SQ 04 - The English Concubine (26 page)

Min came in and shut the door quickly. She went to him and took him in her arms. He clung to her. Min’s tears flowed and she gripped him.

With Qian gone she wanted to give up this life. Two more girls had taken opium and killed themselves. She had cared for one very much. Tiny Xiao Li reminded her of her own sister. The sister she had last seen when she had been sold away from her family at fourteen and never seen again.

Xiao Li herself had been only seven years old when she had been sold as a bondservant by her father, a man with too many daughters and an addiction to gambling. She had gone to the woman who gathered these young children and trained them for future lives; some to be concubines of old men, some to be prostitutes, some maids to rich wives, some turned into nuns to worship at the ancestral tablets of wealthy childless women. Either way, they could all end up, on a whim, in the brothel, sold on because of displeasure or jealousy.

Xiao Li, not deemed good-looking enough to turn into a concubine, had been sold as the young maid in a rich man’s house in Canton. She grew up there in conditions of great hardship, treated meanly and cruelly by all the women and all the children of the house. When she turned twelve, she was raped by one of the sons. It was a story so commonplace as to invite hardly a thought. She was beaten for tempting him. She continued to be raped by this man until she fell pregnant at thirteen, at which point she was sold to one of the most degrading brothels in Canton. The child was taken from her and she never saw it again. To escape this life she ran away and lived by stealing for a while. With another girl she went to Hong Kong and they both agreed to come to Singapore where, they were told, maids were in short supply.

Xiao Li was split up from her friend who was sent away to another place and arrived in Singapore where she was put in a brothel, five years ago. Min had met her then and they had formed a bond. Now there was talk of moving her, selling her on again because, at nineteen, she was still worth a good price. Down though, down to the coolie brothel in Cochin China. Min had desperately tried to dissuade Qian from this course of action but he had become deaf to all considerations other than money. So Xiao Li had taken all the opium pills she could get and swallowed them one by one.

She felt the tension go from Zhen’s body and he rose, out of her arms and went to the bowl of water and splashed his face, washing away Qian’s blood and his tears.

‘I want to quit this life,’ she said. ‘Will you release me?’

Zhen looked at her in the mirror, took up a towel and wiped his face and hands.

‘What will you do?’

‘I have enough money for a small house in Kampong Glam. There is a man there, an Arab man. He’s a carpenter who makes beautiful furniture. He’s a widower and he wants to marry me.’

Zhen stared at Min and shook his head. ‘Well, well, you are the dark horse. When did this happen?’

‘A year or so ago. He knows what I do. He doesn’t care. I will take up Islam. It feels clean and I need to have a clean life.’

Zhen went to the window and looked down at the street. The police interpreter was talking to the servants on the step of the house. He was Malay but spoke good Chinese. He was unique in the town and was worked off his feet for he had duties in the magistrate’s court and the gaol. Graves was nowhere to be seen. Qian was lying, covered in blood, in that house.

‘I’ll manage the brothels until after the funeral. Until Ah Soon can take charge. You can leave then.’

She came and took his queue in her hands, stroking it. She put it over her shoulder and her head on his back and ran her arms round his waist, holding him.

‘I miss her.’

She hugged him tight.

34

Charlotte looked at Amber. She was as eager-faced as she herself had been as a young girl arriving with Tigran. A face filled with excitement but anxiety too at what lay ahead.

Alex was reluctant, she sensed it. This was not the marriage he had anticipated perhaps, if he thought about such things. He had been pleasant at mealtimes though he had eaten little. Amber had been seasick for the first two days and had kept to her cabin. She and Alex spent time with Captain Hall, whom she had misjudged. He had made her a handsome profit and been prompt in his duties. He told an excellent tale in that dry accent of his, and had a store of fabulous stories from the New Land, and the evenings were enjoyable. Charlotte had felt seasick and nauseous but had taken the ginger and fought it off. She knew it was the pregnancy. Her waist had thickened but not enough to show. In Batavia she knew she had a decision to make. There were women there who knew how to get rid of unwanted pregnancies.

