The Concubine's Daughter (59 page)

The glare behind the rimless spectacles grew less belligerent, the hands once more busy counting money, his voice bearing a hint of admiration. “Agreed. While you continue to make money, you will share in the profit.” He handed her a wad of notes. “But do not let Number Five find out.”

“There is one more thing I would ask. Can you find me a trusted messenger to deliver a package to the Tavern of Cascading Jewels? I have a small matter of business to take care of.”

Siu-Sing dispatched a fat envelope with a letter to Ah-Jin, The Golden One:

Z

Siu-Sing had worked in the Nine Dragons Ballroom for six months when the Englishman appeared. He was the first foreigner she had seen there; she might not have even noticed the shadowy figure sitting alone unless she had overheard others buzzing about the
gwai-lo.

With every eye upon her, she moved between the tables toward him. He wore a blazer of dark navy blue over an open-necked white shirt. The shaded candle in the center of the table threw a dim light upon the gold braid of a regimental badge embroidered on the breast pocket. As he lit a cigarette, the flare of a match showed briefly the glitter of golden hair and the unmistakable deep blue eyes of Captain Toby Hyde-Wilkins.

He flicked the matchstick into an ashtray, rising from his chair at her approach. At that moment Number Five appeared close behind Siu-Sing, hissing a warning in barroom Cantonese. For a second, Hyde-Wilkins stared into Siu-Sing’s eyes. Then he produced a card from an inside pocket and offered it to the
mama-san
without taking his eyes from Siu-Sing.

“I beg your pardon, but I am not a banana-eating ape, and this lady is not my whore. I am Captain Hyde-Wilkins, adjutant to the officer commanding the Eighth Royal Rajput Rifles and military attaché to His Majesty’s Government. This young lady is a friend of mine, and you will kindly apologize.”

He crossed quickly to hold a chair for Siu-Sing, sitting down with a slight smile as Number Five stared in stunned amazement. Meeting a foreign devil who could speak her language so fluently reduced her to the customary denial. “You must have misunderstood me, sir,” she stuttered.

In reply, he took out his wallet, handing her a red one-hundred-dollar note. “Perhaps I did, in which case I need not complain to Mister Poon of your rudeness …”

He selected a second hundred-dollar note. “Unless I misunderstand you again?”

At a loss for the words normally at the tip of her tongue, Number Five
accepted the money with a stunned bow. “Any possible misunderstanding is most regrettable, sir,” she stammered. “May I bring you a drink with compliments of the Nine Dragons?”

“Thank you.” He ordered a cold Tsingtao beer and turned to Siu-Sing. “Perhaps you would care for something a little more interesting than Coca-Cola or cold tea?” She shook her head as Number Five hurried away.

“Forgive my poor Cantonese,” he went on. “I have learned enough to know that foreign devils such as I are not very popular, especially in places like this. May I also beg to be forgiven for not recognizing you immediately? I thought I must be dreaming …”

Siu-Sing had thought of him many times since the banquet: so clean and young—she guessed perhaps twenty-five or thirty years old—and altogether different from the flabby jowls, stale perspiration, and sickly pomades she had become accustomed to. His thick hair was the color of bamboo leaves that had fallen and been bleached by the sun, she decided. His skin was not white, but a light honey brown like her own; his nose quite large and strongly shaped. The shaded candle flickered in his remarkable eyes.

“I was unable to thank you for your kindness to me on that evening at the tavern of Tamiko-san,” she replied, delighted by the astonishment it caused him.

“You speak English!” He laughed, reaching across the table to offer his open hand. His warm, strong fingers closed firmly around her own. “We were never properly introduced… . My name is Toby—Toby Hyde-Wilkins. I hope sitting with me will not cause trouble for you. Chaps like me are not entirely welcome here.”

“You must forgive her; she would not dream that you might understand her. Such insults were for my ears alone … they do not bother me.”

He had already forgotten about Number Five. “That night I wanted nothing more than to speak with you, to know more about you, but that was impossible. I could not believe that someone like you could be part of J. T. Ching’s world. How fortunate that I decided to see for myself what the famous Nine Dragons has to offer.”

He took a small leather wallet from his breast pocket and held it open. “I am here partially in an official capacity; it is part of my job to make sure our chaps are not losing their pay in places like this.” He put it away with an encouraging smile. “Now you know who I am. Will you tell me about yourself?”

“My father is British, my mother was Chinese,” she said, trying to keep the excitement from her voice. “You are the first Englishman I have ever seen. Please forgive me if I stare.”

“You are forgiven. We shall stare at each other… . May I ask your name?”

He looked at her with such friendly interest that she blurted out, “My father’s name is Devereaux, Captain Benjamin Devereaux. My Chinese mother was called Li-Xia, a southern name. I am called Siu-Sing.”

His smile returned comfortingly. “Little Star,” he mused. “You are no longer little, so, if I may, I will call you Sing … a star. It is clear that you were born to shine like one.”

