly presents on me. Calling me “old girl” and “HF” and “chum”. And I would despise him. He'd kiss me and I'd smell your sweat on me from the afternoon. He'd hug me and I'd think of your touch on my skin. I thought he deserved to be cheated for being so trusting. So I didn't care. In fact it was—thrilling.'

He kissed her cheek. ‘But now you're feeling a belated attack of conscience?' he murmured.

She closed her eyes, and there were tears in them when she replied: ‘I don't have a conscience any more. I'm only alive when I'm with you. I'm only myself when I'm with you. I'd live any lie with anyone if you loved me … but you don't.'

Abruptly she rolled away from Henry and swung her legs off the bed. ‘Where's the pipe?' she whispered. ‘I want another pipe.' She pulled aside the gauze curtain and stepped naked into the pool of pale sunlight on the carpet. ‘Where is it?' she cried petulantly, pulling a drawer from a desk, kicking aside a stool. She dropped to her knees, defeated. ‘I want a pipe,' she moaned.

There was a scratching outside the door, a shuffle and a whisper. Helen Frances hurled a cushion in the direction of the sound, and there was scurry of startled feet. ‘That horrible old woman,' she screamed. ‘Peeping Toms. I hate this place.' Her shoulders slumped. Her head fell forward and silent tears ran down her cheeks.

Henry knelt behind her, his cheek against hers, wrapping her in his arms. In his protective embrace, they swayed from side to side.

Then he got up, went to a cupboard and pulled out the long flutelike tube with the metal bulb at one end. From a little lacquer box he scraped out some black paste, which he rolled between his fingers kneading it into a ball. He dropped the ball into a small cup on the side of the pipe opposite the metal bulb. From the table he picked up a candle, and with the pipe and the lit candle went back to Helen Frances and knelt beside her.

She had curled into a foetal position on the cushions, her head on a wooden rest. She reached for the pipe and put her mouth round the end. Her eyes met Henry's.

‘This is the last time I'm giving you this,' he said. ‘I would never forgive myself if you got into the habit.'

She giggled mirthlessly. ‘Haven't I picked up enough bad habits from you already?'

Slowly he moved the candle flame back and forth beneath the bulb. As the metal heated, the opium ball in the cup began to melt, emitting a sweet-smelling blue smoke. ‘Let out your breath,' he said. ‘Right. Suck in. Now.'

She pulled the smoke into her lungs, coughed, lay back and closed her eyes. Henry repeated the process, sucked a bowl of smoke into his own lungs, then, after a moment of languor, replaced the pipe and opium in the cupboard. Then he picked up Helen Frances and carried her to the bed. They lay together side by side, lazy with the drug. Her head rested in the crook of his arm. Idly his hand stroked her shoulder, moving over the curve of her arm to brush her breast. Her own fingers traced over his belly. She nuzzled against him, luxuriating in the warmth that filled her body. ‘Henry?' she murmured.

‘Yes?'

‘When you're here alone in this place, when I'm not with you, with all these ladies available, do you … do you ever…?'

He kissed her mouth. ‘Sssh,' he whispered. ‘Don't.'

‘I wouldn't mind if you had,' she said. ‘If I was a man I'm sure that I would … I was looking at one of them as I arrived today. She was very beautiful. She was standing in the door of the pavilion opposite, across the path. Such a pale face, and gorgeous eyes, deep grey lustrous eyes … She was slender, graceful, with lovely hair, but she was sad, sad. Everything about her was sad. Who is she?'

‘That was probably Fan Yimei,' said Henry.

‘I liked her,' she murmured. ‘Our eyes met, you know, for a fraction of a second. She looked so … understanding. Funny. She was the first Chinese I've ever seen who I felt could be my friend. Isn't that odd? And I've never even talked to her. Have you ever…? With her?'