Annotation

FormerElleeditorLeedeliversastandoutdebutdealingwiththerigorsofloveandsurvivalduringatimeofwar,andtheconsequencesofchoicesmadeunderduress.ClairePendleton,newlymarriedandarrived inHongKong in 1952, findswork giving piano lessons to the daughter ofMelody andVictorChen,awealthyChinesecouple.Whilethegirlislessthaninterestedinmusic,theChens'flintyBritishexpatdriver,WillTruesdale,iscertainlyinterestedinClaire,andviceversa.Theirfast-blossomingaffairis juxtaposed against a plot line beginning in 1941 when Will gets swept up by the beautiful andtempestuousTrudyLiang,andthenfollowsthroughhislifeduringtheJapaneseoccupation.AsClaireandWill'saffairbecomescommonknowledge,sodothespecificsofWill'smurkypast,Trudy'smotivationsandVictor's role inpast events.The ripplingof past actions through to thepresent lends thenarrativelayers of intrigue andmore than a few unexpected twists. Lee covers a little-known time in Chinesehistorywithoutmelodrama,anddeconstructswithoutjudgmentthechoicespeoplemakeinordertoliveonemoredayundertorturouscircumstances.

JaniceYKLee

PartIJune1941June1952September1941September1952December1941November1952PartIIDecember15,1941December26,1941January4,1942January21,1942PartIIIMay5,1953May7,1953May8,1953May12,1953May13,1953May20,1953May20,1953April10,1943May2,1943May27,19531943May10,1943May28,1953

June2,1953July3,1953July5,1953May27,1953April1942May27,1953July5,1953July12,19531953EpilogueAcknowledgments

JaniceYKLee

ThePianoTeacherCopyright©JaniceY.K.Lee,2009

Formyparents

PartI

May1952ITSTARTEDasanaccident.ThesmallHerendrabbithadfallenintoClaire’spurse.Ithadbeenon

thepianoandshehadbeengatheringupthesheetmusicattheendofthelessonwhensheknockeditoff.Itfelloffthedoily(adoily!ontheSteinway!)andintoherlargeleatherbag.Whathadhappenedafterthatwasperplexing,eventoher.Lockethadbeenstaringdownatthekeyboardandhadn’tnoticed.Andthen,Clairehadjust…left.Itwasn’tuntilshewasdownstairsandwaitingforthebusthatshegraspedwhatshehaddone.Andthenithadbeentoolate.Shewenthomeandburiedtheexpensiveporcelainfigurineunderhersweaters.

ClaireandherhusbandhadmovedtoHongKongninemonthsago, transferredby thegovernment,whichhadpostedMartinattheDepartmentofWaterServices.Churchillhadendedrationingandthingswerestartingtoreturntonormalwhentheyhadreceivednewsoftheposting.ShehadneverdreamedofleavingEnglandbefore.

Martin was an engineer, overseeing the building of the Tai Lam Cheung reservoir, so that therewouldn’tneedtobesomuchrationingwhentherainsebbed,astheydideveryseveralyears.Itwastoholdfourandahalfbilliongallonsofwaterwhenfull.Clairealmostcouldn’timaginesuchanumber,butMartinsaiditwasbarelyenoughforthepeopleofHongKong,andhewassurethatbythetimetheywerefinished, they’d have to build another. “Morework forme,” he said cheerfully.Hewas analyzing thetopography of the hills so that they could install catchwaters for when the rain came. The Englishgovernmentdidsomuchforthecolonies,Claireknew.Theymadethelocals’livesmuchbetterbuttheyrarely appreciated it. Her mother had warned her about the Chinese before she left-an unscrupulous,connivingpeoplewhowouldsurelytrytotakeadvantageofherinnocenceandgoodwill.

Comingover,shehadnoticeditfordays,theincreasingwetnessintheair,evenmorethanusual.Theseabreezeswerestrongerandthesunraysmorepowerfulwhentheybrokethroughcloud.WhentheP&OCantonfinallypulledintoHongKongharborinAugust,shereallyfeltshewasinthetropics,hairfrizzingupincurls,facealwaysslightlydampandoily,theconstantmoistureunderherarmsandknees.Whenshesteppedfromhercabinoutside,theheatassailedherlikeaphysicalblow,untilshemanagedtofindshadeandfanherself.

There had been seven stops along the month-long journey, but after a few grimy hours spent inAlgiersandPortSaid,Clairehaddecidedtostayonboardratherthanencountermorefrighteningpeoplesandcustoms.Shehadneverimaginedsuchsights.InAlgiers,shehadseenamankissadonkeyandshecouldn’tdiscernwhetherthehighodorwascomingfromoneortheother,andinEgypt,themarketsweretheverydefinitionofunhygienic-afishmongerguttingafishhadlickedtheknifecleanwithhistongue.Shehadinquiredastowhethertheship’sprovisionswereprocuredlocally,atthesemarkets,andtheanswerhadbeenmostunsatisfactory.AnunclehaddiedfromfoodpoisoninginIndia,makinghercautious.Shekepttoherselfandsustainedherselfmostlyonthebeefteatheydispensedinthelatemorningonthesundeck.Themenus thatweredistributedeverydayweremundane: turnips,potatoes, things thatcouldbestored in the hold,withmeat and salads the first fewdays after port.Martin promenadedon the deckeverymorningforexerciseandtriedtogethertojoinhim,tonoavail.Shepreferredtositinadeckchairwithalargebrimmedhatandwrapherselfinoneofthescratchywoolshipblankets,faceshadedfromtheomnipresentsun.

Therehadbeenascandalontheship.Awoman,goingtomeetherfiancéinHongKong,hadspentonetoomanymoonlitnightsonthedeckwithanothergentlemanandhaddisembarkedinthePhilippineswithhernewman,leavingonlyaletterforherintended.Liesel, thegirlfriendtowhomthewomanhadentrustedtheletter,grewvisiblymorenervousasthedateofarrivaldrewnear.MenjokedthatshecouldtakeSarah’splace,butshewasn’thavinganyofthat.Lieselwasaseriousyoungwomanwhowasjoininghersisterandbrother-in-lawinHongKong,wheresheintendedtoeducateUnfortunateChineseGirlsinArt:whensheheldforthonit,itwasalwayswithcapitallettersinClaire’smind.

Beforedisembarking,Claireseparatedoutallofherthincottondressesandskirts;shecouldtellthatwas all shewould bewearing for a while. They had arrived to a big party on the dock, with paperstreamers and loud, shouting vendors selling fresh fruit juice and soy milk drinks and garish flowerarrangementstothepeoplewaiting.Groupsofrevelershadalreadybrokenoutthechampagneandweretoastingthearrivaloftheirfriendsandfamily.

“Wepopthemassoonasweseetheboatonthehorizon,”amanexplainedtohisgirlasheescortedher off the boat. “It’s a big party. We’ve been here for hours.” Claire watched Liesel go down thegangplank,lookingverynervous,andthenshedisappearedintothethrong.ClaireandMartinwentdownnext,treadingonthesoft,humidwood,luggagebehindthemcarriedbytwoscantilycladyoungChineseboyswhohadmaterializedoutofnowhere.

Martinhadanoldschoolfriend,John,whoworkedatDodwell’s,oneofthetradingfirms,whohadpromisedtogreettheship.Hecamewithtwofriendsandofferedthenewarrivalsfreshlysqueezedguavadrinks.Clairepretendedtosipathers,ashermotherhadwarnedheraboutthecholerathatwasrampantintheseparts.Themenwerebachelorsandverypleasant.John,Nigel,Leslie.Theyexplainedthattheyall lived together in a mess-there were many, known by their companies, Dodwell’sMess, Jardine’sMess,etcetera,andtheyassuredClaireandMartinthatDodwell’sthrewthebestpartiesaround.

Theyaccompaniedthemtothegovernment-approvedhotelinTsimShaTsui,whereaChinesemanwith a longqueue, dirtywhite tunic, and shockingly long fingernails showed them to their room.Theymadeanarrangementtomeetfortiffinthenextdayandthemendeparted,leavingMartinandClairesittingonthebed,exhaustedandstaringatoneanother.Theydidn’tknoweachotherthatwell.Theyhadbeenmarriedbarelyfourmonths.

ShehadacceptedMartin’sproposaltoescapethedarkinteriorofherhouse,herbittermotherrailingagainsteverything,gettingworse,itseemed,withheradvancingage,andanuninspiringjobasafilinggirlataninsurancecompany.Martinwasolder,inhisforties,andhadneverhadluckwithwomen.Thefirsttimehekissedher,shehadtostifletheurgetowipehermouth.Hewaslikeacow,slowandsteady.Andkind.Sheknewthis.Shewasgratefulforit.

Shehadnothadmanychanceswithmen.Herparentsstayedhomeall the time,andsoshehadaswell.WhenshehadstartedseeingMartin-hewas theolderbrotherofoneof thegirlsatwork-shehadeatendinneratrestaurants,drunkacocktailatahotelbar,andseenotheryoungwomenandmentalking,laughingwithanassuranceshecouldnotfathom.Theyhadopinionsaboutpolitics;theyhadreadbooksshe had never heard of and seen foreign films and talked about themwith such confidence. She wasenthralledandnotalittleintimidated.AndthenMartinhadcometoher,serious,hisjobwastakinghimtotheOrient,andwouldshecomewithhim?Shewasnotsoattractedtohim,butwhowasshetobepicky,shethought,hearingthevoiceofhermother.Shelethimkissherandnoddedyes.

Clairehad started todrawabath in theirhotel roomwhenanotherknockon thedoor revealed asmallChinesewoman,anamah,shewascalled,whostartedtounpacktheirsuitcasesuntilMartinshooedheroff.

AndthatwashowtheyarrivedinHongKong,whichwaslikenothingClairehadimagined.Apartfrom the usual colonial haunts-all hush and genteel potted palms and polished wood in whitewashed

buildings-itwasloudandcrowdedanddirtyandbustling.Thebuildingswererightnexttooneanotherandoftenhadclothinghungouttodryonbamboopoles.Thereweregarishverticalsignshungoneveryone,andtheyadvertisedmassageparlorsandpubsandhairsalons.Someonehadtoldherthatopiumdensstillexistedinback-alleybuildings.Therewasoftenrefuseonthestreet,sometimesevenhumanrefuse,andtherewasapungent,pepperyodor in townthatwasoddlyclingy,attachingitself toyourveryskinuntil youwenthome for agood scrub.Therewere all sorts of people.The localwomencarried theirbabies in a sort of back sling. Sikhs served as uniformed security guards-you saw themdozing off onwooden stools outside the banks, turbaned heads hanging heavily off their chests, rifles held looselybetweentheirknees.TheIndianshadbeenbroughtoverbytheBritish,ofcourse.Pakistanisrancarpetstores,Portugueseweredoctors, and Jews ran thedairy farmsandother largebusinesses.TherewereEnglish businessmen andAmerican bankers,WhiteRussian aristocrats, andPeruvian entrepreneurs-allpeculiarlywelltraveledandsophisticated-and,ofcourse,thereweretheChinese,quitedifferentinHongKongfromtheonesinChina,shewastold.

Tohersurprise,shedidn’tdetestHongKong,ashermotherhadtoldhershewould-shefoundthestreetsbusyanddistracting,soverydifferentfromCroydon,andfilledwithpeopleandshopsandgoodsshehadneverseenbefore.Shelikedtosamplethelocalbakerygoods,thepineapplebunsandyelloweggtarts, and sometimes wandered outside Central, where she would quickly find herself in unfamiliarsurroundings,whereshemightbetheonlynon-Chinesearound.Thefruitstallswereheapedwithnotonlyorangesandbananas,still luxuriesinpostwarEngland,butspiky,strange-lookingfruitsshecametotryandlike:starfruit,durian,lychee.Shewouldbuyadollar’sworthandbehandedasmall,waxybrownbagandshewouldeat the fruit slowlyasshewalked.Thereweresmall stallsmadeofcrudelynailedwoodandcorrugatedtin,whichhousedspecialtyshops:thisonesoldchops,thestonestampstheChineseusedinplaceofsignatures;thisonemadeonlykeys;thisonehadachairthatwasrentedforhalf-daysbyastreetdentistandabarber.Thelocalsateonthestreetintinylittlerestaurantscalleddaipaidong,andshehadseen threeworkermen indirtysingletsand trouserscrouchedoveraplatecontainingawholefish,spittingoutthebonesattheirfeet.Onehadseenherwatchingthem,anddeliberatelypickedupthefish’seyeballwithhischopsticksandraisedituptoher,smiling,beforeheateit.

Clairehadn’tmetmanyChinesepeoplebefore,buttheonesshehadseeninthebigtownsinEnglandwere serving you in restaurants or ironing clothes.Thereweremany of those types inHongKong, ofcourse,butwhathadbeeneye-openingwasthesightoftheaffluentChinese,theoneswhoseemedEnglishinallbuttheirskincolor.IthadbeenquitesomethingtoseeaChinesestepoutofaRolls-Royce,asshehadonedaywhenshewaswaitingonthestepsoftheGloucesterHotel,orinbusinesssuits,eatinglunchwithotherEnglishmenwhotalkedtothemasiftheywerethesame.Shehadn’tknownthatsuchworldsexisted.AndthenwithLocket,shewasthrustintotheirworld.

Afterafewmonthssettlingin,findingaflatandsettingitup,Clairehadputthewordoutthatshewaslookingforajobteachingthepiano,somewhatasalark,sheputit-somethingtofilltheday-butthetruth was, they could really use the extramoney. She had played the pianomost of her life and wasprimarilyself-taught.Amelia,anacquaintanceshehadmetatasewingcircle,saidshewouldaskaround.

Sherangafewdayslater.“There’saChinesefamily,theChens.Theyruneverythingintown.Apparently,they’relookingfora

pianoteacherfortheirdaughter,andthey’dpreferanEnglishwoman.Whatdoyouthink?”“AChinesefamily?”Clairesaid.“Ihadn’tthoughtaboutthatpossibility.Aren’tthereanyEnglish

familieslooking?”“No,”Ameliasaid.“NotthatI’vebeenabletoascertain.”“I just don’t know…”Claire demurred. “Wouldn’t it be odd? ” She couldn’t imagine teaching a

Chinesegirl.“DoesshespeakEnglish?”

“Probably better than you or me,” Amelia said impatiently. “They’re offering very adequatecompensation.”Shenamedalargesum.

“Well,”Clairesaidslowly,“Isupposeitcouldn’tdoanyharmtomeetthem.”

Victor andMelodyChen lived in theMid-Levels, in an enormouswhite two-storyhouseonMayRoad.Therewasadriveway,withpottedplantsliningthesides.Inside,therewasthequiet,efficientbuzzof a household staffedwith plentiful servants.Claire had taken a bus, andwhen she arrived, shewasperspiringafterthewalkfromtheroadtothehouse.Theamahhadledhertoasittingroom,whereshefoundafanblowingblessedlycoolair.Ahouseboyadjustedthedrapessothatshewasproperlyshaded.Herbluelinenskirt,justdeliveredfromthetailor,waswrinkled,andshehadonawhitevoileblousethatwassplotchedwithmoisture.ShehopedtheChenswouldallowhersometimetocomposeherself.Sheshifted,feelingadropofperspirationtrickledownherthigh.

Nosuchluck.Mrs.Chenswoopedthroughthedoor,avisionincoolpink,holdingatrayofdrinks.Asmall, exquisitewoman,with hair cut just so, so that it swung in precise, geometricmovements. Hershoulderswerefragileandexposedinhersleevelessshift,herfaceatinyoval.

“Hello!”Mrs.Chentrilled.“Lovelytomeetyou.I’mMelody.Locket’sjustonherway.”“Locket?”Clairesaid,uncertain.“Mydaughter. She’s just back from school and getting changed into somethingmore comfortable.

Isn’t the heat dreadful?”She set down the tray,which held longglasses of iced tea. “Have somethingcool,please.”

“YourEnglishisremarkablygood,”Clairesaidasshetookaglass.“Oh,isit?”Melodysaidcasually.“FouryearsatWellesleywilldothatforyou,Isuppose.”“You were at university in America?” Claire asked. She hadn’t known that Chinese went to

universityinAmerica.“Lovedeveryminute,”shesaid.“Exceptfor thehorrible,horriblefood.Americansthinkagrilled

cheesesandwichisameal!Andasyouknow,weChinesetakefoodveryseriously.”“IsLocketgoingtobeschooledinAmerica?”“Wehaven’tdecided,butreally,I’drathertalktoyouaboutyourschooling,”Mrs.Chensaid.“Oh.”Clairewastakenaback.“Youknow,”shecontinuedpleasantly.“Whereyoustudiedmusic,andallthat.”Clairesettledbackinherseat.“Iwasaseriousstudentforanumberofyears.IstudiedwithMrs.EloisePollockandwasaboutto

applyforapositionattheRoyalConservatorywhenmyfamilysituationchanged.”Mrs.Chensat,waiting,headtilted,withonebirdlikeanklecrossedovertheother,herkneesslanted

tooneside.“And so, Iwas unable to continue,”Claire said.Was she supposed to explain it in detail to this

stranger?Herfatherhadbeenletgofromtheprintingcompanyandithadbeenablackcoupleofmonthsbeforehefoundanewjobasaninsurancesalesman.Hispayhadbeenerraticatbest-hewasnotanaturalsalesman-andluxurieslikepianolessonswereunthinkable.Mrs.Pollock,averykindwoman,hadofferedto continue her instruction at amuch-reduced fee, but hermother, sensitive and pointlessly proud, hadrefusedtoevenentertaintheidea.

“Andwhatlevelofstudiesdidyouachieve?”“Iwasstudyingformyseventhgradeexaminations.”“Locket is abeginning studentbut Iwanther tobe taught seriously,bya seriousmusician,”Mrs.

Chensaid.“Sheshouldpassallherexaminationswithdistinction.”“Well, I’m certainly serious about music, and as for passing with distinction, that will be up to

Locket,”Clairesaid.“Ididverywellonmyexaminations.”

Locketenteredtheroom,orrather,shebumbledintoit.Wherehermotherwassmallandfine,Locketwas chubby, all rounded limbs and padded cheeks. She was wider than her mother already, and hadglossyhairtiedinathickponytail.

“Hallo,”shesaid.ShehadaverydistinctEnglishaccent.“Locket,thisisMrs.Pendleton,”Melodysaid,strokingherdaughter’scheek.“She’scometoseeif

she’llbeyourpianoteachersoyoumustbeverypolite.”“Doyoulikethepiano,Locket?”Clairesaid,tooslowly,sherealized,foraten-year-oldchild.She

hadnoexperiencewithchildren.“Idunno,”Locketsaid.“Isupposeso.”“Locket! ” hermother cried. “You said youwanted to learn. That’swhywe bought you the new

Steinway.”“Locket’saprettyname,”Clairesaid.“Howdidyoucomeaboutit?”“Dunno,”saidLocket.Shereachedforaglassoficedteaanddrank.Asmalltricklewendeditsway

downherchin.Hermothertookanapkinoffthesilvertrayanddabbedatherdaughter’schin.“WillMr.Chenbearrivingsoon?”Claireasked.“Oh, Victor! ” Melody laughed. “He’s far too busy for these household matters. He’s always

working.”“Isee,”Clairesaid.Shewasuncertainastowhatcamenext.“Wouldyouplayussomething?”Melodyasked.“Wejustgot thepianoanditwouldbelovelyto

hearitplayedprofessionally.”“Ofcourse,”Clairesaid,becauseshedidn’tknowwhatelse tosay.Shefeltas ifshewerebeing

made to perform like a common entertainer-something in Melody’s tone-but she couldn’t think of agraciouswaytodemur.

Sheplayedasimpleétude,whichMelodyseemedtoenjoyandLocketsquirmedthrough.“Ithinkthiswillbefine,”Mrs.Chensaid.“AreyouavailableonThursdays?”Clairehesitated.Shedidn’tknowwhethershewasgoingtotakethejob.“ItwouldhavetobeThursdaysbecauseLockethaslessonstheotherdays,”Mrs.Chensaid.“Fine,”saidClaire.“Iaccept.”

Locket’smotherwasofaHongKongtype.ClairesawwomenlikeherlunchingattheChezHenri,laughingandgossipingwithoneanother.Theywerecalledtaitaisandyoucouldspotthematthesmart-clothingboutiques, tryingon the latest fashionsorclimbing into theirchauffeur-drivencars.SometimesMrs.Chenwouldcomehomeandputaslim,perfumedhandonLocket’sshoulderandcommentliltinglyonthemusic.Andthen,Clairecouldn’thelpit,shereallycouldn’t,shewouldthinktoherself,Youpeopledrown your daughters! Her mother had told her that, about how the Chinese were just a little aboveanimals and that theywould drown their daughters because they preferred sons.Once,Mrs.Chen hadmentionedafunctionattheJockeyClubthatsheandherhusbandweregoingto.Shehadbeenalldressedupindiamonds,ablackflowingdress,andred,red lipstick.Shehadnot lookedlikeananimal.BruceComstock,theheadoftheWateroffice,hadtakenMartinandClairetotheclubonce,withhiswife,andtheydrankpinkginwhilewatchingthehorseraces,andthestandshadbeenfilledwithshoutinggamblers.

Theweekbeforethefigurinefell intoClaire’spurse,shehadbeenleavingthelessonwhenVictorandMelodyChencamein.Ithadrungfiveontheornatemahoganygrandfatherclockthathadmother-of-pearlChinesecharacters inlaidalldownthefrontof itandshehadbeenputtingher thingsawaywhentheywalkedintotheroom.Theywereatinycoupleandtheylookedlikeporcelaindolls,withtheirshinyskinandcoaleyes.

“Outthedooralready?”Mr.Chensaiddrily.Hewasdressednattilyinanavybluepin-stripedsuit

with a burgundy pocket square peeping out just so. “It’s five on the dot! ”He spokeEnglishwith thefaintesthintofaChineseaccent.

Claireflushed.“Iwashereearly.Tenminutesbeforefour,Ibelieve,”shesaid.Shetookprideinherpunctuality.“Oh,don’tbesilly,”Mrs.Chensaid.“Victorisjustteasingyou.Stopit!”Sheswattedherhusband

withherlittlehand.“YouEnglisharesoseriousallthetime,”hesaid.“Well,”Clairesaiduncertainly.“LocketandIhadaproductivehourtogether.”Locketslippedoffthe

pianobenchandunderherfather’sarm.“Hello,Daddy,”shesaidshyly.Shelookedyoungerthanhertenyears.Hepattedhershoulder.“How’smylittleRachmaninoff?”hesaid.Locketgiggleddelightedly.Mrs.Chenwasclatteringaroundinherhighheels.“Mrs.Pendleton,”sheasked,“wouldyouliketojoinusforadrink?”Shehadonasuitthatlooked

likeitcameoutofthefashionmagazines.ItwasalmostcertainlyaParisoriginal.Thejacketwasmadeofagoldensilkandbuttonedsmartlyup the front,and therewasashimmeryyellowskirtunderneath thatflowedanddrapedlikegossamer.

“Oh,no,”sheanswered.“It’sverykindofyou,butIshouldgohomeandstartsupper.”“I insist,” Mr. Chen said. “I must hear about my little genius.” His voice didn’t allow for any

disagreement.“Runalongnow,Locket.Theadultsarehavingaconversation.”Therewasalargevelvetdivaninthelivingroom,andseveralchairs,upholsteredinredsilk,along

withtwomatchingblacklacqueredtables.Clairesatdowninanarmchairthatwasfarmoreslipperythanit looked. She sank too deeply into it, then had tomove forward in an ungainlymanner until shewasperchedprecariouslyontheedge.Shesteadiedherselfwithherarms.

“Howareyou findingHongKong?”Mr.Chen said.Melodyhadgone into thekitchen to ask theamahtobringthemdrinks.

“Quitewell,”shesaid.“It’scertainlydifferent,butit’sanadventure.”Shesmiledathim.Hewasawell-groomedman,inhiswell-pressedsuitandredandblacksilktie.Abovehim,therewasanoilofaChinesemandressedinChineserobesandablackskullcap.“Whataninterestingpainting,”sheremarked.

Helookedup.“Oh,that,”hesaid.“That’sMelody’sgrandfather,whohadalargedyefactoryinShanghai.Hewas

quitefamous.”“Dyes?”shesaid.“Howfascinating.”“Yes, and her father started the First Bank of Shanghai, and did very well indeed.” He smiled.

“Melodycomes froma familyofentrepreneurs.Her familywasalleducated in theWest-EnglandandAmerica.”

Mrs. Chen came back into the room. She had taken off her jacket to reveal a pearly blouseunderneath.

“Claire,”shesaid.“Whatwillyouhave?”“Justsodawaterforme,please,”shesaid.“AndI’llhaveasherry,”Mr.Chensaid.“Iknow!”Mrs.Chensaid.Sheleftagain.“Andyourhusband,”hesaid.“He’satabank?”“He’sattheDepartmentofWaterServices,”shesaid.“Workingonthenewreservoir.”Shepaused.

“He’sheadingitup.”“Oh,verygood,”Mr.Chensaidcarelessly.“Water’scertainlyimportant.AndtheEnglishdoafair

jobmakingsureit’sinthetapswhenweneedit.”Hesatbackandcrossedonelegovertheother.“ImissEngland,”hesaidsuddenly.

“Oh,didyouspendtimethere?”Claireinquiredpolitely.“IwasatBalliol,”hesaid,flappinghistie,nowobviouslyacollegetie,ather.Clairefeltasifhe

hadbeenwaitingtotellherthisfact.“AndMelodywenttoWellesley,sowe’reaproductoftwodifferentsystems.IdefendEngland,andMelodyjustlovestheUnitedStates.”

“Indeed,”Clairemurmured.Mrs.Chencamebackintotheroomandsatdownnexttoherhusband.TheamahcameinnextandofferedClaireanapkin.Ithadbluecornflowersonit.

“Thesearelovely,”shesaid,inspectingtheembroideredlinen.“They’refromIreland!”Mrs.Chensaid.“Ijustgotthem!”“IjustboughtsomelovelyChinesetableclothsattheChinaEmporium,”Clairesaid.“Beautifullace

cutwork.”“Youcan’tcomparethemwiththeIrishones,though,”Mrs.Chensaid.“Verycrude.”Mr.Chenviewedhiswifewithamusement.“Women!”hesaidtoClaire.Anotheramahbroughtinatrayofdrinks.Claire sipped at her drink and felt the gassy bubbles in her mouth. Victor Chen looked at her

expectantly.“The Communists are a great threat,” she said. This is what she had heard again and again at

gatherings.Mr.Chenlaughed.“Ofcourse!AndwhatwillyouandMelodydoaboutthem?”“Shutup,darling.Don’ttease,”saidhiswife.Shetookasipofherdrink.Victorwatchedher.“What’sthatyou’redrinking,love?”“Alittlecocktail,”shesaid.“I’vehadalongday.”Shesoundeddefensive.Therewasapause.“Locketisagoodstudent,”Clairesaid,“butsheneedstopracticemore.”“It’snotherfault,”Mrs.Chensaidbreezily.“I’mnotheretooverseeherpracticeenough.”Mr.Chenlaughed.“Oh,she’llbefine,”hesaid.“I’msuresheknowswhatshe’sdoing.”Clairenodded.Parentswereallthesame.Whenshehadchildren,shewouldbesurenottoindulge

them.Shesetherdrinkdown.“Ishouldbegoing,”shesaid.“It’shardertogetaseatonthebusafterfive.”“Areyousure?”Mrs.Chensaid.“Paiwasgettingussomebiscuits.”“Oh,no,”shedemurred.“Ireallyshouldbeleaving.”“We’llhaveTruesdaledriveyouhome,”Mr.Chenoffered.“Oh,no,”Clairesaid.“Icouldn’tputyouout.”“Doyouknowhim?”Mr.Chenasked.“He’sEnglish.”“Ihaven’thadthepleasure,”Clairesaid.“HongKongisverysmall,”Mr.Chensaid.“It’stiresomethatway.”“It’snotroubleatallforTruesdale,”Mrs.Chensaid.“He’llbegoinghomeanyway.Wheredoyou

live?”“HappyValley,”answeredClaire,feelingputonthespot.“Oh, that’snearwherehe lives!”Mrs.Chencried,delightedat thecoincidence.“So, it’ssettled.”

ShecalledforPaiinCantoneseandtoldhertocallthedriver.“Chineseissuchanintriguinglanguage,”Clairesaid.“Ihopetopicksomeupduringourtimehere.”Mr.Chenraisedaneyebrow.“Cantonese,”hesaid,“isverydifficult.Therearesomeninedifferenttonesforonesound.It’smuch

moredifficultthanEnglish.IpickeduprudimentaryEnglishinayear,butI’msureIwouldn’thavebeenabletolearnCantoneseorMandarinorShanghaineseintwicethat.”

“Well,”shesaidbrightly,“Onealwayshopes.”

Paiwalkedinandspoke.Mrs.Chennodded.“I’mterriblysorry,”shesaid,“butthedriverseemstohaveleftalready.”“I’llbefinetakingthebus,”Clairesaid.Mr.Chenstoodupasshepickedupherthings.“Itwasverynicetomeetyou,”hesaid.“Andyou,”shesaid,andwalkedout,feelingtheireyesonherback.

Athome,Martinhadarrivedalready.“Hullo,”hesaid.“You’relatetoday.”Hewasinanundershirtandhisweekendtrousers,whichwere

stainedandshinyattheknees.Hehadadrinkinhishand.Shetookoffherjacketandputonapotofwatertoboil.“IwasattheChens’housetoday,”shesaid.“Herparentsaskedmetostayforadrink.”“VictorChen,isit?”heasked,impressed.“He’sratherabigdealhere.”“Igathered,”shesaid.“Hewasquitesomething.NotatalllikeaChinaman.”“Youshouldn’tusethatword,Claire,”Martinsaid.“It’sveryold-fashionedandabitinsulting.”Clairecolored.“I’vejustnever…”Shetrailedoff.“I’veneverseenChinesepeoplelikethis.”“YouareinHongKong,”Martinsaid,notunkindly.“TherearealltypesofChinese.”“Whereistheamah?”sheasked,wantingtochangethesubject.YuLingcamefromthebackwhenClairecalled.“Canyouhelpwithdinner?”Clairesaid.“Iboughtsomemeatatthemarket.”Yu Ling looked at her impassively. She had away ofmakingClaire feel uncomfortable, but she

couldn’tbringherselftosackher.Shewonderedhowtheotherwivesdidit-theyappearedtohandlethehelpwithaneasyaplombthatseemedunfamiliarandunattainabletoClaire.Someevenjokedwiththemandtreatedthemlikefamilymembers,butshe’dheardthatwasmoretheAmericaninfluence.HerfriendCeciliahadheramahbrushherhairforherbeforeshewenttobed,whileshesatatherdressingtableandputoncoldcream.ClairehandedYuLingthemeatshehadboughtonthewayhome.

Amahputtowork,shewentandlaydownonthebedwithacoldcompressoverhereyes.Howhadshegottenhere,tothissmallflatontheothersideoftheworld?SherememberedherquietchildhoodinCroydon,anonlychildsittingathermother’ssidewhileshemendedclothes, listening toher talk.Hermotherhadbeenbitteratwhatlifehadhandedher,ahand-to-mouthexistence,especiallyafter thewar,andherfatherdranktoomuch,maybebecauseofit.Clairehadneverimaginedlifebeingmuchmorethanthat.ButmarryingMartinhadthrowneverythingupintheairandchangeditall.

Butthiswasthething:she,herself,hadchangedinHongKong.Somethingaboutthetropicalclimehadripenedherappearance,broughteverythingintoharmony.WheretheotherEnglishwomenlookedasiftheywere about towilt in the heat, she thrived, like a hothouse flower.Her hair had lightened in thetropicalsununtilitwasveritablygold.Sheperspiredlightlysothatherskinlookeddewy,notdrenched.Shelostweightsothatherbodyhungtogethercompactlyandhereyessparkled,cornflowerblue.Martinhadremarkedonit,howtheheatseemedtosuither.WhenshewasattheGrippsoratadinnerparty,shesawthatmenlookedatherlongerthannecessary,cameovertotalktoher,lettheirhandslingeronherback.Shewaslearninghowtospeaktopeopleatparties,orderinarestaurantwithconfidence.Shefeltasifshewerefinallybecomingawoman,notthegirlshehadbeenwhenshehadleftEngland.Shefeltasifshewereawomancomingintoherown.