Releasing the strength of his hand was like letting go of a lifeline in a gathering storm. She lowered her voice to lean closer, aware of the many eyes upon them. Words tumbled from her lips. “I need help, but we cannot speak of it here. My room is on the next floor, with the number twelve on the door. Come up in a few minutes.”

The music seemed to fade and the chattering voices to drop away as he stood to draw back her chair with a slight bow. It was the smallest of gestures, yet it helped her to walk tall and straight as she mounted the stairs with every eye upon her.

Moments seemed like hours before she heard his gentle knock. She opened the door in an instant; he slipped into the room as she fastened the chain. “I don’t believe I was seen.”

She shrugged, smiling up at him. “It matters little now—we have committed the unforgivable.” She did not want to lose his closeness, drawn to him in a way that went beyond the pleasures to be found in the arms of the Silver Sisters.

In that moment, the need for him to hold her was stronger than the need for words. Toby seemed to sense her yearning, yet held back.

“I am here to help you if I can. I am not one of those who would use you.”

Every man she had met except Master To had tried to use her. But from the moment she had seen Toby, there had been no question in her mind. “I believe you,” she said.

In the privacy of the apartment, Sing spoke of her background and the search not yet begun. She showed him the photograph of the man in a master mariner’s uniform beside his Chinese wife.

“I think it is fate that had us meet not once, but twice in so short a time. As it happens, it is part of my job to investigate the difficulties of British subjects in China.” He studied the photograph closely. “From what you have told me, your father is a man of importance. Men like him do not disappear easily. A name of such prominence should be easily traced.”

Placing the photograph in his wallet, Toby took out two calling cards and handed them to her. The first was embossed with the official crest of his regiment; below it were his name, rank, and a Kowloon telephone number. The second bore the official crest of Government House and his private number.

“Keep these safe; one number or the other should reach me at any time. If it does not, I can be quickly found. I will see that the photograph is copied and safely returned.” His manner became briskly confident. “But first, we must get you out of here for a while. You need to get some fresh air and to see something of this place you call the Golden Hill.”

Ruby appeared at the door of the adjoining room with a look of concern. Sing smiled reassuringly at her friend. “You remember Ruby, my companion—”

“How could I possibly forget such dancing?” He held out his hand to Ruby. “Don’t worry. I will bring her back safely.”

Sing was almost surprised when the elevator took them to the ground floor and no one stopped them from leaving the Nine Dragons. Toby flagged a taxi, and under the canopy of neon signs they left the crowded streets of Wan-Chai behind them.

Toby took her to the Army and Navy Club, where the dignified dining
room was filled with soft spoken Westerners. If they glanced her way, it was with only passing interest as he patiently explained the menu. It was the first time Sing had tasted such food as mulligatawny soup and a dish he introduced, with obvious pleasure, as steak and kidney pie.

Afterward, he took her into the heart of the Central District, where brightly lit shop windows were filled with gold, sparkling gems, and beautiful clothes. Most magic of all to Sing was the cinema, where they sat in the dark, transported to a world filled with happy people doing strange and wonderful things; where children played on perfect lawns with white picket fences. She watched a beautiful woman who sang like an angel and whose eyes were as clear as a summer sky and whose hair was as bright as Toby’s. Surely this must be a vision of the Westerners’ heaven.

Sing watched the three lucky thumbs slowly circling each other under the glare of the desk lamp. “It is not good for you to see this foreign
bing
. He can cause only trouble.” Three-thumbs Poon had used the term of contempt for a common soldier. “He belongs in the bars with drunken sailors, buying drinks for low-class whores. You must not see him again.”

“He is no barroom soldier. He is an important officer sent in search of me. While he is here, his money is as good as any other. If he pays to take me out, I will go with him. He says that if you do not agree with this, he will report you for keeping me locked up.”

Three-thumbs Poon was a greedy man but not a cruel one. She reached into the pool of light to lay a gentle hand on his nervous thumbs. “He pays well and is a gentleman. He asks nothing of me but my company. Please, you cannot stop him without great fuss. You lose nothing by this and can only gain. If he is satisfied he will make no trouble. I will speak only well of you.”

Over the following days, Sing began to see why the city of Hong Kong was called the Golden Hill: They lunched in the old hotel in Repulse Bay; dined overlooking the harbor; and visited the outlying islands
aboard the steam ferry. Sing felt a new kind of happiness, as though a part of her that had been sleeping was now wide awake. When a dangerous shadow suddenly fell across her path, she was unprepared.

A few days later Number Twelve was sitting at a corner table waiting for Toby to arrive. He had promised to take her to the cinema to watch the film again, this time with Ruby. She could not think of a time in her life when she had longed so much to see someone, and she eagerly watched every man who stepped from the elevator or mounted the red-carpeted stairs from the restaurant.