Part 55 (1/2)

A little of her bright light lifted the edge of the darkness inside him. He knew there could be no suggestions. He touched her eyebrow and her ear.

'What is it that puts a strong heartbeat into your words?'

She leaned closer, eyes fixed on his. 'We could leave together.'

'You are taunting me.' But hope leaped unbidden into his throat and breathed life into his limbs.

'No, no, I mean it.' She spoke in a whisper. 'I've worked it all out. You said you must leave Junchow. I will leave with you. I have some money still and maybe I can get hold of more. It would be enough to hire a boat to row us across the river in the dark and then we could . . .'

'No.'

'Yes, we'd be safe if we travelled by night and slept by day. It would take time, I know, but we could go far away from here to a remote village somewhere and I would wear a Chinese tunic and wide hat like at the funeral, so no one would notice and I'd learn Mandarin and . . .'

'No.'

'Listen to me, my sweet love, it is our only answer. I've thought it through. You can't stay here, so there's no other way.'

'Lydia. Don't, Lydia.'

'I'm not foolish. It wouldn't be forever. I know that when you're better and strong again, you'll want to return to one of the Communist camps and continue to fight against Chiang Kai-shek. Of course I know that. But,' he watched a soft pink flutter to her cheek like the s.h.i.+mmer of a flamingo's wing, 'I will come too. I know women train and fight in Mao Tse-tung's army, so there's no reason why I can't become a Communist freedom fighter. Is there?'

After school there was a lot to do. First, the dress. Lydia hurried right across town to Madame Camellia's salon.

'Thank you, Madame Camellia, it looks like new again.'

The dressmaker bowed, a graceful dip of her groomed head. 'You are welcome. Try not to let it get wet again.'

'Please put the cost on my stepfather's account.'

'Certainly, Miss Parker.'

Miss Parker? Miss Parker? Miss Parker? Lydia laughed and shook her head as she shot off toward the Masons' house on Walnut Road. Polly hadn't turned up for school today, so Lydia wanted to make sure her friend wasn't sick. The awkwardness between them last time over Chang An Lo still rankled and made it even more important to check that she wasn't just hiding at home because she couldn't bear to face Lydia. That would be awful. It was a long way to Walnut Road but at least it was a crisp bright afternoon. The sky was a rich clear blue that made the world feel bigger and though the wind was cold, the sun gave Junchow a glow that turned Lydia's usual disgust with the town to an amiable affection. Maybe it was the thought of leaving it. Lydia laughed and shook her head as she shot off toward the Masons' house on Walnut Road. Polly hadn't turned up for school today, so Lydia wanted to make sure her friend wasn't sick. The awkwardness between them last time over Chang An Lo still rankled and made it even more important to check that she wasn't just hiding at home because she couldn't bear to face Lydia. That would be awful. It was a long way to Walnut Road but at least it was a crisp bright afternoon. The sky was a rich clear blue that made the world feel bigger and though the wind was cold, the sun gave Junchow a glow that turned Lydia's usual disgust with the town to an amiable affection. Maybe it was the thought of leaving it.

As a Communist supporter. Lydia Ivanova, freedom fighter. She tried it on her tongue out loud and liked it. She even let her mind hold for just a brief second the sound of Lydia Chang Lydia Chang, or Chang Lydia, Chang Lydia, as they would say in China. She let it reverberate around her thought waves, but that was a step too far into the unknown. She wasn't ready for that yet. Chang An Lo had said no. Of course he did. She knew he would. He was worried about her safety. But she'd seen the expression on his face. His mouth held tight in case it let out words that would betray him. The huge pupils dilated in astonishment. She saw something deep within him burst, and when she held his body tight in her arms she could feel the rapid beating of his heart. as they would say in China. She let it reverberate around her thought waves, but that was a step too far into the unknown. She wasn't ready for that yet. Chang An Lo had said no. Of course he did. She knew he would. He was worried about her safety. But she'd seen the expression on his face. His mouth held tight in case it let out words that would betray him. The huge pupils dilated in astonishment. She saw something deep within him burst, and when she held his body tight in her arms she could feel the rapid beating of his heart.

He said no. But he meant yes.

She took a shortcut through one of the poorer districts of the International Settlement, down a snowy pathway behind St Saviour's Church and across a small park. It was more a patch of scrubland than a park, with a few creaky swings for children and too many overgrown bushes. It was as she was following the footpath that she saw the car. Parked under a low bank of trees that ran along the far side, away from the grimy terrace of nearby houses. Lydia recognised it immediately. A big flashy Buick. It was Polly's father's car. A cream and black sedan with wide running boards, which in the late afternoon sun glinted above the dirty grey snow in the gutters.

What it was doing here, she couldn't imagine, but if Mason was going home he might as well give her a lift and at the same time he could tell her what was up with Polly. She walked toward it. It was parked facing away from her, so she was looking at the large spare wheel on the back and the high rear window. The car looked empty. But as she peered through the window she saw movement inside. She edged around the side. To a clear view. A view she didn't want to see. Christopher Mason in his s.h.i.+rt-sleeves. He was stretched out on his stomach on the front seat, the back of his slick brown head bobbing and weaving, his hands moving over something under him.

It was Valentina.

Lydia turned and ran.

'h.e.l.lo, Lyd.' Polly did not look ill. Nor did she look pleased to see Lydia on her doorstep.

'You weren't at school today.'

'No. I was sick.'

'Oh, I'm sorry.'

'Something I ate.'

'Right.'

There was an uneasy pause. Lydia began to worry that Polly wasn't going to invite her in.

'I've brought you the new term's timetable to copy out. And some sketch maps we did today in geography.' Lydia opened her schoolbag and started to rummage in it.

'Oh . . . thanks.' Polly stepped back, her wide eyes flicking away from Lydia. 'Come on in. Do you want some hot chocolate? Mummy's out at her bridge club, but she's made a ginger cake if you'd like some.'

'Yes, please.'

Polly led the way into the kitchen. Most kitchens were dreary, meant only for servants, but because Anthea Mason so enjoyed whipping up souffles or baking cakes and fresh rolls, the Masons' kitchen was modern and bright. Linoleum on the floor, tiles on the walls and a marbled enamel stove that was so much smarter than the usual black range. In the scullery behind it, Lydia could hear two servants working and talking in soft Chinese voices. Polly concentrated on heating the milk and scooping out cocoa into cups instead of talking.

Lydia filled up the silence with chatter about the first day back at school and how James Malkin had arrived with his leg in plaster after falling off his garage roof while retrieving a kite. Polly obliged with a smile. When they were both sipping their hot drinks Lydia felt the blood return to her chilled fingers, but her mind was still numb with shock.

Valentina. In the Buick.

Why?

But Polly was still avoiding her. Staring at the froth on her cocoa and blowing lightly to cool it.

'Polly, he's gone,' Lydia said.

Her friend's worried gaze at last met hers. 'Who?'

'You know who. Chang An Lo.'

'Gone where?'

'I don't know.'

'Did soldiers take him?'

'No. He escaped. So you don't have to worry anymore about . . . well, you know . . . what you saw.'