Andthenthenextweek,afterLocket’slesson,theporcelainrabbithadfallenintoherpurse.

Theweek after, the phone rang and Locket leaped up to answer it, eager for any excuse to stopmangling the prelude she had been playing, andwhile she had been chattering away to a schoolmate,Clairesawasilkscarflyingonachair.Itwasabeautiful,printedscarf,thekindwomentiedaroundtheir

necks.Sheputitinherbag.Awonderfulsenseofcalmcameoverher.AndwhenLocketcamebackintotheroomwithonlyamumbled“Sorry,Mrs.Pendleton,”Clairesmiledinsteadofgivingthelittlegirlapieceofhermind.Whenshegothome,shewent into thebedroom, locked thedoor,andpulledout thescarf. It was anHermès scarf, from Paris, and had pictures of zebras and lions in vivid oranges andbrowns.Shepracticedtyingitaroundherneck,andoverherhead,likeanadventurousheiressonsafari.Shefeltveryglamorous.

The next month, after a conversation whereMrs. Chen told her she sent all her fine washing toSingapore,because“thegirlsheredon’tknowhowtodoitproperly,and,ofcourse,thatmeansIhavetohave triple the amount of linens, what a bother,” Claire found herself walking out with two of thosewonderful Irishnapkins inher skirtpocket.ShehadYuLinghandwashand iron themso that sheandMartincouldusethemwithdinner.ShepocketedthreeFrenchcloisonnéturtleswhileLockethadabruptlygonetothebathroom-asifthechildcouldn’ttakecareofnature’sbusinessbeforeClairearrived!Apairofsterlingsaltandpeppershakersfoundtheirwayintoherpurseasshewaspassingthroughthediningroom,andanexquisiteMuranoperfumebottleleftoutinthelivingroom,asifMelodyChenhaddashedsomescentonasshewasbreezingherwaythroughthefoyeronherwaytoagalaevent,waspalmedanddiscreetlytuckedintoClaire’sskirtpocket.

Anotherafternoon,shewasleavingwhensheheardVictorCheninhisstudy.Hewastalkingloudlyintothetelephoneandhadlefthisdoorslightlyajar.

“It’s the bloodyBritish,” he said, before lapsing intoCantonese.Then, “can’t let them,” and thensome more incomprehensible language that sounded very much like swearing. “They want to createunrest,diggingupskeletonsthatshouldbeleftinthecloset,andallfortheirownpurposes.TheCrownCollectiondidn’tbelongtotheminthefirstplace.It’sallourhistory,ourartifacts,thattheyjusttookfortheirown.How’dtheylikeitifChineseexplorerscametotheircountryyearsagoandmadeoffwithalltheirtreasures?It’soutrageous.DowningStreet’sbehindallofthis,Icanassureyou.There’snoneedforthisrightnow.”HewasveryagitatedandClairefoundherselfwaitingoutside,breathheld,toseeifshecouldn’thearanythingmore.Shestood thereuntilPaicamealongand lookedatherquestioningly.Shepretendedshehadbeenlookingatthebrushpaintinginthehallway,butshecouldfeelPai’seyesonherasshewalkedtowardthedoor.Sheletherselfoutandwenthome.

Twoweekslater,whenClairewentforherlesson,shefoundPaigoneandanewgirlopeningthedoor.

“ThisisSuMei,”Lockettoldherwhentheyenteredtheroom.“She’sfromChina,fromafarm.Shejustarrived.Doyouwantsomethingtodrink?”

The newgirlwas small and dark andwould have been pretty if it hadn’t been for a large blackbirthmarkonherrightcheek.Sheneverlookedupfromthefloor.

“Her familydidn’twantherbecause themarkonher facewouldmakeherhard tomarryoff. It’ssupposedlyverybadluck.”

“Didyourmothertellyouthat?”Claireasked.“Yes,”Locketsaid.Shehesitated.“Well,Iheardhersayitonthetelephone,andshesaidshegother

verycheapbecauseof it.SuMeidoesn’tknowanything!She tried togo to thebathroomin thebushesoutsideandAhWingbeatherandtoldhershewaslikeananimal.She’sneverusedafaucetbeforeorhadrunningwater!”

“I’dlikeabitterlemon,please,ifyouhaveit,”Clairesaid,wantingtochangethesubject.Locketspoketothegirlquickly.Shelefttheroomsilently.“Paiwasstealingfromus,”Locketsaid,eyeswidewiththescandal.“SoMummyhadtolethergo.

Paicriedandcried,andthenshebeat thefloorwithherfists.Mummysaidshewashystericalandsheslappedherinthefacetostophercrying.TheyhadtogetMr.WongtocarryPaiout.Heputheroverhisshoulderlikeasackofpotatoesandshewashittinghisbackwithherfists.”

“Oh!”Clairesaidbeforeshecouldstiflethecry.Locketlookedathercuriously.“Mummysaysallservantssteal.”“Doesshe,now?”Claireasked.“Howterrible.Butyouknow,Locket,I’mnotsurethat’strue.”She

rememberedthewayPaihadlookedatherwhenshecameuponherinthehallwayandherchestfelttight.“Wheredidshego,doyouknow?”sheaskedLocket.“Noidea,”thegirlsaidcheerfully.“Goodriddance,Isay.”Clairelookedattheplacidfaceofthegirl,unruffledbyconscience.“Theremustbesheltersorplacesforpeople likeher.”Claire’svoicequivered.“She’snoton the

street,isshe?DoesshehavefamilyinHongKong?”“Haven’taclue.”“Howcanyounotknow?Shelivedwithyou!”“Shewasamaid,Mrs.Pendleton.”Locket lookedathercuriously. “Doyouknowanythingabout

yourservants?”Clairewasshamedintosilence.Thebloodroseinhercheeks.“Well,”shesaid.“Isupposethat’senoughofthat.Didyoupracticethescales?”Locketpoundedon thepianokeysasClaire lookedhardat thegirl’schubby fingers, tryingnot to

blinksothatthetearswouldnotfall.

June1941IT BEGINS like that. Her lilting laugh at a consular party. A spilled drink. A wet dress and a

handkerchief hastily proffered.She is a sleek greyhound among the others-plump, brayingwomenof acertainclass.Hedoesn’twanttomeether-heissuspiciousofherkind,allchiffonandchampagne,nothingunderneath, but she has knocked his glass down her silk shift (“There I go again,” she says. “I’m theclumsiestpersoninallHongKong”)andthencommandeershimtoescorthertothebathroomwhereshedaubsatherselfwhilepepperinghimwithquestions.

Sheisfamous,bornofawell-knowncouple,themotheraPortuguesebeauty,thefatheraShanghaimillionairewithfortunesintradingandmoneylending.

“Finally,someonenew!Wecantellrightaway,youknow.I’vebeenstuckwiththoseoldbagsforages.We’reverygoodatsniffingoutnewbloodsincethecommunityissowretchedlysmallandwe’reallsodreadfullysickofeachother.Wepracticallywaitatthedockstodragthenewpeopleofftheships.Justarrived,yes?Havea jobyet?”sheasks,havingsathimon theedgeof the tubwhileshereappliesherlipstick.“Isitforfunorfunds?”

“I’m at Asiatic Petrol,” he says, wary of being cast as the amusing newcomer. “And it’s mostcertainlyforfunds.”Althoughthat’snotthetruth.Amotherwithmoney.

“Howdelightful! ” she says. “I’m so sickofmeeting all these stuffypeople.Theydon’t have theslightestknowledgeorambition.”

“Thosewithoutexpectationshavebeenknowntolackbothofthosequalities,”hesays.“Aren’tyouagrumpygrump?”shesays.“Butstupidityismuchmoreforgivableinthepoor,don’t

youthink?”Shepauses,asiftolethimthinkaboutthat.“Yourname?AndhowdoyouknowtheTrotters?”“I’m Will Truesdale, and I play cricket with Hugh. He knows some of my family, through my

mother’sside,”hesays.“I’mnewtoHongKongandhe’sbeenverydecenttome.”“Hmmm,”shesays.“I’veknownHughforadecadeandI’veneverever thoughtofhimasdecent.

AnddoyoulikeHongKong?”“It’lldofornow,”hesays.“Icameofftheship,decidedtostay,rustledupsomethingtodointhe

meantime.Seemspleasantenoughhere.”“Anadventurer,howfascinating,”shesays,withouttheslightestbitofinterest.Thenshefinishesup

herablutions,snapshereveningbagshut,and,firmlytakinghimbythewrist,waltzes-there isnootherverb;musicseemstoaccompanyher-outofthepowderroom.

Consciousofbeingsteeredaroundtheroomlikeapetpoodle,hermomentarydiversion,heexcuseshimselftogosmokeinthegarden.Butpeaceisnottobehis.Shefindshimoutthere,hashimlighthercigarette,andleansconfidentiallytowardhim.

“Tellme,”shesays.“Whydoyourwomengetsofataftermarriage?IfIwereanEnglishmanI’dbequiteputoutwhenthecomelyyounglassIproposedtoexplodedafterafewmonthsofmarriageorafterpoppingoutachild.YouknowwhatI’mtalkingabout?”Sheblowssmokeuptothedarksky.

“Notatall,”hesays,amuseddespitehimself.“I’mnotasflightyasyouthink,”shesays.“Idolikeyousoverymuch.I’llringyoutomorrow,and

we’ll make a plan.” And then she is gone, wafting smoke and glamour as she trips her way into theresolutelynonsmokinghouseof theirhosts-Hughloathes thesmell.Heseesher in thenexthour, flittingfromgrouptogroup,chatteringaway.Thewomenaredimmedbyher,themenbedazzled.

Thephoneringsathisofficethenextday.HehadbeentellingSimondsabouttheparty.“She’sEurasian,isshe?”Simondssays.“Watchoutthere.It’snotasbadasdatingaChinese,butthe

higher-upsdon’tlikeitifyoufraternizetoomuchwiththelocals.”“Thatisanoutrageousstatement,”Willsays.HehadlikedSimondsuptothatpoint.

“Youknowhowit is,”Simondssays.“AtHongKongBank,yougetaskedtoleaveifyoumarryaChinese.Butthisgirlsoundsdifferent,shesoundsrathermorethanalocalgirl.It’snotlikeshe’srunninganoodleshop.”

“Yes, she is different,” he says. “Not that itmatters,” he adds as he answers the phone. “I’mnotmarryingher.”

“Darling,it’sTrudyLiang,”shesays.“Whoaren’tyoumarrying?”“Nobody.”Helaughs.“Thatwouldhavebeenquickwork.”“Evenforyou?”“Wasn’t it shockinghowmanywomen therewereat thepartyyesterday?”she says, ignoringhim.

Thewomeninthecolonyaresupposedtobegone,evacuatedtosaferareas,whilethewarissimmering,threateningtoboiloverintotheirsmallcorneroftheworld.“I’messential,youknow.I’manursewiththeAuxiliaryNursingService!”Theonlywaywomenhadbeenallowed to staywas to signupasanessentialoccupation.

“NoneofthenursesI’veeverhadlookedlikeyou,”hesays.“Ifyouwereinjured,youwouldn’twantmeasanurse,believeme.”Shepauses.“Listen,I’llbeat

theracesattheWongs’boxthisafternoon.Doyoucaretojoinus?”“TheWongs?”heasks.“Yes,they’remygodparents,”shesaysimpatiently.“Areyoucomingornot?”“Allright,”hesays.Thisisthefirstinalonglineofacquiescences.

***

Will muddles his way through the club and into the upper tier, where the boxes are filled withchatteringpeopleinjacketsandsilkydresses.Hecomesthroughthedoorofnumber28andTrudyspieshimrightaway,pouncesonhim,andintroduceshimtoeverybody.ThereareChinesefromPeru,PolishbywayofTokyo,aFrenchmanmarriedtoRussianroyalty.Englishisspoken.

Trudypullshimtooneside.“Oh,dear,”shesays.“You’rejustashandsomeasIremember.IthinkImightbeintrouble.You’ve

neverhadanyissueswithwomen,I’msure.Orperhapsyou’vehadtoomany.”Shepausesandtakesatheatricalbreath.“I’llgiveyou the layof the landhere.That’smycousin,Dommie.”Shepointsoutanelegant,slimChinesemanwithagoldpocketwatchinhishand.“He’smybestfriendandveryprotective,soyoubetterwatchout.Andavoidher,byanymeans,”shesays,pointing toaslightEuropeanwomanwith spectacles. “Awful. She’s just spent twenty minutes telling me the most extraordinary and yetincrediblyboringstoryaboutbarkingdeeronLammaIsland.”

“Really?”hesays,lookingatherovalface,herlargegolden-greeneyes.“Andhe,”shesays,pointingtoanowlishEnglishman,“isabore.Somesortofarthistorian,keeps

talking about the Crown Collection, which is apparently something most colonies have. They eitheracquireitlocallyorhavepiecesshippedfromEnglandforthepublicbuildings-importantpaintingsandstatues and things like that.HongKong ’s isvery impressive, apparently, andhe’sveryworried aboutwhatwillhappenoncethewarbreaksloose.”Shemakesaface.“Alsoabigot.”

Shesearchestheroomforothersandhereyesnarrow.“There’smyothercousin,orcousinbymarriage.”ShepointsoutastockyChinesemaninadouble-

breasted suit. “Victor Chen. He thinks he’s very important indeed. But I just find him tedious. He’s

marriedtomycousin,Melody,whousedtobeniceuntilshemethim.”Shepauses.“Nowshe’s…”Hervoicetrailsoff.

“Well,hereyouare,”shesays,“andwhatagossipI’mbeing,”anddragshimtothefrontwhereshehas claimed the two best seats. They watch the races. She wins a thousand dollars and shrieks withpleasure.Sheinsistsongivingitallaway,tothewaiters,tothebathroomattendants,toalittlegirltheypassonthewayout.“Really,”shesaysdisapprovingly,“thisisnoplaceforchildren,don’tyouthink?”Latershetellshimshepracticallygrewupatthetrack.

HerrealnameisPrudence.“Trudy”camelater,whenitbecameapparentthathergivennamewaswhollyunsuitableforthelittlespritewhoterrorizedheramahsandcharmedallthewaitersintobringingherforbiddenfizzydrinksandsugarcubes.

“YoucancallmePrudence,though,”shesays.Herlongarmsaredrapedaroundhisshouldersandherjasminescentisoverwhelminghim.

“IthinkIwon’t,”hesays.“I’mterriblystrong,”shewhispers.“IhopeIdon’tdestroyyou.”Helaughs.“Don’tworryaboutthat,”hesays.Butlater,hewonders.

Theyspendmostweekendsatherfather’slargehouseinShekO,wherewizenedservantsbringthembuckets of ice and lemonade,which theymixwith Plymouth gin, and plates of salty shrimp crackers.Trudylies inthesunwearinganenormousfloppyhat,sayingshethinkstansarevulgar,nomatterwhatthatCocoChanelsays.

“ButIdosoenjoythefeelofthesunonme,”shesays,reachingforakiss.The Liangs’ house is spread out on a promontory where it overlooks a placid sea. They keep

chickensforfresheggs-thehenhousefaraway,ofcourse,becauseoftheodor-andaslightlyfrayingbutstillbelligerentpeacockroamstheground,assertinghimselftoanyintruders,exceptthegroundskeeper’sGreatDane,withwhomithasamutualtreaty.Trudy’sfatherisneverthere;mostlyheisinMacau,whereheissaidtohavethelargesthouseonthePraiaGrandeandaChinesemistress.Whyhedoesn’tmarryher,nobodyknows.Trudy’smotherdisappearedwhenshewaseight-afamouscasethatisstillunsolved.The lastanyonehadseenofhershehadbeenspottedstepping intoacaroutside theGloucesterHotel.This iswhathelikesmostaboutTrudy.Havingsomanyquestions inher life,sheneverasksquestionsabouthis.

Trudyhasabodylikeachild-allslimhipsandtinyfeet.Sheisasflatasaboard,herbreastsnoteven buds. Her arms are as slender as her wrists, her hair a sleek-smoky brown, her eyeswide andWestern,withthelid-fold.Shewearsform-fittingsheaths,sometimestheqipao,slimtunics,narrowpants,alwaysflatsilkslippers.Shewearsgoldorbrownlipstick,wearsherhairshoulder-length,straight,andhasblack,kohl-linedeyes.She looksnothing likeanyof theotherwomenatevents-with theirblowsy,flowingfloralskirts,carefullypermanent-wavedhair, redlipstick.Shehatescompliments-whenpeopletellhershe’sbeautiful,shesaysinstantly,“ButIhaveamustache!”Andshedoes,afaintgoldenoneyoucanseeonlyinthesun.Sheisalwaysinthepapers,although,sheexplains,it’smorebecauseofherfatherthanthatsheisbeautiful.“HongKongisverypracticalthatway,”shesays.“Wealthcanmakeawomanbeautiful.”SheisoftentheonlyChineseataparty,althoughshesaysshe’snotreallyChinese-she’snotreally anything, she says. She’s everything, invited everywhere.CercleSportif Français, theAmericanCountryClub,theDeutscherGartenClub,sheiswelcome,anhonorarymembertoeverything.

Herbestfriendishersecondcousin,Dommie,DominickWong,themanfromtheraces.Theymeet

everySundaynightfordinnerat theGrippsandgossipoverwhathas transpiredat thepartiesover theweekend. They grew up together. Her father and his mother are cousins. Will is starting to see thateveryone inHongKong is related in oneway or another, everyonewhomatters, that is.VictorChen,Trudy’sothercousin,isalwaysinthepapersforhisbusinessdealings,orheandhiswife,Melody,aresmilingoutfromphotographsinthesocietypages.

Dominick is a fine-chiseled boy-man, a bit effeminate,with a long string of lissome, dissatisfiedgirlfriends.Will isneverinvitedtoTrudy’sdinnerswithDommie.“Don’tbecross.Youwouldn’thavefun,”shesays,trailingacoolfingeroverhischeek.“WechatterawayinShanghaineseanditwouldbesotedioustohavetoexplaineverythingtoyou.AndDommie’sjustaboutagirlanyways.”

“Idon’twanttogo,”hesays,tryingtokeephisdignity.“Ofcourseyoudon’t,darling,”shelaughs.Shepullshimclose.“I’lltellyouasecret.”“What?” Her jasmine smell brings to mind that waxy yellow flower, her skin as smooth, as

impermeable.“Dommiewasbornwithelevenfingers.Sixonthelefthand.Hisfamilyhaditremovedwhenhewas

ababy,butitkeepsgrowingback!Isn’tthatthemostextraordinarything?Itellhimit’sthedevilinside.Youcankeeppruningit,butit’llalwayscomeback.”Shewhispers.“Don’ttellasoul.You’rethefirstpersonI’veevertold!AndDominickwouldhavemyheadifheknew!He’squiteashamedofit!”

HongKong is a small village.At theRAFball,Dr.Richardswas found in the linen roomof theGloucesterwithachambermaid;at theSewells’dinnerparty,BlancaMorehousehadtoomuchtodrinkandstarted to takeoffherblouse-youknowaboutherpast,don’tyou?Trudy,hisveryopinionatedandbiasedguidetosociety,findstheEnglishstuffy,theAmericanstiresomelyearnest,theFrenchboringandself-satisfied, the Japanesequirky.Hewonders aloudhowshe can standhim. “Well, you’re abit of amongrel,”shesays.“Youdon’tbelonganywhere,justlikeme.”HehadarrivedinHongKongwithjustaletter of introduction to anold family friend, andhas foundhimself defined, before he did anything todefinehimself,byachancemeetingwithawomanwhoasksnothingofhimexcepttobewithher.

People talkaboutTrudyall the time-sheisalwaysscandalizingsomeoneorother.Theytalkaboutherinfrontofhim,tohim,asifdaringhimtosaysomething.Henevergivesthemanythingabouther.ShecamedownfromShanghai,whereshespentherearlytwentiesinNoelCoward’soldsuiteattheCathay,andthrewlavishpartiesontheroofterrace.Sheisrumoredtohavefledanaffairthere,anaffairwithatop gangsterwho became obsessedwith her, rumored to have spent far toomuch time in the casinos,rumoredtohavefriendswhoaresingsonggirls,rumoredtohavesoldherselfforanighttoamuseherself,rumoredtobeanopiumaddict.SheisaLesbian.SheisaRadical.Sheassureshimthatalmostnoneofthese rumors is true.ShesaysShanghai is theplace tobe, thatHongKong isdreadfullysuburban.Shespeaks fluent Shanghainese, Cantonese,Mandarin, English, conversational French, and a smattering ofPortuguese.InShanghai,shesays,thedaystartsatfourintheafternoonwithtea,thendrinksattheCathayor someone’s party, then dinner of hairy crab and ricewine if you’re inclined to the local, thenmoredrinksanddancing,andyougoandgo, thenight is so long,until it’s time forbreakfast-eggsand friedtomatoesat theDelMonte.Thenyousleepuntil three,havenoodles inbroth for thehangover,andgetdressedforanothergoaround.Sofun.She’sgoingtogobackoneofthesedays,shesays,assoonasherfatherwilllether.

TheBiddleshireacabanaattheLidoinRepulseBayandinvitethemforadayatthebeach.There,theyallsmokelikemadanddrinkgimletswhileAngelinecomplainsaboutherlife.AngelineBiddleisanoldfriendofTrudy’s,asmallandphysicallyunappealingChinesewomanwhomshe’sknownsincetheywereatprimaryschooltogether.ShemarriedaverycleverBritishbusinessmanwhomsheruleswithaniron fist, and theyhave a son away at school.They live in grand style on thePeak,whereAngeline’s

presencecausessomediscomfortasChinesearesupposed tohavepermission to live there,except foronefamilywhoissounfathomablyrichtheyareexemptfromtherules.Thereisafeeling,TrudyexplainstoWilllater,thatAngelinehassomehowgotoneoverontheBritishwholivethere,andsheisresentedforit,althoughTrudyadmitsthatAngelineishardlythemostlikableofpeopletobeginwith.Inthesun,Trudytakesoffhertopandsunbathes,hersmallbreastsglowingpaleincontrasttotherestofher.

“Ithoughtyouthoughttanswerevulgar,”hesays.“Shutup,”shesays.Hehearsher talking toAngeline.“I’m justwildabouthim,”shesays.“He’s themost stern, solid

personI’veevermet.”Hesupposessheistalkingabouthim.Peoplearenotasscandalizedasonemightthink. Simonds admits he was wrong about her. Although the Englishwomen in the colony aredisappointed.Another bachelor taken off themarket.Whispered: “she did swoop down and grab himbeforeanyoneevenknewhewasintown.”

Forhim,therehavebeenothers,ofcourse-themissionary’sdaughterintowninNewDelhi,alwaysillandwan,thoughbeautiful;theclever,hopefulspinsterontheboatoverfromPenang-thewomenwhosay they’re looking for adventurebutwhoare really looking forhusbands.He’smanaged to avoid theinconvenienceofloveforquitesometime,butitseemstohavefoundhiminthisunlikelyplace.

Womendon’tlikeTrudy.“Isn’tthatalwaysthecase,darling?”shesayswhenhe,indiscreetly,asksher about it. “And aren’t you a strange one for bringing it up?” She chucks him under the chin andcontinuesmakingapitcherofginandlemonade.“Noonelikesme,”shesays.“Chinesedon’tbecauseIdon’tactChineseenough,Europeansdon’tbecauseIdon’t lookatallEuropean,andmyfatherdoesn’tlikemebecauseI’mnotveryfilial.Doyoulikeme?”

Heassuresherhedoes.“I wonder,” she says. “I can tell why people like you. Besides the fact that you’re a handsome

bachelorwithmysteriousprospects,ofcourse.Theyreadintoyoueverythingtheywantyoutobe.Theyreadintomeall that theydon’t like.”Shedipsherfinger in themixandbringsitout to taste.Herfacepuckers.“Perfect,”shesays.Shelikesthemsour.

LittlesecretsbegintospilloutofTrudy.Atemplefortune-tellertoldherthemoleonherforeheadsignifiesdeath toafuturehusband.She’sbeenengagedbefore,but itendedmysteriously.She tellshimthesesecretsthenrefusestoelaborate,sayinghe’llleaveher.Sheseemsserious.

Trudyhastwoamahs.Theyhave“tiedtheirhairuptogether,”sheexplains.Twowomendecidenottomarryandletaspaceinthenewspaper,likevows,declaringtheywilllivetogetherforever.AhLokandMeiSingareoldnow,almostsixty,buttheyliveinasmallroomtogetherwithtwinbeds(“sogetthatoutofyourmindrightnow,”Trudysayslazily,“althoughChineseareveryblaséaboutthatsortofthingandwhocares,really”)andareahappycouple,exceptingthattheyarebothwomen.“It’sthebestthing,”Trudysays.“Lotsofwomenknowthey’llnevergetmarriedsothisisjustasgood.Socivilized,don’tyouthink?Allyouneedisacompanion.Thatsexthinggetsinthewayafterawhile.Asisterhoodthing.I’mthinkingaboutdoingitmyself.”Shepaysthemeachtwenty-fivecentsaweekandtheywilldoanythingforher.Once,hecameintothelivingroomtofindMeiSingmassaginglotionontoTrudy’shandswhileshewasasleeponthesofa.

Henevergrowsused to them.Theycompletely ignorehim,always talking toTrudyabouthim, infrontofhim.Theytellherhehasabignose,thathesmellsfunny,thathishandsandfeetaregrotesque.Heisbeginningtounderstandalittleofwhattheysay,buttheirdisapprovingintonationneedsnotranslation.AhLokcooks-salty,oilydisheshefindsunappealing.Trudyeatsthemwithrelish-it’sthefoodshegrewupwith.SheclaimsMeiSingcleans,buthefindsdustballseverywhere.Theoldwomanalsocollectsrubbish-usedbeerbottles,emptyjarsofcoldcream,discardedtoothbrushes-andstoresitunderneathherbed in anticipation of some apocalyptic event.All three of thewomen aremessy. Trudy has the utter

disregard for her surroundings that belongs to thosewho have beenwaited on since birth. She nevercleans up, never lifts a finger, but neither do the amahs. They have picked up her habits-a peculiarsymbiosis.Trudydefendsthemwiththeferocityofachilddefendingherparents.“They’reold,”shesays.“Leavethemalone.Ican’tbearpeoplewhopokeattheirservants.”

Shepokesatthemthough.SheargueswiththemwhentheflowermancomesandAhLokwantstogivehimfiftycentsandTrudysaystogivehimwhathewants.TheflowermaniscalledFaWong,kingofflowers,andhecomesaround to theneighborhoodonceaweek,giantwovenbaskets slungaroundhisbrown,wiryshouldersfilledwithmassesofflowers.Hecallsout,“fayuen,fayuen,”alow,monotonouspitchforhiswares,andpeoplewavehimupto their flatsfromthewindow.Heandtheamahs love tosparandtheygoatitforages,shoutingandgesticulating,untilTrudycomestobreakitupandgivethemanhismoney.ThenAhLokgetsangryandscoldsTrudyforgivingintooeasily,andtheoldladyandthelovely young woman, their arms filled with flowers, go into the kitchen, where the blooms will bedistributedintovasesandscatteredaroundthehouse.Hewatchesthemfromhischair,hisbookspreadoutoverhislap,hiseyeshoodedasifinsleep-hewatchesher.

Heisalmostneveralonethesedays,alwayswithher.Itissomethingdifferentforhim.Heusedtolikesolitude,aloneness,butnowhecravesherpresenceallthetime.He’sgonewithoutthisdrugforsolong, he’s forgottenhowcompelling it is.Whenhe is at theoffice, pecking awayat the typewriter, hethinksofherlaughing,drinkingtea,smoking,theringspuffingupinfrontofherface.“Whydoyouwork?”sheasks.“It’ssodreary.”

Discipline,hethinks,don’tfalldownthatrabbithole.Butit’suseless.She’salwaysthere,ringinghimonthephone,readywithplansfortheevening.Whenhelooksather,hefeelsweakandhappy.Isthatsobad?

TheyareeatingbrunchattheRepulseBayandreadingtheSundaypaperwhenTrudylooksup.“Whydotheylettheseawfulcompanieshaveadvertisements?”sheasks.“Listentothisone-‘Why

sufferfromagonizingpiles?’Isthereaneedforthat?Can’ttheybeabitmoreoblique?”Sheshakesthenewspaperathim.“There’sanillustrationofamansufferingfrompiles!Isthatreallynecessary?”

“Myheart,”hesays.“Idon’tknow.Ijustdon’tknow.”AdisplacedRussianinadinnerjacketplaysthepianobehindhim.

“Oh,”shesays,as if it’sanafterthought.“Myfatherwantstomeetyou.Hewants tomeet themanI’vebeenspendingsomuchtimewith.”Sheisnonchalant,toomuchso.“Areyoufreetonight?”

“Ofcourse,”hesays.

TheygofordinnerattheGloucester,whereTrudytellshimthestoryofherparents’meetingwhilethey’rewaitingat thebar.She isdrinkingbrandy,unusual forher,whichmakeshimthinkshemightbemorenervousthansheislettingon.Sheswirlsitaroundthesnifter,takesadelicatewhiff,sips.

“MymotherwasagreatPortuguesebeauty-herfamilyhadbeeninMacauforages.Theymetthere.Myfatherwasnotassuccessfulthen,althoughhecamefromawell-to-dofamily.Hehadjuststartedupabusinesssellingwidgetsor something.He’sveryclever,myfather.Don’tknowwhyI turnedout tobesuchadimbulb.”Herfacelightsup.“Hereheis!”Sheleapsoffthestoolandrushesovertogiveherfatherakiss.Willhadexpectedabig,confidentmanwiththeauraofpower.Instead,Mr.Liangissmalland diffident,with an ill-cut suit and a sweet air.He seems to be overwhelmed by the vitality of hisdaughter.He letsTrudywashoverhim, likea forceofnature,much likeeveryoneelse inHongKong,Willthinks.Themaîtred’seatsthemwithmuchhoveringandsolicitoushandwaving,whichneitherTrudynorher fatherseems tonotice.Theyspeak toeachother inCantonese,whichmakesTrudyseemlikeadifferentpersonentirely.

Theydonotorder.Theirfoodisbroughttothem,asifpreordained.“Shouldweorder?”heventuresandtheirfacesareastonished.“Youonlyeatcertaindisheshere,”theysay.Trudycallsforchampagne.“Thisisamomentousoccasion,”shedeclares.“Myfather’snotmetmanyofmybeaus.You’vepassedthefirstgauntlet.”

WanKeeLiangdoesnotaskWillabouthislifeorhiswork.Instead,theyexchangepleasantries,talkabout the horse races and thewar.When Trudy excuses herself to go to the powder room, her fathermotionsforWilltocomecloser.

“Youarenotarichman,”hesays.“Notlikeyou,butIdoallright.”Howoddtoassume.“Trudyveryspoiledgirl,andwantsmanythings.”Theman’sfacebetraysnothing.“Yes,”Willsays.“Notgoodforwomantopayforanything.”Trudy’sfatherhandshimanenvelope.“HereismoneyforyoutotakeTrudyout.Willcoverexpensesforalongtime.NotgoodforTrudyto

bepayingallthetime.”Willisutterlybemused.“Ican’ttakethat,”hesays.“I’mnotgoingtotakeyourmoney.I’veneverletTrudypayforameal.”“Doesn’tmatter.”Themanwaveshishand.“Goodforyourrelationship.”Will refuses and puts the envelope on the table, where it sits until they see Trudy approaching.

Trudy’sfatherputsitbackinhissuitjacket.“Notmeanttobeinsult,”hesays.“IwantbestforTrudy.Sobestforhermeansbestforyou.This

meanslittletome,butmightmakedifferenceforyoutwo.”“Iappreciatethethought,”Willsays.“ButIcan’t.”Heletsitgoatthat.

