Lydia stopped, one hand on the heavy brass doorknob, but she didn’t turn around. She couldn’t bear even to look at the deceitful bastard. There was a moment’s silence while the dead creatures in the room watched through glass eyes. She could hear her own heart thumping.
‘Now listen to what I have to say.’ His voice was astonishingly calm. ‘I know nothing about troops at your house.’
‘To hell with your lies.’
‘I did not betray you. Or your wounded Chinese Communist. I told no one what I saw at your house, you have my word on that.’
‘The word of a liar is not worth spit.’
His angry intake of breath satisfied her.
‘I am speaking the truth,’ he said sharply, and she knew that if she’d been a man he’d have struck her.
‘Why should I believe you?’
‘Why shouldn’t you?’
She swung around. ‘Because there was nobody but you to send the troops for Chang An Lo. You. Only you knew.’
‘That’s plainly absurd. What about your cook?’
‘Wai?’
‘You think he didn’t know? Miss Ivanova, you have a lot to learn about servants if you think they don’t know everything that goes on in a house.’
Lydia swallowed. ‘Wai?’
Alexei Serov was back in control. The stiffness seeped out of his body and his gesture was languorous as he waved a hand in the direction of wherever his own household servants camped. ‘They have eyes that see behind closed doors and ears that hear the thoughts in your head.’
‘But why would Wai…?’
‘For Chinese dollars, of course. He would be well paid for the information.’
‘Oh hell.’
She felt her shoulders droop and her spine cave in. She sought refuge in staring at the feathery ears of a lynx’s head. They were pricked, alert, ready to listen to her excuses.
‘Bloody hell,’ she muttered.
‘I swear I didn’t betray him. Or you,’ Alexei Serov said quietly.
She made herself look him in the eye. This was hard. Angry came easy. Apologetic was much tougher.
‘I’m sorry.’
She wanted to get out the door. Out into the cold air before she melted into an ugly pool of shame on the smart marble flooring. Her tongue felt too big for her mouth. The words could barely squeeze past it.
‘I apologise, Alexei Serov.’
He didn’t smile. Through his half-closed eyes she could not make out what he was thinking and anyway she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
‘I accept your apology, Miss Ivanova.’ He gave a small formal bow. The little click of his heels scared her. It was the sort of noise you might expect from an executioner before he slices your head off. He held out an arm to her. ‘May I accompany you back to the party? This conversation is over.’
She hesitated.
‘And as a gesture of our renewed friendship, I hope you will do me the honour of the next dance.’ He smiled then, slow and teasing, as if he knew what it would cost her.
‘Last time you said I was too young to dance with,’ she objected. There was only one person now in whose arms she wanted to float.
‘That was six months ago. Then you were still a child. Now you look every inch a beautiful young woman.’ He raised one eyebrow. ‘Even if you don’t exactly act like one.’
She laughed, she couldn’t help it.
‘Oh God, Alexei, I’m sorry my mouth ran away with me. I can be quite respectable when I try, but somehow you always catch me at my worst.’
‘“Filthy whore-boy to Chiang Kai-shek.” That was impressive. ’
She took his arm. ‘Let’s dance.’ The quicker she got it over and done with, the better.
49
Theo sat with the cat heavy on his feet. It was cold. Three o’clock in the morning. He could hear the wind shaking the windows and howling to come in, and it reminded him of the wind on the river at night and how it drove the scows as they nipped from junk to junk with their haul. He was reading in his study, trying to glean strength of purpose from the words of Buddha.
If you want to know your future,
then look at yourself in the present,
for that is the cause of the future.
He absorbed that one.
His future would be decided on Wednesday.
Because on that day Christopher Mason had an appointment to tittle-tattle to Sir Edward with the story of Theo’s involvement in opium trafficking. So he had twenty-four hours to decide.
Empty your boat, seeker,
and you will travel more swiftly.
Lighten the load of craving and opinions
and you will reach nirvana sooner.
Theo thought that was what he longed for, to travel light, but he was coming to the conclusion that he didn’t know himself very well. The young Chinese man in the bed upstairs knew him. Knew his weakness. He could see it in his eyes. Chang An Lo was ready for what might come. Had already lightened his load. Prison was one path that might lie ahead for both of them, but could Theo really face the hell of a stinking cell, cooped up like a bird in a bamboo cage?
If you want to get rid of your enemy, the true way is to realise that your enemy is delusion.
But neither Feng Tu Hong nor Christopher Mason felt much like delusion to Theo. The truth was that Feng could stop Mason. But Feng would want the young man in exchange, despite his disputes with Po Chu. Or maybe because of them.
And then? If Theo made the deal? What would Li Mei think of him?
What would he think of himself?
He leaned down and stroked the cat’s head. It purred for a second before it remembered to sink its yellow teeth into him.
50
Lydia heard the click of her bedroom door. Quiet footsteps padded across the floor. She opened her eyes a slit but could see nothing in the darkness. She didn’t need to see.
‘What is it, Mama?’
‘I can’t sleep, darling.’
‘Go and disturb Alfred.’
‘He needs his sleep.’
‘So do I.’
‘Poof, you can sleep in class tomorrow.’
‘Mama!’
‘Hush, I shall tell you about the Flamingo nightclub. One lucky woman was wearing a Fabergé brooch but her frock was quite frightful. Move over.’
Lydia shifted position in the bed and Valentina lay down on it, under the eiderdown but on top of the blankets, just the way Lydia had done at first with Chang An Lo.
‘Did you have a good time tonight?’
‘It was bearable. That’s about all.’
‘Did you dance?’
‘Of course I did. It was the best part. When you’re old enough I’ll take you to a dance and you’ll discover what fun it is. The band played the new jazz with…’
But Lydia didn’t listen. She leaned her cheek against her mother’s shoulder, let her musky perfume filter into her head. She wondered if Chang An Lo was awake. What was he thinking? She was frightened he’d leave. Just up and go. Without her. But they both knew that in the state he was in, he’d be caught. That he needed her. As she needed him. It was going to be hard. Of course it was. She wasn’t blind to that fact or to the uncertainty of the future for them, but to be together even for a few months while he healed would give them time. Breathing space. While they worked out the next step.
‘So?’
Dimly Lydia became aware that Valentina had stopped speaking.
‘So?’
‘So what, Mama?’
‘I said, so who is this Chinese Bolshevik of yours?’
‘His name is Chang An Lo and he’s a Communist. But,’ she added quickly, ‘he comes from a wealthy family under the last emperor and is well educated. A bit like yourself in a way…’
‘I am not a Communist and never will be.’ She spat out the words. ‘The Communists take a country that is great and noble and they smash it down with their hammers and sickles to the lowest level of a peasant. Look at my poor broken Russia, Rusmatushka. ’