The Russian Concubine Part 3

'Who invented ca.n.a.l locks and the segmented arch?'

'The Chinese.'

'Who invented printing?'

'The Chinese.'

'The magnetic compa.s.s?'

'The Chinese.'

'And are these things irrelevant, Lydia? To a person living in England?'

'No, sir.'

He smiled. Satisfied. 'Good. Now that we've cleared up that point, let us move on to a study of the Han dynasty. Any objections? '

Not one hand went up.

Theo knew Li Mei was at the window upstairs. The tapering tips of her fingers rested on the gla.s.s, as if she would touch him through it. But he didn't turn. Or even glance up at her.

He stood beside the school gates, his tall frame very upright, his back melting in the fierce heat radiating off the wrought-iron gates as the afternoon showed no promise of relief. It wasn't the high temperatures that bothered him. It was the humidity. Throughout the summer it battered you down and robbed you of any energy until you cried out for the bright clear days of autumn. But it was the end of the school day and as always his light brown hair was freshly combed, his gown discarded and replaced by a crisp linen jacket. A headmasterly smile, cool yet approachable, firmly in place to greet mothers as they arrived to collect their children. The amahs amahs and chauffeurs he ignored. and chauffeurs he ignored.

He did not approve of mothers who were too busy drinking tea or taking tennis lessons or playing endless rounds of bridge to collect their offspring themselves, but sent servants to do the job. Any more than he approved of fathers who poisoned their daughters' minds. Mr Christopher Mason sat clearly in that category. Theo experienced a familiar ripple of frustration. What chance did this great country have when men like that, men who worked in the administration itself, regarded China's remarkable history as a waste of time? As not worth knowing. It disgusted Theo.

'h.e.l.lo, Mr Willoughby. Looks like rain again tonight.'

'Good afternoon, Mrs Mason. I do believe you're right.'

The woman who had stopped in front of him was short and smiling, a dimple in each cheek like her daughter. Her fair hair was pulled back by a velvet ribbon and her round face was flushed with exertion. Little drops of sweat beaded her upper lip and glinted in the light.

Theo smiled. 'Did you enjoy your ride?'

Anthea Mason laughed, leaning against her bicycle, which was a bright green tandem, one hand fiddling with the bell so that it gave off little chirrups. 'Oh no, I never enjoy the ride here, it's uphill all the way.' She was wearing a light cotton blouse and cycling slacks, but both looked creased and damp. Her blue eyes sparkled with antic.i.p.ation. 'But that means the trip home is a breeze. Especially with Polly on the backseat.'

Theo decided to bring up the subject of Chinese history. 'Mrs Mason, there is something I feel I should . . .'

But her gaze was already scanning the regimental rows of pupils in navy uniform, all lined up in the courtyard under the watchful eye of Miss Courtney, one of his junior teachers. The school was a handsome redbrick building with a wide driveway at the front, a lawn on one side, and the courtyard on the other. It was a place of freshly waxed floors and clean blackboards.

'Ah, there's my girl.' Mrs Mason lifted a hand and waggled her fingers at her daughter. 'Yoo-hoo, Polly. Crumpets for tea, sweetheart.'

Polly blushed furiously with embarra.s.sment, and on this occasion Theo did feel sorry for her. She detached herself from her companions and came over, dragging her heels. Beside her walked Lydia, their heads close together, one smooth and golden, the other a ma.s.s of long unruly copper waves stuffed under her boater. They were whispering to each other, but years of practice had enabled Theo to develop a batlike ability to decode a pupil's barely audible mutterings.

'Oh my G.o.d, Lyd, you could have been killed. Or worse.' Polly's voice was breathless, her eyes wide, her hand clenched round her friend's thin arm as if she would drag her from the mouth of h.e.l.l.

'I wish you'd seen him, the way he-' Lydia stopped abruptly, aware of Theo's eyes on them. 'Bye, Polly,' she said casually and stepped to one side.

'h.e.l.lo, Lydia,' Mrs Mason called out in a cheery voice, though Theo saw her regard the girl with concern. 'Would you like to come home with us for tea? I could call over one of the rickshaws.'

'No, thank you, Mrs Mason.'

'We're having crumpets. Your favourite.'

'I'm sorry, I can't today. I'd love to but I have some errands to run.'

'For your mother?'

'That's right.'

Polly was staring at her, plainly worried. Theo couldn't work out what was going on. But his attention was taken by a request from Anthea Mason as she placed one smart two-tone shoe on her pedal.

'Oh, Mr Willoughby, I almost forgot. My husband asked me to mention that he'd like a few words, and would be grateful if you could meet him at the club tomorrow evening.' She shook her head prettily and laughed, as if to make light of the summons. 'You men, where would you be without your billiards and brandy?'

Then off she pedalled with her daughter on the seat behind her, both pairs of legs going in unison, and as Theo stared after them his smile slipped. His shoulders slumped.

'd.a.m.n,' he murmured under his breath.