Thenextweek,Will receives letters in thepost fromrestaurantsandclubsaroundtowninforminghimthathisaccountshavebeenopenedandare readyforuse.Onehasanotescribbled in themargin,“Justcomein,youwon’tevenneedtosign.Welookforwardtoseeingyou.”Thetone:apologetictoagoodcustomer,butdeferringtothewishesoftheirbest.

Heisalittleirritated,butnotsomuch,morebemusedthananything.Heputsthelettersinadrawer.HesupposesthattoWanKeeLiangeveryonelookslikeapauper,lookingforhandouts.TheChinesearewise,hethinks.Ormaybeit’sjustTrudy’sfamily.

TrudylovestheParisianGrill,isgreatfriendswiththeowner,aGreekmarriedtoalocalPortuguesewho sees no irony in the fact that he serves the froggiest of foods. She refuses absolutely to go to aChinese restaurantwithWill,will only gowithChinese people,who she says are the only oneswhoappreciatethefoodthewayitshouldbe.

TheGreekwhorunstheParisianGrill,hisnameisnowHenri,changedfromGodknowswhat,lovesTrudy,viewsherasadaughter,andhiswife,Elsbieta,treatsTrudylikeasister.Shegoesthereforfirstdrinksalmosteverynight,oftenendseveningsthereaswell.HenriandElsbietaarepolitetohim,butwithacertainreserve.HethinkstheyhaveseentoomanyofTrudy’sbeaus.Hewantstoprotestthatheistheone in danger, protest over the redvinyl banquettes, the smokywhite candles burneddown to smudgylumps,butheneverdoes.

TheymeeteveryoneattheParisianGrill.Itisthesortofplaceonegoestowhenoneisnewintown,orold,orbored.HongKongissmall,andeventuallyeveryoneendsupthere.Onenight,theyhavedrinksatthebarwithagroupofvisitingAmericansandthenareinvitedtodinnerwiththem.

Trudytells theirnewfriendsthatshe lovesAmericans, theiropen-handedextravagance, their loudtalkandbrayingconfidence.Whensomeonebringsupthewar,shepretendsnottohear,ignoringthemand

insteadgoingonaboutthequalitiesshefeelsallAmericanshave.Theyhaveasenseoftheworldbeingincomparably large, she says, and a sense that they are able to, not colonize, but spread through allcountries,spendingtheirmoneylikewater,withoutguiltortoomuchconsciousness.Shelovesthat.Themen are tall and rangy, with long faces and quick decisions, and the women let them be, isn’t thatwonderful,becausethey’resobusywiththeirowncommitteesandplans.Theyinviteallandsundrytotheir events, and they servemarvelous items like potato salads andhamand cheese sandwiches.And,unless there isaveryspecial typeofEnglishmanpresent (she tipsherhead towardWill), they tend todiminishtheothermenintheroom.It’sveryodd,butshe’sseenit.Haven’tyounoticedthat?Ifshehaditalltodoover,shesaystothedinnertable,shewouldcomebackasanAmerican.Barringthatpossibility,she’sgoingtomarryone.Ormaybejustmovethere,ifsomeoneobjectstohermarryinganAmerican,saidwith eyes cast demurely down as a joke. Will thinks back to when she complained that they weretiresomelyearnestandjustsmiles.Shehasfreewill,hesayssimply.Hewouldneverdoanythingtostopherfromdoingwhatshewanted.TheAmericansapplaud.Anenlightenedman,saysawomanwithredlipsandanorangedress.

***

Lifeiseasy.Attheoffice,heisexpectedinatnine-thirty,thenatwo-hourlunchisnotuncommon,andtheyknockoffatfivefordrinks.Hecangoouteverynight,playallweekend,dowhateverhewants.Trudy’sfriendsmovetoLondonandwantsomeoneresponsibletotakecareoftheirflat,soWillmovestoMay Road and pays the ludicrous rent of two hundred Hong Kong dollars, and this only after muchwranglingtogetherfriends,SudieandFrankChen,totakeanythingatall.Theyallgooutfordinner,andit’sverycivil.

“You’redoingusafavor!”theycry,astheypourmorechampagne.“Youreallyare,Will,”Trudysays.“NooneinallHongKongwouldagreetodoanythingsonicefor

theChens,youknow.They’veawfulreputationsaroundhere,that’swhythey’releaving.”“Bethatasitmay,”Willsays,“Ihavetopaysomething.”“We’ll talk about it later,” the Chens say, but they never do. Instead they drink four splits of

champagneandendupgoingtothebeachatmidnighttohuntforcrabsbycandlelight.May Road is different from Happy Valley, his old neighborhood. Filled with expatriates and

housewivesandtheirservants,itisabourgeoissuburbofEngland,orhowhe’dalwaysimaginedthemtobe.Childrenwalkobedientlynexttotheiramahs,matronsclimbintothebacksoftheirchauffeuredcars,it’smuchmorequietthanthechatteringbustleofhisoldhaunt.HemissesHappyValley,thevitalityofit,theloud,rudelocals,thelivelyshops.

But then there isTrudy.Trudyhasa largeplacenot fiveminutes fromhim.Hewalks thewindingroadtoherflateverydayafterpickingupnewclothesafterwork.

“Isn’t thisnice?”shesays, lavishinghimwithkissesat thedoor.“Isn’t itdelicious thatyou’resocloseandnotinthatdreadfulHappyValley?IdothinktheonlytimeI’dgotherebeforeImetyouwaswhenIneededplimsollsforthebeach.There’sthiswonderfulshopthere…”

And then she’s on to something else, crying out toAhLok that the flowers are browning, or thatthere’sapuddle in the foyer.AtTrudy’s, there’sno talkofwar,no fightingexcept squabblingwith theservants, no real troubles. There’s only ease and her sweet, lilting laugh.He slips gratefully into herworld.

June1952CLAIREHADBEENWAKINGat the same timeeverynight.Twenty-twominutesafter three.By

now,sheknewitwithoutevenlookingattheclock.Andeverynight,aftershestartedawake,shewouldlookoverat thehulkingshapeofherhusbandasheslept,andshewouldbecalmedfromtheshockofconsciousness.Hischest roseand fell evenlyashisnose reverberatedwithagentle snore.Healwaysslept heavily, aided by the several beers he had every evening. She sat up, clapped twice loudly, herhandsstiff,thesoundliketwobulletsinthenight.Martinshiftedatthenoise,thenbreathedfreely.Thattrickwasoneofthefewthathermotherhadimpartedaboutmarriedlife.Theclocknowshowed3:23.

Shetriedtogobacktosleep.Shehaddoneitonceortwicebefore,fallenbackasleepbeforeherbodygottooawake.Breathingsoftly,shelayflatonherbackandfeltthedamplinensheetbeneathandthelightweightofthecottonquiltontop.Itwassohumidshecouldwearonlyathincottonnightdresstobed,andeventhatgrewstickyafteradayortwo.Shemustbuyanewfan.Theoldonehadsputteredtoastoplastweek,cakedwithmossymold.Afan,andalsosomemoreelectriccord.Andlightbulbs.Shemustn’tforgetlightbulbs.Shebreathedlightly,overtheslightrumbleofMartinstartingupagain.Shouldshewritethethingsdown?Shewouldremember,shetriedtotellherself.Butsheknewshewouldgetupandwriteitdown,soasnottoforget,soasnottoobsessaboutforgetting,andthenshewouldbeup,andunabletogobacktosleep.Itwassettled.Shegotupsoftlyandfeltherwayoutofthemosquitonetting,disturbingarestingmosquitothatbuzzedangrilyinherearbeforeflyingaway.Thepadwaslyingnexttothebedonatable,andshepenciledinherlist.

Then,therealreason.Shereachedintothedepthsofthebureauandfeltaroundcarefullyforthebag.Itwasaclothbag,oneshehadgotforfreeatabazaar,anditwaslargeandfull.Shepulleditout,quietly.

Goingintothebathroom,sheswitchedonthelight.Thetubsatfullofwater.Therehadn’tbeenrainfor several months now, and the government was starting to ration. Yu Ling drew the tub full everyevening,betweenfiveandseveno’clock,whenthewaterwason,fortheiruseduringtheday.

Clairesetthebagdownanddippedabucketinthewaterandwetawashclothtowipeherface.Thenshesatonthecooltilefloorandpulledhernightdressupsothatshecouldplacethebagbetweenherlegs.

Shedumpedthecontentsout.Thereweremore than thirty itemsglitteringup at her.More than thirty costlynecklaces, scarves,

ornaments, perfume bottles. They looked almost tawdry, jumbled together in the harsh bathroom light,againstthewhitetile,soClairelaiddownatowelandseparatedthem,sothateachhadafewinchesofspace,acushionagainstthefloor.There,nowtheylookedliketheexpensiveitemstheywere.Herewasaring, thick,beautifullyworkedgold,withwhat looked like turquoise.Sheslipped itonher finger.Andherewasahandkerchief,sosheershecouldseethepalepinkofherpalmunderneathit.Shesprayeditwithperfume,asmall roundbottleof it,calledJazz.Onthebottle therewasadrawingof twowomendancing inflapperdresses.Shewavedthescentedhandkerchiefaround.Jasminescent.Tooheavy.Shegroomedherhairwiththetortoiseshellcomb,rubbedFrenchhandlotionaroundherfingers,thencarefullyappliedlipsticktohermouth.Thensheclippedonheavygoldearringsandtiedascarfaroundherhead.Shestoodinfrontofthemirror.Thewomanwholookedbackwassophisticatedandgroomed,awomanwhotraveledtheworldandknewaboutartandbooksandyachts.

***

Shewantedtobesomeoneelse.TheoldClaireseemedprovincial,ignorant.ShehadbeentoapartyatGovernmentHouse,sippedchampagneat theGrippswhilewomensheknewtwirledaroundinsilkydresses.Shehadhernosepressedupagainsttheglassandwaswatchingadifferentworld,oneshehadn’tknownexisted.Shecouldnotnameitbutshefeltas ifshewereabout toberevealed,as if therewereanotherClaireinside,waitingtocomeout.Inthesefewhoursinthemorning,dressedinsomeoneelse’sfinery,shecouldpretendshewaspartofit,thatshehadlivedinColombo,eatenfrog’slegsinFrance,orriddenanelephantinDelhiwithamaharajabyherside.

Atseveninthemorning,aftershehadbrewedherselfacupofteaandeatensomebutteredtoast,shemadeherwaytothebedroom.Shestoodoverhersleepinghusband.

“Wakeup,”shesaidquietly.Hestirred,thenrolledovertofaceher.“Cuckoo,”shesaidalittlelouder.“Happybirthday,darling,”hesaidsleepily.Heproppedhimselfupononeelbowtoofferakiss.His

breathwassourbutnotunpleasant.Clairewastwenty-eighttoday.

ItwasSaturday,andthebeginningofsummer.Nottoohotyet,themorningshadabreezeandalittlebitofcoolbeforethesunwarmeduptheafternoonsandthehatsandfanshadtocomeout.Martinworkedhalf-daysonSaturdaysbutthentherewasapartyattheArbogasts’,onthePeak.ReginaldArbogastwasavery successful businessman and made a point of inviting every English person in the colony to hisparties,whichwerefamousforhisunstintinghandandlavishfoods.

“I’llmeetyouatthefunicularatone,”Martintoldher.

Atone,Clairewasatthetramstationwaiting.Shehadonanewdressthetailorhaddeliveredjustthedaybefore,awhitepoplinbasedonaParisoriginal.ShehadfoundaMr.Hao,aninexpensivemaninCausewayBaywhowouldcomeandmeasureherathomeandchargeeightHongKongdollarsadress.Ithadturnedoutquitewell.ShehadsprayedonabitofJazzalthoughshestillfounditstrong.Shedabbediton,thenrubbedwateronittodilutethesmell.Attenpastone,Martincamethroughthestationdoors,andgaveherakiss.

“Youlooknice,”hesaid.“Newdress?”“Mm-hmm,”shesaid.Theytookthetramupthemountain,asteepridethatseemedalmostverticalattimes.Theyheldonto

therail,leanedforward,andlookedoutside,wheretheycouldseeintopeople’shomesintheMid-Levels,withcurtainspushedtooneside,andnewspapersanddirtyglassesstrewnontables.

“Iwouldthink,”Clairesaid,“ifIknewthatpeoplewouldbelookinginmyhousealldayfromthetram,I’dmakeapointofleavingittidy,wouldn’tyou?”

Atthetop,theyfoundthattheArbogastshadhiredrickshawstotaketheirgueststothehousefromthestation.Claireclimbedin.

“Ialwaysfeelforthemen,”shesaidquietlytoMartin.“Isn’tthiswhywehavemulesorhorses?It’soneofthesequeerHongKongcustoms,isn’tit?”

“It’safactthathumanlaborhereoftencostsless,”Martinsaid.Clairestifledherirritation.Martinwasalwayssoliteral.

Theman lifted up the harnesswith a grunt. They started to roll along andClaire settled into theuncomfortable seat.Around them the greenwas overwhelming, tropical trees burstingwith leaves thatdrippedwhenscratched,bougainvilleaandeveryother typeof floweringbushspringing forth from thehillsides.SometimesshegotthefeelingthatHongKongwastooalive.Itseemedunabletorestrainitself.Therewereinsectscrawlingeverywhere,wilddogsonthehills,mosquitoesbreedingfuriously.Theyhad

maderoadsinthehillsidesandbuildingssproutedoutoftheground,butnaturestrainedatherboundaries-there were always sweaty, shirtless worker men chopping away at the greenery that seemed to growovernight.Itwasn’tIndia,shesupposed,butitcertainlywasn’tEngland.Themaninfrontofherstrainedandsweated.Hisshirtwasthinandgray.

“TheArbogastsapparentlyhad thisplaceundergoamassivecleaningafter thewar,”Martinsaid.“Smythsonwastellingmeaboutit,howithadbeenguttedbytheJapaneseandallthatwasleftwaswalls,andnotmuchofthoseatthat.ItusedtobelongtotheBayerrepresentativeouthere,Thorpe,andhenevercamebackafterhewasrepatriatedafterthewar.Hesolditforasong.He’dhadenough.”

“Thewaypeoplelivedoutherebeforethewar,”Clairesaid.“Itwasverygracious.”“Arbogast losthishandduringthewaraswell.Hehasahooknow.Theysayhe’squitesensitive

aboutitsotrynottolookatit.”“Ofcourse,”Clairesaid.Whentheywalkedin,thepartywasinfullswing.Doorsopenedontoalargereceivingroomwhich

ledintoalargedrawingroomwithwindoweddoorsopenontoalawnwithawide,stunningviewoftheharborfarbelow.Aviolinistsawedawayathisinstrumentwhileapianistaccompaniedhim.Thehousewas decorated in the way the English did their houses in the Orient, with Persian carpets and theoccasionalwoodenChinesetabletoppedwithBurmesesilverbowlsandotherexoticcuriosities.Womeninlightcottondressesswayedtowardoneanotherwhilemeninsafarisuitsorblazersstoodwiththeirhandsintheirpockets.SwiftlymovingservantsbalancedtraysofPimm’sandchampagne.

“Whydoeshedothis?”ClaireaskedMartin.“Invitetheworld,Imean.”“He’sdonewellforhimselfhere,andhedidn’thavemuchbefore,andwantstodosomethinggood

forthecommunity.WhatI’veheard,anyway.”“Hello hello,” saidMrs. Arbogast from the foyer, where she was greeting guests-a thin, elegant

womanwithasharpface.Sparklyearringsjangledfromherears.“Lovelyofyoutohaveus,”saidMartin.“Arealhonor.”“Don’tknowyou,butperhapsweshallhavethepleasurelater.”Sheturnedasideandlookedforthe

nextguest.Theyhadbeendismissed.“Drink?”Martinsaid.“Please,”saidClaire.Shesawanacquaintance,Amelia,andwalkedover.Toolate,shesawthatMrs.Pinterwasin the

circle,partiallyhiddenbyapottedplant.TheyalltriedtoavoidMrs.Pinter.Clairehadbeencorneredbyherbeforeandhadspentanexcruciatingthirtyminuteslisteningtotheoldwomantalkaboutantcolonies.Shewantedtobekindtoolderpeoplebutshehadherlimits.Mrs.PinterwasnowobsessedwithstartingupanEsperantosocietyandwouldreelunwittingnewcomersintoherevermorecomplicatedandidioticplans.Shewasconvincedthatauniversallanguagewouldhavesavedthemallfromthewar.

“I’vebeenthinkingaboutgettingabutler,”Mrs.Pinterwassaying.“OneofthoseChinesefellowswoulddoallrightwithabitoftraining.”

“AreyougoingtoteachhimEsperanto?”Ameliaasked,teasing.“WehavetoteacheveryonebuttheCommunists,”Mrs.Pintersaidplacidly.“Isn’ttherefugeeproblemalarming?”MarjorieWintersaid,ignoringallofthem.Shewasfanning

herselfwithanapkin.Shewasafat,kindwoman,withverysmallsausagelikecurlsaroundherface.“They’recominginbythethousands,Ihear,”Clairesaid.“I’m starting anew league,” saidMarjorie. “Tohelp the refugees.ThosepoorChinese streaming

acrosstheborderlikeherdedanimals,runningawayfromthatdreadfulgovernment.Theyliveinthemostfrightfulconditions.Youmustvolunteer!I’veletspaceforanofficeandeverything.”

“Yourememberin1950,”Ameliasaid,“someofthelocalspracticallyranhotels,takingcareofalltheirfamilyandfriendswhohadfled.Andthesewerethewell-offones,whowereabletobookpassage.

Itwasquitesomething.”“Whyaretheyleaving?”Clairesaid.“Wheredotheyexpecttogofromhere?”“Well,that’sthething,dear,”Marjoriesaid.“Theydon’thaveanywheretogo,imaginethat.That’s

whymyleagueissoimportant.”Ameliasatdown.“TheChinesecomedownduringwar,theygobackup,thencomedownagain.It’s

dizzying. They are just these giant waves of displacement. And their different dialects. I do thinkMandarinistheugliest,withitsweranditserandthosestrangenoises.”Shefannedherself.“It’sfartoohottotalkaboutaleague,”shesaid.“Yourenergyalwaysastoundsme,Marjorie.”

“Amelia,”Marjoriesaidunsympathetically.“You’realwayshot.”Ameliawasalwayshot,orcold,orvaguelyoutofsorts.Shewasnotphysicallysuitedtolifeoutside

of England, which was ironic since she had not lived there for some three decades. She needed hercreaturecomfortsandsufferedmightily,andnotsilently,withoutthem.TheyhadbeeninHongKongsincebefore thewar.Herhusband,Angus,hadbroughther fromIndia,whichshehad loathed,over toHongKongin1938whenhehadbecomeundersecretary to theDepartmentofFinance.Shewasopinionated,railingagainstwhatshesawastheunbearableEnglishladieswhowantedtobecomeChinese,whoworetheirhairinchignonswithivorychopsticksandworetoo-tightcheongsamstoeveryeventandemployedlocal tutors so they could speak to the help in their atrociousCantonese. She did not understand suchwomenandconstantlywarnedClaireagainstbecomingoneofsuchabreed.

AmeliahadtakenClaireunderherwing,introducinghertopeople,invitinghertolunch,butClairewasoftenuncomfortablearoundherandhersharpobservationsandoftenbitinginnuendo.Still,sheclungtoherassomeonewhocouldhelphernavigatethestrangenewworldshefoundherselfin.SheknewhermotherwouldapproveofsomeonelikeAmelia,evenbeimpressedthatClaireknewsuchpeople.

Outside,thethwackofatennisballpunctuatedthelowbuzzandtinkleofconversationandcocktails.Claire’sgroupmigratedtowardalargetentpitchednexttothecourtyard.

“Peoplecomeandplaytennis?”Claireasked.“Yes,inthisweather,canyoubelieveit?”“Ican’tbelievetheyhaveatenniscourt,”saidClairewithwonder.“AndIcan’tbelievewhatyoucan’tbelieve,”Ameliasaidarchly.Claireblushed.“I’vejustnever…”“I know, darling,” Amelia said. “Just a village girl.” She winked to take the sting out of her

comment.“YouknowwhatPenelopeDaviesdidtheotherday?”Marjorieinterrupted.“Shewenttothetemple

atWongTaiSinwithaninterpreter,andgotherfortunetold.Shesaiditwasjustremarkablehowmuchthisoldwomanknew!”

“Whatfun,”Ameliasaid.“I’llbringWingandtryitouttoo.Claire,weshouldgo!”“Soundsfun,”Clairesaid.“Did you hear about the child inMalaya who had the hiccups for threemonths?”Marjorie was

askingMartin,whohadjoinedthemwithdrinksinhand.“TheBriggs’child.Hisfather’stheheadoftheelectricover there.Hismotheralmostwentmad.They triedawitchdoctorbutno results.Theydidn’tknowwhethertobringhimbacktoEnglandorjusttrustinfate.”

“Canyouimaginehavingthehiccupsformorethananhour?”Clairesaid.“I’dgomad!Thatpoorchild.”

Martinkneltdowntoplaywithasmallboywhohadwanderedover.“Hallo,”hesaid.“Whoareyou?”“Martinwants children,”Claire said, sotto voce, toAmelia. She often found herself confiding in

Ameliadespiteherself.Shehadnooneelsetotalkto.

“Allmendo,darling,”Ameliasaid.“Youhavetonegotiatethenumberbeforeyoustartpoppingthemoutorelsethemenwillwanttokeepgoing.IgotAngusdowntotwobeforewestarted.”

“Oh,”Clairesaid,startled.“Thatseemsso…unromantic.”“Whatdoyouthinkmarriedlifeis?”Ameliasaid.ShecockedaneyebrowatClaire.Claireblushed

andexcusedherselftogotothepowderroom.

Whenshe returned,Ameliahaddriftedawayandwas talking toa tallmanClairehadnever seenbefore.Shewavedherover.Hewasamanofaroundfortywithacrudecanethatlookedasifithadbeenwhittledbyachildoutofpine.Hehadsharp,handsomefeaturesandashockofblackhair,runthroughwithstrandsofgray,ungroomed.

“HaveyoumetWillTruesdale?”Ameliasaid.“Ihaven’t,”shesaid,assheputoutherhand.“Pleasedtomeetyou,”hesaid.Hishandwasdryandcool,almostasifitweremadeofpaper.“He’sbeeninHongKongforages,”Ameliasaid.“Anold-timer,likeus.”“Quitetheexperts,weare,”hesaid.Hesuddenlylookedalert.“Ilikeyourscent,”hesaid.“Jasmine,isit?”“Yes.Thankyou.”“Newlyarrived?”“Yes,justamonth.”“Likeit?”“IneverimaginedlivingintheOrientbuthereIam.”“Oh,Claire,youshouldhavehadmoreimagination,”Ameliasaid,gesturingtoawaiterforanother

drink.Clairecoloredagain.Ameliawasinrareformtoday.“I’mdelightedtomeetsomeonewho’snotsojaded,”Willsaid.“Allyouwomenaresoworldlyit

quitetiresmeout.”Ameliahadturnedawaytogetherdrinkandhadn’theardhim.Therewasapause,butClairedidn’t

mindit.“It’s Claire’s birthday,” Amelia told Will, turning back around. She smiled, brittle; red lipstick

stainedherfronttooth.“She’sjustababy.”“Hownice,”hesaid.“Weneedmorebabiesaroundtheseparts.”He suddenly reached out his hand and slowly tucked a strand of hair behind Claire’s ear. A

possessivegesture,asifhehadknownherforalongtime.“Excuseme,”hesaid.Ameliahadnotseen;shehadbeenscanningthecrowd.“Excuseyouforwhat?”Ameliaasked,turningback,distracted.“Nothing,” they both said. Claire looked down at the floor. They were joined in their collusive

denial;itsuddenlyseemedoverwhelminglyintimate.“What?”Ameliasaidimpatiently.“Ican’thearadamnthingabovethisdin.”“I’mtwenty-eighttoday,”Clairesaid,notknowingwhy.“I’mforty-three.”Henodded.“Veryold.”Clairecouldn’ttellifhewasjoking.“IrememberthecelebrationwehadforyouatStanley,”Ameliasaid.“Whatafete.”“Wasn’tit,though?”“You’restillwithMelodyandVictor?”AmeliainquiredofWill.“Yes,”hesaid.“Itsuitsmefornow.”“I’msureitsuitsVictorjustfinetohaveanEnglishmanchauffeuringhimaround,”sherepliedslyly.

“Itseemstoworkforeveryoneinvolved,”Willsaid,nottakingthebait.Amelia leaned towardhimconfidentially.“Ihear there’sbeenchatterabout theCrownCollection

and its disappearanceduring thewar.Angus says it’s starting to come to a boil. People havenoticed.Haveyouheardanything?”

“Ihave,”hesaid.“Theywanttoferretoutthecollaborators.”“Abitlate,don’tyouthink?”After a pause,when it became apparent that nothingmorewas forthcoming fromWill, she spoke

again.“IhopetheChensaretreatingyouwell?”“Icannotcomplain,”hesaid.“Abitodd,isn’tit?Youworkingoverthere.”“Amelia,”hesaid.“You’reboringClaire.”“Oh,no,”Claireprotested.“I’mjust…”“Well,you’reboringme,”hesaid.“Andlifeistooshorttobebored.Claire,haveyoubeentothe

differentcornersofourfaircolony?Whichisyourfavorite?”“Well,Ihavebeenexploringabit.SheungWanislovely-Idolikethemarkets-andI’vebeenoverto

Kowloon,TsimShaTsuiontheStarFerryofcourse,andseenalltheshopsthere.It’sverylively,isn’tit?”

“See,Amelia,”Will said. “AnEnglishwomanwhoventuresoutsideofCentral and thePeak.Youwoulddowelltolearnfromthisnewcomer.”

Ameliarolledhereyes.“She’llgrowtiredofitsoonenough.I’veseensomanyofthesebright-eyednew arrivals, and they all end up having teawithme at theHelenaMay and complaining about theiramahs.”

“Well,don’tletAmelia’srosyattitudeaffectyoutoomuch,Claire,”Willsaid.“Atanyrate,itwasapleasuretomeetyou.BestofluckinHongKong.”Henoddedtothempolitelyandleft.Shefelttheheatofhisbodyashepassedby.

Clairefeltbereft.Hehadassumedtheywouldnotmeetagain.“Oddman?”shesaid.Itwasmoreofastatement.“You’venoidea,dear,”Ameliasaid.Clairepeekedafterhim.Hehadfloatedover to thesideof the tenniscourt,althoughhehadsome

sortoflimp,andwaswatchingPeterWickhamandhissonhittheballateachother.“He’salsoveryseriousnow,”Ameliasaid.“Can’thaveaproperconversationwithhim.Hewas

quitesocialbeforethewar,youknow,yousawhimatalltheparties,hadthemostglamorousgirlintown,quitehighupatAsiaticPetrol,butheneverreallyrecoveredafterthewar.He’sachauffeurnow.”Hervoicedropped.“FortheChens,actually.Doyouknowwhotheyare?”

“Amelia!”Clairesaid.“Iteachpianototheirdaughter!Youhelpedmearrangeit!”“Oh,dear.Thememorygoesfirst,theysay.You’veneverrunintohimthere?”“Never,”Clairesaid.“AlthoughtheChenssuggestedhemightgivemealiftonetime.”“PoorMelody,”saidAmelia.“She’sveryfragile.”Thewordsaiddelicately.“Indeed,”Clairesaid,rememberingthewayMelodysippedherdrink,quickly,urgently.“ThethingwithWillis”-Ameliahesitated-“I’mquitecertainhedoesn’tneedtoworkatall.”“Howdoyoumean?”Claireasked.“Ijustknowcertainthings,”Ameliasaidmysteriously.Clairedidn’task.Shewouldn’tgiveAmeliathesatisfaction.

September1941TRUDY IS DRESSING for dinner while he watches from the bed. She has finished with her

mysteriousbathingritualwithitsoilsandunguentsandnowshesmellsmarvelous,likeavalleyinspring.Sheissittingatherdressingtableinalongpeachsatinrobe,wrappedsilkilyaroundherwaist,applyingfragrantcreamstoherface.

“Doyoulikethisone?”Shegetsupandholdsalongblackdressinfrontofher.“It’sfine.”Hecan’tconcentrateontheclotheswhenherfaceissovibrantaboveit.“Orthisone?”Aknee-lengthdressthecoloroforangesherbet.“Fine.”Shepouts.Herskingleams.“You’resounhelpful.”ShetellshimManleyHaverfordishavingaparty,anend-of-summerparty,athiscountryhousethis

weekendandthatshewantstogo.ManleyisanoldbigotwhousedtohavearadiotalkshowbeforehemarriedarichbutuglyPortuguesewomanwhoconvenientlydiedtwoyearslater,whereuponheretiredtolivethelifeofacountrysquireinSaiKung.

“Desperately,”shesays.“Iwanttogodesperately.”“YouloatheManley,”hesays.“Youtoldmesolastweek.”“Iknow,”shesays.“Buthispartiesarefunandhe’sverygenerouswiththedrinks.Let’sgoandtalk

abouthowawfulhe is right in frontofhim.Canwego, canwe?Canwe?Canwe?”Shewearshimdown.Theywillgo.

***

SoFriday,lateafternoon,heplayshookyfromworkandtheyspendthetwilighthoursbathingintheoceanbyManley’shouse.Toget there, theydrivenarrow,winding roadscarved rightoutof thegreenmountain, blue water on their right, verdant hillside on their left. His house is through a dilapidatedwoodengateandattheendofalongdriveway,andrightbythesea,withaporchthatjutsout,androughstone steps leading down to the beach. He’s had coolers filled with ice and drinks and sandwichesbroughtdowntothesandyinlet.Thestill-hotsunandwatermakethemravenousandtheyeatandeatandeatandcursetheirhostfornotbringingenough.

“Me?”Manleyasks.“IassumedIhadinvitedcivilizedpeople,whoatethreemealsaday.”Victor and Melody Chen, Trudy’s cousins, wander down from the house, where they had been

resting.“Whatarewedoingnow?”Melodyasks.Willlikesher,thinksshe’snice,whenshe’snotaroundher

husband.Awomantheyhavenevermetbefore,newlyarrivedfromSingapore,suggests theyplaycharades.

Theyallmoanbutacquiesce.Trudyisoneteam’sleader,theSingaporewomantheother.Thegroupshuddletogether,writewords

onscrapsofdamppaper.Theyputthemallintheemptysandwichbasket.Trudygoesfirst.Shelooksatherpaper,dimples.“Easypeasy,” she says encouragingly tohergroup.Shemakes the film sign,onehand rotatingan

imaginarycameralever.

“Film!”shoutsanAmerican.Sheputsupfourfingers,thensuddenlyducksherhead,putsherarmsinfrontofher,andwhooshes

throughtheair.“GonewiththeWind,”Willsays.Trudycurtsies.“Unfair,”sayssomeonefromtheotherteam.“Pet’sadvantage.”Trudycomesoverandplantsakissonhisforehead.“Cleverboy,”shesays,andsinksdownnexttohim.Singaporegetsup.“She’syournemesis,”WilltellsTrudy.“Don’tworry,”Trudysays.“She’sidiotic.”Theafternoonpassespleasantly,withthemshoutinginsultsanddrinkingandgenerallybeingstupid.

Somepeopletalkaboutthegovernmentandhowit’sorganizingdifferentVolunteerCorps.“It’s not volunteering,”Will says. “It’smandatory. It’s theCompulsory ServiceAct, for heaven’s

sake.They’requiteopposite.Whydon’t they justcallaspadeaspade?Dowbiggin isbeingridiculousaboutit.”

“Don’tbesuchagrump,”Trudysays.“Doyourduty.”“I guess so,” he says. “Must fight the good fight, I suppose.”He thinks the organization is being

handledinanabsurdfashion.“Isthereoneforcricketers?”someoneasks,asiftoprovehispoint.“Whynot?”somebodyelsesays.“Youcanmakeuponehoweveryouwant.”“I hardly think that’s true,” Manley says. “But I’m joining one that’s training out here on the

weekends,ontheclubgrounds.Policemen,Ithink,althoughI’dthinkthey’dberatherbusyiftherewasanattack.”

