World of Suzie Wong : A Novel (9781101572399) (13 page)

“Thank God you've come!” Elizabeth shouted to them in her gay brittle way. “My husband was just about to rape me!”

This struck a jarring note with Ben. It was that familiar sophisticated talk which Elizabeth thought rather smart, and that always included a liberal spattering of words like “rape,” “brothel,” “seduce”—and that had now turned an intimate and rather wonderful event into a cocktail-party joke. His desire was promptly extinguished.

But in the back of the friend's car going home Elizabeth suddenly took his hand. Perhaps she had remembered his compliment. His desire for her rushed back—overwhelmed him. And they had no sooner reached home than, ignoring her protests that she must immediately feed Binkie, he took her by storm.

He had learned much about the art of love-making from Suzie and he gave Elizabeth the benefit of his new accomplishment. It found the beginnings of response in her, an incipient passion. She was no less surprised than Ben.

“What on earth's happened to you?” she asked afterwards, with a puzzled laugh. “You never behaved like that before.”

“I know, I've been a rotten lover.”

“Well, what's made you change?”

“I was worried about it. I bought one of those books.”

“You'd better let me see it.”

“I was so ashamed of it that I threw it away.”

On Sunday he was overcome again, and made love to her half an hour before guests were due to arrive for lunch. During the meal one guest remarked that Elizabeth looked radiant. Another found her unusually quiet. Ben himself noticed that throughout the meal she never said “rape,” “brothel,” or “seduce,” or made any brittle witticism about sex. And since then, despite the resumption of relations with Suzie on Monday, they had not looked back.

I laughed and said, “Well, I'm damned. And that's the man who a month ago was impotent!”

“You're joking about it now,” Ben said. “But I could see you really were shocked.”

“Yes, I was a bit at first.”

“I don't blame you. But look at it this way. What was our marriage worth before? Nothing. All right, is it better now or not?”

“It certainly appears so.”

“And let's face it—man is a polygamous animal. Of course in Europe we try and blind ourselves to the fact. Bloody stupid—why don't we accept it as a basic truth, like these Orientals? Their attitude is much more sensible. All the rich Chinese chaps keep mistresses, and it's considered perfectly respectable. They do exactly as I'm doing. All right, so look at it statistically. On the one hand there are a few thousand Europeans in Hong Kong whom my behavior would scandalize—and on the other hand several million Chinese who would accept it as perfectly natural. It makes one think.” He flicked his wrist with a decisive movement to look at his watch. “Lord, look at the time!”

I smiled to myself. Nearly eight bells—time to go on the bridge.

“And I've a couple of letters to dictate before I meet Suzie.” He pushed back his chair. “By the way, I suppose she's really behaving herself—keeping off sailors?”

“Yes, she's been very faithful to you,” I said.

“I imagine so. Now, you'll excuse me if I shoot off?”

“Go ahead,” I said. “And I hope you haven't been pinched for parking.”

“That'd be too bad.” He gave a suave naval grin. “Still, when one's got this sex business taped, and a marvelous girl like that lined up—well, I mean, old boy, what's the odd fine?”

Chapter Three

W
hen I had told Ben at the Kit Kat that Suzie was behaving herself it had been perfectly true. But only a few days later she blotted her copybook.

It happened one evening when she was in the bar and a matelot came over to seek her favors. Since the advent of Ben, whom she met only at lunchtime, she had been at a loose end in the evenings, and she had been in the habit of spending them either gossiping with me in my room or with her girl friends downstairs; and whenever a sailor had approached her, she had simply apologized and explained that she was “resting.” However, this particular matelot refused to be shaken off. He had been her boy friend eight months before, when his ship had last called at Hong Kong; and he earnestly assured her that for those eight months he had done little else but think of her and look forward to this return visit.

He was Irish, and his tongue persuasive. And as added inducement he offered her twice the sum that he had paid her before.

Suzie thought of her baby's future. And since the matter, financially speaking, concerned her baby more than herself, she was not sure that she had any right to refuse on his behalf. Besides, the matelot had been her boy friend before Ben, which gave him a sort of prior claim.

“All right,” she said, and upstairs they went.

And after falling once it made the offense hardly worse to fall again, and she occasionally did so. She would not deliberately offer herself; but if a sailor approached her and she liked the look of him, and if she could bring herself to interrupt her gossip, she would let herself be persuaded.

I thought this very naughty of her and told her so. She was very cross. She told me to mind my own business. Then she relented and apologized for being rude, and explained that she would never dream of deceiving a boy friend whom she respected—but the fact was that she did not respect Ben. She thought he had no strength of character.

“The Navy wouldn't agree with you,” I told her. “He got a very good decoration in the war. He was a hero.”

But she was stubbornly indifferent to the Admiralty's estimate of him. “No, he is weak. Oh, I know, he has a big strong body. He has plenty of muscle and a big chest. But there is nothing inside that big chest except a little heart about so big”—and she held up her little fingernail.

“I think he's got a very good heart,” I said. “Anyhow, that's no excuse for taking his money under false pretenses. You're cheating him.”

