World of Suzie Wong : A Novel (9781101572399) (20 page)

“I still feel hurt, you know. My pride is hurt, because he made me lose face. I feel hurt just like I did when the father of my baby left me, and went away to Borneo. I did not love him either, it was just hurt pride.”

Presently we got up to dance again. As I followed Suzie out between the tables I heard someone call, “Hullo there!” and saw one of the assistants from the bank where I had my account. He was a young Scotsman called Hamilton, who was always very friendly in the bank, and ready to help with one's troubles. I smiled “Hullo” and went on, because I was too impatient to reach the dance floor to stop and talk. I watched Suzie's back as she went ahead of me, with the white silk cheongsam molded into her waist and out over her hips, taut as a cheongsam should be, and the smooth black brushed hair ending in uneven little tails. I felt very touched by the little tails of hair, I did not know why. Then she was slipping into my arms, and a moment later the miracle had happened again, and the rhythm had enfolded us in a cocoon, and the two imperfect halves had merged together into the perfect whole; and we floated in our element of music as a sea gull floats in the air, soaring, turning, hovering, and there was no time any longer, no place, only the joy of movement as a single being.

And when the dance ended I could not bear the sudden dismemberment and kept hold of Suzie's hand as we left the floor. Then I remembered Gordon Hamilton from the bank, and released her to go back to our table while I went over to exchange a polite word. He wore a black tie and kilt, and had rather an absurd handle-bar mustache, but nice amused twinkling little eyes. He introduced me to his wife, who wore a long evening dress, and then his eyes twinkled and he said, “I've just been telling Isobel about that water-front place where you live. I hope you didn't mind me giving away your secret.”

“It's no secret,” I said.

“It sounds absolutely intriguing,” his wife said, in the tones of a nice well-brought-up young girl being determinedly broad-minded. And as added reassurance that she belonged to the modern generation, not to her mother's, she gave me an eager smile, as though linking us in conspiracy against our unenlightened parents.

“I say, you've got a smasher in tow tonight,” Hamilton twinkled. “And you were certainly doing all right on that dance floor!”

“Practically indecent,” his wife said, because the modern generation was permitted such remarks.

“A real corker,” Hamilton said. “What is she? Some rich old taipan's daughter? Bags of money and her own car?”

“I'm afraid not.”

“Well, don't tell me she's one of your water-front girls—not a corker like that?”

I was about to deny it but hesitated, something inside me protesting against the simple lie. I said, “Yes, she is, as a matter of fact.”

“Good God! I say!” Hamilton grinned and rolled his eyes and pulled at the handle-bar mustache. “Well, well! If I wasn't a married man—hum-hum!”

His wife looked completely mystified and said, “I'm sorry to be so stupid, but she isn't—I mean, of course she isn't, but I thought for a minute you meant she was one of the girls from your hotel.”

“That's just what he's told us,” Hamilton said. “That's what she is.”

“But I thought they were—I mean—well, for the sailors. . . .” The full horror began to dawn. She remembered us dancing and glanced at the dance floor, then flushed and became confused; and I felt very sorry for her, because she meant well and was now upset because she was afraid she had embarrassed me with her stupid lack of tact.

“Don't worry, Isobel's still a bit innocent,” Hamilton winked, trying to make light of it. “I'll have to teach her the facts of life.”

I said good-by and left them, hoping that Suzie had not noticed the glances in her direction and guessed that we had been discussing her. Then I saw her watching me as I approached, her face expressionless, and I knew that she had seen.

I sat down, and after a minute she said, “You were talking about me?”

“Yes, it's a man from the bank. He said he thought you were a ‘corker.'”

She said, “That woman kept looking at me.”

“That's his wife.”

“She was thinking, ‘That girl's dirty. She's a dirty little yum-yum girl.' You told her?”

“I told her you worked at the Nam Kok.”

“Why? Why did you tell her?”

“I don't know, Suzie. I just found that somehow I couldn't tell her a lie about you. I don't know why.”

She was silent, her face still without expression, except for her eyes, which showed the careful deliberate thought going on somewhere behind. The silence continued a long time, and I turned to watch the beautiful giraffe-necked Pekinese doll, whose squeaky monotone in amplification was again being carried on the flood of music that swamped the room. Then I looked back at Suzie, and to my astonishment saw on her face a glow of satisfaction, a secret smile.