“Aren’tyoutooold,Manley?”Trudyasks.“Oldanddecrepit?”“That’sthewonderfulthing,Trudy,”hesays,withaforcedsmile.“Youcan’tfireaVolunteer.Andatanyrate,theonehereattheclubisconvenient.”“I’m sending Melody to America,” Victor Chen says suddenly. “I don’t want her to be in any

danger.”Melodysmilesuneasily,doesn’tsayanything.“Thegovernmentispreparing,”saysJamieBiggs.“TheyarestoringfoodinwarehousesinTinHau

andsecuringBritishproperty.”“Like theCrownCollection?”Victor asks. “What are theygoing todoabout that?That’spartof

Englishheritage.”“I’msureallthearrangementshavebeenmadealready,”saysBiggs.“Thefoodwillgobadbeforeanyonegetsit,”saysanotherman.“Cynic,”saysTrudy.Sheliftsupgracefullyandgoestowardtheocean.Allthistalkofwarboresher.Shethinksitwill

neverhappen.Theyallwatchher,rapt,assheplungesintotheseaandcomesupsleekanddripping-herslim body a vertical rebuke to the flatness of the horizon between the sky and sea. Shewalks up andshakesherwethairatWill.Dropsofwaterfallandsparkle.Thensomeoneaskswherethetennisracketsare.Thespellisbroken.

Overdinner,Trudydeclares thatshe isgoingtobe inchargeofuniformsfor theVolunteers.“AndWillwillbethefitmodel,”shesays.“Becausehe’saperfectmalespecimen.”

JohnThorpe,whoheadsuptheAmericanofficeofalargepharmaceuticalcompany,looksdoubtful.“Rathersmallandugly,isn’the?”hesays,althoughthisismoreadescriptionofhimselfandnotatallofWill.

“Will!”Trudycries.“You’vebeeninsulted!Defendyourhonor!”

“I’ve better things to defend,” he says.And the table falls silent.He is always saying thewrongthing,poppingthegaiety.“Er,sorry,”hesays.Buttheyarealreadyontothenextthing.

Trudyisdescribingthetailorwhoisgoingtomaketheuniforms.“He’sbeenourfamilytailorforagesandhecanwhipoutacopyofaParisdressintwodays,oneif

youbeg!”“What’shisname?”“Haven’t the slightest,” she says easily. “He’s The Tailor. But I knowwhere the shop is, ormy

driverdoes,rather,andwe’rethebestoffriends.Doyoufellowspreferorangeoraverybrightpinkascolors?”

Theydecideonolivegreenwithorangestripes(“Soboring,”thewomensighandorangeisgivenasaconcession)andTrudyaskswhoistomeasurethemen.

Theyvolunteerher.Sheaccepts(“Isn’ttheresomethingaboutdressingleft?”sheasksinnocently),thensaysWillwill

measureinherstead.Trudy’sfrivolity,Willhasnoticed,hasboundaries.

***

SophieBiggsistryingtogeteveryoneinterestedinmoonlightpicnics.“They’reeversomuchfun,”she says. “We take a steamboat out,with rowboats, andwhenwe reach the islandswe row everyoneashorewith theprovisionsandaguitaroranaccordionorsomething.”Sophie isa largegirlandWillwondersifsheisasecreteaterbecausesheeatstinyportionswhensheisout.Rightnow,sheispokingherspoonaroundthevichyssoise.

Trudysighs.“Itsoundslikesomuchlabor,”shesays.“Wouldn’titjustbeeasiertohaveapicnicatRepulseBay?”

Sophielooksatherreproachfully.“Butit’snotthesame,”shesays.“It’sthejourney.”Sophie’shusbandclaimstobeinshipping,butWillthinkshe’sinIntelligence.WhenhetellsTrudy

thislatershecries,“Thatbiglout?Hecouldn’tdetecthiswayoutofapaperbag!”ButJamieBiggsisalwayslistening,nevertalking,andhehasawatchfulairabouthim.Ifhe’sthatobvious,Willsupposeshe’snotverygood.AfterMiltonPottingerleftlastyear,someonehadtoldWillthathewasIntelligence.Hehadn’tbeenabletobelieveit.Miltonwasabig,floridmanwhodrankalotandseemedtheverysoulofindiscretion.

Edwina Storch, a large Englishwoman who is the headmistress of the good school in town, hasbroughtherconstantcompanion,MaryWinkle,andtheysitattheendofthetable,eatingquietly,talkingtonoonebuteachother.Willhasseenthembefore.Theyarealwaysaround,butneversaymuch.

Overdessert-trifle-JamiesaysthatallJapaneseresidentshavebeensentsecretlettersaboutwhattodoincaseofaninvasion,andthattheJapanesebarberchapintheGloucesterHotelhasbeenspying.Thegovernment is about to issue another edict that all wives and children are to be sent away withoutexception, but only the white British, those of pure European extraction, get passage on the ships.“Doesn’taffectme,”Trudysays,shrugging,althoughsheholdsaBritishpassport.Willknowsthatifshewanted,shecouldgetontheboat-herfatheralwaysknowssomeone.“WhatwouldIdoinAustralia?”sheasks.“Idon’tlikeanybodythere.Besides,it’sonlyforpureEnglish-haveyoueverheardofanythingsooffensive?”

Shechanges thesubject.“Whatwouldhappen,”sheasks,“if twogunswerepointedateachotherandthenthetriggerswerepulledatthesametime.Doyouthinkthetwopeoplewouldgethurtorwould

thebulletsdestroyeachother?”ThereisalivelydiscussionaboutthisthatTrudybecomesboredwithveryquickly.“Forheaven’s

sake!”shecries.“Isn’ttheresomethingelsewecantalkabout?”Thegroup,chastised,turnstoyetothersubjects.Trudyisasocialdictatorandnotatallbenevolent.ShetellssomeonerecentlyarrivedfromtheCongo that she can’t imagine why anyone would go to godforsaken places like that when there areperfectlypleasant destinations likeLondonandRome.The traveler actually looks chagrined.She tellsSophieBiggs’shusbandthathedoesn’tappreciatehiswife,andthenshetellsManleysheloathestrifle.Yet,noone takesoffense;everyoneagreeswithher.She is themostamiable rudepersonever.Peoplebaskinherattention.

Attheendofdinner,aftercoffeeandliqueur,Manley’shouseboybringsinabigbowlofnutsandraisins.ManleypoursbrandyoveritwithaflourishandTrudylightsamatchandtossesitin.Thebowlisablazeinstantly,allblueandwhiteflame.Theytrytopickoutthetreatswithoutburningtheirfingers,agametheycallSnapdragon.

Going to the restroom later,Will glimpses Trudy andVictor talking heatedly inCantonese in thedrawingroom.Hehesitates,thencontinueson.Whenhereturns,theyaregoneandTrudyisalreadybackatthetable,tellingabawdyjoke.

After, theygo tobed.Manleyhasgiven thema roomnext tohisand theymake lovequietly.WithTrudy,itisalwaysasifsheisdrowning-sheclutchesathimandburrowsherfaceintohisshoulderwithanintensityshewouldmakefunofifshesawit.Sometimes,theshapeofherfingersisetchedintohisskinforhoursafterward.Later,WillwakesuptofindTrudywhimpering,herfacelumpyandalarming;heseesthatherfaceiswetwithtears.

“What’swrong?”heasks.“Nothing.”Areflex.“Victorupsetyou?”heasks.“No,no,hewantsto…”Sheisblurrywithsleep.“Myfather…”Shegoesbacktosleep.Whenhe

throwstheblanketoverher,hershouldersareascoldandlimpaswater.Inthemorning,sheremembersnothing,andmockshimforhisconcern.

In the following weeks, the war encroaches-wives and children, the ones who had ignored theprevious evacuation, leave on ships bound for Australia, Singapore. Trudy is obliged to make anappearanceatthehospitalstoprovesheisanurse.Sheundergoestraining,declaresherselfhopeless,andswitchestosuppliesinstead.Shefindsthestockpilingofgoodstoofunny.“IfIhadtoeatthefoodthey’restoring,I’dshootmyself,”shesays.“It’sallveggietinsandbullybeefandawfulthingslikethat.”

The colony is filled with suddenly lonesome men without wives who gather at the Gripps, theParisianGrill,clamortobeinvitedtodinnerpartiesatthehomesofthosefewwhosewivesremain.Theyformaclub,theBachelors’Club(“WhydotheBritishsolovetoformclubsandsocieties?”Trudyasks.“No,wait,don’tsay,it’stoogrim”)andpetitionthegovernortohavetheirwivesreturned.Others,moreintrepid, turn up suddenlywith adoptedChinese “daughters” or “wards,” and theydinewith themanddrink champagne and get silly and flirtatious and then disappear into the night.Will finds it amusing,Trudylessso.“WaituntilIgetmyhandsonthem,”shecrieswhileWillamuseshimselfwithteasingheraboutwhichChinesehostesswouldsoongetherclawsintohim.

“You’relikealeper,darling,”shecounters.“YouBritishmenaregoingoutoffashion.ImighthavetofindmyselfaJapaneseorGermanbeaunow.”

Will remembers this timewell,howitwasallsofunny,howthewarwassofaraway,yet talkedabouteveryday,hownoonereallythoughtaboutwhatmightreallyhappen.

September1952CLAIREWASWAITINGforthebusafterLocket’spianolessonwhenWillTruesdaledroveupin

thecar.“Wouldyoulikealift?”heasked.“I’mjustoffwork.”“Thankyou,butIcouldn’tputyouout,”shesaid.“Notatall,”hesaid.“TheChensdon’tmind if I take thecarhomefor thenight.Mostemployers

want theircars leftathomeandthechauffeur to takepublic transporthome,soit’sveryconvenientforme.”

Clairehesitated,thengotintothecar.Itsmelledofcigarettesandpolishedleather.“It’sverykindofyou.”“DidyouhaveagoodtimeattheArbogasts’theotherday?”heasked.“Itwas a very nice party,” she said. Shehad learnednot to be so effusive, that itmarkedher as

unsophisticated.“Reggie’s a good sort,” he said. “Itwasnice tomeet you there too.There are toomanyof those

womenwhoadd to thedinwithoutaddinganythingelse.Youshouldn’t lose thatquality, thatqualityofseeingeverythingnew,forwhatitis.Allthewomenhere…”hetrailedoff.

Hedrovewell,shethought,steadyonthesteeringwheel,hismovementscalmandunhurried.“You’renotwearingtheperfumeyouhadontheotherday,”hesaid.“No,”shesaid,wary.“That’sforspecialoccasions.”“I was surprised that you had it on. Notmany English peoplewear it. It’smore the fashionable

Chinesewomen.Theylikeitsheaviness.Englishwomenlikesomethinglighter,moreflowery.”“Oh,Iwasn’taware.”Claire’shandwentunconsciouslytoherneck,wheresheusuallydabbediton.“Butit’slovelythatyouwearit,”hesaid.“Youseemtoknowalotaboutwomen’sscents.”“Idon’t.”Heglancedoverather,hiseyesdark.“Iusedtoknowsomeonewhoworeit.”Theyrodeinsilenceuntiltheyarrivedatherbuilding.“Youteachthegirl,”hesaidasshewasreachingforthedoor,hisvoicesuddenlyurgent.“Yes,Locket,”shesaid,takenaback.“Issheagoodstudent?”heasked.“Diligent?”“It’s hard to say,” she said. “Her parents don’t give hermuch of a reason to do anything so she

doesn’t.Verytypicalatthatage.Still,she’saniceenoughgirl.”Henodded,hisfaceunreadableinthedarkinteriorofthecar.“Well,thankyouverymuchfortheride,”shesaid.Henoddedanddroveoffintothegatheringdusk.

Andthen,abun.Abunwithsweetenedchestnutpaste.Thatwashowtheymetagain.ShehadbeenwalkingupPotterStreettowheretherewasabusstand,whenitstartedtopour.Therain,big,startlingplopsofwater,fellheavilyandshewassoakedthroughinamatterofseconds.Lookingupatthesky,shesawithadturnedathreateninggray.SheduckedintoaChinesebakerytowaitoutthestorm.Inside,sheordered a tea and a chestnut bun and, turning to sit at one of the small circular tables, spottedWillTruesdale,deliberatelyeatingaredbeanpastry,staringather.

“Hullo,”shesaid.“Caughtintheraintoo?”“Wouldyoulikeaseat?”Shesatdown.Inthedamp,hesmelledlikecigarettesandtea.Anewspaperwasspreadinfrontof

him,thecrosswordhalf-finished.Afanblewatthepagessotheyruffledupward.

“It’scomingdownlikecatsanddogs.Andsosudden!”“So,howareyou?”heasked.“Fine,thankyouverymuch.JustcomingfromtheLiggets’,whereI’veborrowedsomepatterns.Do

youknowJasperandHelen?He’sinthepolice.”“Liggetthebigot?”Hewrinkledhisforehead.Shelaughed,uncomfortable.Hishandthrummedthetable,thoughhisbodywasinrepose.“Isthatwhatyoucallhim?”sheasked.“Whynot?”hesaid.Hedidthecrosswordassheateherbunandsippedathertea.Shewasawareofhermouthchewing,

swallowing.Shesatupstraightinherchair.Hehummedatune,lookedup.“HongKongsuitsyou,”hesaid.Shecolored,startedtosaysomethingaboutbeingimpertinentbutthewordscameoutmuddled.“Don’tbecoy,”hesaid.“Ithink…”hestarted,asifheweretellingherlifestory.“Iimagineyou’ve

alwaysbeenprettybutyou’veneverownedit,neverusedittoyouradvantage.Youdidn’tknowwhattodoaboutitandyourmotherneverhelpedyou.Perhapsshewasjealous,perhapsshetoowasprettyinheryouthbutisbitterthatbeautyissotransient.”

“I’msureIhaven’ttheslightestideawhatyou’retalkingabout,”shesaid.“I’veknowngirlslikeyouforyears.YoucomeoverfromEnglandanddon’tknowwhattodowith

yourselves.Youcouldbedifferent.Youshouldtaketheopportunitytobecomesomethingelse.”Shestaredathim,thenpushedthepaperbunwrapperaroundonthetable.Itwasslightlydampand

stucktothesurface.Shewasawareofhisgazeonherface.“So,”hesaid.“Youmustbeveryuncomfortable.Myhomeisjustupthewayifyouwanttochange

intosomedrythings.”“Iwouldn’twantto…”“Doyouwantmyjacket?”Helookedathersointentlyshefeltundressed.Wasthereanythingmore

intimatethanreallybeingseen?Shelookedaway.“No,I…”“No bother at all,” he said quickly. “Come along.” And she did, pulled along helplessly by his

suggestion.

They climbed the steps, now damp and glistening, the heat already beginning to evaporate themoisture.Herclothesclungtoher,herblousesoddenanduncomfortableagainsthershoulderblades.Inthequietaftertherain,shecouldhearhisbreathing,slowandregular.Heusedhiscanewithexpertise,hoistinghimselfupthestairs,whistlingslightlyunderhisbreath.

“Ingoodweather,there’samanwhosellscricketsmadeoutofgrassstalkshere.”Hegesturedtoacorneronthestreet.“I’veboughtdozens.They’rethemostamazingthings,buttheycrumblewhentheydryup,crumbleintonothing.”

“Soundslovely,”Clairesaid.“I’dliketoseethem.”

Theygottohisbuilding,andwalkedupsomegrungy,industrialstairs.Hestoppedinfrontofadoor.“Ineverlockmydoor,”hesaidsuddenly.“Isupposeit’ssafeenougharoundtheseparts,”shesaid.Inside,hisflatwassparselyfurnished.Shecouldseeonlyasofa,achair,andatableonbarefloor.

Whentheysteppedin,hetookoffhissoakingshoes.“ThebosssaysIcan’twearshoesinthehouse.”Just then, a small, wiry woman of around forty came into the foyer. She was wearing the amah

uniformofablacktunicovertrousers.“Thisistheboss,AhYik,”hesaid.“AhYik,thisisMrs.Pendleton.”“Sowet,”thelittlewomancried.“Bigrain.”“Yes,”Willsaid.“Big,bigrain.”ThenhespoketoherrapidlyinCantonese.“Teaformissee?”AhYiksaid.“Yes,thankyou,”hesaid.Theamahwentintothekitchen.Theylookedateachother,uncomfortableintheirwetandrapidlycoolingclothes.“Youareproficientinthelocallanguage,”shesaid,moreasastatementthanaquestion.“I’vebeenheremorethanadecade,”hesaid.“ItwouldbearealembarrassmentifIcouldn’tmeet

themhalfway,don’tyouthink?”Hetookateatoweloffthehookandrubbedathishead.“Iimagineyou’dliketodryoff,”hesaid.

“Yes,please.”Shesatdownasheleft.Therewassomethingstrangeabouttheroom,whichshecouldn’tplaceuntil

sherealizedtherewasabsolutelynothingdecorativeintheentireflat.Therewerenopaintings,novases,nobric-a-brac.Itwasausteretothepointofmonkishness.

Willcamebackwithatowelandasimplepinkcottondress.“Isthisappropriate?”heasked.“I’veafewotherthings.”“Idon’tneedtochange,”shesaid.“I’lljustdryoffandbeonmyway.”“Oh,Ithinkyoushouldchange,”hesaid.“It’llbeuncomfortableotherwise.”“No,it’squiteallright.”Hestartedtoleavetheroom.“Fine,”shesaid.“WhereshouldI…”“Oh,anywhere,”hesaid.“Anywhereyouwon’tscandalizetheboss,thatis.”“Ofcourse.”Shetookthedressfromhim.“Looksaroundtherightsize.”“Andthere’saphoneouthereifyouwanttoringyourhusbandandlethimknowwhereyouare,”he

said.“Thankyou,”shesaid.“Martin’sinShanghai,actually.”Andshewentintothebathroom.Thebathroomwas small but clean,with a frosted-glasswindowhigh above the toilet. Itwas the

wavy,pebbledkind,withchickenwirerunningthroughit.Nexttothat,therewasasmallfansetintothewallwithapullstringattached.Itwashumid,withtherainsplatteringoutside,andthemustyfeelofabathroomthathadn’tgottenquiteairedoutenoughafterbaths.Next to the tub therewasa lowwoodenstoolwith a porcelainbasinon top.Claire leaned forward into themirror.Herhairwasmussed, fineblondstrandsawry,andherfacewasflushed,still,withtheexertionofclimbingupthehill.Shelookedsurprisinglyalive,her lips redandplumpandwet,herskinglowingwith themoisture.Sheundressed,droppinghersoakedblousetothefloor,whichslopedslightlytoadraininthemiddle.Shetoweledoffandpulledthedressoverherhips.Itwassnug,butmanageable.WhydidWillhaveadresslyingaround?Itwasverygoodquality,withperfectlyfinishedseamsandcarefulneedlework.Shewentout towhereWillwassippingfromathermosoftea.

“Fitsyouwell,”hesaidneutrally.“Yes,thankyouverymuch.”All of a sudden,Claire couldn’t bear it. She couldn’t bear thismanwith his odd pauses and his

slightlymockingtone.“Somethingtoeat,perhaps?”hesaid.“AhYikmakesaverygoodbowloffriedrice.”“IthinkI’dbetterleave,”shesaid.“Oh,”hesaid,takenaback.Shetooksatisfactioninhissurprise,asifshehadwonsomething.“Of

course,ifyou’drather.”

Shegotupandleft,puttinghershoesonatthedoorwhileWillstayedinthelivingroom.Whensheturnedtosaygood-bye,shesawhewasreadingabook.Thisinfuriatedher.

“Well, good-bye, then,” she said. “I’ll have my amah return the dress. Thank you for yourhospitality.”

“Good-bye,”hesaid.Hedidn’tlookup.

***

Thatnight, after dinner, she couldn’t relax.Her insides seemed too large forheroutside, a queersensation,asifallthatshewasfeelingcouldn’tbecontainedinsideherbody.Martinwasstillaway,sosheputonherstreetclothesandgotonthebustotown,bumpingovertheroads,elbowoutthewindow,opentothewarmnightair.ShedisembarkedinWanchai,wherethereseemedtobethemostactivity.Shewanted tobearoundpeople,notsoalone.Thewetmarketwasstillopen,Chinesepeoplebuying theircabbagesandfish,theporkhangingfromhooks,sometimesawholepighead,redandbloody,drippingonto the street. Thiswas the peculiarity ofHongKong. If shewalked tenminutes towardCentral, allwouldbecivil,large,quietbuildingsintheEuropeanclassicalstyle,andwide,emptystreets,yethere,thefreneticactivity,narrowalleys,andsmokystallswereanotherworld.Allaroundher,peoplecalledtooneanotherloudly,advertisingtheirwares,asmudge-facedchildplayedinthestreetwithadirtybucket.Apregnantwomancarryingvegetablesunderherarmjostledherandapologized,hermovementsheavyandclumsy.Clairestaredafterher,wonderingwhatitwouldbeliketohaveachildinsideyou,movingaround.Ayoungcouplewithlinkedarmssatdownatanoodlestandandbrokeoutloudlyinlaughter.

Next to her, awizened elderly lady tugged at Claire’s arm.Dressed in the gray cotton tunic andtrousersmostofthelocalolderwomenseemedtofavor,shehadasmallbasketoftangerinesonherarm.

“You buy,” she said. She smelled like the white flower ointment the locals used to fend offeverythingfromthecommoncoldtocholera.Oneofherteethwasgrayandchipped,theothersantiqueyellow.Thewoman’sbrownfacewasaspiderwebofdeeplyetchedlines.

“No,thankyou,”saidClaire.Hervoicerangoutlikeabell.Itseemedasifherforeignvoicestilledthebustlearoundherforamoment.

Thewomangrewmoreinsistent.“Youbuy!Verygood.Freshtoday.”ThewomanpulledatClaire’sarmagain.Thenshereachedup

andtouchedClaire’shair likea talisman.The localChinesedid thatsometimes,andwhile ithadbeenfrighteningthefirsttime,Clairewasusedtoitbynow.

“Goodfortune,”saidtheoldwoman.“Golden.”“Thankyou,”saidClaire.“Youbuy!”thewomanrepeated.“I’mnotlookingforanythingtoday,butthankyouverymuch.”Thehumaroundherresumed.Claire

continued walking. The old woman followed her for a few yards, then shambled off to find morepromisingcustomers.

Whynotbuyatangerinefromanoldlady,Clairethoughtsuddenly.Whynot?Whatwouldhappen?Shecouldn’tthinkofwhyshehaddeclined,asifheroldEnglishself,withitsdefensesandprejudices,wasdissolvinginthehumid,fetidenvironmentaroundher.

Sheturnedaroundbutthewomanhadalreadydisappeared.Shebreatheddeeply.Thesmellsofthewetmarketenteredher,intenseandearthy.Aroundher,HongKongthrummed.

Andthen,suddenly,hewaseverywhere.ShesawWillTruesdalewaitingforthebus,atKayamally’s,queuingupatthecinema.Andthoughheneversawher,shealwaysloweredherhead,willinghimnottonotice.Andthenshe’dpeekup,toseeifhehad.Hehadawayofseemingcompletelycontainedwithinhimself,evenwhenhewasinacrowd.Heneverlookedaround,nevertappedhisfeet,neverlookedathiswatch.Itseemedheneversawher.

WhenshewentforLocket’slessononThursdays,shefoundherselflookingforWillTruesdale.Sheheardtheamahslaughingathisjokesinthekitchen,andshesawhisjackethangingintheentryfoyer,buthisphysicalpresencewaselusive,asifheslippedinandout,avoidingher.Shelingeredattheendofherlesson,butsheneversawhimorthecar.

Thentheywereatthebeachthenextweekend.Shehardlyknewhowithadhappened.Shehadcomehome.Thephonerang.Shepickeditup.

“I’veafriendwithoneofthosemunicipalbeachhuts,”hesaid.“Wouldyouliketogobathing?”Asifnothinghadhappened.Asifshewouldknowwhoitwasbyhisvoice.

“Bathing,”shesaid.“Where?”“OnBigWaveBay,”hesaid.“It’saperkforthelocalsbuttheydon’tmindifwesignupaswell.It’s

alotterysystemandyougetacottagefortheseason.Agroupofususuallygettogethertodoitandswapweekends.It’squitenice.”

Sheshuthereyesandsawhim,Will,thedifficultmanwithhisthinshouldersandgrayeyes,hisdarkhair thatfelluntidilyintohiseyes,amanwhostaredathersointentlyshefeltquitetransparent,amanwhohadjustaskedhertogobathingwithhim,unaccompanied.Andsheopenedhereyesandsaidyes,shewouldjoinhimatthebeachthatSunday.MartinwasawayforthreeweeksandhehadtelegraphedfromShanghaitoletherknowhewouldbedelayedforsometime.HewastakingatourofmajorChinesecitiestoseetheirwaterfacilities,whichheexpectedtobeveryprimitive.

Andso,itwaswater.Shewonderedwhyshehadn’tthoughtofitbefore.Howitrenderedeverythingchanged.Shewasadifferentwomaninadifferentsphere.AndWill!Thewayheplungedin,withoutathought,hislimpgone,dissolvedintothecurrent.Hewasafish,dartinghereandthere,swimmingtothehorizon,fartherthanshewouldevergo.

Theyweretheonlynon-Chinesepeopleatthebeach.Thewaterwasstillwarmfromthesummer,theairjuststartingtocrisp.Thehutwasasimplestructurewithwoodencupboards;insidewerecommunalwoven straw mats. The sand was fine and speckled with small, black withered leaves. Familiespicnickedaroundthem,chatteringloudly,smallchildrenscramblingmessilyinthesand.Hewantedtogoouttothefloatingdivingdocks,sometwohundredyardsout.Whenshesaidshecouldn’t,thatitwastoofar,hesaidofcourseshecould,andsoshedid.Outthere,theyclimbedontotherockingcircleandsunnedthemselveslikeseals.Helayinthesun,eyesclosed,asshesurreptitiouslywatched,hisribsjuttingout,hisbodypockedwithunnamedscarsofunknownorigin.Heworeshortcottontrousersthatwereheavywithwater.Hewasn’tthetypetowearabathingsuit.

Itwashot,hot.Thesunhidbehindcloudsforbriefmomentsandthenblazedoutagain.Therewasnocover.Shewishedforacolddrink,atreeforshade,bothofwhichseemedimpossiblyfarawayontheshore.

“Weshouldhaveswumoutwithathermosofwater,”shesaid.“Nexttime,”hesaid,eyesstillshut.“Tellmeyourstory,”shesaid,afterallowingherselfaminute todigestwhat thatmeant.Shewas

stillvibratingwith the strangenessof the situation-that shewasoutat thebeachwithaman, intentionsunknown.

“I was born in Tasmania, of Scottish stock,” he said mockingly, as if he were starting his ownautobiography.Hesatupandcrossedhislegs-aswami.

“Why?”shesaid.“Myfatherwasamissionaryandwelivedeverywhere,”hesaid.“I’veonlybeentoEnglandonce,

andloathedit.Mymotherwasabitofabohemianandshehadsomemoneyfromherfamilysoweweresetinthatway.”

Hong Kong was full of people like Will, wandering global voyagers who had never been toPiccadilly.Clairehadbeenjustonce,andtherehadbeenanoldmanintatteredclotheswhowouldshout“Fornicators!”ateveryonewhopassed.

“Andhowdidyoulearn?”“School,youmean?Taughtathome-goodbasiceducationoftheBibleandtheclassics.”Heheldup

hishandssothattheyblockedthesky.“It’sallyouneed,really,isn’tit?”Hisvoicewassarcastic.“Solidbackgroundforlife.”

“Sohowdidyoucometobeachauffeur?”“Acouple Iknewbefore thewar, Iused to live in their flatwhile theywere livingabroad.They

camebackafter,andfoundmethisjobwiththeircousins.Ididn’tknowwhatelsetodo.Nointerestingoingbacktoanoffice.AndI’veveryfewskills,”hesaid.“ButIdoknowHongKonglikethebackofmyhand.”

“AndhowdidyouendupinHongKong?”“MyparentswereinAfrica,andtheninIndia.WhentheyretiredbacktoEngland,Istayedonasan

assistantmanageratateaplantation,thengottiredofthatafterthreeyearsandwasonashiptoavarietyofplacesandendedupinHongKong.Justpickeditoutofahat,really.Icameherelikeeveryoneelse,notknowinganything,andsortoftookitfromthere.”Hestopped.“Ofcourse,that’sthestoryItellalltheladies.”

Shecouldnottellifhewasjokingornot.“Oh?”Theywerestilllyingonthetoosunnyfloatingdock,wavesrockingthem,skyanetherealblueabove

them.“HowwasIndia?”Claireasked.“Verycomplicated.”“AndPartition?”“AfterIleft,ofcourse.Theyneededusout.Butundoubtedlyamessintheinterior.Trainscarrying

tensofthousandsofcorpsesbackandforth.Humanscapableofdoingtheworsttoeachother.”Clairewinced. “Why?”Shehadneverheard anyone talk abouthistoric events in suchapersonal

way.“Whoknows.”“Andlifetherebeforeallthat?”“Ratherincredible.We’vecarvedoutquiteaworldforourselves,youknow,still.Society’srather

limitedofcourse.Women-ourwomen-wereinshortsupply.”“Younevermarried?”“No,”hesaid.“Ineverdid.”Therewassilence.“Istheinquisitionover?”heasked.“Ihaven’tdecided,”shesaid.Hehadn’taskedasinglequestionaboutherlife.Theylaysilentlyandletthesunbeatdownonthem.

Theywenttoeat,hot,saltychickendrumsticksfromaChinesevendorwhosoldthembottlesofsoy

milkaswell.Therewerelittlestallsclusteredaroundthesmallvillagewhereyoucouldbuyawovenmatto layon thesand,abathingsuit,acolddrink.Willwatchedhereat.Amangydogambled through thetablesandchairs.

“Ican’teatmuch,”hesaid.“I’mallmessedupinsidefromthewar.Iwasabigchapbefore,ifyoucanbelieveit.”

Herstomachleapedinsideofherashemovedcloser.Hetookherhandandguidedittohismouthandtookasmallbite.Hisgripwasfirmandsandy.“Itcomesupagain,sometimes,”hesaid.“Likebile.”Hechewedslowly,madeagrimace.Aftertheyate,theywalkedbacktothecar.Heleanedovertoopenthedoorforher.Hislimpwas

apparent.Humanagain.She turned tohim,backagainst thedoor,andhepushedhershoulderbackandkissedher,afluidmovementthatseemedinevitable.Shewasencircledinhisarms,hishandsonthecar.Aphysicalkiss,oneshefeltintensely,hislipspressinghardonhers-shefeltlikeshewasdrowning.

Shetoldherself:ThisisHongKong.Iamawoman,displaced.AwomanaworldawayfromwhoIamsupposedtobe.

Hestoodupandlookedather.Hetracedherprofilewithhisfinger.“Shouldwego?”heasked.

“Doyou likeme?” she askedon the car rideback,herhair full and thick from the sea salt.Shedidn’tknowwheretheyweregoing.

“Ihaven’tdecidedyet,”hesaid.“Begoodtome,”shesaid.Itwasawarning.Shewantedtosaveherself.“Ofcourse,”hesaid,buttherewasnoconvictioninhisvoice.Afterafewmoments,heasked,“Doyouthinkyou’llbeteachingthegirlforlong?”“Ihaven’tanyidea.Sheshowsnoenthusiasmbutherparentsseemkeenontheideaofherlearningto

play.”“Youlikeher,though?”“Wellenough.Ihavenoaffinityforchildren.”Shesaidthisautomatically,somethinghermotherhad

alwaystoldher.“You’retooyoung.You’reachildyourself,”hesaid.“Youlikechildren?”“Somechildren,”hesaid.

