Part 45 (1/2)

Always the cooling cloth on his skin. The smell of vinegar and herbs. Lemon water on his dry lips. Nightmares stealing his mind. But at dawn he could feel the fire in his blood at last begin to stutter. That was when he started to s.h.i.+ver and shake so violently he bit his tongue and tasted blood. He felt her sit beside him on the bed, felt the pillow dip under her as she rested back against the wooden headboard and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She held him tight.

The doorbell rang. The hairs on his neck rose and he saw Lydia lift her head as though scenting the air. Their eyes met. They both knew he was trapped.

'It'll be Polly,' she said in a firm voice. She went over to the door. 'I'll get rid of her, don't worry.'

He nodded and she left, closing the bedroom door behind her. Whoever this Polly Polly person was, he called a thousand curses down on her head. person was, he called a thousand curses down on her head.

39.

'Good morning, Miss Ivanova. I hope I haven't called too early.'

'Alexei Serov. I . . . didn't expect you.'

The Russian was standing on the doorstep, tall and languid as ever in his fur-collared coat, but he was the last person she wanted to see right now.

'I was concerned about you,' he said.

'Concerned? Why?'

'After our last meeting. You were very upset by the death of your companion in the street.'

'Yes, of course. I'm sorry, my mind is . . . Yes, it was unpleasant and you were very kind. Thank you.' She took a small step back, preparing to shut the door, but he hadn't finished.

'I called at your previous address and Olga Petrovna Zarya told me you live here now.'

'That's right.'

'She said your mother has remarried.'

'Yes.'

'My congratulations to her.' He gave her a small bow, and she thought how much more graceful Chang was at that movement.

'Thank you.'

He gave her the edge of a smile. 'Though your mother wasn't so pleased to see me at your previous house, if I recall correctly.'

'No.'

An awkward silence settled between them that she did nothing to break.

'Am I disturbing you?' he asked.

'Yes, I'm sorry but I'm in the middle of something at the moment.'

'Then I apologise. I won't detain you any longer. I have been very busy myself or I would have called on you before now to make sure you are well.'

'Busy?' Her interest sharpened. 'With the Kuomintang forces?'

'That's right. Good-bye, Miss Ivanova.'

'Wait.' She found a smile. 'I apologise for keeping you standing on the doorstep like this. How rude of me. Maybe you'd like a cup of tea. Everyone needs a break sometime.'

'Thank you. I'd like that.'

'Please, do come in.'

Now that she had him in a chair with a cup of tea in his hand, a beautiful bone china one with a handle so fine you could see through it, Lydia was having difficulty finding out what she wanted to know. As often as she steered the conversation toward military matters, he sidestepped the subject and talked instead about the Chinese opera he'd seen the previous evening. Even when she asked outright about the numerous Communist posters she'd seen in the town demanding the right of access for the Chinese to the parks in the International Settlement, he just laughed that lazy superior laugh of his.

'They'll be wanting access to our clubs and croquet lawns next,' he said.

She had no idea whether he was teasing her or was deadly serious. His tone was amused and languorous but she wasn't fooled. His green eyes were quick and observant, watching her, taking in at a glance her new surroundings. She had the feeling he was playing a game with her. She sipped her tea warily.

'So the Communists are still active in Junchow,' she commented, 'despite the efforts of the elite Kuomintang troops.'

'It would seem so. But driven into holes in the river bank like rats. The Kuomintang flag flies everywhere to remind people who is in charge now.' He smiled through half-closed eyes. 'At least it's a fine banner to display and cheers the place up a bit with its bright colours.'

'But do you know what the flag's colours mean?'

'They're just colours.'

'No. In China everything has a meaning.'

'So?' He leaned back in his chair, one arm exactly placed on each armrest. He looked to her just like the young tsar must have looked on his throne in the Winter Palace, and she resented his arrogant manner. 'Enlighten me, Miss Ivanova.'

'The red body of the flag represents China's blood and suffering. '

'And the white sun?'

'Purity.'

'The blue background?'

'Justice.'

'Interesting. You seem to know more than most about China.'

'I know that the Black Snakes of Junchow are fighting both the Communists and the Kuomintang for control of the council.'