“Suzie!” I laughed. “I thought you were angry with me!”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Well, you've every right to be. Anyhow, that's marvelous—now we can have another dance.”

She hesitated, as though puzzled. “You want to dance again?”

“Certainly. Don't you?”

“Yes.”

We had several more dances, and when we went out to the dance floor Suzie walked quite slowly, taking the shortest route past the Hamiltons' table instead of avoiding them by a longer way round, and keeping herself very straight and poised, and holding up her chin to show she was not ashamed; and when the dances ended we came back holding hands. Her face still wore that secret glow, but I could not understand what had caused it.

We had a last dance, then I paid the bill and we went down in the lift, and walked along the pavement looking for a taxi and still holding hands. There was no taxi to be seen, and Suzie found it difficult to walk in her high heels, so I called two rickshaws from across the road.

“I wish they had double rickshaws, then I wouldn't have to let go of your hand,” I said.

“You would rather go by bus?”

“Which would you rather? Bus or rickshaw?”

“Bus—keep hands.”

I gave the rickshaw men a dollar between them for coming across the road, which Suzie thought needless extravagance, although I still had half Ben's money left over. We went round the corner to the bus stop in Nathan Road and caught a double-decker bus, which was exactly like a London bus except that it was green instead of red; and we climbed up the narrow steep stairs to the top deck and sat in the front left-hand seat, which in London buses had always been my favorite: front for view, and left-hand for comfort, since in the right-hand seats you were tilted out into the gangway by the camber of the road.

Suzie still radiated that glow of satisfaction and wore that secret smile, and I said, “Suzie, I wish you'd tell me why you've been looking so pleased with yourself.”

She said, “Because of what you told that Englishwoman. Because you told her I was a dirty little yum-yum girl.”

“I didn't put it quite in that way. Anyhow, what's so good about that?”

“‘My girl friend is a bad girl, she does a dirty job,' you said—or something like that. Only you didn't look ashamed. You looked proud, as if you were talking of some decent good girl. And then you asked me to dance. You took me out to dance in front of that Englishwoman, and held my hand. Yes, held the hand of a dirty little yum-yum girl in front of that Englishwoman! And you still didn't look ashamed, you looked as proud as if I was some princess! So I felt very good. I don't think anybody ever made me feel so good before.”

I could not say anything for a minute. I just squeezed her hand and said, “Suzie, my sweet.”

“‘My sweet.'” She giggled.

“Suzie, the only reason I looked proud was because I really was proud of you. In fact, I think that's why I couldn't tell a lie about you. I was so proud of you as you were, that I couldn't pretend you were anything else.”

“Ben was not proud of me. He was ashamed. Once we went out to a restaurant, and he was so scared and ashamed that his face got wet with fright, and he kept dropping things, and saying, ‘Suzie, I think that's somebody I know! Suzie, you better hide! Suzie, what shall I do! Suzie, you think they'll know you're a bad girl?'”

“I know, Suzie, but it was different for Ben. He was in business here and he'd got a wife, so he had to worry about things that I don't.”

“But he never felt proud, not even alone with me. He never felt love, happiness, anything very much. Oh, I got so bored with that man! He never had anything to talk about!” I remembered Ben's identical complaint and burst out laughing. She gave me a puzzled look. “What's the matter?”

“Nothing, I just remembered something Ben said. And that reminds me, Suzie—you've heard of Winston Churchill, haven't you?”

“Say that again.”

“Winston Churchill.”

“Where's that? America?”

“Suzie, really! It isn't a place, it's a person.”

“I never heard that name.”

I remembered that English names were often pronounced so differently in Chinese that you could not recognize them, for the pronunciation depended on whatever written characters were chosen to represent them; and this choice was made arbitrarily, with aptness of meaning often counting for more than phonetic resemblance. So I repeated “Winston Churchill” with random variations of pronunciation and tone.

Suddenly light dawned on Suzie's face.

“You don't mean ————?” She said something that sounded like
“One-shoe Chee-chee,”
but with inflections running up and down the whole gamut of the Chinese scale.

I said, “Yes, I suppose I do.”

She looked at me as if I must be very stupid. “Then why didn't you say so? Why did you give him that funny name?”