Afewweekslater,sheasked,“Whyme?”“Whyanyone?”heanswered.“Whyisanyonewithanyone?”Desire,proximity,habit,chance.Allthesewentthroughhermind,butshedidn’tsayaword.Then,thecruel.“Idon’tliketolove,”hesaid.“Youshouldbeforewarned.Idon’tbelieveinit.Andyoushouldn’t

either.”Shestaredathim,thestingsharp,butshedidn’tchangeherexpression.Shekneltdownandretrieved

herclothesandwent into thebathroomtodress.Claireoftendidn’t speakaroundWill,neverknowingwhattosay.Shedidn’twanttogivetoomuchofherselfwhenhegavesolittle,butwhentheywerelyingtogetherinbed,shefeltawful,sharingthisintimacywithsomeonewhodidn’treallyseemtocare.Andthen going home to Martin. With him, the private was mundane, a chore, some heavy breathing andshoving, not at all pleasurable or romantic. With Will, it was something else entirely: fraught andunexpectedandexcruciating.Andlikeadrug.Shehadneverknownitcouldbelikethat.Sheclosedhereyesandtriednottothinkofwhathermotherwouldsayifsheknew.

HewoulddriveherhomeonThursdaysafterthelesson.Theamahshadstartedtotalk,sheknewit,

fromthewaytheywouldlookatherandsmirk.Sheignoredthem,exceptforwhensheaskedthemforacupof tea.Shehadresorted to takingonesip,and thenaskingformoresugar,ormoremilk,so they’dhavetogobackandfixhercup.Itwaspetty,sheknew,buttheonlywaytoredresstheindignityoftheirsidewaysglances.

Today,Willopenedthedoorwithaflourish.“Whereto,madam?”“Oh,shutup,”shesaid,climbingin.“Let’sgotoyourplace.”“Let’sgoout,dosomething,”hesaid.“Whataboutdinneronthewater?There’sasampanrestaurant

Igotosometimes.Theyrowyouout,cookyouafish?”“Ihavetohavedinnerathome,”shesaid.“Martin’shometonightsoIhaven’tmuchtime.”“Orlet’sgouptothePeakandlookatthestars.”“Areyouevenlisteningtome?”shesaid,exasperated.“Idon’tknowthatIevenhavetimetogoto

yourflattoday.”“Whateveryouwant,darling,”hesaid.“I’lljustdriveyouhome,then,andyoucangofixMartina

deliciousmeal.”“Stopthecar,”shesaid.Hedroveupontothesideoftheroadandturnedoffthecar.“Asdirected,”hesaid.“Whydoyou,”shesaid,suddenlyfurious.“You,youalwaysdowhateverIsaytodo,andthen…it

neverseemslikeyou’redoinganythingbutwhatyouwanttodo.”Helookedatherwithamusement.“Ihaven’tacluewhatyou’retalkingabout,”hesaid.“Youdo,”shesaid.“YouknowexactlywhatI’mtalkingabout,butyou’repretending…Oh,never

mind.”Sheraisedherhandsinsurrender.“Justtakemehome,”shesaid.“You’veruinedit.”

Therehadbeen timeswhenClaire felt that shecouldbecomeadifferentperson.She sensed it inherself, when someone made a comment at dinner, and she thought of the perfect, acerbic reply, orsomethingevenracy,andshefelthermouthopening,herlungstakinginairsothatshecouldthenpushoutthewords,buttheynevercameout.Sheswallowedherthought,andthepersonshecouldhavebecomesankdownagain,weightedbytheClairethatwasalreadytooevidentintheworld.Shesenseditwhensheheldaglassatacocktailpartyandsuddenlyfelttheurgetocrushitinherhand.Sheneverdid.Thathiddenpersonhadballoonedupanddeflatedsooften, theelasticityofherpossibilitydiminishedovertime.

ButthencameWill.Shecouldsaytohimallthethingsshethought,aslongasitdidn’thaveanythingtodowiththem,andhedidn’tfindanyofitsurprising.Hedidn’thaveanideaofwhatsheshouldbelike.Shewasanewperson-onewhocouldhaveanaffair,onewhocouldberibald,orsarcastic,orclever,andhewasneversurprised.Shewasoutofcontextwithhim.Shewasanewperson.Sometimesshefeltthatshewasmoreinlovewiththatnewpersonshecouldbe,thatthisaffairwasanaffairwithanewClaire,andthatWillwasjusttheenabler.

December1941THE HOLIDAYS are coming. Despite the rumblings of war, Hong Kong decks itself out with

Christmaslightsanddecorations.LaneCrawford,storeofamilliongifts,advertisesitsgenuineEnglishcrystalastheperfectpresent,costumepartiesareplanned,theDramaClubputson“TeaforThree.”Theair iscrisp, themoisturesuckedoutby thecool,andpeoplewalkbrisklyon thestreets.TheWongs,afamous merchant family, are having a Grand Diamond Jubilee Party at the Gripps to celebrate theirsixtiethanniversary.

“Thenewgovernor’scoming,thatYoungfellow,”Trudysays.“AndthegovernorofMacau,who’sagreatfriendoffather’s.I’vethreenewdressesarrivingtoday!Ayellowsilkchiffontodiefor!Andagraycrêpe de chine, so elegant. Do youmind if I go with Dommie instead of you? You hate these thingsanyway,don’tyou?”

Willshrugs.“Fine,”hesays.“Doesn’tmatter.”Hereyesnarrow.“Nothingdoeseverbotheryou,doesit?”shesays.“IusedtolikethatbutnowI’mnotsosure.Well,

anyways,myfathergavemesomethingtoday.Somethingveryspecial.”Shemotionshimintoherbedroom.“Hesayshewasgoingtogiveittomymotherfortheirtenthanniversary,butthen,youknow…”Her

voicetrailsoff.Trudyhasalwaysbeenquiteunsentimentalabouthermother’sdisappearance,buttoday,there’ssomethingcaughtinhervoice.

“DarlingTrudy,”hesays,andpullshernear.“No,I’mgoingtoshowyousomething,”shesays.“Notimeforhanky-panky.”Sheopensadrawer

andpullsoutasmallblackvelvetbox.“Willyoumarryme?”shesaysjokinglyassheopenstheboxandthrustsittowardhim.Insideisanenormousemerald.Willalmostcan’tseetheringbehindit.Itglowsandglows.“Smokes,”hesays.“That’squiteastone.”“I love emeralds, although I should love jade, being Chinese,” Trudy says. “Emeralds are so

beautifulandsoveryfragile.Jadeisso,hard.IfIknockedthisagainsta table-youknowhowclumsyIam-it might break. They’re not durable like diamonds.” She plucks the ring out of the box and thensuddenlythrowsitupintheair.Will’sheartleapsinsidehimlikeasmallbird,andhewildlygrabsforthejewel,catchingitonitswaydown.Hestaresatthegreengeminhishand,bloodcoursingwildly.Itnestlesinhispalmlikeacoldinsect.

“Iknewyou’dcatchit,”Trudysaysdispassionately.“That’sthebestthingaboutyou.You’re…notdependable,exactly,butgoodinafix,Isuppose.”

WillhandstheringbacktoTrudy,angry,andwatchesassheslipsitonherslimfinger.“Beautiful,isn’tit?”shesays.“It’sthenicestthingIown.”Hewalksoutoftheroom.

OnSaturday,thereisanotherparty,theTinHatBall,toraise160,000poundssothatthepeopleofHongKongcanpresentabombersquadrontoEngland.Trudybegshimtogowithheras,atthelastone,theonlydashingmenwereAmericansandthat“wasn’tright.”“Youarefickle,”hesays,butsheignoreshim.

IntheballroomofthePeninsula,Trudyismuchindemand,asusual.SheisclaimedthreetimesinarowbyaCanadianmajor.WillisattheLongBarhavingadrink,talkingidlytoAngelineBiddle,whenTrudycomesupbehindhimandinterlocksherfingersinfrontofhiseyes.

“Didyoumissme?”shesays.

“Youweregone?”heasks.Heknowshowtotalktoher.“Whatareyoudrinking?”TrudyasksAngeline.“Ox’sBlood,”shesays.“It’schampagnemixedwithsparklingburgundyandmaybesomebrandy.”“Soundsdreadful,”Trudysays,seizingWill’swhiskeyinstead.Shesipsatit.“Don’ttheCanadians

havethefunniestnamesfortheirteams?”“Regiments,Trudy,”hecorrects.“Whatarethey,theRoyalGunsorsomething?”saysAngeline.“No,they’retheRoyalRiflesandtheWinnipegGrenadiers.They’vejustcomefromNewfoundland

tohelpprotectus.TheyloveHongKong.”“I’llbettheydo,”hesays.“I’msureitseemslikeheaven.”Shepouts.“You’renotgoingtobealldullandjealous,areyou?”Sheadjuststhestrapsofherdress,distracted.

“Anyway,I’mspokenforthenextfewdances.Angeline,you’lltakecareofmyWill,won’tyou?”AngelineandWilllookateachotherandshrug.“Ofcourse,darling,”Angelinesays.AssoonasTrudyleaves,theydriftawayfromeachother.WillfindsAngusEnderbyleaningagainst

awall.Trudy’scousin,Dominick,wandersby,givesthemacurtnod.“Strangefellow,that,”saysAngus.“Can’tfigurehimout.”“Trudysayshe’sagirl.”“Somethingmorethanthat,though.Lessinnocent.”Hepauses.“YouknowthereareFifthColumnists

infiltrating. They’re supporting thatWong ChangWai chap, who the Japanese installed in China. I’veheardDominickhasbeenseenwithalotofthatcrowd.AndVictorChen,ofcourse,thickasthieveswithwhoevercanhelphim.Rumorhasit thathehadtheJapaneseconsulateoverfordinnerlastweek.Veryhush-hush.Betterwatchhimself.That’sadangerousgame.”

“He’sasurvivor.”“Yes.”Angusshrugs.“Can’tbelievethewareffort’sbeenturnedintoaparty.Thenewgovernor’sa

foolforcoming.”A stout woman is at the bar, with a thinner lady, both sipping whiskey, watching the dancing

impassively.“DoyouknowEdwinaStorch?”AngusasksWill,noddingtowardthetwo.“I’veseenheraround.Notmetthemformally.”“Headmistress of Essex, old-timer. Grim, formidable. Been around forever. Her partner, Mary

Winkle.”WillandAnguswalkovertothewomen.Edwinainclinesherheadregally,aqueenholdingcourt.“Hello,Angus.MerryChristmas.”“Edwina,IwantedyoutomeetWillTruesdale,somewhatofanewarrivaltotheseshores.AndWill,

thisisEdwinaStorchandMaryWinkle,HongKonginstitutions.Theyknowwherealltheskeletonsareburied.”

“Pleasedtomeetyou,”saysWill.“I’veseenyouaround,”Edwinasays.“You’rewiththeLianggirl.”“Yes,” Will says. He is not surprised by her bluntness. He has run into this type before: the

unapologetic, rudeEnglishmatronwhofanciesherselfanadventuressanddesiresnothingmore than tointimidate.

“Thatdidn’ttakeyoulong.”“No,itdidn’t,luckily,”hesayslightly.“She’sbeenawonderfulintroductiontoHongKong.”EdwinaStorchharrumphs.“That’saskewedsenseofHongKongyou’regetting!”

MaryWinklelaysasmall,reproachfulhandonEdwina’sarm.“Now,now,”shewhispers.“Trudyhasalwaysbeenlovely,ifmisunderstood.Idolikehersovery

much.”Willsmilesather.“Sheislovely,isn’tshe?”Edwinasipsnoisilyatherglass.“What’sthatyou’redrinking?”sheasks.“Singlemalt.”“Aman’sdrink.Sinceyou’rewithTrudy,Ithoughtyoumightbeachampagnedrinker.”“Areyoufriendswithher?”heaskspolitely.“Ofcourse,”shesays.“InHongKong,everyonehastobefriendsorit’sveryunpleasant.”“Of course,” he says agreeably to thewomen and bows to them before taking his leave.After a

pause,Angusjoinshimbackatthebar.“Somethingaboutthatwomanturnsmeintoaschoolboyabouttowethistrousers,”Angussays.“Andyoukeepgoingbackformore,”Willsaysdrily.“Thatonelikeshercreaturecomforts,”Angussays.“Alwaysaftermeaboutcivilsalariesandwhat

anoutragetheyare.Nevermetaheadmistressmoreinterestedinmoney.”Thetwomenpullattheirdrinks.“Iheardthegovernor’stoldallthemenintheBachelorstheywereofftheirheadsforwantingtheir

wivesback.Hiswife’sstillinMalaysia,no?”“Yes,butIdon’tknowthatthat’sanysafer,doyou?”Willsays.“HowisAmelia?”“Fine,butshe’smakingnoisesaboutcomingback.She’sjustinChina,youknow,refusedabsolutely

togotoAustralia.So,she’sinCanton,andcomplainingmightily.Icanheartheracketfromhere.”Anguslookedgloomilyatthedancefloor.“MightlethercomebackjustsoIcangetsomepeace.”Hepaused.“Thoughthatseemsrathercounterintuitive,eh?”

“Everythingtodowithwomenseemscounterintuitive.”“Trudynotleaving?”Angusasks.“Refuses.Saysthere’snowheretogo.Whichissortofthetruthforher,Ithink.”“Pity,”saysAngus.“Alotofplacescoulduseherrightnow.”“Yes,shecouldcharmeveryone,”Willsays.“Aformidableweapon,indeed,”Angussays.“Didyouseethepapertoday?RooseveltsentHirohitoacable?”“Yes.We’llseehoweffectivethatis.Whataretheyhavingyoudoattheoffice?”“They sent around a memorandum a few weeks ago saying that our Volunteer positions took

precedenceovercompanybusiness,butwearesupposedtoregisterwiththemduringfighting,ifitbreaksout.They’vegivenusanumbertocallwithourlocation.Idon’tknowthattheyknowwhatthey’redoing.”

TheywatchTrudytwirlaroundthedancefloor,laughing,ivory-whitearmsdrapedoverherpartner’sshoulders.Afterward,breathlessandhappy, she tellsWill thatherpartnerwas the“headof thewholething.He’sveryimportant,andheseemedtolikemeverymuch,tellingmeallaboutthesituationwe’rein.Andit’s terribly ironic,”shesays.“Thedreariestofpeoplearesafe-theGermans,bless theirstolidhearts,theItalianswiththeirawful,funnyways.HongKong’sgoingtobesodull,nopartiesworthgoingtoatall.”

“Soyou’reinterestedwhenhetellsyouaboutthewar,areyou?”“Ofcourse,darling.Heknowswhathe’stalkingabout.”

The orchestra is playing “The Best Things in Life Are Free,” and Trudy is complaining. “He’shorrible,”shesaysabout theaccompanist.“Icouldgetuprightnowandplaybetter thanthat.”Butsheisn’t given a chance because a shortmanwith amegaphone strides through the ballroom and gets up

onstage.Theorchestragrindstoahalt.“All thosemenwhoareconnected to theAmericanSteamshipsLineareordered to reportaboard

shipas soonaspossible. I repeat, all thoseconnectedwithAmericanSteamshipsLineare required toreportonboardrightnow.”

Thereisalongsilence,thenonthedancefloor,couplesuncouple,atthebar,menstandupfromtheirbarstoolsandpulldowntheirshirtfronts.Afewstarttomaketheiruncertainwaytothedoor.

“I hateAmerican accents,” Trudy says. “They sound so stupid.” She seems to have forgotten hergreatloveforAmericans.

“Trudy,”Willsays.“Thisisserious.Doyouunderstand?”“It’llbefine,darling,”Trudysays.“Whowouldbotherwithoursmallpocketoftheworld?It’sjust

thealarmists.”Shecallsformorechampagne.Dominickcomesbyandwhisperssomethinginherear.HestaresatWillwhilehe’sdoingit.“Goodevening,Dominick,”hesays.“Hallo,”isthelaconicreply.DominickisoneofthosequeerChinesewhoaremoreEnglishthanthe

English,yethasnogreatloveforthem.EducatedinthemostpreciouswayinEngland,hehascomebacktoHongKongandisaffrontedbyeverythingthatisintheleastbitcrass,whichistosay,everything-theswillonthestreets,theexpectorating,illiteratethrongsofcooliesandfishmongers.Ahothouseflower,hethrivesonlyintherarestofsocietycircles,arounddamasknapkinsandclear,ringingcrystal-Willwouldverymuchliketoseehiminarubberapronladlingoutsouptobutchersandtheirilkinastreet-marketnoodleshop,thekindwiththebareelectricalbulbhangingdangerouslyonafilament.

“Terriblenews,isn’tit?”Willsays.“This toowill pass.”Dominickdismisseshimwith a slowwaveof hismarble-white palm.Will

findshimselfwonderingifthosehandshaveseenanylabormorearduousthanthewritingofathank-younoteoncreambondortheliftingofachampagnebowl.Hewatchesthetwoofthemwhisperingtogether.Theybelongtogether(wereitnotfortheaccidentoftheirfamilyrelations)buthesupposessuchapairingwouldcombust,theirpaleelectricityextinguishingtheother.

Dominicksayssuddenly,“It’snotallbadforTrudyandme,youknow.TheJapaneseareclosertousthantheEnglish.Atleastthey’reOrientals.”

WillalmostlaughsandthenrealizesthatDominickisserious.“Butyou’retheleastOrientalpersonIknow,”hesaysmildly.Dominicknarrowshiseyes.“You’venoideawhatyou’retalkingabout,”hesays.Trudy intervenes. “You’reboth talkingnonsense.Don’t talkabout thisbeastlynationalitymatter-it

makesmeill.”ShebrushesWill’shairbackfromhis face.“All Iknowis that theJapaneseareaverypeculiarpeople.”

“Youshouldnotsaysuchthings,”Dominicksays.“Youshouldnot.”“Oh,bother!”Trudysays.“Haveanotherdrinkandshutup.”ItisthefirsttimeWillhasseenTrudygetirritatedwithDominick.Shewantstogoshortlythereafter

andthey leave,butnotbeforeshegivesDominickaquickkisson thecheekto lethimknowhe’sbeenforgiven.

OnSundaytheywakeandgoto townfordimsum.There isanoddtensionin theair,andthewetmarketsarefilledwithgrimshoppersfillingtheirbags.Theygohomeandlistentotheradioandeatasimpledinner.Theamahsareflittingabout,chatteringnonstop,andit’sgivingWillaheadache.Theofficeringsupandsaysthatworkissuspendeduntilfurthernotice.Thatnight,heandTrudyslipandslideintheirsleep,wakingeachotherintheirrestlessness,breathingloudly.

Monday,December8.Therudebrrringofthetelephone.AngelinewakesTrudyandWillwiththenewsthatherhusbandhasjustreceivedwordofabroadcasttoallJapanesethatwarwithBritainandthe

UnitedStatesisimminent.Theengineershavebeenorderedtoblowallbridgesleadingintotheterritory.Then,astheydigestthenewsstillgroggyfromsleep,theyheartheair-raidsirens,andthen,terribly,fromadistance,thencloser,thewhingandwhineofaircraftandthedullthudofbombs.Thephoneringsagain.AllVolunteersaretobeinplacebythreeintheafternoon.TheyturnontheradioandWillgetsdressedasTrudywatcheshimfromthebed.Sheispaleandquiet.

“It’smadnessforyoutogooutinthis,”shesays.“Howareyougoingtogettotheoffice?”“I’lldrive,”hesays.“But you don’t know what condition the roads are in. You might be hit by a bomb or someone

might…”“Trudy,”hesays.“Ihavetogo.Ican’tjustsitby.”“Nonsense,”shesays.“AndIdon’twanttobealone.”“Let’snotquarrel,”hesaysgently.“CallAngeline.Thengoovertoherhouse.Havehersendherboy

to escort you.And I’ll ring you therewhen I’m able.You should probably stock up on some food aswell.”

Hekisseshercoolcheekandleaves.Intown,hedrivesbytheKing’sTheater.Itstillseemstobeoperating.MyLifewithCarolineisthe

featureandthereare,astonishingly,afewpeoplequeuingupfortickets.WhenhereportstoHQ,it’sabuzzwithactivity,menjostlingforspaceandsupplies,withasenseof

urgencyhehasnotseenbefore.Outside,it’seerilyquietbutfortheintermittentboomofbombs.Hesitsandwaits forhis assignment.There’s amapover adeskwith the colonymarkedout.Adotted line isdrawnfromGinDrinkersBaytoTideCovewithafortressatShingMun-thefirstlineofdefense.There’sbeenaconcretetunnelbuiltsouthoftheJubileeReservoirwheresoldierscanclimbtopillboxestofire.“This should keepus for awhile,” aman says, noticingWill studying themap. “It’s fairly difficult tobreach,I’dsay.”Onthewall,someonehastypedupexcerptsfromGeneralMaltby’sspeechthatmorning:“Itisobvioustoyouallthatthetestforwhichwehavebeenplacedherewillcomeinthenearfuture.Iexpecteachandeverymemberofmyforcetostickitoutunflinchingly,andthatmyforcewillbecomeagreatexampleofhigh-heartedcourage toall therestof theBritishempirewhoarefightingtopreservetruth,justice,andlibertyfortheworld.”

Suddenly, over the radio, they hear Roosevelt ’s voice. “Quiet, dammit,” someone shouts. Thevolumeisturnedup.RooseveltannouncesthebombingofPearlHarborandaquietshockdescendsupontheoffice.

Roosevelt isdone,and there is thebuzzingof the radiobefore theannouncercomes in.“And thatwasPresidentRooseveltoftheUnitedStates…”

“That’sgoodforus,”afellowsaysfinally.“MeanstheAmericansareinitnow,whethertheylikeitornot.”

“Itmeansthewarhasgottenmuchbigger,”saysanother,quietly.

November1952SHE WAS PARANOID. She always had been. When she pushed open a door or picked up a

wineglass,shemadeapointofsmudgingtheslightmapthatheroils,fingerwhorls,anddusthadcreated-asifScotlandYardwerehotonhertrail.Shedidn’twanttobeleavingclues,fragments,partsofherself,around.Whensheranherfingersthroughherhair,shekeptthestrandsthatslidout,anddisposedoftheminadustbin.Herfingernailparingswerehousedinatissueandflusheddownthetoilet.

This paranoia was beneficial, it turned out. Martin, distracted with work, with the workings ofwater,nevernoticedthathercomingsandgoingshadsuddenlytakenonamuchmoredeliberateair.MustgetDarjeelingattheshop,mustgovisitatSt.Stephen’sHospitaleveryThursday,mustdoalunchwiththegirlseveryWednesday.Shelimitedtheirintimacytothebareminimum.Shecouldnotthinkthatshewasthatwoman,thatwomanshehadheardhermotherandherfriendstalkingaboutinthekitchen,thatwomanwhowentfrommantomaninasingleday.Thekindofwomanwhocouldbekickedoutofthecolonyandsenthomeonashipindisgrace.

Theawfulthingwas,shedidn’tfeelasbadlyasshethoughtsheoughtto.Shehadalwaysthoughtofwomenwhohad loversas immoralwomenwhocarednothingabout societyandmannersand thewaythingsshouldbe.Andyet,hereshewas,carryingonwithamanwhodidn’tevenparticularlyseemtolikeher.AndMartinwasgood.Thiswastheinescapablefact.Andhewasgoodtoher.Whetherhelovedher,shedidn’tknow.Hewascertainlypleasedtohaveawifeandahomeandallofthattakencareof,butshedidn’tknowhowmuchofthathadtodowithherasaperson.Sometimesshefeltthathehadmarriedher,droppedherintoaslotlabeled“wife,”andgottenonwithhislife.Butshewassensibleenoughtoseethatshewastheguiltyoneinthisarrangement.Martinwasguiltyofnothingbutbenignneglect.Shewastakingadvantageofagoodman.

But any bad feeling she had about the situation was always drowned out by the sensationWillcreated in thepitofherstomachwhenheapproachedher,cut thespacebetweentheminhalf,andhalfagain,comingatherwiththosehooded,sardoniceyes.Itwasnarcotic,thatfeeling,andshecouldn’tgoforlongwithoutit.

Clairewastryingtobecomeinvisible,sothatshewouldbeall themorevisiblearoundWill.Shespoke less and less, didn’tmeetwith the otherwives, never left the flat unless she had to.Her daysrevolvedaroundhim,whenshecouldseehimnext,whatshewouldsaytohim,howhewouldtouchher.Sometimes he refused. Shewould comeover and lie in bed, and hewould roll over andgo to sleep,sayinghewastired,andshewouldbeleftalone,herhotbreathcominginandout,herheadspinningwithfrustration.Shewantedtoownhim,forhimtowanttoownher,buthetreadlightlyaroundher-hedidn’twanttoleaveamark.Shewantedtobebranded,ared,rawwound.

AtWill’sshelayinbedandrealizedthatsomeoneintheflataboveplayedthesamesongoverandover again. It was a melancholy tune she didn’t recognize, and the words were muffled through theceiling.Shenevermentionedittohim,asifshewantedtokeepitasecret,aknowledgethatshehad,onlyforher,asifitweresomethingofhisonlysheknewabout.

When she bought him presents, it almost paralyzed her. She had wanted to buy Will a pair ofslippers,butshethoughtthesoleswereratherslipperyandsoshehadimaginedanentirescenewhereheworethem,andthenfellandcrackedhisheadopen,andshewouldbeleft,palewithregretandlonging.Soshedidn’tbuythem,andboughthimanewteapotinstead.HehandeditovertoAhYik,barelynoticingit.

Christmaswascomingandshewasfilledwithdread.Thisiswhatit’sliketobeMartin,shethought.Somewhatdim,simple, in lovewithsomeonewhodoesn’t loveyouback. Itmadehermiserable.Will

wantedhertonotcallhimduringtheholidays.Itwasadifficulttimeforhim,hesaid.Alotofmemories.Soshecalledhimduringthedayjusttohearthephonering.Sometimeshewouldanswer,hisvoicetenseand annoyed.Other times the phonewould ring and ring and shewould imagine the amah shakingherhead,knowing,thewaywomenknow,whoitwas.Funny,howthattranscendedculture.

Martin’s superior,BruceComstock,hadaskedhim to theirbeachclub inShekO,where theyhadhiredacabanaforSaturday,andso, thatmorning, theypackeduptowelsandtheirbathingsuits, rolleddownthewindowsinthecompanyMorris,anddroveouttotheendoftheisland.

The road was narrow and carved right out of the hills. On their left was a wall of lush greenmountain,almoststeamingfromtheheat,andontheirright,agloriousviewofblueseaandsky.Whiteboatsbobbedonthewater,lookingforalltheworldliketoysinanenormousbathtub.

“Itfeelslikewe’reontheItaliancoast,orwhatIimagineittobelike,”shesaid.“Isn’titmarvelous?”hesaid.Shereachedintoherbag,pulledoutMelodyChen’sscarf,andtiedit

aroundherhead.“Thatnew?”Martinasked.“Yes,”shesaideasily.“IboughtitatoneofthoselittlecartsonUpperLascarRow.Youknow,that

neighborhoodwiththecurryshopsandcarpets.”“Itlooksgoodonyou,”hesaid.Theydroveon.

***

The bathing clubwas simple andwell used. Theymet theComstocks at the bar and had a drinkbeforetheladieswenttothelockerroomtochangeintotheirbathingcostumes.

MinnaComstockwasinherearlyfiftiesandformidable.Shehadtwochildrenawayatuniversity,and lived her life with vigorous energy. She played tennis twice a week and golf on Ladies’ Day atFanling.Inthelockerroom,shestrippeddowntoherunderclotheswithoutembarrassment.Herbodywasfirmbutwrinkleshungfromherbosom,herarms,herstomach.Itseemedasifshehadtoomuchskinforthebodyshehad.

“IboughtanicebathingsuitatWingOn,”Claireventured.“Theyhavequitealotofmerchandise.”“WearBritish,”Mrs.Comstockbarked. “The itemshere are cut for theChinese frame and aren’t

suitableforus.Toosmall.IonlybuyatMarksandSpencerandIalwaysbringbackloadsofthingsfromhomeleave,goodmarmaladeandproperknivesandthingslikethat.Haveyouseenwhattheycallaknifearoundhere?Barbaric implementcalledachopper.”Shehoistedawell-muscled legontoabenchandstartedtooilit.“Havesomelotion,”shesaid,handingtheslipperybottletoClaire.“It’llprotectyoufromtoomuchsun.”Mrs.Comstockwasbrownintheoddestplaces-onhercalvesbetweenhersocklineandwhere her short pantsmust have ended, and on her arms betweenher shirtsleeves andwhere her golfglovesbegan.

“Thankyou,”Clairesaid.Shesmoothedsomecreamonherface.Shedidn’tenjoythesun,thoughtthefashionofbrowningyourselflikesomeanimalonaspitwasquitepeculiar.

On the beach, thewooden cabanaswere covered inwhite cotton broadcloth, large and airywithhooksforhanginguprobesandcompartmentsforbags.

“We’re number twenty-three,” Bruce said. “You can put your belongings there while we bathe.”Inside, there were beach chairs and an ice box. Bruce surreptitiouslymade them gin and Schweppes

(“Highwayrobbery,whattheychargeyouatthebar,”hewhispered)andtheysatdownandsippedthem.“Isn’tthisnice,”Clairesaid.“Sorelaxing.”Witha joltof recognition, she suddenly spottedLocket running toward the sea inawhite-and-red

polka-dotbathingsuit.Whenshefollowedherpathback,hereyesfellupontheChensdrinkingcocktailson the club terrace with a group of people. Melody Chen had on a wide-brimmed straw hat andsunglassesandlookedlikeafilmstar.

“Ifyou’llexcuseus,”shesaidtotheComstocks.“IjustseesomepeopleIshouldsayhelloto.”ShebroughtMartinovertotheChens’table.“Hello,” Victor Chen said, as she stood over him. He squinted at her. “Oh, it’s…” He paused.

“These are theSilvas,” he continued smoothly, gesturing to the couple sittingnext to him. “Michael isHong Kong ’s foremost obstetrician. And this is Dave Bradley, with the NBC. He’s from the UnitedStates,soheandMelodyhavebeengettingonalittletoowellformytaste.”Heturnedtothetable.“AndthisisLocket’spianoteacher.”Clairenoddedandsmiled.Mrs.Chengaveoutalittleshriek.“Locket!”shecried,andwasoutofherchairanddowntothebeachwhereLocketwasindangerofbeingenvelopedbyanenormouswave.Thegroupwatchedherrundowntoherchild.

“Victor,”Clairesaid.“Myhusband,MartinPendleton.”“Ofcourse,”hesaidimmediately.“Pleasedtomeetyou,”Martinsaid.Hesmiled,uncomfortable.MelodyChencameback fromscoldingLocket. “Iwish they’d let thehelp in theclub. It’s sucha

stupidrule,”shesaid.“It’sjustexhaustingnottohavePaiaround.Oh,ImeanFrancesca.”SheturnedtoMrs.Silvawithaconfidentialair.“DidItellyouwhathappened?”Theystartedconversinginloweredtones.Claire couldn’t decidewhether to attendMartin’s conversationwithVictorChen, or hiswife’sconversationwithherfriend.

“…herewithBruceComstock…”“…Austriancrystalfiguresmymothergaveme…”“…verygoodbanker…”“…everyone’stryingoutnewgirlsfromruralChinabutthey’reawfulwithmeals,can’tcookatall

and theirown food’s inedible,youhave to teach themevery single thing…Igaveher anewname,ofcourse,Francesca,becauseIwanttogotoItalysoon…”

Clairestood there,caught inoneof thosemomentswhereeverybodyishavingaconversationandoneisexcluded.Shefeltillatease,asifshehadbeenforgotten.

“Whatabeautifulheadscarf,”Mrs.Chensaid tohersuddenly.“Ihaveone that’sabit like it.”Astrangeexpressionglancedoverherface.

“Thankyou,”Clairesaid,withacoolshehadn’tknownshepossessed.Shehadforgottenaboutthescarf.Shepattedherheadcasually,tryingnottopanic.“Thankyouverymuch.”