“Yes—cheating.”

“And aren't you ashamed of yourself?”

“No.”

About a week later, however, an incident occurred that caused her to revise her estimate of Ben, and that put an abrupt end to her infidelities. It began, so far as I was concerned, at about eleven o'clock one evening when I had just got into bed, and there was a sudden loud banging on the door. I thought it must be a drunk. “Who is it?” I demanded.

“Ben.”

He entered without further invitation, slammed the door, and stood looming over the end of my bed, with an aggressive aspect that suggested he had been drinking. However, he was nothing like so drunk as he had been on his first visit and was perfectly in command of himself. His chin purposefully jutted, as if the enemy had just been sighted and he stood grimly on the bridge giving orders for action stations.

He said, “You'd better get dressed, old boy. We've got a job to do.”

“What on earth's happened, Ben?”

“It's that little bitch of mine. She's with a sailor.”

“Good Lord! Well, what are you going to do?”

“Fish her out.”

“But you can't go—”

“Come on, man, get cracking. We can talk while you get your things on.”

I began to dress, playing for time. Meanwhile Ben explained that this evening he had been to a stag party given by a rich Chinese client in one of those huge expensive Chinese restaurants the size of department stores. There had been lashings of whisky to wash down the fabulous food, and the usual little Chinese hostesses to joke and flirt with the guests. The attentions of these girls had reminded him of Suzie; he had begun to feel a longing for her that had become almost unbearable; and as soon as the party had broken up—Chinese dinners were never prolonged beyond the end of the food—he had driven down to the Nam Kok and, emboldened by the whisky, walked straight into the bar. Not finding Suzie herself there, he had asked one of the girls where she was; but the girl, evidently a friend of Suzie's, had disclaimed all knowledge of her whereabouts. He had repeated the question to a second girl with “a waggling bloody bottom like a voodoo dancer,” who had been more forthcoming, and had revealed that Suzie had just gone upstairs with an American.

I said, “That was obviously Betty Lau. Of course, she'd have no compunction about doing Suzie in the eye.”

“Look, man, can't you get a move on?”

“Ben, we can't just go barging into some room—”

“Why not?”

“What's the point? The harm's done now.”

“You leave that to me, and just get dressed.”

“Ben, I'm having nothing to do with it.”

“All right, if you haven't the guts—I'll do the job myself.”

And turning away disdainfully, he strode from the room.

Several minutes passed. Then Ah Tong entered in a state of perturbation to report that Ben had been grilling him to find out in which room Suzie was installed, and that on his assurance that she was not on this floor had gone to pursue his search on the floors below. Ah Tong, perceiving Ben's dangerous mood, was fearful of what might happen when he found her. He begged me to try and restrain him from violence.

I reluctantly agreed to do what I could and set forth in pursuit. I found him leaving the floor boy's desk on the lower landing.

“Ah, you've thought better of it,” he said, walking briskly past me toward the stairs. “Well, she's not on this floor,” so that leaves only the floor below.”

I said, “Listen, Ben, I know what we can do. If we can find out her room number, you can speak to her on the telephone.” And I added, to try and impress him with the effectiveness of this measure, “She'll get the most awful shock when she hears you.”

“I've no intention of speaking to her on the telephone.” We reached the first floor landing, and he strode up to the floor boy's desk. “Suzie Wong, what room's she in?”

“Uh?”

“You heard me. Suzie Wong.”

The floor boy shook his head. He was looking at a Chinese film magazine with pictures of American stars. I never came to this floor and I did not know him.

“Not here.” He had shifty eyes and was obviously lying.

Ben was about to make some retort when his attention was distracted by a door opening down the corridor. The tiny luscious Jeannie came out, ushered by a gangling American sailor. The sailor paused at the door of the next room, adjusting his round white sailor's cap from the back with one hand, and thumping on the door with the other. “Hey, Hank!”

A girl's voice replied from within, “What you want? Hank's busy.”

“Hey, that you, Fifi? Tell Hank we're just gonna have chow.”

Hank's voice from inside said, “Hey, Joe!”

“Yeah? That you, Hank?”

“Yeah, where you gonna eat chow?”

Jeannie put her face close to the door and said, “Hey, Fifi! I take Joe to the Victory. You going to bring Hank?”

“Sure,” called back Fifi. “He make me plenty hungry!”

“O.K.,” said Joe. “See you later, Hank.”

“O.K., see you later, Joe.”

Joe lifted his hand behind his head, screwed his hat round again, and pushed it so far forward that it was almost resting on the bridge of his nose. He had to tilt his head well back to see under the brim. Jeannie took his arm. They came toward us and turned down the stairs.

“Christ, what a place to live!” Ben exclaimed. He turned back to the floor boy. “Now, where's that girl? I'm from the police.”

“Uh?”

“Police.”

He pulled out his wallet without removing his eyes from the floor boy, opened it, and tossed it on the desk. There was a cellophane partition inside, and behind it an official printed document. I gazed in astonishment. Ben's authoritative manner was so convincing that for a moment I was almost taken in, and began to wonder if he was really engaged in some mission quite different from what I had supposed.