He turned and almost fell over Lydia, who was hovering behind him. They were both momentarily confused. Both apologised. She ducked her head, hid under her straw hat's brim. But too late to prevent him from seeing her face. She had been standing, as he had been, staring after the disappearing tandem as it wove its way with a tinkling bell through the busy street. But what shocked Theo was the expression in her amber eyes. They were full of such naked longing. The intensity of it created a little stabbing pain like an echo in his own heart.

What was it she wanted so badly?

The bicycle? He was well aware that the girl was poor. Everyone knew that her mother was one of the Russian refugees, with no man to earn a decent wage for the family; well, not a permanent man anyway. But this wasn't about the bicycle. No, Lydia wasn't that sort. So was it for Polly she yearned? After all, he'd known more than a few schoolgirls who had fallen in love with someone of their own s.e.x, and certainly they were close, those two. He looked down thoughtfully at the straw boater. He noticed it was yellowing with age and was stained in numerous places on the crown where she had dumped it down carelessly or gripped it with a grubby hand when the wind blew in off the great northern plain. If it were anyone else, he'd tell her to ask her parents to buy a new one instantly.

So was it the mother she wanted?

Hardly. Her own mother, though she rarely came to the school unless specifically requested, was far more beautiful and infinitely more enticing than the homely Mrs Mason. But then his own taste in women always ran to the dark and exotic. Even when he was a boy and could pop his penny in the peepshows or peer secretly at his father's book on the paintings of Paul Gauguin. A sudden influx of cars and parents demanded his attention, a flurry of smiles and polite handshakes, so it was not until ten minutes later when the courtyard was almost empty that he glanced around and found the young Russian girl still at his elbow.

'Good heavens, Lydia, what are you doing still here?'

'I've been waiting. I wanted to ask you something, Headmaster.'

Theo chuckled to himself. He'd noticed before that pupils were very free with his courtesy t.i.tle when they wanted something from him. Nevertheless he smiled encouragingly. 'What is it?'

'You know all about China and Chinese ways, so . . .'

He snorted a derisive laugh. 'I've only been here ten years. It would take a lifetime of study to know China, and even then you'd only have scratched the surface.'

'But you speak Mandarin and you know a lot.' Her eyes held his and there was an urgency in them that intrigued him.

'Yes,' he agreed quietly. 'I do know a lot.'

'So can you tell me the name of something, please?'

'That depends on what this something something is.' is.'

'It's the Chinese way of fighting. The one where they fly through the air and use their feet. I need to know what it's called.'

'Ah, yes, the Chinese are famous for their martial arts. There are numerous kinds, each one with a different style and philosophy behind it. My own favourite is tai chi chuan. tai chi chuan. That's difficult to translate because it carries many meanings, but roughly it is the Yin Yang Fist.' He noticed the girl was listening with a level of attention he wished she would apply to her ordinary school lessons. 'But it sounds as if you're talking about That's difficult to translate because it carries many meanings, but roughly it is the Yin Yang Fist.' He noticed the girl was listening with a level of attention he wished she would apply to her ordinary school lessons. 'But it sounds as if you're talking about kung fu. kung fu.'

'Kung fu,' Lydia repeated carefully. Lydia repeated carefully.

'That's right. It translates literally as Merit Master. The j.a.panese call it karate. karate. That means empty hand. In other words, it's unarmed combat.' That means empty hand. In other words, it's unarmed combat.'

She smiled to herself, a soft smile of delight that warmed her slender face. 'Yes. That's it.'

'But why on earth do you need to know about unarmed combat?'

She gave him a bold, mischievous grin. 'Because I want to learn more about Chinese ways, so that I can decide for myself whether they are relevant or irrelevant, sir.'

'Well, I am pleased that you are so eager to learn more about the land you're living in, whatever the reason. Now off with you, young lady, as I have other things to do.'

For a split second Lydia let her eyes slide to the upstairs window, and then without even a good-bye, she was gone.

Theo sighed. Lydia Ivanova was never going to make life easy for him. Only today he'd had to take the ruler to her knuckles because she was late for afternoon cla.s.ses yet again. The girl had scant respect for rules. Not insolent exactly. But there was something about her, the way she walked into cla.s.s, the independent way she held her head and in the way she raised her gaze to his slowly when he asked her a question. It was there in the back of her eyes. As if she knew something he didn't. It irritated him.

But not as much as Mr Christopher Mason irritated him. He reached up and locked the heavy gates, shutting out the world. Only then did he allow himself the exquisite pleasure of looking up at the window.

'It is not wise to tweak tail of tiger, my love.'

'What do you mean?' Theo kissed the delicious hollow at the base of Li Mei's throat and felt the pulse of her blood under his lips.

'I mean Mr Mason.'

'To h.e.l.l with Mason.'

They were lying naked on the bed, the shutters half-closed against the heat, allowing only a narrow shaft of light to steal into the room. It lay like a dusty sash of gold across Li Mei's body, as if it couldn't keep its fingers from her b.r.e.a.s.t.s any more than he could.

'Tiyo, my love, I am serious.'

Theo raised his head and kissed the point of her chin. 'Well, I'm not. I've been serious all day long with a whole school full of monkeys and now I want to be very unserious.'