“IsitHermès?”MelodyChenasked.“Ilovethecolors-orangeandbrownaremyfavorite-autumn,youknow.”

“Oh,no,”Clairesaid.“Igotithere,actually.It’sjustsomeinexpensivethingIgotoffahawker.Icangiveyoutheexactlocationifyou…”

“Well, it looks justasniceas thereal thing,”MelodyCheninterrupted.“Youtallwomencanpullanythingoff.”Shesippedathermartini.

“Well,”Mr.Chensaidintheensuinglull.“Itwascertainlynicetoseeyou.”

Clairedidn’tsleepthatnight.ShegotupafterMartin’sbreathdeepened,andwalkedbarefootoverto thewindow. Beneath her feet the lacqueredwooden floorwas smooth and cool, spotless from themoppingYuLinggaveiteveryotherday.Herbodywasstilloverheatedfromthesunshehadreceivedthat day at the beach; her arms and legs felt as if the rayswere still simmering beneath her skin. She

crankedthewindowopenslowly,themetalhingescreaking,andwatchedthepinpointsoflightthatwerepeoplewith insomnia just like her. Therewas a breeze and the humid night air entered the room andcooled her body. Her head was abuzz. She hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything since theirencounterwiththeChens.ShewassureshehadbehavedquitequeerlytotheComstocks,asshehadseenMinnagivea look toBruceafter shehadknockedoverherdrink for the second time.Shehadn’t saidanything toMartinbecauseshehadn’t theslightest ideawhatshewouldhavesaid.“Darling, I’vebeenstealingfromtheChensandI’mafraidI’vebeenfoundout.I’vestopped,though,don’tworry.”Hewouldthinkherquitemad.Andperhapsshehadbeen.Sherestedherheadagainstthecoolpaneofthewindow.She didn’t thinkMelody Chen had put two and two together. And she would never accuse Claire ofstealingwithoutconcreteproof,wouldshe?ClairelookedoutatthedarknightandwonderedifitlookedthesamebackhomeinEngland.

PartII

December9,1941SO,THISISWAR.Before,hewouldhavecalleditdriving.He’stakingalorryfullofcabledrums

toCausewayBay,alongwithfiveorsixChineseworkerssquattingintheback.IntheseatnexttohimisKevinEvers,whoapparentlyknowswhattodowiththecable,orwhattotelltheworkerstodo.ItisnowchaosbackatHQ,phoneandradiosquawkingendlessly.Theairportwasbombedjusthoursago,withthelossofsometwenty-fiveaircraft,andthetensionisrising.Willhasbeentoldtodeliverthedrumsandgetbackonthedouble.Eversisnervouslyjabberingaway.

Theroadsat leastareemptyofvehicles,althoughthereareplentyofpeoplestillonthestreets.Awomanbeatsamanwithalargeburlapbag,strikinghimwithhersmallhands,screaming,asheshakesheroffandruns.Thelootinghasalreadybegun.

And,hardtobelieve,afewdaysagohewasatapartyinadinner jacket,sippingchampagneandexchangingbarbedjokeswithTrudyandhercrowd.

InCausewayBay,hefindsthebuildingwherehe’stodropoffthedrumsandthey’reunloadingthelorrywhenthesirenwailsagain.Everyonescurriesinside,thewhizofairandtheloudreverberationofthe explosion. The ground shudders. Evers breathes loudly next to him.When they ring back to HQ,they’retoldtostayasbombingwillprobablyintensify,parkthelorryinasafeplace,andbilletataflatonMontgomeryStreet.Withastubbypencilhewritesdownthenumberonagrimypieceofpapersmudgedwithoil:140.Itsoundsfamiliar.

When they venture there, they ring the doorbell and find a frightened amahwho lets them in andreachesintohertunictounearthawrinkledenvelope.Whentheyopenit,theyfindaratherpoignantnote:

ToWhoeverYouMayBe,Welcometoourhome.Wehopeyouwillmakeyourselvescomfortableinthisdifficulttime.Weare

anEnglishcouplewhomovedtoHongKongsomesevenyearsagoandenjoyitimmensely,sowehopethisisnotthelastchapter.Wehavemovedasdirectedupwards,andhopethatourflatprovidesyouwithsafeshelter. In thespiritofwartime,weask thatyoubecourteous toouramah,mindthefurniture,andrefrainfromsmoking.

Sincerely,EdnaandGeorgeWeatherly.“Aaah,”saysWillsuddenly.“What?”Eversasks,lightingupacigaretteandgivingWilloneaswell,forgoodmeasure.“Nothing.”Itisjustthatheknowsthem.He’smetthembefore,andbeenhereforadrink.Thiswas

whenhe first arrived, in theweeks before hemetTrudy, before everything, as shewouldnever knowpeopleliketheWeatherlys.Theywereverygoodpeople,respectable,andcomingtoHongKonghadbeentheirgreatadventure.Fromasmallvillage in theCotswolds, theystillhadawide-eyedwonderat thevastnessoftheworldandmarveledthattheyhadendedupintheFarEast.HehadmetthematasmallEnglish shop in CausewayBay, buying tea, a fewweeks after he had arrived, and after striking up aconversation,theyhadinvitedhimover.Nicepeople.HeneversawthemafterhestartedupwithTrudy.Differentspeeds.

Theytossacoinforthebed,andWillgetsthefloor.“Youcouldsleepintheoldbird’sbed.”Eversnodstowardthesmallroomtheamahhasintheback.“I’mnot thathardup,”Will says lightly. “She’shada rough timeof it too,withoutme takingher

room.”“Justthinkingofyou,mate.”Eversshrugs.“Doyouthinkshecouldrustleupsomesupper?”

Willrummagesinhispack.Trudy,stillChineseenoughtobeobsessedwithfood,hadmadesurehehad some tins in his rucksack although he had deemed it unnecessary. “I have bully beef and somecarrots.”

Theamahishappytohavesomethingtodo.Sheholdsupacupofriceandcooksitwiththemeatandvegetable,andthentheyeat-shetakingabowltoherroom,andthetwomeninthediningalcove,withtheradioturnedon,disembodiedvoicecracklingonwithnewsofthewar.

“Thebridgesat thenorthern frontierhavebeenblownup toprevent theadvancementof Japanesetroops…”Later,someonewhowastherewilltellWillofthesurrealscene-theBritishassiduouslysettinguptheirexplosivesinplainsightoftheJapanese,whowerejustasdiligentlybuildinganotherbridgetoswing across once the destruction had happened, the two sides studiously ignoring each other, neitherquestioningtheinevitabilityofwhattheotherwasdoing,nortryingtostopit.“Doesn’tthatjustsumitallup,”thisman,apoliceman,said.“Thoroughlydemented.”

Allthroughthenight,theflatshuddersandislitwiththefireofbombs.WillhearsEvers,hisrapidbreath,neitherofthemasleep.

Inthemorning,Everswasheshimselfthoroughly.“Don’tknowthenexttimeI’llbeabletodothis,”hesays,towelingoffwithoneoftheWeatherlys’

linensandtossingitinthecorner.“Doyouthinkbreakfastisintheoffing?”“Doyouthinkofanythingelsebutfood?”“Whatelseistheretothinkabout,mate?Timeslikethese,yougettothebasics-whatyoueat,where

youshit,findingaplacetosleep.It’swhatkeepsyousane.”TheycallHQtoseewhattodonext.Nobodyknowsathing.“Just stay there for now,” a voice barks at them.Theyhear clattering andmen shouting.The line

clicksoff.“Goodtoknowthey’reontopofthesituation,”Everssays.“We’rethecivilians.I’msurethetopguysknowwhat’sgoingon.”“Onewouldhope.”They decide to go out. Montgomery Street is empty, being primarily an enclave for European

expatriateswhohaveallfledtohighergroundor toChina.Thefewstorefronts-abakery,ashoerepairshop-areclosedupanddarkinside.Thewindowsarealreadydirtyfromthesootanddirtkickedupbythe bombs, but through one,Will can see a rotting egg tart, its glistening yellow surface slowly beinginvaded by green mold. A fly lands on top and starts making its way across the mold, twitching itsantennae.AnairplanewhinesoverheadandWillflinchesinstinctively.

Whentheygobacktotheflat,theamahisgone,herroomascleanasifshehadneverlivedthere.“Nothingtodohere,”Everssays.“I thinkweshouldtrytogetbacktoHQ.It’sgoingtodriveme

madstayingheredoingnothing.”Theygathertheirbelongingsandpicktheirwayinthegatheringduskthroughthestreets.Refusehas

startedtobuilduponthecurbsandalow,persistentstenchrisesfromtheroad.Theyseeacarspeedupasitapproachesthem,andinitaChinesemanavertinghisgaze.TheyareinsightofthelorryandWillremarksthatthedoorsareopenwhentheyhearit.Evers’sheadcocksuptothewhiningsound,andWillwatcheshimwatchthefirstbombcomedownanddestroyabuildingnotfiftyfeetaway.Itisasifitisinslowmotion.Eversyells,“Watchout!”anddivesfortheground.Willfollowsandhefeelstheearthopenupandfallbelowthem,hisbodydealtanenormouscrushingblow,ears ringingandeyesstinging,andtheninthenextmoment-thenextmomentofclarity-theyarecrawlingtowardtheshelterofthelorry,theclosest thing there is. In thebackofhismind, as theground ispoundedand shakenby the intensifyingchaos,Will notes the lorry has been picked clean. The tires aremissing and the open doors reveal amissingsteeringwheel.Eversisshoutingsomethingelse,somethingaboutthisbeingcivilianterritoryand

whyaretheybombing,butWillcan’theartherestbecauseheisthinkingthatthetiresaremissingandthatitishardtomoveforwardwiththegroundshakinglikethis,andthenalliswhite.

December15,1941WHENHEWAKESUP,heiswoozyandcold.Overhead,anenormouslightisglaringdownathim.

Thesheetsarelikeiceonhisswollenlimbs.Heisafraidtolookathisownbody.Buthereisrelief.Heisnotdead.Thenheremembers.Evers.Buthedoesn’tremember.Everypart

ofhisbodyhurtssomuchhefeelsasifhisheadisabouttoexplode.Heliftsthesheet.Hisleftkneeisswollentothesizeofasmallmelon.Aroundthebandagebulgesfleshcoloredpurple,black,livid,angry.

JaneLessig,whomhehasmetbeforeatparties,comesby.Sheisdressedinwhite,andinhiswoozystatehethinksshelookslikeanangel.

“Thereyouare,”shesays.“Youhadusworried,youknow.”“Water?”“Nowaterforyourightnow.Doctor’sorders.”Hedoesn’tthinkhe’severfeltquitesoawfulinhislife.“I’msoembarrassed,”hetellsher.“Whatonearthfor?”Shecranksuphisbedwithaquizzicallook.“Itwasjustashortexperience,”hetriestoexplain.“Nothingwarlikeaboutit.”“You’retalkingnonsense.”Heseesshedoesn’tunderstandhismeaning.Hetriesagain.“Evers?”“Don’tworryabouthim,”shesays,andwalksquicklyaway.

Hewandersinandoutofconsciousness.HeseesTrudyinawhitedress,likeanurse,likeabride,likeashroud.Shespongeshisforehead.

Butherhairisblondnow.SheisnotTrudy.“Listen,”whispers thewondrous JaneLessig. “Youwere not in theVolunteers.You’re a civilian

whowaswalkingdownthestreetandhitbydebrisfromabomb.”Shedoesn’twanthimtogotoaPOWcamp.It’sunclearwhoisgoingwherebutshethinksthecivilianswillbebetteroffthanthesoldiers.Henods.Heunderstands,thenforgets.Shesaysittohimeveryday,likeanincantationthatwillsavehim.

JaneLessigbringshimabowlofpudding.Whenhegetsuptolookoutthewindow,thefirsttimehehasbeenup,heissurprisedtofindthathe

hasalimp.“I’vealimp!”hesaystoJaneLessig.“Yes,youdo,”shesays.“Andafineoneatthat.”“I’mfeelingmuchbetter,”hesays.“IthinkIcouldbedischargedsoon.”“Doyou,now?”shesayscrisply.“We’llleavethattothedoctors,shallwe?”ButhedoesfeelbetterandwhenDr.Whitleycomesaround,Willisdressedandreadytogo.“Idon’tthinkI’mdoingmuchgoodhere,doyou?”heasks.“Will,”Dr.Whitleysays.“It’sverydifferentoutthere.Kowloon’sbesiegedandwe’retryingtohold

outhere foras longaspossible.Therehavebeenenormouscasualties.Doyouknowwhereyoucouldstay?”

“CouldgotoTrudy’s?”hewonders.“She’sbeenhereeveryday,”thedoctorsays.“ButIdidn’tlethercomein.Ithoughtitwouldbetoo

upsettingforher.You’renotatyourmosthandsome.Shesaidtotellyoushe’sstayingwithAngelineandwouldbebylaterontoday.”

“Oh,”Willsays.“ThenI’llstayuntilshecomes.”

Thedoctorgiveshimapeculiarlookandnods.He’sfinishedlookingatWill’sknee.

***

WhenTrudycomes,she isdifferent.Hecan’t tellwhyand thenhesees-shehasno lipstickon,nojewelry,herclothesaredrab,nocolorofanysort.Hementionsthistoher,sortofanicebreakertotakeawayfromthefactthatheisinjured,inahospital,thattheworldisatwar.ItisoddtobeshywithTrudy.Hedoesnotwanttoseemdiminishedinfrontofher.

“Idon’twanttoattractanysortofattention,”shesays.“It’slikewalkingonpinsoutthereincaseyourunintoaJap.Father’sgonetoMacau.Hewantedmetocome,butIdidn’twantto.”Shewalksovertothewindow.“He’sworriedaboutme,”shesays,lookingdownandfingeringtheclothofherskirt.“Iftheywin,they’llbebrutalbeyondbelief.”

“Howdidyougethere?”“IhadAngeline’sdriverbringme.We’recampingoutatherplaceonthePeak,althoughthewhole

Peak is supposed to be evacuated by now. They think it’s too exposed, but we’ve managed to stayundetected, and it’s quiet up there. She has the dogs and her houseboy along with the amahs and thechauffeursowehavesomeprotection.”

Theupperclassalwaysdowhattheywant,hethinks,inappropriately.“It’snerve-racking,likeplayingagameofpoker,”shesays.“Youneverknowwhenyou’regoingto

be stopped, and people are turning against each other. Old Enderby was roughed up by some Sikhsbecause they said he looked at them funny. That lovely oldman.” She stops suddenly. “How are youfeeling?HereIamgoingonabouttheoutsideandyou’reall…”Hervoicetrails.

“Eversisdead,”hesays.“Butyoudidn’tknowhim.Hewaswithmewhenthebombgotus.”Trudylooksathim,blank.“You’reright,”shesays.“Idon’tknowhim.”“Iwantallthenews,”hesays.“Doyouhaveany?”“Angelinesaysthatwe’renotdoingverywell.ApparentlytheyexpectedtheJapsfromthesouth,by

thesea,but theycamefromthenorth insteadandjustbreezedright throughthedefenses there.Andit’sreallyawfuloutside.”Hervoicehiccups.“IsawadeadbabyonapileofrubbishthismorningasIcamehere.It’sallaround,therubbishandthecorpses,Imean,andthey’reburningitsoitsmellslikewhatIimaginehellsmellslike.AndIsawawomanbeingbeatenwithbamboopolesandthendraggedoffbyherhair.Shewashalfbeingdragged,halfcrawlingalong,andscreamingliketheendoftheworld.Herskinwascomingoff in ribbons.You’re supposed towear sanitarypadsso that…youknow…ifa soldiertriesto…Well,youknow.ThelocalsandtheJapanesebotharelootinganythingthat’snotlockeddown,andthievingandgenerallybeingimpossible.They’reallovertheplaceinKowloon,runningamok.We’rethinkingaboutmovingouttooneofthehotels,justsowe’remoreinthemiddleofthings,andwecanseepeopleandgetmoreinformation.TheGloucesterispackedtotheraftersbutmyoldfriendDeliaHohasaroomattheRepulseBayandsayswecanhaveitbecauseshe’sleavingtogotoChina.WecansharetheroomwithAngeline, don’t you think?And apparently, theAmericanClubhas cots out andpeople arestayingthereaswell.Theyhavealotofsupplies,Isuppose.Americansalwaysdo.Everyonewantstobearoundotherpeople.”

“Isupposethat’sagoodidea,”Willsays.“Dommie says it’sonlyamatterof timebefore the Japanesehave thewhole island, sohe says it

reallydoesn’tmatter.”“That’shopeful.Alwaystheoptimist.”

“Idon’tthinkhereallycares.”Trudylaughs,ashrillsound.“He’sjustwaitingtoseewhatsideheshouldjoin.He’slearningJapaneseatafastclip.”

“Youknowwhatadangerousthinghe’sdoing.It’snotamatterforlaughter.”“Oh,bother!”Trudycomesandsitsdownnexttohim.“Yourinjuryhasquitedoneawaywithyour

senseofhumor.Dommieisasurvivor,justlikeyouandme,andhe’llbefine.Whencanyouleave?”“Ithinksoon.Andthey’reeagertoberidofme.Therearepeoplewithfarmoreseriousinjuries,I

imagine.”“Butcanyouwalkandallthat?”“I’llbefine,”hesaysshortly.“Don’tworryaboutme.”

Dr.Whitleydischargeshimwithreluctance.“If itweren’t for Trudy,” he says,wrapping fresh bandages aroundWill’s abdomen and knee, “I

wouldneverletyougo.Iknowshe’lltakecareofyou.”Trudyissittingatthefootofthebed.“Andthelittlefactthatyouhavetoofewbeds,”sherejoins.“Willhereistakingupvaluablespace.

I’monyourside,Doctor.Iwasanursefortwoweeks.Remember?”Thedoctorlaughs.“Ofcourse.HowcouldIforget?”Heturnsserious.“Trudy,youmustchangethe

bandagesdaily,andyoumustcleansetheskinandthewoundswithasolutionofwaterandperoxidethatI’ll have thenursemakeup foryou.Nomatter ifWill sayshedoesn’t need it, youmust do itwithoutexception.”

Trudynods.“I’llbeamodelofreliabilityandefficiency,”shesays.Once atAngeline’s, she sets himup in bed althoughhe feels fine.Their room ismessy,with her

clothes spilling out of a suitcase onto the floor and her toiletries scattered on the windowsills, thebathroombasin,thebed.Therearemodelairplanesstrungfromtheceilingandawoodendeskpiledhighwithschoolboymysteries.

“Whoseroomisthis?”“It’sGiles’s-mygodson,didyouknowhim?”“I’venevermethim.”“He’salwaysawayatschoolandnowthey’rehavinghimstayfor themeantimewithFrederick’s

familyinEnglanduntilthisallsettlesdown.”“Oh,”hesays.Theroomisstreakedwithdustylightfromawindow.“I’mnotaninvalid,youknow,”

hesays.“IcouldprobablywalktoCentralandback.”“Don’tberidiculous,”shesays.“You’retotakeiteasy.”Butheisbetter,andsheseesit,andsoontheyventureout, toseeemptyroads,closedstorefronts,

peoplescurryingfromplacetoplace,notlookinganywherebutattheground.“There’sbeenanincredibleamountoflooting,”shesays.“Andthegovernmentisrationingrice.It’s

beenratheramazing.IwaswalkingdownGloucesterRoadandIsawpolicefiringtheirgunsintheairtodisperse a crowd, and I wondered, where do those bullets go? When they come down, if they hitsomeone,can’ttheykillsomebodythatway?”

“Trudy,darling.Youalwaysthinkofwhatnobodyelsethinksabout.”“Andprobablyforgoodcause,”shesays.“I’mratheranidiotabouteverything.”Theywalkfarther.“Itdoesn’tfeellikeourtownanymore,doesit?”“It’stoodreary.”Theylinkarmsandgohome,whereAngelineiscryinginthecellarandtheamahshavemadeasmall

mealof rice andChinesevegetablesdottedwith saltedpork.Theyeat anddrinkweak tea, feeling theinvisibleconstraintsoftherealityaroundthem.

ThenextfewdaysareSpartanandregulated,livedasiftheymightbethelast,heightenedwiththesurreal.Theyeattosustainthemselves,listentotheradioforthelatestnews,andgotothedistributioncenterforsupplies,whicharegivenoutsporadicallyandrandomly.Onedayit’sbreadandjam,anotherit’sbananas,andthenit’sflashlights.Theytakewhattheycangetandgototheblackmarketfortherestas,betweenthem,TrudyandAngelinehavealotofcash.Attheblackmarketintown,theatmosphereistense, thebuyers irateat thepricesand shouting insults at thevendors, a fewhaving thegrace to lookembarrassed behind their tables of random goods-the tins of pottedmeat, the small bags of sugar, thecookingutensils.Thepriceofriceisatanall-timehigh,anditisaspreciousasgold.Thegroundshakesintermittentlyandthenightislitbyfire.Theyseepilesofdeadbodiesandweepingwomenbesidethem.Dominickstopsbywithprovisionshe’sgotaholdofsomehow,andtheyhavethedelicacynottoask.HetellsthemtostayatAngeline’sforaslongaspossible.Theyhavenotbeenbotheredandthatisagoodsign.Thereareafewotherfamiliesholdingfortattheirhomesaswell.Will’sinjurymakesitimpossibleforhimtogoanywheretoofar.Angeline’sdrivermanagestoprocurethenewspapermostdays,andthenewsisgrim-theJapaneseadvancinginexorablyandsurprisinglyfast.

“Ican’tbelievetheystillgetthepaperouteveryday,”Angelinesays.Shehasnotbathedindaysandisstartingtosmellmorethanmusty.Shehasnotheardfromherhusband.HehadlastsentamessageaweekagowhenhewasfightingfortheVolunteersonMountNicholson.

“ShouldwegototheRepulseBay?”Trudyasks.“Ifeeloddnotdoinganything,”Willsays.“IfeellikeothermenarefightingandI’msittingaround

doingnothing.”“You’re injured, you imbecile,” Trudy says. “You’d bemore of a hindrance.You’re slowingme

downandI’monlyputtingupwithitbecauseyou’reawarmbodytosleepnexttoatnight.Iassureyouthatotherswillnotfeelthatway.”

Thenextdaytheywakeuptofindthehelpvanished.Trudyisentirelyunsurprised.“Acleangetaway. I’msurprised thedogshaven’tdesertedus.”She startswashing thedishes that

wereleftinthebasin.Herisestohelpher.“Yousitdown,”sheorders.“TheylastedlongerthanIthought.Angeline’salwaysbeenabeastlyemployeralthoughshepaystwicethegoingrate.”

“WhathappenedtoAhLokandMeiSing?”Willasks,rememberingthemsuddenly.“Itoldthemtheyshouldleave,andtheywouldn’t,andsoIlockedthemoutoftheflatuntiltheywent

away.Therewaslotsofcryingandwailing-youknowthem.TheyhaverelativesI’msurethey’dratherbewith.”

“You’retheirfamily,Trudy.”“But I’m not, really. And it’s more dangerous for them to be with me. They’re not going to be

botheredoncethey’repartofthecrowdoutthere.I’mtheonewho’sgoingtogetattention,hangingaboutwithallyouforeigners.”

“Itmusthavebeenveryhardtomakethemleave,”hesays,reachingforherhand.Sheshakeshimaway.“It’sfine,Will.Pleasedon’tbesentimentalrightnow.Icouldn’tstandit.”“Whatdayisit?”heasks.“AlmostChristmas.Thetwentieth,Ithink.”Shelookswistful.“Thepartiesshouldbeinfullswing

bynow.”Then,“Will.”“Trudy.”“I’vesomethingsI’vehadtohide,butIwantyoutoknowwhere,becauseifsomethinghappens,you

shouldgogetthem.”“Like?”

“I’ve a lot of money that my father gave me before he went to Macau, and my jewelry too.Altogether,it’sworthalotofmoney…morethanenoughtoliveonforages.”

“I’lltakenotebutIdon’tneedit,ifthat’swhatyou’reimplying.I’llbefinewithwhatIhave.”“AndIhiredaboxat thebank, themainone.AndI’veyournameandDominick’snamedownas

peoplewhocanaccessit.Butthethingisyouhavetobothsignforit,unlessoneisdead,soyouhavetoget along.Although I imagine things are different inwartime. There’s a key. It’s in the planter offmybedroomwindowintheflat. I’vebrought it inside,andit’s justfilledwithearth.It’sonthebottom,soyou’llhavetodigitout.Butif there’snokey,youcanstillget toit-itwill just takeabit longer.Legalthings,youknow.”

“Noted,”hesays.“Youmustremember,”shesays.“Youreallymust.”Angelineemergesfromherbedroominadressinggownandtheyexplainaboutthemissingservants.

Shecollapsesintoachair.“I don’t understand,” she says again and again. “They’ve been withme for years.” Quickly, she

becomespractical.“Didtheytakeanything?”Theyhadn’tthoughttolook.Theygotothepantryandseetheirfast-dwindlingsupplies-rice,afew

potatoesandonions,flour,sugar,afewsoftapples-untouched.“Servantsgetarawdeal,”Willsays.“They’realwaysthelastthankedandthefirstaccused.”“Thisissurvival,”Angelinesays.“I’msurprisedtheydidn’ttakeanything.Iwouldhave,andnothad

asinglequalm.”“Let’sallhaveadrink,”Trudysays.“That’sthemostsensiblethingyou’vesaidallweek,”Willsays.Hegoestogetabottleofscotch-theyarenotindangerofrunningoutofliquoranytimesoon.They

pourglasses,turnontheradio,andtheannouncerisreadingamessagefromChurchill.“Theeyesoftheworldareuponyou.Weexpectyoutoresisttotheend.Thehonoroftheempireisinyourhands.”

“We’rebeingabandoned,”Trudy says. “They’renotdoinganything tohelpus.WhatdoChurchillandthegoddamnedBritishempireexpectustodo?”HereyeslookhardandglassybutWillseestheyarefilmedwithtears.

Every day leaflets fall from the sky, Japanese planes whirring overhead and letting loosepropaganda,alloverthecolony,tellingtheChineseandtheIndiansnottofight,tojoinwiththeJapaneseina“GreaterFarEasternCo-ProsperitySphere.”They’vebeencollectingthemastheyfallontheground,stackingtheminpiles,andTrudywakesuponChristmasDayanddeclaresaproject,tomakewallpaperoutofthem.Intheirdressinggowns,theyputonChristmascarols,makehottoddies,and-inafitofwild,Yuletideindulgence-usealltheflourforpancakes,andpastetheleafletsonthelivingroomwall-agrimlyironicdecoration.OnehasadrawingofaChinesewomansittingonthelapofafatEnglishman,andsaystheEnglishhavebeenrapingyourwomenforyears,stopitnow,orsomethingtothateffect,inChinese,orsoTrudysays.

“Hmmm…”shesays.“Isn’tthisadrawingofyouandme?”Shesitsonhislap,putsherarmsaroundhisneck,andbatshereyes.“Please,sah,youbuydrinkforme?”

“It’sofmeandFrederick,youidiot,”saysAngeline.“Lookathowfatthemanis.”It’sthefirsttimeshe’smentionedherhusbandindays.

Another leaflethas twoOrientals facingeachotherandshakinghands.“JapaneseandChinesearebrothers.Donotstruggleandjoinourside,”translatesAngeline.

“TheyseemtohaveforgottenNanking,”Trudysays.“Theyweren’tsofraternalthen,werethey?”“Ifeel…oppressed,”saysAngeline.“IthinkweshouldturnWillin,don’tyou,darling?”“IthinkthatfellowisDominick.”WillpointstooneoftheChinesefigures.

“Don’tjokeaboutthat,”Trudypouts.“Whydoyouthinkwehavesomuchfood?Dommie’stakingcareofus,andIdon’treallycarehowatthispoint.”

“Point taken but not agreed with,” Will says. “Why are those damn leaflets so obvious andinflammatory?”

Theyhearacarmotoringupthedrivewayandtensetheirshoulders.Trudyrunstothewindowandtentativelyliftsupthedrape.

“It’sDommie!”sheshoutswithreliefandgoestoopenthedoor.“Speakofthedevil.”Willsitsdown.Dominickentersandunwrapsamufflerfromaroundhisneck.“MerryChristmasandallthat,”hesays,languideveninthemidstofwar.“Andtoyou,”Willsays.“I’vebroughtafewprovisionstomakeitfeelextraholiday-ish.”Hebrandishesabasketfromwhich

heextractstheSouthChinaMorningPost,atinofpressedduck,asackofrice,aloafofbread,twojarsofstrawberry jam, and a fruitcake. The women clap their hands like pleased children. “Can you makeanythingwiththis,Trudy?”Hesprawlsintoachair,elegantlimbssplayedout,thehunterhavingprovidedforhiswomen.

“I’mhopelessinthekitchen,youknowthat.”Trudygrabsthenewspaper.“‘Dayofgoodcheer,’”shereads.“That’stheheadline.‘HongKongisobservingthestrangestand

mostsoberChristmasinitscentury-oldhistory.’”“It’sasifHongKongdidn’texistbeforetheEnglishgothere,”Dominickinterrupts.“Shut up, I’m reading,” Trudy says. “ ‘Such modest celebrations as are arranged today will be

subdued…TherewasapleasantinterludeattheParisianGrillshortlybeforeitclosedlastnightwhenaVolunteerpianist,inforaspotoffoodbeforegoingbacktohispost,playedsomewell-knownfavoritesinwhich all present joined with gusto.’ ” She looks up. “People are at the Grill and I’m not? That’s atravestyifIeverheardone.I’vebeenisolateduphereinthePeakandpeoplehavebeengoingout?Haveyoubeengoingout,Dommie?Andhowdareyounottakemewithyou!”

“Trudy. It’snotgood forwomen tobeout thesedays.You shouldbe tuckedaway, safe, at home.Now,mendmytrousersandmakeussomelunch.”

Shethrowsthepaperathishead.“What’sthenews?”Willasks.“NotgoodforEngland,”Dominicksayseasily.“They’reoutnumberedandoutclassed.Therearejust

somany Japanese and they’ve been properly trained. They’re on the island already, swarming aroundeverywhere.Theylandedthenightoftheeighteenth.TheEnglisharedependingonsoldierswhohaven’tbeentrainedontheterrainanddon’tknowwhattodo.Thechainofcommandisnotbeingwellexecuted.Andmalaria’srunningrampant.”

WillnoticesDominickiscarefulnottosay“we”or“our.”“Sowe’renotdoingwell,itsounds.”“No,”Dominicksaysevenly.“Youarenotdoingwellatall.I thinkit’sonlyamatteroftime.The

governor’safool, rejectedanofferofcease-firewithsomeabsurdBritishproclamationofsuperiority.Hashisheadinthesand.I’vebeengettingnewsfromourcousinVictor,whoalwaysknowswhat’sgoingonwiththesethings.He’sstillathome.”

“Doyouwantpancakes?”Trudyinterrupts.“No,thanks,”Dominicksays.“Ican’tstaylong.”“Whatareyoudoingwithyourtimethesedays?”Angelineasks.“Besidestakingcareofus,Imean.”“Youcannotbelievewhatisgoingon,”hesays.“You’reinacozylittlebunkerhere.It’shorrificout

there.I’mjusttryingtokeepontopofthesituation.”Hisfaceisblandandsmooth,eyeslikeblackcoals.Willwondersifitwouldberighttocallamanbeautiful.

“Ifwehearofasurrender,we’ll leave,sinceIassumethey’llbe lootinguphere in thePeakfirstthing,”Willsays.

“Andifyouseeanyuniformsatall,youshouldbeoutofherelikeashot.”“Isthereanythingelseweshouldbedoing?”Angelineasks.“No,not really.Youhavemoney, Iassume. If itgets reallybad, I supposeahospital is thesafest

place. You know where they are. They’ve turned the BritannicMineralWaterWorks factory over inKowloonintoatemporaryshelteraswell.Butthenyou’dhavetogetovertheharbor.Stayonthisside,actually.There’ssomeJapanesecustomthatwhentheywinabattle,thesoldiersgetthreedaystorunwildanddowhatevertheywish,sothat’sthemostdangeroustime,obviously.Trytobeindoorsatalltimes.”Dominickpauses,andlooksatWill.“Bytheway,I’vegotaChristmaspresentforyou.”