Then I peered at the wallet more closely. The document was his driving license.

The floor boy, however, gave it only one brief glance. He turned white about the gills.

“Number Fourteen, sir,” he muttered.

Ben repocketed the wallet and started down the corridor, followed by myself and the floor boy. The floor boy was dancing and tripping in agitation. In common with the manager and entire staff of the Nam Kok he lived in holy fear of the civil police.

There was a murmur of voices through the ventilator of the room occupied by Fifi and Hank. An elderly amah with tiny slit eyes and huge prognathous mouth with gold teeth was entering the room that had just been vacated. She wore a blue jacket, black cotton trousers, white socks, and black felt slippers. She carried clean sheets over her arm. She threw the sheets on the bed and closed the door. No. 14 was two doors farther along. Ben raised his knuckles and knocked stoutly.

“Police.”

There was an outbreak of whispering inside, followed by sounds of panic-stricken activity. Ben tried the handle. The door was bolted.

“I'll give you ten seconds to open up.”

The floor boy rapped anxiously on the door, holding his head close to the panel and giving agitated exhortations in Cantonese. I had given up all thought of intervening, except as a last expedient in the event of threat to human life. I stood by helplessly, and not without admiration for Ben's suave performance.

Ben looked at his watch. “Five seconds to go.”

The door opened a few inches. Behind the crack stood a young man hitching at his trousers. He was squat and hefty, with broad shoulders, tattooed arms, a chest as furry as a gorilla's, and a tiny upturned baby's nose. Despite the nose, he looked a tough customer.

Ben gave the door a violent kick. It swung back with a crash. Suzie stood by the bed in cotton brassiere and knickers. She was on the point of reaching for her cheongsam on the chair, but the crash of the door sent her scrambling back into the bed. She squatted with the sheet pulled protectively up to her neck. She caught sight of Ben for the first time, as he entered the room with myself and the floor boy behind, and a look of utter astonishment came over her face—a look so comically exaggerated that I could never remember it afterwards without a sputter of laughter. Her eyes, naturally elliptical, became as round as saucers. Her eyebrows rose in prodigious arches. Her jaw dropped. Her mouth fell open. It was straight out of stock—the stock of some ham actor playing melodrama in repertory.

“Gee,” said the sailor.

His voice was high and squeaky and soft as butter. It matched the turned-up baby's nose and not the gorilla chest. It made him suddenly seem quite harmless.

Ben said, “Get dressed and beat it.”

“Gee, sir, we ain't been doing nothing wrong.” He cleared his voice on a falsetto note and felt a bit braver. “I ain't never heard of no law, sir, that said a feller could come bustin' in when a feller was—”

“Beat it.” Ben gave him a confidential wink. “This girl's been peddling drugs.”

“Gee!”

Suzie at last found her voice. She began to scream abuse at Ben, alternating it with indignant outbursts of Chinese at the floor boy. Ben ignored her. He turned to the sailor who was hurriedly finishing his dressing, and asked, “How much did you pay her?”

“Well, sir, I was on an all-nighter—”

“How much?”

“Hundred Hong Kong dollars, sir.”

“She bloody rooked you.” He took out his wallet and handed the sailor a large pink hundred-dollar note.

“Don't you take it!” Suzie screamed. “He lies! He's not a policeman—he's my boy friend! You make him get out!”

The sailor said nervously, “I ain't gonna get mixed up in nothing. I just wanna keep my nose clean, see, that's all.”

“You're scared!”

She tried to urge him to battle. The sailor stood grinning uneasily like a huge absurd baby. He scratched the back of his head with one hand, and stared in disbelief at the hundred-dollar note in the other.

“Gee, sir! I never heard of no American cop giving a feller his money back for a lay.”

“Hop it.”

The sailor went off sheepishly, looking at the money and scratching his head. Suzie continued her tirade against Ben. She needed her hands for gesticulating and the sheet had fallen to her knees.

“What you think I am? Your slave girl? I'm nobody's slave girl! You got no right to come into this room—my boy friend paid for this room all night!”

Ben said, “Shut up.”

“No! You shut up! Get out! Go to hell!”

Ben advanced towards the bed. He made an unhurried grab at her. Suzie's spate of invective was interrupted and she struggled violently. She wriggled free and escaped across the bed. Ben leaned over without effort and caught her ankle. He dragged her back across the bed like a lizard by its tail. She looked quite tiny beside Ben's large looming figure. She kicked and lashed about with her arms. He pinioned her arms, and she twisted her head and dug her teeth into his hand. He forced her head back, his hand dripping blood where she had bitten it, and rolled her onto her face. He leaned over her on his elbow, securing her with his weight under the angle of his arm, and raising his free hand, he began to spank her.

He spanked her long and hard. Suzie yelled blue murder. The screams must have resounded throughout the Nam Kok. But it was only after it was over, and Suzie lay there crying like a child, that I glanced round and saw the tier of astonished gaping faces in the doorway—the faces of the gold-toothed amah, three sailors, and Fife, Wednesday Lulu, and Gwenny Ching.