When Amber had recovered enough to join them, Alex had been polite but distant. She had found him, sometimes, in the evening, leaning off the stern, gazing into the churning white water of the wake. She recognised the symptoms for she had done this exact same thing and felt this way. He was lovesick.

Did he love Lian? She had hardly heeded Zhen’s words in a dark rush of anger at him and the subsequent misery of his loss. She had read his letters which explained nothing, spoke of nothing which truly mattered. He had duties and obligations. He would be done with them soon and wanted to come back to her. He longed for her. He had even written down a poem which he said he had sent to her years ago. A poem by a long-dead Chinese poet.

A gale goes ruffling down the stream

The giants of the forest crack;

My thoughts are bitter – black as death –

For she, my summer, comes not back
.

A hundred years like water glide
,

Riches and rank are ashen cold
,

Daily the dream of peace recedes:

By whom shall Sorrow be consoled?

The soldier, dauntless, draws his sword
,

And there are tears and endless pain;

The winds arise, leaves flutter down
,

And through the old thatch drips the rain
.

It had touched her, wormed its way into her soul, as only he could do with these beautiful old Chinese poems. But she knew she could not go back to him. She wanted a different life. She knew that now. She no longer wished to be the English concubine. As for Alex and this love, that would fade. They had never even been together, there was little for him to dwell on, feed on, to nurture the memory of her. It would disappear.

The house revealed itself as the horses pulled round the bend. Charlotte’s smile faded. What was once snow white with glinting glass, a vast sweeping edifice with its fine Dutch gables. What had once been this, was now grey and streaked with green mould. Weeds sprouted from the roof and along the parapets. The gardens before the entrance were rank. The roof of the west wing seemed to have collapsed. The coach drew to a halt and Charlotte climbed down, aghast at this wreckage. Amber and Alex followed her and they all stood and gazed at the ruin before their eyes.

Servants appeared in clothes as poor as the house. They began to unload the luggage and Charlotte walked towards the great door with its VOC crest, with the greatest trepidation at what she might find inside.

Then Takouhi appeared. She too, was a shock. She had aged. She leant on a stick and her once beautiful skin was wrinkled, her hair grey. All Charlotte could think of was neglect. How she had neglected them all.

She walked into Takouhi’s embrace. She felt thin and weak but her voice was strong.

‘Welcome, sister.’

‘Oh Takouhi, I’m so sorry to have stayed away so long.’

Takouhi took her hand and held out the other to the two young people waiting to one side. ‘Alex, Alex. Amber, so big, so big.’ She turned. ‘Come, come.’

Over the next days, Charlotte discovered that, though the house had been neglected in great part because Takouhi did not use most of it, the estate itself was profitable and well run. She took the old carriage and the little horse and took Alex over it pointing out its kampongs, its rice fields, its orchards, its herds of cows and goats. Brieswijk was self-sufficient in everything except cooking and lamp oil and produced a surplus, which was sold at market.

She took Alex to Tigran’s grave and told him something of this man he believed was his father, determined he would feel the greatness of the family he belonged to. Together with Amber they went to the old chapel, itself somewhat neglected. Alex’s mood seemed to improve. ‘I shall take care of it all, Mother, when I am its master.’

‘Yes, Alex. You will. I think to give you Buitenzorg also, for the tea plantations will pay for the repairs to the house. Tea is somewhat depressed at the moment but Captain Hall says that soon the railway will open up in America from the Pacific to the Atlantic and trade in that direction will boom. Not only tea, but pepper, wood, every product of the Indies can be carried directly to the United States of America’s west coast and be transported across the whole country in no time at all.’

He smiled at her and she took his hand.

‘As for the rest, I think I must sell the sugar lands to pay all kinds of debts. In any case they are difficult to run and I would rather concentrate our business here around Batavia. Matthias has the trading house more or less under control. As for the fleet, what do you think?’

‘Captain Hall says the fleet needs to be pared down and modernised. He wants steam but with coal stations so far apart, the ships carry more coal to travel forward than they do cargo. I think we should wait for the moment.’

Charlotte nodded. They had spent hours over the account books. He had grasped the business with both hands and shown great acumen. He felt driven, as he had never before. Filled with ambition.