Hegoesbacktothecarandcomesbackwithacane,abeautifulone,madeofpolishedwalnut,withabrasstip.

“I’mafraidIdidn’thavetimetowrapit.ButIthoughtyoumightfindituseful.”HesmilescrookedlyandhandsittoWill.“Thereyougo,oldchap.”

“Thankyou,”Willsays.Hetakesitandhangsitonthearmofthechairhe’ssittingon.“Whataboutme?”Trudysays.“Nothingforme?”“This just fell intomy lap.”Dominick says. “I saw it on the blackmarket and I had just enough

moneyforit.Didn’taskformuch.Iguessthemarketforcanesisnotsogoodinwartime.”“Funny, that. I would have thought they would be popular, what with the war creating all those

cripplesandeverything,”Willsays.“Onemightthink,yes.”Trudystopstheexchange.“ButthedoctorsaysthatWillisgoingtobeasgoodasnew,sohewon’t

needitinafewweeks,willyou,Will?We’lluseitasapokerforthefire,then.”AfterDominick leaves, theysit, theair somehowgone from the room. It feelscolder, theevening

approaching.“Turnonthephonograph,”Angelinesays.“Iwanttohearmusicanddance,andfeelnormal.”“Anddrinks!”Trudycries.“It’sChristmasandweshouldbehavingdrinks.”Shefetchesnewglasses,lightscandles,andputstheduckandbreadandjamoutonthetable,andit

tastesmarvelous,theirChristmassupper,withtheliquorwarmingtheircheeksandstomachs.They carry on in thisway,Trudy andAngeline dancing, carols playing,Will applauding, pouring

moredrinks.TheydrinkanddanceinthechillydrawingroomofAngeline’sgrandoldhouse,thetwilightencroaching,glassesinhand,tipplinguntiltheyareallquitedrunkandtheystumbleuptotheirroomsandcollapse.Trudyissweet toWill inbed,herhandsandmouthmovingoverhimuntilheforgets thedullthrobofhiskneeand the spinningof theceiling.That is theChristmasof1941,awistful,melancholy,waitingkindofdayhewillrememberforever.

Inthemorning,Angelineknocksontheirdoor.Willopensit,groggy,hismouthfeelinglikecloth.Forsomereason,sheleavesherhandsuspendedintheair,frozeninmidknock.

“Morning,”hesays.Shelooksathim,herfacepaleandhungover.“HappyBoxingDay,”shesays.“It’sfinished.Ijustheardontheradio.We’vesurrendered.”

December26,1941TRUDYISFRANTICtofindDominick.“Hewillknowwhattodo,”shesaysoverandover.“Wewilljuststayhereuntilwecan’tanymore,”Willsays,tryingtocalmher.“Itwillbefineinthe

longrun.TheJapanesecannotwinagainstEngland,andAmerica,andHollandandChina.It’sjustgoingtotakealittlewhile.”

“WouldyoumindifIwentintotownandtriedtofindhim?OrmaybeIshouldtrytofindVictor,”shesays,ignoringhim.“Idon’tthinkyoushouldgo.”

“Iwouldslowyoudown,Iknow.”Hecannotcalmher.“Howareyougoingtofindthem?Itwillbeimpossible.Juststayandsee.Itwillallbefine,youwillsee.”

Shewhirlsonhim,herfaceunrecognizable.“Andinthemeantime?”Shealmostspitsitout.“Whatdoyousuggestwedointhemeantimewhile

theJapsareswarmingoverthetown,doingwhatevertheylike,towhomevertheylike?They’regoingtobeallovertheplace,likefilthylittleants.WhatdoyouthinkAmericaandHollandandjollyoldEnglandaregoingtodothen?Areyougoingtohelpme?Withyourlegthewayitis?Wehaveto.”

Hehesitates,thentakeshershoulderwithonehandandslapsherfacewiththeother.“Youneedtosettledown,”hesays.“Youarehysterical.”

Shesinkstothefloor,weeping.“Will,”shesaysthroughherhands.“Oh,Will.Whatarewegoingtodo?”Hegetsupwithdifficultyandkneelsdownonthefloorwithher.“DarlingTrudy,”hesays.“Iwilltakecareofyou,evenwithmyterrible,gimpyleg.Iswear.”Later, afterhehasputher inabath, andgottenheradrink, there isaknockat thedoor.With the

women upstairs, he goes to answer it, first looking outside to see who it is. A sandy-haired man inuniformisstandingbythedoor.

“Whoisit?”heshouts.“Please,sir,it’sNedYoung,fromCanada.WiththeWinnipegGrenadiers.”Heopensthedoor.“Comein.Areyouallright?Areyoualone?Whatthedevilareyoudoingallthewayouthere?”“Yes,sir.Iwasonavanbeingtransportedwiththeothers,asPOWs,youknow,andImanagedto

jumpoffandjustwalkedandknockedondoorsthatlookedsafe.”Inside,themanisrevealedtobeaboy,soyoungacnestillpockshisskin.Histrousersaresoiled

andhesmellstohighheaven.“Haveyouhadanythingtoeat?”“Notinthepastfewdays,sir.”Helooksravenousandpoliteatthesametime.“Here,sitdownhereinthediningroom.I’llgetyousomethingstoeat.”Hegetsaplateandputsout

somebreadandtheremainingduckfromlastnight.There’sabeerandheopensit,poursaglassofwateraswell.Theboyfallsuponit,shovingthefoodinhismouth.

“There’smore.Don’tworry,”Willsays.“You’llgetyourfill.”“Itwasawfuloutthere,”theboysays.Hismouthisfullandhebeginstoweep.“Itwasawful.We

wereinthemountains,intrenches.”“Don’ttalk.Justeatandtrytorelax.”Theboygoeson,asifWillhadn’tspoken.“Isawmybuddy’sgutscomeout.Hewasalive.Hewas

talkingtome,andhisgutswereoutside.ThenIsmelledhim,hewascooking,hisgutswerecookinganditsmelledlikefood.Isawawomanwithherheadblownoffandherchildsittingnexttoher,naked,withshit runningdownhisbackside,with fliesbuzzing.Wehad to leavehim.Theywouldn’t letus take thechild.I’veneverseensuchthings.WewereinJamaicajustamonthago,training,eatingbananas.They

told uswewouldn’t see any action here.”Heweeps andweeps but keeps eating. “And I didn’t havewaterfordays,itseems.Ijustwantedtodie,butIjumpedoffthattruck’causeIseenwhatthoseJapsdo.They’re not human,what they do to other people. They’re not human. I saw them rip a baby out of apregnantwoman.Isawthemchopoffheadsandputthemonfenceposts.”

Angelinewalksintotheroom.“Whatonearth?”Theboystandsup,stillcrying,stilleating.“Hello,ma’am.I’mNed,NedYoung,fromWinnipeg.”“Isee,”Angelinesays,andsitsdown.Willappreciatesforoncehercut-and-driedsophistication,so

needlinginpeacetime.“NedYoung,wherewereyou?DidyouseeanyoftheVolunteers?”“We’ve lost.We’vesurrendered. Ihaven’t seenanyonebut Japs.They’re sowell equipped.They

havemountainshoes,andbeltswithfoodconcentrate,andmaps.Wedidn’thaveanyofthat.Theygaveusrumforbreakfast.Theyjustdroppedushereweeksagoandtolduswe’dhavetimetotrain.”

“Whatdidyouseeintown?”Theywantinformation.Hewantsbalm.“There’reriots,anddeadpeople.Everythingsmellssobad,youwanttodietoo.It’sthickoutthere,

thesmell,andpeoplearescared,butthescoundrelsareout,stealing,burning.They’retakingadvantage,beforetheJapsgeteverything.”

“Whydon’tyourest,Ned,”Willsays,realizingheisnotabletogivethemanything.“Youbatheandrest.There’sabedupstairsandwe’llwakeyouifanythinghappens.”

Angelinebringshimup.Whenshecomesbackdown,Willfeelstheneedtobeoutsideandgetsomeair.Theyoungboyhasbroughtatantalizingglimpseoftheoutsideworldwithhim.

“I’mgoingout,”hesays.“MylegfeelsbetterandIneedtoknowwhat’sgoingon.It’sdrivingmemadbeingcoopedupinhereallthistime.”

“Fine,”Angelinesays.“Justdon’tgotoofar.WhenTrudywakesup,she’llbewantingyou.”Outside,theskyisstillblue,andtherearebirdssingingfaintly.Savetheoccasionalplumeofsmoke,

it isquiet and lovelyuphereon thewide,well-paved roadsandgreenmanicuredhedgesof thePeak.From a cliff-side fence, he can see Hong Kong spread out before him, the harbor glistening, the skygleaming.Itissostilloutside,hecanhearhimselfbreathing.

“Oneofthosemoments,”hesays,beforerealizinghehassaiditoutloud.

HecomesbacktoTrudyandAngelineinthekitchenpouringallthebottlesofscotchdownthesink.“Don’tworry,”Angelinesays.“Wegotblottofirst.Andwesavedsomeforyou,andournewfriend,

youngNedYoung.”“OnlythingworsethanaJapisadrunkJap,right?”hesays.“Keeptheemptybottles.Theymight

comeinuseful.”“We’vebeenthinking,Will,”Trudysays,“andwethinkthebestthingtodonowisstayheresince

wedon’tknowthatanywhereelsewillbeanybetter,butwethinkthatyouandNedshouldstayhidden.Sinceit’ssoveryobviousyouarenotChinese,youknow.Unless,ofcourse,youareneededtorescueus,butAngelineandIcouldpretendtobetheservantsinthehouseandtheymightleaveusalone.”

Willcockshishead.“Really?Thathasrichcomicpossibility,certainly,butIdon’tknowifthat’sthethingtodo.”“Iknowitsoundsmad,butwherewouldwego?Whatdoyouthinkweshoulddo?”“Wecouldgointotownandseewhatotherpeoplearedoing.”“Butwemightnothaveaplacetosleeporanythingtoeat.”“Well,”Willsays.“Let’sdothis.Let’stakethecarearlytomorrowmorningandwe’llgodownto

Centralandseewhat’sgoingonthereandwecancomebackup.”“Allofus?”

“Nedshouldstay,sincehe’shadaroughtime,butyouandAngelinecancomeifyouwant.”Thenextmorning,theypileintothecar,Nedaswell,ashehadnotwantedtobeleftalone.Heis

freshlybathedandabsurdlyattiredinsomeofFrederick’sclothes,thesumptuousweaveoftheshirtclothglowingupunderneathhischildishface,historsoswimmingintropical-weightwooltrouserscuttohouseFrederick’snotinconsiderablegirth,cinchedinefficientlybyanalligatorbelt.

Theroadwindsdownthemountain,andastheyroundthiscurveorthat,theycatchaglimpseoftheharborandCentral,lookingeerilysimilar,justwithoutcars.Astheyentertown,theyquiet,lookingattheemptybuildings,thebarrenstreets.

“Let’sgototheGloucester,”Trudysays.“Thereshouldbepeoplethere.”They park and walk down Connaught Road. Ned touches Will’s hand and motions to the side.

Betweentwobuildings,aman’sbodylies,crumpled,bloodstreakedoverhisclothes.Theypasssilently.“It’ssoquiet,”Trudywhispers.“Nocarsorpeopleanywhere,”Willsays.ButinsidetheGloucester,itisbustling,withmorepeoplethanthey’veeverseeninthelobbyofthat

eleganthotel.Theyaresleepingonsofas,onthemarblefloor, thepottedplantsallmovedtidily tooneside, formingaverdant fringe to this strange refugeecamp.Uniformedhotelboysarescurryingaroundwithcupsofcoffeeonsilvertrays,tryingtoservetheunorthodoxguestsasbestastheyareable.

“There’sDeliaHo!”Trudycries.“I thoughtshehadgone toChina.And there’sAnsonandCarol.AndEdwinaStorchwithMary.Thewholeworld’shere!”

Peoplethrongaroundthenewarrivals,askingwherethey’vebeen,whatthey’veseen.“Can’thelpyou,”Angelinesays.“We’vebeenhidingoutathome.”“Undisturbed?”asksanAmerican.“Quite,”saysTrudy.“Buteatinglikedogs.Isthereanyfoodhere?”Thereisn’tmuch,unfortunately,thehoteltryingtheirbesttosupplytheirguestswithwhatremainsin

theircellar.TrudysitsdowntosharearicepuddingwithDelia,spooningsomeintoWill’smouth,andthen,seeingNedoffinacorner,gesturinghimovertohavesomeaswell.

“Thecoffeeisatrocious,”shesays.“They’vegonetowellwater.”“What’sgoingon?”WillasksDickGubbins,anAmericanbusinessmanwho,evenbeforeall this,

alwaysknewwhatwasgoingon.“I’vebeenat theAmericanClub,cameheretoseeifIcouldfindoutanything.They’restartingto

rampagethroughtown,celebratingtheirvictory.Mitzy,thatoldbirdwiththeantiquesstoreonCarnavonRoad,wasstabbedbyadrunksoldierfornothingatall, fornothandingoverherpursefastenough,orsomething.”Hisvoicedrops.“Andyouknowwhathappenedatthehospital.”

“Idon’t.”“Awfulstuff.They’rejustanimals,sometimes.Thenunswereviolated,theothernursestoo,doctors

bayonetedwhile trying todefend them.They’renot supposed to touchhospitalworkers,obviously,buttellthattoabloodthirstymob.DrewMcNamara’sovertheretryingtocleanthewholemessupandseethat those responsible are apprehended but everything’s so chaotic now.Under theHagueConvention,policearesupposedtobeabletokeeporder,theoldHongKongpolice,butIhaven’tseenmuchofthem.It’scompletemadnessoutthere,Itellyou.TheJapaneseareusingsomeoftheBritishconstablestostandguardoutsidetheirconsulate.Idon’tthinktheyunderstandtheconceptofirony.

“TheChineseandIndiansshouldbeabletomovefreely.Trudy’scousin,thatVictorChen,isdoingagoodjobactingasago-between,tryingtolessentheviolenceandlooting.TheneutralEuropeansshouldbeallright,butit’stouchythere.TheJapshaveaskedforprostitutes,inadditiontoswarmingallovertheWanchaibrothels.Hopefullythat’llgetsomeoftheirenergyout.Ifyougetadrunkorcrazyone,they’llswingatyourheadwithaswordandnotcareifthey’vecutyourheadoff.They’redemandingmoneyandwatchesandjewelryfromanyonetheymeetonthestreet.There’ssupposedtobeavictoryparadeonthe

twenty-ninth.”“Anywordonwhatthey’replanningtodowithus?”“No.ButifyoucangettoChina,Iwould.I’mtryingtoarrangepassagenowformeandsomeofmy

men.”“Idon’tknowwhyTrudydoesn’tgo.”“Andyoushouldaswell,bigguy.Nothingforyouhere,right?Listen,bestofluck,andwe’llhavea

drinkwhenthisisallover,okay?Callmeifyou’reeverinNewYork.”TheyshakehandsandGubbinsleaves,trailingpalpablecloudsofAmericanprosperityandassurance.

Trudycomesover.“YourememberSophieBiggsandherhusband;wejustsawthematManley’sparty,”shetellshim.

“Well,herhusbandknowssomeJapaneseandsohespokesometoafewsoldiersinthestreetandtheythoughthewasbeingdisrespectfulandtheyshothimintheknee.Andhewaslucky,Sophiesays.He’snotingoodshapebecausethehospitalshavebeenbombedandareoperatingonthebarestoflevels.Deliasays they’re setting up checkpoints soon, sowe’re not going to be able to get aroundwithout passes.Shouldwegobackupandgetourthings?Shouldwestayupthereorcomebackdownhere?Itisrathermoreconvivialdownhereintown.Iwasgoingabitstircrazyupthere.”

“Ithinkitwouldbeniceifwemovedintotown,yes.Butthere’snoroomhere.Weshouldn’tsleeponthefloorherewhenwehaveperfectlygoodbedsathome.Weshouldconserveourstrengthtoprepareforwhatevermightbeahead.Whoknowswhenwe’llgettosleepwellagain.”

“SoyouthinkweshouldstayatAngeline’s?”“Ijustdon’tknowwherewewouldstayintown.I’mnotgoingtostayhere.”Hegesturesaround.

“Thisisariotwaitingtohappen.Ithinkit’sgoingtogetuglyhere,andIdon’tmeanwiththeJapanese.”“Socynical.Isn’tthatmyjob?”Butshedoesn’tdisagree.“Isn’titfunny,”shesays.“We’reatwar

butmostofwhatwe’vedoneiswaitaroundforsomethingtohappen.”“Youdon’twantanythingtohappen,Trudy.Wewanteverythingtoremainboringanduneventful.”“ButyouknowwhatImean.Wejustsitathomeandlookateachother.Isthatwhatwaris?Iwonder

whatVivienLeighisdoingrightatthisverymoment.”Heslapsherlightlyonthebottom.“She’sfastasleep,”hesays.EdwinaStorchcomesoverwithMary,herpartner.“Howareyou,mydear,”shesaystoTrudy.“Allright,darling.Howareyouallfaring?”“Can’tcomplain,buttryingtofigureouttheneworderandhowtogoaboutthings.”“It’slikequicksand,isn’tit?”Trudysays.“You’reasurvivor,though,”saysEdwina,withanoddcastinhervoice.Trudypauses.“Asareyou,”shesayslightly.“I’msurewe’llallberaisingaglassofchampagnetoeachotherafter

thisisallover.”“Icertainlyhopeso,”saysEdwina.“You’reathome?”“No,atAngeline’s,”saysTrudy.“Don’tknowif that’s thebestplace,but that’swhereweare for

now.”“Well,bewell,”Edwinasays.“I’msurewewillseeeachothersoon.”“Icertainlyhopeso,”saysTrudy.Whenthewomenleave,TrudymakesafaceatWill,stickingout

hertongue.They gather up Ned and Angeline, Trudy kissing everyone in sight, and stop by a newly sprung

markettobuyrice,choisam,andrambutansatanexorbitantprice,thendrivehomecarefully,avoidingthemainroads,feelinglikesomestrange,newlyorphanedfamily.

Theelectricity finallygoesoutonNewYear’sEve.Willhasbeenmakingquick,urgentdrives totowntogetinformationandsupplies,tryingtoavoidrunningintoanyJaps.He’sbeensuccessfulforthemostpart,withtheexceptionofonedaywhenhewasinthecarwithNed,leavingtownwithasackofrice,melonseeds,andsometinsofbullybeef,feelingrathervictoriousathissuccessfulscavenging.AJapanesesoldierappearedsuddenlyontheroadaheadofthemandwaveddowntheircar.Will’sstomachhadplummetedintotheseat.

“Don’tsayanything,”hewarnedNed.Thesoldierhadthemopenthetrunk.Helookedatthericeandlookedat them, and thenhad themgetoutof the car.Gesturingwithhis rifle, hehad themempty theirpocketsandtakeofftheirwristwatches.

“American?”heasked.“English.”Themanlaughed.Helookedtobearoundtwenty-two,withawide,naïveface.“Wewin!”Hepusheduphissleevetorevealfivewristwatches,lineduponhispalearm.Therewasnoreplyforthat,sowhenthemantooktheirmoneyandtheirwatchesandthericeand

beef,WillandNedgotintothecarsilentlyandwentbackhome.Theyhadfeltlucky.AndthenNewYear’sEve,Willwakesupandturnsontheswitch,onlytofindtheelectricityisgone.

Thetelephoneworksintermittently.Trudyralliesagainstthesilencethatgreetstheseannouncements.“Whoneedsallthosegadgets,”shesays.“They’remoreworkanyway.Andeveryonelooksbetterby

candlelight.”Shepauses.“Ithinkweshouldhaveaparty.Arealbang-upNewYear’sparty,andinviteallourfellowcamperswhoareupherewithusonthePeak.I’llseewhatwehaveandwecandoapotluck-styleevening.”

TheMillerslivedowntheroad,afashionableAmericanfamilyofsixwhoarehunkeringdownwiththeirsixorsevenservants-twoorthreeamahs,ababyamah,acook,ahouseboy,andagardener.Theycomebyeveryonceinawhiletoshareinformationandforhumancontact.TrudygoeswithWilltoinvitethemandinsiststheybringeveryone,includingtheservantsandthebaby.

“Theycanhangoutinthekitchenandbepartofit,abit.Youdon’twanttoleavethemalone-theymightnotbetherewhenyoucomeback!”

ThebemusedMillersagreetocomeandbringwhatevertheycanspare,andtospreadtheword.Onthewayhome,Trudysays,“There’sthatstoryofthevillagewiththesoup.Doyouknowit?”“No,”Willsays.“Village?”“Therewasavillagewithachiefwhowantedtothrowabigpartywithacommunalsoup.Heasked

everyone to bring something for the soup-a meat or a vegetable or something good, you know. Buteveryonethoughtthateveryoneelsewouldbringsomethingsotheyjustbroughtastone,figuringnoonewouldnotice.Andintheend,tragicasitis,thesoupwasnotdelicious,orsomethinglikethat.”Shestops.“I don’t knowwhy I told you that just now.Except that the people in that villagewere definitely notChinese,havingsolittlerespectforfood.”

“You’reafraidtheMillerswillbringrockstoourparty?”“No,idiot,”shesays.“I’mafraidpeoplearen’thonorable.”

Butofcoursethepartyisawildsuccess.Thoughnodressisspecified,peoplecomeintheirfinest,asortoflastgasptotheworldastheyknowit.TheygathertogetheratAngeline’shouse,likemothstoaflame,bringingsurprisingdelicaciesbroughtupfromsecretcellars-acaseofchampagne(“Whynot?”thegiver reasons. “Just figured it was now or some Jap would be bathing in it later”), five freshlyslaughtered chickens, sardines, a small sack of rice,watercress, cheese, bananas.And this still beingHongKong,peoplehavebroughttheirservantstoprepareandserveitall.

“Averitablefeast,”Trudysays,lookingatthetable.

“Theproverbialgroaningtable,”saysWill.“Iwouldn’tgothatfar,darling.”Shekisseshimonthecheek.“Doesn’titfeellikewe’reonschool

holiday?Youdon’tneed togo towork, Idon’tneed topretend todoanythingwithmy time.Anythinggoes.”

YoungNedYoung,a littlemorecomfortable inhissituationnow,pullsWillaside.“ThatTrudyissomethingelse,”hesays.“Where’dyoufindher?Inevermetanyonelikeher,forsure.”

Men indinner jackets andwomen in eveninggowns are lounging in chairs, on the floor, drinkingbeerand teaoutofoddcontainers-jam jarsand tins-eatingcrackersandsardines.There’snomusicsopeopleoffertosingandplaythepiano.Theinstrument’sterriblyoutoftune,butthemusicissweetandthevoiceslovely.

Closetomidnight,theygatheraroundthebiggestcandleinthelivingroomandcountdown.“Ten,nine,”theystart,beforeTrudyinterrupts.“Let’sprolongthis.Let’scountdownfromfiftyinstead.Dowereallyhaveanythingbettertodo?”

Peopleareagreeableandstartover.“Fifty, forty-nine, forty-eight…”And thensomethingoddhappens.Somewherebetween thirty-four

and thirty-three, themoodchangesand it seemsas if theyare counting toward something that is ratherimportant.Theyarechantingandtheirvoicesgatherforceandpurpose,sothatastheycountdownintothetwentiesandinto the teensandthesingledigits, theybecomelouderandbraver,until theyget to“five,four, three, two… one” and they burst into cheers and hug one another and feel, for a moment, as ifsomethinghasbeensalvaged.Womenwipeawaytearsandmenclaponeanotherontheback.

“Happy NewYear, my darling,” Trudy says, kissingWill. “May this be the worst Eve we everexperience.”

Totheroomsheliftsherglass.“It’stime,”shesays,“toburythesilverandputawaythesheetsinthehotroom.Itwillbeover,butwedon’tknowwhen.”

Attheend,guestsleaveintheweehours,orstay,strewnamongthemanysofasandchairs,scaredtogobackoutside,butwantingtogethome.Trudyministerstothem,providingwaterandsoothingwords,untiltheymusterupthecouragetopullthemselvestogether,expeltheeffectsofdrink,andlurchintothenight,oneeyecockedtowardtheskyforenemyaircraft.

January4,1942ONTHEFOURTHDAYofthenewyear,Trudycomesinwithaleafletinherhand.“They’recollectingpeople,”sheannounces,andreadsfromit.“‘SincetheJapaneseoccupationofHongKongonChristmasDay,enemyalienshavebeenallowed

freemovementinpracticallyallurbandistrictsofthecolony’-verygenerousofthemisn’tit?Thenthere’ssomething about generals and armyorders, and then it says, ‘All enemy civilians’-that doesmake yousounddangerous,Will-‘allenemyciviliansshallassembleattheMurrayParadeGroundonJanuaryfifth.’Youareallowedtocarrypersonaleffects,andthecareofyourhouseisyourownpersonalresponsibility.EnemiesincludeBritish,Americans,Dutch,Panamaniansandwhoeverelsehasbeendisagreeableenoughtowarwithourconquerors.”Shelooksup.“IthinkI’moffscot-free.”

“Areyou?”“Well, I’m none of those categories, certainly. And I’ve secreted my British passport away

somewhereverysafesonooneneedknowaboutit.AndIdon’tthinkadislikeoforigamiqualifiesmeaswarringwiththeJapanese.Butwe’llhavetogetyouthere,Isuppose,unlessyouwanttogoelsewhere?”Shewrinklesherbrow.“China?Somepeoplearearrangingpassage.”

“No, I think staying in Hong Kong will be better. They will have to do things in a way that isaccountable. If theygatherus together, theyhave to registerusand letourgovernmentsknow, Iwouldimagine.”Heshrugshisshoulders.“ButweshoulddecidewhattodowithNed.”

Overasparselunchofriceandsaltedcabbage, theydecidetocleantheCanadianupandregisterhimasEnglish.

“Pretendyou lostyourpassport-a firewhenabombhityourhomeorsomething.Youraccent isaproblemthough,”Trudysays.“DoyouthinktheJapanesewillnotice?”

“IcouldpretendtobeAmerican,”hesaysearnestly.“Butwedon’tknowanyAmericanstotakeyouundertheirwing.BetteryoustickwithWillandkeep

yourmouthshut.”Trudysaysagainshewillnotregister.“Angeline,youcouldgowithWillandNed,sinceFrederickisEnglish.You’recountedasEnglish,

then.Youhaveyourmarriagecertificatesomewhere,don’tyou?I’llbefineoutherewithoutyou.Somanyfamilyfriendshaveofferedtotakemein,Iwon’tbealone.”Trudystrokesherfriend’sarm.

“I’llstayherewithyou,Ithink.Don’tyou?”“Why can’t you pretend you’re in government and not go?” Trudy asksWill. “Colonial staff are

exemptfromtheorder.”“Darling,”hesays.“Therearewaysofverifyingthesethings.ItwouldbeworseifIliedandwereto

befoundout.”“Butyouwon’tbeallowedtocomeback,then,doyouthink?They’renotgoingtowritedownyour

name,giveyouapatontheback,andsendyouonyourway?”“Realistically, they’re going to keep us all in a group. So I assume there will be some sort of

collective living for awhile, as they figure outwhat they’re going to dowith us. I’ve heard ofmassexchangesbetweengovernments,sotheymightexchangeusforJapanesewhoarelivinginourcountries.Butitmighttakearatherlongtimetogetallthatsortedout,soweshouldreallyhaveaplanofhowtokeepincontact.”

Afterlunch,WillandTrudygoupstairstopackasuitcase.“Whatwillyouneed?A toothbrush.”Shehandshimanewone. “Toothpowder.Surely thoseare

necessities.Acomb-can’thaveyou lookingdisheveled.On theotherhand,perhapswedon’twantyoulookingtoohandsomeandgettingyourselfandalltheladiesintrouble.”

“Willyoucomewithme?”hesays.Thisiswhathehaswantedtoaskallmorning.Thethoughtofleavinghermakeshimshortofbreath.Hehasseenhereverydayformonths,notgonemorethanafewhourswithout smellingher skin,herhair.He findsotherwomengrotesquenow-theyare too large, tooloud,tooslow.Oneafternoon,ashortwhileafterhehadfirstarrivedinHongKong,heandSimondshadsat at theirdesksandwatched,mesmerized, asone isby themundane, as theiroffice lady,MissTsai,boiledwaterandpoureditintoathermos.MissTsaiwasthinandworemetalspectacles.Hershoulders,whichshecoveredwiththesamegraycardiganeveryday,weresosmalltheylookedasbrittleasabird’sbones.Her hairwas cropped short and often shinedwith grease. Simonds had turned to him-thiswasbeforeTrudy-andsaid,“Idon’tunderstandhowsomefindChinesewomenattractive.Theyhavenosex,sospindly.”WillwishesSimondshadmetTrudy,thelanguorousslipofher.Hehadshippedoutalittleafter the timeWill had firstmet Trudy at the party, still professing his desire to find a buxom youngEnglishwomanwithwhomtoformafamily.He’sprobablyfoundherbynow.ButWillsuspectshewouldfindhisEnglishlasstoorosy,tooexuberant,nexttotherapier-sharpsilhouettethatisTrudy.

Shestopsathisquestion,butonlyforamoment,thencontinuespacking.“WhyonearthwouldIcagemyselfupifIhadachoice?”

“Youdon’tknowwhat it’sgoing tobe likeouthere,”he says. “At least in there,you’ll get threesquaresadayandabed.”Hecannotbringhimselftosimplyaskhertocometobewithhim.Insteadhesellsitlikesomelow-costholiday.

Finishedwithhispackage,shebeginstopacksomeofherownclothesinasuitcase.“I’drather takemychancesouthere,”shesays.“Youdon’tknowwhat it’sgoing tobe like in the

camps.TheJapscanbebrutal.Anditwillbegoodforyoutohavesomeoneontheoutside.I’llcomeandgiveyoupackagesandnewsoftheoutside.TheLusitanoClubistakingallPortuguese,half-breedslikemetoo,andtheyhavedecentsleepingquarters.Ifthingsgetbad,I’lljustgothere.AndDommiewilltakecareofme.”

“Wecouldmarry,”hesays.“I’lltakecareofyoubetter.”Shelooksup.Heisfrightenedofherface,willfullyblank.“Youdon’tknowwhatwillhappenouthere,”herepeats.“Atleastwewillbetogether.”Shegoesonfoldinghersweaters.Herhandsarequickandsure.“DoyouknowwhattheChinesethinkoftheEnglish?”shesaysamomentlater,asifhehadn’tsaid

anythingofimportance.“Notreally,butIhopeDominickisn’trepresentative.”Trudylaughs.“Well,abit,althoughthere’smoretothatsituationthanmeetstheeye.Don’tbetooharshabouthim.

Hehashisreasons.ButmanyChinesethinkEnglisharerudeandarrogantandthinksomuchoftheirownheritagewhenoursissomucholderandricher.Andthey’reterriblystingy.I’veneverseenanEnglishmanpickupthebillfordinner,wheneventhepoorestChinesewouldbeashamedtoletsomeoneelsepayifitwerehisinvitation.It’sodd,don’tyouthink?Ilikeourwaysomuchbetter.WeChinesearenotstupid.WeknowthatmostoftheEnglishmenhereliveinawaytheycouldneveraffordintheirowncountry,andthey’relivingherelikekingsbecausetheirmoneyhappenstobuyalotmoreofourlaborthanourownmoneydoes.Sotheythinkthey’rethelordshereandwe’retheserfs.Butitdoesn’tchangethefact thatbackathome theycouldneverhave the lavish life theyhavehere.They’re livingonborrowedmoney,underassumedidentities.You’renotveryEnglish,Will.You’regeneroustoafaultandverygraciousandhumble.I’msogladyou’renotlikemostofyourcountrymen.”