“Well, anyhow, who is he?”

“
One-shoe Chee-chee?
He is England's Number One Top Man—only he is finished now. He always smokes a big fat cigar. And he is a big fat man with a big white face. Oh, yes, I told Gwenny once, when we saw him at the cinema, ‘That
One-shoe Chee-chee
looks just like my baby!'”

I laughed and put an arm round her and kissed her, and said, “Bless you, Suzie! I wish Ben could have heard that!” She snuggled against me. We were silent for a minute. And then she said:

“Robert? You know what Ben used to say?”

“What was that?”

“He used to say, ‘Suzie, you aren't in love with me. You're in love with Robert. You must be crazy about Robert, the way you talk about him.'”

“Yes, he told me that. But I'm afraid it isn't true.”

“Yes—true.”

“Suzie, here's the ferry. If we don't look out we'll be whipped off to the depot.”

We caught the last Wanchai ferry. The illuminated signs along the Hong Kong water front had nearly all gone out, but there was a cruise ship in the Kowloon wharf strung with colored lights from stem to stern, and the name of the ship glowed on the funnel in green neon script. We sat a little apart, keeping our clasped hands out of sight on the seat between us, because Suzie said that the Chinese considered it very ill-mannered to show affection in public. We slid alongside the Wanchai pier and I followed Suzie down the gangplank and out through the turnstile. She paused on the way for me to catch her up. Her hair was invisible in the darkness and I could only see her white face and white dress and white shoes.

I took her hands and said, “Suzie, will you come back to my room?”

She turned her white face up to me. She said, “You mean to sleep? You want me to sleep with you?”

“Yes, that's what I meant. I've wanted you so much all evening. I was rather ashamed of myself earlier, because it was so soon after Ben. But we've been so close tonight that nothing else matters, and I don't feel ashamed any more. So will you come?”

She laid her forehead against me so that the top of her head was under my chin. She said, “I want to come,” but uncertainly, as if only in order not to disappoint me.

“What's the matter, Suzie? Is it Ben?”

“No, not Ben. It's so silly, I don't want to say.”

“Tell me, Suzie.”

“All right.” She paused. “Say I had been an ordinary girl you had taken out this evening—an ordinary English girl. And say you liked her and wanted her to come back and sleep. You think she would have come?”

“I don't know. No, I expect she'd have refused.”

She nodded her head against me. “I know it's silly. But I want to be like an ordinary girl for you. I want to refuse.”

I laughed, “Suzie, you're adorable.”

“I knew you would laugh.”

“I'm not really laughing—not like that.”

“I will accept tomorrow. I only want to refuse once, so that I can remember I did it. You understand?”

“Of course.”

“Then I am sorry I must refuse, Robert,” she said formally. “It was a lovely evening, and I like you very much. But I am a good girl, you know. I am still a virgin. And so I am sorry, I can't sleep with you.”

“I'm terribly disappointed, Suzie. You're sure I couldn't persuade you?”

“No, I'm sorry.”

“You wouldn't like to come up just to look at my pictures? That is, if I promise to behave—well, to try and behave myself.”

“No, Robert, I like you too much. I am scared of myself. I must go home.”

“I suppose I can see you home?”

“Yes, you can take me home. You can take me just to the door.”

IV

And so it was not that night but the next that we walked together along the water front to the Nam Kok to become lovers. We had been to the cinema, and afterwards had walked back along Hennessy Road under the arcades, past the crowded cafes and electric-lit shops, and down Lincoln Street with the hissing of pressure lamps in the food stalls and the men squatting like chimpanzees along the benches noisily sucking at soup, and along the water front past the workshops and the mah-jongg rooms and the naval tailors and “
WELCOME TO ALL MEMBERS OF
H.M.S.
Athene,
” and through the shadows at the edge of the quay; and then I had stopped, my heart in my mouth, to watch a drunken man tottering up the gangplank of a junk, sprawling headlong on the narrow plank but somehow not falling in, then picking himself up and lurching onward, like the circus clown on the tightrope when he pretends to miss his footing to scare you and saves himself by a hairsbreadth. I watched until he had gained the deck and sprawled out of sight into safety, then turned away to rejoin Suzie, but stopped as I caught sight of her—and stood rooted.