She laughed, a delighted sound that was so soft and low it made the soles of his feet tingle. Her skin smelled of hyacinths and tasted of honey, but infinitely more addictive. He brushed his lips down her sleek body, over the curve of her hip, and rested his cheek against her slender thigh with a sigh of pleasure.

'So you go see Mr Mason tomorrow?'

'No. The man's a menace.'

'Please, Tiyo.'

She reached down and caressed his head, the tips of her fingers beginning a gentle ma.s.sage of his scalp, until he could feel all the tension melting from his brain. He adored her touch. It was like no other woman's. He shut his eyes to block out everything else but that one swirling, emptying sensation.

'Tomorrow is Sat.u.r.day,' he murmured, 'so I shall take you out on the river. There the air is cooler and in the evening we shall stop off at Hw.a.n.g's and eat phoenix tail prawns and kuo tieh kuo tieh until we burst.' He rolled over onto his side and smiled at her. 'Would you like that?' until we burst.' He rolled over onto his side and smiled at her. 'Would you like that?'

Her dark eyes were solemn. Gracefully she removed the cream orchid and the mother-of-pearl comb from her hair, placed them on the bedside table, and looked at him very seriously. 'I very much like that, Tiyo,' she said. 'But not tomorrow.'

'Why not tomorrow?'

'Because you see Mr Mason tomorrow.'

'For heaven's sake, Li Mei, I refuse to go running over there like a puppy every time he crooks his finger in my direction.'

'You want lose school?'

Theo pulled away. Without a word he left the bed and went over to the open window where he stood staring out, his naked back rigid. After a long silence, he said, 'You know I couldn't bear to lose my school.'

A rustle of sheets and she was there with him. Her slight body pressed tight against his back, her arms clasped around his chest, her cheek on his shoulder blade. He could feel her long lashes whisper over his skin. Neither spoke.

From this high up on the hill Theo looked down at the tiled roofs of the town that had been his home for the last ten years, a home he loved, and a refuge from the whisperings he'd left behind in England. He gazed out over the sweep of the whole International Settlement, a little speck of China that seemed to have mutated into a part of Europe. It possessed a curious mix of architectural styles, with solid Victorian mansions sitting cheek by jowl with the more ornate French avenues and long Italian terraces with wrought-iron balconies and exuberant window boxes.

The Europeans had stolen this parcel of land from the Chinese as part of the reparations treaty after the Boxer Rebellion in 1900. They had elbowed the ancient walled town to one side and set about constructing their own much larger town right next to it, seizing control of the waterway with gunboats that nosed their way like grey crocodiles up the Peiho River. The International Settlement, they termed it, a bustling centre of Western trade and commerce that delighted the masters back home in Britain but stuck in the craw of the Chinese government.

Theo shook his head. The British were too d.a.m.n good at it, this whole controlling-the-world thing. Because though the settlement was international, there was no question that it was the British who controlled the place, Sir Edward Carlisle who set his signature with a flourish on every new doc.u.ment, just as he stamped his stern character on the International Council.

Officially the town was divided into four quarters - British, Italian, French, and Russian - lined up neatly next to each other like old friends, but it didn't work out like that, not in practice. They bickered constantly. Argued over land distribution. Theo had heard them at it in the Ulysses Club. And somehow the British ended up owning nearly half the town while small areas were taken from the Russians and ceded to the j.a.panese and Americans in exchange for very large payments of gold. But then money always talked. Money and gunboats.

As Theo's eyes scanned the town, he had to admit that compared to the ramshackle Russian Quarter over to his left, where many of the houses were cramped and shabby, the British Quarter was impressive. It gleamed like a well-fed cat. The church steeples, the clock tower of the Town Hall, the cla.s.sical facade of the Imperial Hotel, the immaculately tonsured rose beds in the parks, no wonder the natives called them devils. Foreign Devils. Only a devil can steal your soul and turn it into alien territory. To the Chinese of Junchow the International Settlement was a different planet. Yet in the distance the river glinted like polished metal and the merchant s.h.i.+ps at anchor alongside the cl.u.s.ters of sampans all added to the foolish illusion of permanence.

He became aware that Li Mei's fingers were caressing his chest in slow spinning circles.

'In market today, Tiyo, I see your friend. Newspaper man.'

'Who do you mean?'

'Your Mr Parker.'

'Alfred? What was he up to down there?'

She gave a soft little laugh that rippled through him. 'I think he look for something old. But I think he in trouble.'

'How's that?'

'He too English. Not keep eyes wide awake. Not like you.'

She wrapped her arms more tightly around Theo and gave an encouraging giggle, but he did not respond. Disappointed, she shook her head and the perfume from the silky curtain of her hair billowed around him. Somewhere out in the street a car sounded its klaxon but the room remained in silence. A handful of pigeons fluttered past, the whistles attached to their tails making a whirring noise that sounded like the laughter of the G.o.ds.

'Tiyo,' Li Mei said at last, 'you want I should ask my father?'

Theo swung around, his grey eyes suddenly hard. 'No. Don't you ever ever ask him.' ask him.'