Part 42 (1/2)

'She begged. Ah, Tiyo Willbee, how she begged. Tears as big as crocodiles.'

'Begged? For what?'

'For our honourable father to release you from the deal with that monkey brain Mason, from the trafficking. Of course the great Feng Tu Hong in his wisdom was not moved by her street girl ways.'

'I warned you, sc.u.m of the gutter.'

'But he offered her a bargain. He agreed to release you from the deal if . . .'

'If what?'

'If she kowtows to him nine times and comes back to this house to live out her life as his dutiful daughter. Hah! But she has brought fields of shame to the honourable name of Feng and needed to be taught the meaning of respect. That was when I hit her. Many times.'

'Like this?'

'Good G.o.d, old fellow, what the devil have you been up to?'

Theo rubbed his jaw. A livid bruise was spreading along it, and one corner of his lip was split. Christopher Mason was staring at him with an expression of unease.

'Tripped over my cat,' Theo said indifferently. 'I came over because your houseboy said you would be here and I need a word with you.'

'Now?'

'Yes, now.'

Mason glanced across the room at his wife and the two girls. 'It's not a good time, Willoughby. Later maybe.'

'Now.'

The situation struck Theo as rather odd. To be seated with that b.a.s.t.a.r.d Mason, all civil and polite, in Alfred Parker's new home the day after the disrupted wedding, with no Alfred around and the stepdaughter prowling by the French window like a dog on guard duty. It all felt strange. The girl looked ragged. Something had hollowed out her amber eyes, set them deep in dull shadows and coloured her lips grey. She kept giving each of her guests impatient stares to indicate she would be rid of them, but Anthea Mason was determined to fuss over her.

'Poor Lydia didn't sleep well and who can blame her, alone in an unfamiliar house,' she fretted, with a good-natured smile at the girl. 'I came over this morning, Mr Willoughby, and what do I find? Only that she's given the houseboy and the gardener the week off with full pay and told the cook that she just wants him to provide an evening meal and nothing else. Please, tell the dear girl she must accept the fact of servants in her life now that she is living in respectable circ.u.mstances like the rest of us. You're her headmaster, so she should listen to you.'

'For G.o.d's sake, Anthea, just forget it,' Mason snapped. 'You've seen her, like you promised you would, and she's fine.' He turned to Theo. 'I'm only here because I'm taking my wife and daughter over to the stables to see my new hunter. He's a splendid bay with the lungs of an elephant and will run the hocks off Sir Edward's dun stallion any day of the week. You see if he doesn't.'

'I want to see Sun Yat-sen, your rabbit,' Polly suddenly announced, blue eyes wide.

'What a good idea,' Anthea smiled. 'Where is it?'

'b.l.o.o.d.y stupid name for an animal,' Mason commented, but he stood up and led the way toward the French windows. 'I used to have a black and white lop-eared rabbit when I was a youngster, Polly. Called it Daniel. Nice little animal. So, young lady, let's all take a look at . . .'

'Not today.' Lydia stood with her hand holding the French windows shut.

'And why not?'

'He's disturbed. By the move. By everything changing.'

'But Lyd, please,' Polly pleaded. 'You said he was happy in his paG.o.da in the shed. That's not changed, has it?'

'No, but . . .'

'Excellent.' Mason brushed the girl aside. 'I like rabbits.' He barged out into the bare wintry garden, Polly at his heels as he strode down the path.

Anthea watched them. 'He likes all animals,' she said to Theo with a sad smile and followed her husband.

'It's human beings he has a problem with,' Theo muttered to himself and glanced at the Russian girl. She looked almost as bad as he felt. His head was splitting, as if it had a meat cleaver embedded in it. She was standing very still, both hands pressed flat against the window, her eyes fixed on the timber shed at the bottom of the garden. Polly was opening the door.

'Mr Willoughby.' Lydia spoke softly.

She was watching her friend's father fondling Sun Yat-sen's long ears. The Mason family were all gathered in a little group on the lawn, admiring the snowy white animal in Polly's arms, oblivious to the cold. Their breath circled them like mist.

'What is it, Lydia?'

The girl was still standing just inside the French windows, but now Theo noticed her gaze had s.h.i.+fted to an untidy pile of rags at the back of the lawn. The gardener should know better than to leave his rubbish in full view of the house. But of course she'd given him a week off.

'Where can I buy Chinese medicines?'

'Are you sick, child?'

'No.'

'You don't look well.'

Slowly she turned and fixed her eyes on him. 'Neither do you.'

He laughed as if she'd made a joke, and the effort of it sent a wave of nausea through him. 'In the Street of One Hundred Steps there is a Chinese herbalist. But I doubt that he speaks English.'

'Will you come with me?'

Theo shook his head but, despite the gaping hole in his mind where the smoke from the pipe needed to be, he said, 'I suppose I could.' There was just something about the girl. 'After I've had my talk with Mason.'

'I'll send him in to you.'

And she did.

'So?' Mason wouldn't keep still. In his jodhpurs and riding boots he paced up and down the carpet. Plainly he was embarra.s.sed. 'This isn't the place for this discussion.'

Theo knew this was not the way one Englishman should talk to another on a Sunday morning with the family just outside the window. He should be talking about horses or cricket or his motorcar or what the h.e.l.l the share market was up to back home. Or even the outrageous new law that the PM, Baldwin, had pa.s.sed to give the vote to women as young as twenty-one, as if flappers of that age knew anything at all about politics. But drugs? No. That was unacceptable.