‘I shall arrange for an auction of the sugar lands at Semarang. Would you like to go? I need to prepare your wedding and it is best if you are out of the way.’

‘I want to be married as quickly as possible,’ he said.

She was astounded. His attitude to Amber was one of complete indifference.

‘I don’t want to go to Semarang until I am married. Must it be a great affair, Mother? Can it be small?’

‘Well, we have a position in society. Somewhat neglected I grant you, but nevertheless, such a marriage is an opportunity for you to meet the government and all the merchants of the city and to introduce Amber to her new social acquaintances. She must have friends you know. And of the Manouk House it is expected.’

Alex ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Yes, a reception. A great reception. But a wedding, that can be small. Right here in this chapel. Can it not? The reception can take place later.’

Charlotte frowned. It was, of course, perfectly possible to do that. But why this haste? ‘Why so fast, Alex? You do not seem so very keen on Amber.”

Alex rounded on her. ‘I am very keen, Mother. Very keen to start married life and grow into a love for her. And it is rather frustrating to be around a beautiful woman and not, well, you know.’

Charlotte was taken aback. This was rather frank.

‘I am ambitious for Brieswijk, for my life here. I want a family and am keen to start one as soon as possible. I believe Amber wishes to be married as quickly as possible too.’

That evening, suddenly, a different Alex had emerged. He was charming and attentive to Amber. They walked in the park and Takouhi and Charlotte watched them as the light faded from the sky.

‘He care her,’ Takouhi said. ‘Young love. Good.’

‘Yes,’ Charlotte said hesitantly. Takouhi’s English had become rusty through disuse. She switched to Malay.

In the distance Alex took Amber into his arms and embraced her passionately. Takouhi smiled. ‘The chapel needs a little fixing but no more than a week. We can have it ready and the priest from the Armenian church will come and marry them.’

‘It seems to be what he wants.’

Takouhi looked at her old friend and sister-in-law. ‘Is there anything you want to talk about?’

Charlotte took her hand. ‘No. It is good that they are in a hurry.’

‘Yes,’ Takouhi said, and Charlotte knew she was thinking of George Coleman, her lover and father of her now long dead child.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I stayed away too long.’

‘The Chinese man, Zhen. You loved him to distraction. You had his child. What happened?’

She had not written to Takouhi of Lily’s death. ‘She died.’

Takouhi gripped her hand. ‘Oh, Charlotte, my dear.’

‘And everything between us fell apart.’

‘Yes, I know how that can happen.’ When Takouhi and George’s child, Meda, had fallen sick with fever, she had come instantly to Java, up to the high cool hills at Buitenzorg, to seek a cure. But Meda had died and George, angry and grieving, had gone away to Europe.

In the fading light, Alex took Amber again into his arms. She clung to him. He held her and willed himself to imagine another in his arms. She raised her head and desperately sought his kiss. He put his lips to hers but he felt absolutely nothing. An awful thought came to him. He might not even be able to do his husbandly duty on the wedding night. This was so terrifying that he concentrated hard and kissed her with ardour. She moaned against his lips and when he released her he saw her eyes filled with love for him.

Kissing was one thing, Alex thought, now somewhat worried.

35

Ironfist Wang waited patiently until his Master was free. The undertaker and the funeral organisers had departed and now the notices to the brothers were being made. It would go out to five hundred men who would line the street, following the catafalque. Wang loved a good funeral. Nothing was more inspiring, nothing more designed to show the power of the dragon in Singapore. The Lord could summon thousands of men in an instant. But five hundred were all that had been allowed by the government.

He probed a tooth with his tongue. He didn’t mind a sword in his guts but he hated the apothecary who dug around in his teeth. He winced with the pain. He’d heard the ang moh had doctors for the teeth and lots of them had false teeth of gold set in some sort of rubber. Wang paid attention to this. He’d heard many false teeth were made from the teeth of corpses or donkeys, sometimes dogs, fashioned into human teeth. Wang shuddered but was not entirely revolted. The thought of pain-free teeth was tempting.