“Isay,”hesays.“Idon’tknowifthisisthethingweshouldbetalkingabout.Imean,thisisquiteamoment,right?”

“Iknow, Iknow,” she says impatiently, as ifhe’smissing thepoint. “I justmeant that a lotof thelocalsdon’treallycarewhathappenstotheBritish.Butatthesametime,theydon’treallycareaboutthe

Japaneseeither.Everyone justwants to live their lives,undisturbed,makea littlemoney,makea littlelove,diewithsomefoodintheirstomach.That’sall.”

Trudy’s points always take awhile to sink in because they’re unexpected, as if spoken from themouthofachild,andthenWillalwaysrealizeshowveryshrewdsheis.Andhowpractical.Hewatchesherpackaneveningdressand,afteramoment’shesitation,amatchingshawl.

“Haveyouseenmysilvereveningshoes?”sheasks.“Neverknewyouhadany,”hesays.Hedoesn’taskwhyshemight thinkshewouldneedevening

clothesinatimeofwar.“I always look forward,” Trudy says suddenly. “Never backward. I hate photographs, diaries,

clippings. What’s the point? I don’t understand how people can keep diaries-horrid things.” He issurprisedathervehemence.

“I’vealwayskeptajournalofmytravels.”“That’sdifferent,moreofatravelogue,Iwouldthink.”“Well,myimpressions,certainly.AndthepeopleImeet.”“IcertainlyhopeIamnotinthisjournalofyours.”“Youwouldbedisappointed,”hesaysafterapause.“Peoplecanbesoloathsome,don’tyouthink?”shesays.“Ifwearen’ttogetherinthefuture,please

don’tthinkofmewithhatred.Thinkofmekindlyorforgetme.Ialwaystrytodothat.Thinkwithkindnessanddon’tjudge.Andknowtheentiresituation.”

“Whatonearthareyousaying?Don’ttakesuchabsurdleaps.”Hefeelslikeshe’spunchedhiminthestomach,cannotfeignthenonchalance,butcannotsaytoo,don’tleaveme.

“Ifyouloveme,youknowexactlywhoIam.”“Trudy,youarenotthisperson.Youarenot.”“Andyouarenotstupid,mylove.”Shehandshimhisbag.“There.Allsetforyourgrandadventure.”

Attheparadeground,henoteswithchagrinthatothersseemtohavebroughtalloftheirbelongings,stuffedintoenormoussuitcasesthatarefilledtoburstingandtiedshutwithheavytwine.Somepracticaljoker has brought his golf clubs. There are people sitting on their luggage, drinking from thermoses,lookinglost.Therearealso,curiously,Chinesepeoplewithalltheirbelongingstiedupinpinkandredcloths,slungovertheirshoulders,squattingintheshade.

Willhasmoneytuckedintohistrousers,andafewgoldringsandbraceletsTrudyhasforcedonhim.“Goldisgood;peoplewillalwaystakegold,”hervoiceringsinhisears.Hehasonlyhissmallsatchel,withthefewessentialitemsshehadpacked.NedhassomeofFrederick’sclothesAngelinegavehim,ill-fittingastheyare-theyoungCanadianbringingoutthematernalsideofboththewomen.

Trudyhadstoppedjustlongenoughforthemtogetoutofthecarandtogivehimalightkiss,andthenshehad spunawayquickly.Agood-byemadeofnothing.He stands there for amoment,Ned shufflingawkwardlynearhim,thenpicksuphisbag,feelingslightlyembarrassedthattheyoungmanhasseentheirbloodlessgood-bye.Hespots theTrotters, theArbogasts.Hegoesover toHughTrotterandintroduceshimtoNed,explaininghissituation.

“Thisisquitebad,”Hughsays,notcaringaboutthetravailsoftheyoungCanadian.“Ihearthatoveratthebank,they’reburningunsignednotessotheydon’tgetintothewronghands.”

“Yes,”Willsays.“Thisisnotgoodatall.”“Youknow,twodaysago,theydeclaredanewgovernmentforChinesecivilians-they’recallingit

theCivilDepartmentof theJapaneseArmyand they’re trying tosort thingsout,get thegas,water,andelectricrollingsmoothlyagain.Theywanteveryonetogetbackintotheflow,opentheirshops,resumetheirjobs.Allexceptus,ofcourse.We’reenemyprisonersnow.”

“Then why are the Chinese here?” Will looks around at all the locals. “Surely they can’t be

registeringeveryoneinthecolony.”“No, it’samix-up.TheJapanesedidn’t realize that theChinesehere regard themselvesasBritish

nationals,soalotofthemhaveshownup,andthere’salotofconfusionastowhattodowiththem.Ithinktheyonlywantthegweilos,toputitbluntly.IwouldimaginetheChinesepeoplewillgohometoday.”

Willnoticeschildrenplaying-whatare theydoinghere?Theyshouldhavebeensentawaymonthsago.Hughfollowshisgaze.

“Yes,andofcourse, thechildren.Damnfools, theparents,”hesays.“Sentimental.Didn’twant tosendtheirfamiliesawaytosafety.Likeostriches,theywere.Ihopetheconditionsaredecent.”

“Well,onehopes,yes.”“AndyouheardMillicentPotterwentblindfromshock?”“No,Ihadn’theard,”Willsaid.“Herchilddiedinherarms,shrapnelfromabomb,andshewasholdinghim,andherhusbandsaid

allofasuddenshecouldn’tsee.Itcomesandgoesapparently,butit’sbeengoneforawhile.”“Awful.”“AndTrudy?”Hughasks.“Iassumeshe’snotinvolvedinallthis?”“Yes,she’sPortugueseandChinese,sobothgoodthingstobeatthemoment.”“It’llbegoodtohavesomeoneontheoutside.Shecanhelpyougetthingsandmessages.Wehave

ouramahandhouseboytailingusatthemoment.I’vegiventhemmoremoneythanthey’llseeinalifetimesoIhopetheydon’trunoffwithit.Butwhatcouldwedo?”Hughgivesawintrysmile.“Ironic,isn’tit?”

ReggieArbogastjoinsthem.“Thesituationisbadrightnow.They’rewinninginthePhilippinesandalloverMalayandBurma.

They’regainingtoomuchmomentum.”AJapanesesoldierridesuponahorse.“Line!”heshouts.“Oneline.NoChinese.”Thecrowdhesitates,movesinanamorphousmass,likeajellyfish,Willthinks,ifhewerewatching

fromthesky.Theyrippleandlap,anuncertainseacreature.“One line! No Chinese! ” shouts the soldier again, this time more loudly. He canters the horse

around,wavingaswordintheair.TheOrientalsinthemixpickthemselvesupandmovetooneside,agradualsiftingoftheraces.

“It’slikehe’sherdingus,”HughsaystoWill.“We’rethecattle.”Willtakesaccountoftheclothesheiswearing-asturdypairofcottontrousers,twoshirts,asweater,

andajacket.He’ssuddenlyawarethattheymighthavetolasthimforalongtime.He’sgladheworeaheavybelt.Somehow,hethinksthestrongleatherandmetalwillcomeinuseful.

Thesoldierswingsaroundandleaves.Thecrowdissilent.Awomansitsdownonhersuitcaseandbeginstocry.“Buckup,”herhusbandsays.“Thisisjustthebeginning.”

Theydividethemintonationalitiesandmarchtheminsinglefile.WillwatchestheAmericanswalkaway,alongwith theDutchand theBelgians.TheBritisharemade towaituntil theend.TheJapaneseseemtohavesomespecialprejudiceagainstthem.

Theywalkforhours,onalmostunrecognizableroadswithburningpilesofrubbishoutsidecharredbuildings and the overpowering stench of rotting bodies and human waste. The mothers and childrenmarch with the men, babies crying. The roads are lined with locals, silently watching the unlikelyspectacleofWesternpeoplebeing ledawayunder the ruleof theOriental.Somespit in theirpathbutmostjustlook.Willseesreliefintheirfaces,reliefthattheyarenotthevictims,atleastthistime.Thereisalsopity in someof theolder faces.Onebrave soul in theprocession tries to strikeupa renditionof“HailBritannia,”buthismelodyfadesawayundertheimplacablegazeofasoldierwhoslowshisstepsuntilheismenacinglyabreastofthesinger.Andthereisthesilenceagain,brokenonlybythetrampingof

feetandtheheavybreathingoftheconquered.

TheyareherdedintotheNamPingHotel,whichhasclearlybeenusedasabrothelintherecentpast.Thelobbyisdingyandsmudgy-looking,withpeelingredpaintandgarishgoldChinesecharacterspaintedontosigns.

First,theyaretoldtotakeoffalltheirwatchesandjewelryandplacethemintoalargesack.Then,aJapanesesoldierjerkshisguntowardthestairstoindicatetheyshouldgoup.

Theroomsaretiny,andthingsgetugly,withpeoplerushingtoclaimtheirspaceuntiltheyrealizethatnomatterhowquicktheyare, theywillhavetosqueezefourorfiveintoaroom.Thestuccowallsarebubbledwithmoistureanddecayandflakesofceilingfalldownat theslightest tremor.Thereare ironbedswithwafer-thinmattressesandmintoi, theChinesequilt,with large,copper-coloredstains.Largecockroaches scurry around, alarmed at the sudden invasion, and the floor iswet and unpleasant. It ischaos,withpeopledemandingtoiletpaper,towels,cleanwater,notknowingthatnooneistheretosupplythem.Somedon’tseemtorealizethedaysofamahsandchauffeursaregone.Thetoiletsstopupalmostimmediatelyandthehallwaysarefilledwithanunspeakableodor.WillandHughorganizeteamstoclean.Somerefuse,ordon’tshowup.Willtellstheothersnottoworry,thattherewillbeplentyofworktogoaroundsoon,andthateveryonewilldotheirshare.TheJapaneseprovidenoguidance-somelookamusedatthechaos,andothersaresimplyoblivious,puttingtheirfeetupandhavingChinesechildrenrunerrandsforthem,fetchingthembeerandcuttlefish.

Thereisnofoodthefirstnight.Theygotobedhungry,roomsalivewiththesoundofwhimperingchildrenandthelaboredbreathoftheirparents.Willtuckshishandsintohisarmpits,hearsyoungNed’ssnore-astrange,interrupted,barkingsound-andwonderswhatTrudyisdoing.

Andsohefindsout.Nottoothpowderbutfood.Foodistheluxury.TheJapanesehandoutawateryvatofriceintheevening,withnotenoughchippedbowlsandspoons.Thereissomeputridboiledmeat,afewrottingvegetablesswimminginbrownwater.Thefirstevening,somewomenrefusetoeatit.Bythenext, everyone takes their share. They findChinesewilling to go fetch food for coins tossed from thebalcony,butthisisaniffypropositionatbestassomedisappearwiththemoney,nevertobeseenagain.Those luckyenoughtohave theiramahsorhouseboyson their tail throwdownmoneyandget fishandvegetablestossedbackinreturn.

Thereisalieutenantinchargeofthehotel,Ueki,asmallmanwithroundglassesandamustache.Heis impossible to read asWill finds outwhen he is elected tomeetwith a supervisor about the livingconditionsandthefood.Itisanoddmeeting,tenseandexcessivelypolite.

Uekihascommandeeredthehotelmanager’sofficebehindthereceptiondeskandissittingbehindametaldeskwithanopenbottleofwhiskeyandalitcigarettesmolderinginanashtray.Smokehangsthickintheair,unmovedbythefanthatcirclesslowlyoverhead.

Willbowsbecauseitseemstherightthingtodo.Uekiinclineshisheadslightly.“IhaveafewissuesI’dliketobringtoyourattention,”Willsays.“Speak,”saystheman.“Thetoiletsneedtobecleaned,andweneedsuppliestocleanthemwith.Canyouprovideuswith

sometoiletbrushesandcleaningpowders?Also,aplungerwouldbehelpful.”“IwillseewhatIcando.”“AndMrs.Aitkeniseightmonthspregnantandquiteuncomfortable.Couldwefindabedforher?

She’sinabedwithtwootherpeoplerightnow.Everyoneelseisdoubledortripledupaswell.”ExceptthecorpulentsecretaryfromAustraliawhorefusestogiveupherbed,butthat’sanothermatter.

“Fine.”Uekiwavesofftherequest,soWillisnotsureifhemeansyesorno.“Andthefood…”Willhesitates.

“Yes?”“Thefoodisinadequate.”TheshortlieutenantstudiesWill.“Doyouwant smoke?”Heoffersa slimsilvercase,probably freshly looted fromsome friendof

Trudy’s.WilltakesoneandleansoversothatUekicanlightit.“DoyouknowwhereIlearnedtheEnglish?”“No,butit’sverygood.”Willtellshimselfhe’snotcurryingfavor,notbeingobsequious,justhonest.“EnglishmissionarycametoJapan,taughtmeforthreeyears.”“Therearelotsofmissionariesdoinggoodworksoutthere,”Willsays,itseemstohim,idiotically.“Hewasgoodman.Forhim,Iwilltrytohelpyou.”Willsaysthankyou,andthensitsforamomentbeforeherealizeshehasbeendismissed.Gettingup,

hesaysthankyouagain.Nothingevercomesofthemeeting.

Itisinthisunlikelyplace,thisoldbrothel,thatthedetaineesfindthemselvespoolinginformationandtales of what had happened in the days prior. Since they have nothing but time, they gather around,exchanging stories, trying to piece together a coherent history of the final, chaotic days before thesurrender.

ReginaArbogast, a delicate-faced socialitewho arrived at the parade ground in a rickshaw andseventrunks,sixofwhichshewasforcedtoletherservantsbringbackhome,isfullofstoriesofatrocitythat happened not to her but to friends of friends of people she knew. She is full of opinions andappropriatedoutrage.

“TheChinesegot thebruntof it really.They’redefenseless,without apropergovernment tohelpprotect them.They’vebeenunderourprotection forso long, theydon’tknowwhat todo.All thegirlshavebeenraped,buttheJapaneseareafraidtotouchtheEnglish.Theyknowitwillcomearoundintheend.”

ReginahadbeenstayingatherfriendMayGibbons’shouse,where theywere living infairlyhighstyle until some Chinese gangsters came in and tied them up while they looted the house. She talksincessantly about the jewelry she lost and how she’ll never be able to replace it. Her husband, asuccessfulimporterandbusinessman,finallyblowsupaftershehasgoneonforaparticularlylongtime.

“ForGod’ssake,Regina,justshutupandgiveussomepeace.I’llbuyyouallthejewelsinChinaafterallthisisover.”

She looks at her husband balefully and whispers to her friend, Patricia Watson, about howbeleagueredshehasbeenandhowReggiehasbeenjustimpossiblethroughout.Patriciasmilesandlookssatisfied.Shehad,quitebyaccident,beensparedhervaluablesatthehotelasshehadplacedthemonthefloorinfrontofher,andtheJapanesehadrefusedtobenddowntopickthemup,andhadnotbotheredtoaskhertodoit.

Ayoungwoman,MaryCox,saysherhusbandwasgrabbedbyJapanesesoldiersandmadetocleanupafterbodieshadbeendraggedalongthestreet,sheddingbodypartslikeanimals.Theyhadtoclearallthebodiesbefore theygot in thewatersupplyandspreaddisease.Hecamehomesoakedinbloodandbitsofdecayingfleshandweptbeforefallingonthesofa,exhausted.Hewasgonethenextmorning.Shehasn’tseenhimsince.Shehasatwo-year-oldboy,Tobias,whotrailsher,onehandalwaysonsomepartofhismother,theotherholdingatoyairplane.Hehasn’tspokensinceChristmas,shesays.Anotherman,gauntwithworry,sayshehadbeenwalkingwithhiswifedownCarnavonStreet,andsomesoldiershadcomeandseizedher.Theyheldhimatgunpointwhiletheytookheraway.Hehasn’tseenhereither.“Andyet,” he says, “I used to think the Japanese were themost peaceful, serene people, with their cherry

blossompaintingsandtheelaborateteaceremony.Howcantheybesobrutal?”“A soldier is only one part of a country,” Hugh says. “Certainly not representative of an entire

people.Andwartimemakesdifferentanimalsofusall.”“Howcanyousaythat?”ReginaArbogastcries.“Theyareeachoneasbrutalastheother,asfaras

I’mconcerned.YouwouldneverseeaBritishsoldierbehavethewaytheseanimalshavebehavedtous.”“Youare,ofcourse,right,mydear,”Hughsays,endingtheconversation.

Thenextday,MickeyWallacecomesintothelobbywheresomeofthemaresittinglistlessly.Heisbleedingfromtheears,hiseyesalreadystartingtoswellblueandshut.Hehadbeenontheroof,lookingdown,when some Japanese soldiers saw him. They stormed up to him and beat him bloody becausenobody is to look down on the Japanese. Only they are allowed to look down on others. This, theirenemies’peculiarpreoccupationwithplacementandparticularlywithheight,becauseoftheirgenerallysmallerstature,becomesingrainedinalloftheprisonersuntilmanyyearsafterthewarisover,whentheyautomaticallycheckwhoisstandingwhere,onwhatsteporfromwhatposition.

Andtherandomcrueltymakesthemallwary.Asoldier,drunkandangryabouthisgamblinglosses,strikesasmallchildonthewaytohispost.Thelittleboyhasafracturednoseandlosesthreeteeth.Ahigher-upJapspiritshimawaywithhismother,andtheyareneverseenagain.Evidencegone.Onhiswayupthestairs,Will looksdownat thealleybetweenthehotelandtheadjacentbuilding.Heseesabodycoveredbyablanket,ashockoffairhair,toohighuptoseewhoitis.Whenhegoesdown,thebodyisgone.Hewondersifheimaginedit,knowshedidnot.AnotherdayTrottercomestohim,sayssottovoce,“IwonderifI’mgoingmad.Iwasonthebalconyhavingasmoke,andinanalleybetweenbuildings,IcouldhaveswornIsawamanbeheadedbytwoothers.”Hisvoicetremblesbuthisfaceiscalm.“Isawthespurtofblood,themanfallingdownfromhisknees,handstiedbehindhisback.IcouldhaveswornIsawit.”Howcanonestand it?“And thenI left. Ididn’twant tosee thecleanup.”Howdoesonestaysane?

Therearesmallinsultsinadditiontothelarge.AplagueofthemostenormousmosquitoesWillhasever seen, causedby inadequatedrainage.Hisbody is spottedwith theirbites, red, raised, andangry.Whenheswatsatthem,theyexplodeintoredburstsofblood,gorgedontheirmanyvictims.Pestscrawlinto their thinmattresses,which they try, unsuccessfully, to combat by immersing the iron bed legs inbowls filledwith camphor andwater.Weevils in the rice.Stinky,warmwater theyhave to hold theirnosestodrink.Theattendantdiarrheathatcomesfromdrinkingthewater,untiltheygathertogethersometinsandboilitfirst.Thentheburnedtonguesfromdrinkingthenewlysterilizedwaterasfastasitcomesofftheflame,becausetheyaresothirstyaburnedtongueseemssmallpenance.

And then they can look outside the dirty windows to the sight of Japanese soldiers, drunk andvomiting on the sidewalks, being held up by Chinese prostitutes, as they celebrate their victory.Sometimesanunfortunatecoolieisdraggedintocleanupthemess,butmoreoftenitislefttorotinthestreet.WillthanksGoditisnothighsummer,whentheodorwouldintensifytentimesasquickly.

Hedoesnotrememberwhatitisliketosmellfreshair.Instead,urine,feces,thethick,cloyingsmellofhumanwaste,clingstotheveryinsidesofhisnostrils.Hisskin,hishair,hisfingers,theyareallinfusedwiththesmellofshit,nomatterhowhardhewashes.Hishandshaveknowntheslickinsideofatoiletbowl, trying to get the foul mixture of vomit, urine, and shit to flush through its own thickness. Thedrainage systems are no match for five hundred rapidly sickening refugees-and that is what they are,regardlessofwhethertheywerebankersorbarristersbefore-fedwithpest-riddenriceandtaintedwater.Theguardsarecruel,saveone.Heisayoungboydressedinasoldier’suniformwithawide,placidface,andhesmilesconstantly,apologetically.Heturnsdownhiseyeswhenhiscolleagueshittheprisonersorpoke at them with their bayonets. He speaks a halting English, but only when there are none of hiscompatriotsnearby.

Trudy never comes, although others’ loved ones find a way to come, leave messages. He findshimselfmentioninghertoeveryone,includingherintheconversations,asif themereincantationofhernamewill keep her real, keep her alive.Her jasmine scent becomes further and further away, amerememory; theolfactorysensedoesn’tkeepwell.Heshiftsconstantly inbed,unused to the tight,narrowquartersofaspacewithoutacompanion,herslightwarmth.He isnotangrywithher,yet.Whoknowswhatisgoingonoutside.

Nedisgoingmad.Theyoungsoldierisfarfromhome,farfromanyloveorcomforthemightknow,andhehasstoppedtalkingandeatsverylittle.Hisfaceiswanandswollen.Willtriestogethimtomovearoundabiteverydaybuthewithdrawsalittlemoreeveryday.

Andyetformost,lifesettlesdownamazinglyquickly.Humanbeingstendtowardroutine.Itisasifthey have been displaced refugees formonths, although it has only been aweek. Businessmen shufflearoundwithundershirtsfallingoutoftheirtrousers,theirnattysuitspackedaway.Socialitesdothewashalongsideschoolteachersandshopproprietors.Ablackmarketspringsup.Assomehavealotofmoney,Arbogast andTrotter arrange a fund so that everyonewill get some food.People contributewhat theywantandthentheyarrangetobuyRussianblackbreadforsixHongKongdollarsahalf-pound,powderedmilk, soybeans, carrots, sometimes butter, which they spread sparingly on their bread and eat slowly,savoringthepreciousfatintheirmouths.YoungChineseboyssmuggleinthefood,butmustgetpasttheJapaneseguards,whoknowwhat’sgoingon,buttakewhattheywantfromthemeagersupplies.“Tax,”saysoneeverytime,laughingathisinanejoke.Thatguardtakesalmosthalf.

“Idothink,”Trotter’swifesaysfretfullytoWill,“thatitissospreadoutthatnoonegetstoenjoyit.Don’tyouthinkitwouldbeabetterideatohavealotteryofsomesortsothatonepersoncouldenjoyafullstomachforonce?”

Willshrugs.He’snotabouttogetintoitwithher.Hedoesnote,though,thatsheisasplumpasever.Somewomenvolunteertodothecooking-oneisMary,thewomanwithTobias,themutechild,whohasn’tseenherhusband.Sheissweetandquiet,anddoesnottaketheopportunityofbeinginthekitchentotakemorefoodforherselfandherson,althoughWillwouldnothaveblamedherifshehad.Thecookgirls,astheycallthemselves,comeupwithstartlingdishes:broccoliblackbreadsandwicheswithoystersauce,watered-downcondensedmilkstewswithplumsbobbingabout,eggygreens.Theyhavemanagedtogetacooker from theoutside, and in the evenings, theyhuddle around theblue flame,where their dinner iscooking.

Surprisingly,itsettlesintonormal.Iftheysteerclearoftheguards,theyaregenerallyleftalone,astheguards are toobusydrinkingand findingwomenor things to steal.There are always rumors aboutwheretheyaretoberelocated.Somethinktheywillberepatriatedimmediately.Others,morerealistic,hopeforamorecomfortableplacetowaitoutthewar.Buttheytoothinkitwillbeoverinamatterofweeksordays.

January21,1942FINALLY,aftertwoandahalfweeks,theordercomes.Dr.Selwyn-Clarke,thedirectorofMedical

Services,haspersuadedtheJapanesetomovethecivilianstotheemptyStanleyPrisononthesoutherntipof the island, where he believes the fresh air and proximity to the ocean will lessen the outbreak ofinfectious diseases. Excited, thewomen gather their belongings andmake the beds, filthy as they are-habitsdiehardeveninwartime.Mentrytogetmoreinformationfromtheguardsandarerebuffed.WillgetsNedoutofbedandmakessureheiscounted.

Linedupoutsidethehotel, theyarepackedintolargelorries thatrumbleintolifeandthechildrenpeekthroughtheslatsinthebackandshoutastheypassvariouslandmarks.Thechildrenhavecometobeablessing,althoughitishardonthem.Theymakegamesoutofnothing,playjackswithpebbles,andrunaroundshrieking.Womensitontheirbagsinthebackofthelorry,fleshtremblingwiththeunevenroad,societymatronslookingashaggardasthegovernessesandnursesnexttothem.

Soon,buildingsgivewaytotreesastheydrivethroughAberdeenandintotheSouthSide,wheretheseameets themountainsanda lonewinding road takes them toStanleyPeninsula. It isquiethere, andseeminglyuntouchedbytheviolenceofthepastfewweeks.

The vehicles drive through a large gate and into a compound with squat three-story concretebuildings, hastily spray-painted with large A, B, C marks. Soldiers jerk their guns to indicate thateveryoneshoulddisembark.Theyaregroupedbynationality,lineduptobecountedandregistered-name,age, nationality, family or single, etc.-an exercise that will grow all too numbingly familiar over thecomingweeksandmonths.

Thetotal:60Dutch;290Americans;2,325British;therestoddsandends-Belgians,WhiteRussians,foreignwives,evenAkikoMaartens,aJapanesewomanwhomarriedaDutchmanandrefusestoleavehimfortheoutside.Theguardsspitatherandleer,knowingshe’soneofthem,sayingwhatWillcanonlyassumeareoutrageousvulgarities,but she ignores themasshewaits in linewithherhusband for theirroomassignment.SheneverspeaksawordofJapanese,butherbowingandmannerismsgiveherawayimmediately.AlltheenemynationalshavebeenassembledatStanleyforinternment.Willseesfacesfromthatdayat theMurrayParadeGround.Everyonesaystooneanother,“Iheardyouweredead,”smilingand relieved that they arenot.Will spotsMaryWinkle, the smaller partnerofEdwinaStorch, lookingbewildered. Her constant companion seems not to be with her. The Americans and Dutch have beensequesteredindifferenthotelsfromtheBritish,theBelgiansintheirconsularofficesincetheyaresofewinnumber.FromwhatWillcangleanfromhurriedasides,theirexperiencehasbeenmuchthesame:theyarealldirtyandhungry.HeasksafterDickGubbins,theAmericanbusinessmanhesawattheGloucester,andnoonehasheardanythingabouthim.Hopefullyhe’smadeitacrosstheborderintofreeChina.

TheAmericanshavesomehowbeenassignedthebestbuildingand,astheyaredispatchedtotheirnewhome,pull togetherrapidly toorganizeeverythingtoafault,arrangingtohavefurnituredelivered,sortingoutroominganddistributionofsupplies,buildingastore.Theyarecheerfulandproductive,asifatapicnic.Theyseemtohavealreadygottenagovernmentofsortsrunning,fromwhentheywereinthehotels.The first evening, theyare seensittingoutside in the twilight, in languorousposesonmakeshiftchairs,laughing,talking,drinkingglassesofweakteamadefromsmuggled-inteabags.

The Americans may have the best building, a man he recognizes vaguely says, ushering peoplethroughthedoorofthebuildinghe’sbeendirectedto,DBlock,butthere’snotalotwecandoaboutit.They all have private bathrooms in their quarters. They seem to have some favor with the Japanese,maybethegovernmentshavesomeunderstandingwitheachother.Andourpolicehavethenextbestonebuttheywon’tgiveitupforthewomenorchildren.Theygothereafewdaysagotogetthingsreadyand

they’vetakenallthegoodspots.Inmyopinion,theyshouldbeinthePOWinternmentcampinShamShuiPo,butthey’veendedupherewithuscivilians,butwhatcanyoudo.Will justnods.Heistootiredtocare.HeandNedgoupthestairsandinthroughadoor.Youcan’tsleephere,it’sourroom,someonesaysfromacorner,snarling.Fine,hesays,andtheykeepgoinguntil theyfindanemptyroomandputdowntheirsatchels.

Theyaredividedup,andthefractionsgetsmallerthemorepeoplestreamin.Itendsupwiththirty-fivepeopleper formerprisonguard flat, fifty in thebungalows, sixor sevenpeople to a room.Manyroomshavenofurnitureatall.Somepeoplerushtomarkouttheprisonguardflatsbecausetheyarelargerandamitebetterfurnished,butitturnsouttheyaremorecrowdedintheend.Therearetwoorsometimesthreemarriedcouplesperroom,andalotoffamiliesintheadministrativebuildings.Thesinglesinthecellshaveactuallyfaredbetter,exceptingthebathroomsituation,whichisahundredpeopletoastall,andquitefilthy.Willfindshimselfinanoldprisoncell,twometerssquare,withNedandoneother,JohnnieSandler,aplayboywhowasalwaysattheGrippsinadinnerjacket,withablondeandaChinesebeautyon either arm. Amazingly, he still radiates style through his soiled trousers and already-fraying shirt.Unselfish, he’s the first to help, rearranging beds,moving bags. It’s surprising how true personalitiesshinethroughafterafewweeksofhardship.Themissionariesaretheworst.Theystealfood,don’tpulltheirweightwiththechores,andcomplainallthetime.

Thefirstday,afterpeoplehaveestablished theirplaces,everyonecongregates in the largecentralyard,sittinginthedirt.Allareparanoidthattheyaremissingsomething,ameal,ahandout,information.HughTrottergatherstheBritishtogetherandexplainstheneedforamoreformalgovernmentandsomesortoforder.Willhastalkedtohimaboutit,andfoundHughthinkingthesamething.

“Whydon’twenominateHughastheheadofthings?”Willsays.Afterapause,peoplemurmurtheirassent.“Allinfavorsay‘aye.’”Willlooksaround.Aloudroundofayes.“Anynays?”Silence.Atleastinthis,theirfirstforayintogrouppolitics,thereisharmony.Thatissomething.

Hugh elects other people to head up subcommittees. They settle on housing and sanitation,workdetail,food,health,andgrievances,withotherstocomeasneeded.Willisselectedtoheaduphousing,tomediateanydisagreementsstemmingfromtheiraccommodations.

Sleepiselusivethefirstnight,astheytrytogetusedtothenewsurroundings;thoseluckyenoughtohavebedsshiftaround,unusedtothestrangecreaks.Willisonthefloor,whichisfilthy,withhissatchelas a pillow and various articles of clothing as blankets. The stone is cold, even after he puts moreclothingdownasamat;heisunabletodozeformorethantenminutesatatime.Itisareliefwhenthesunbeginstostreamthroughthewindowandhecanstopthecharadeofsleep.

Theycomedowntopostedsignsthatsayallroomswillbeinspectedforcontrabandintheafternoon.Mostscamperbackupstairstosquirrelawaytheirbelongings,hopingtheywillnotcatchtheeyeofanyoftheinspectors.

“I don’t have anythingworth taking,”Will tellsNed, “and I don’t think you do either,” and theycontinuetothedininghall.Andattheappointedhour,Will,Ned,andJohnniewatchasachubbysoldierriflesthroughtheirthings.Heholdsupaparticularlyfinecottonshirt,Johnnie’s,ofcourse,andshakesitinsolently,whilerattlingoffsomethinginJapanesetohiscompanion.

“He’sgoing to theball in that,”Johnniesays.Thesoldierwhirlsaroundandbarksoutsomething,clearlythattheyaretoremainquietwhiletheyfinishup.Hethenflingstheshirtonthedirtyfloor.

Intheend,theycomeoutbetterthanmost.Theyhavegivenupafewgoldcufflinks(“Thoughttheymightcome inhandyforbartering.”Johnnieshrugs),a littleboxof tools thatJohnniehadsmuggled in,withpliers,ahammer,andscissors;andawoolhat.

“Youdidsuchanatrociousjobofpacking,theydidn’twantanythingofyours,”Johnnieobservestohisroommatesafterthemenaregone.“Congratulations!”

“It’sluckyfewofusaretheirsize,”Willsays.“Ithinkwe’dbegoingaroundstarkers.”“They can take thewomen’s clothes. They’d look quite fetching in a nice poplin garden dress, I

think.”Theygatherinthehallwaysandcomparewhat’sbeenlost.Somearebesidethemselvesatthelossof

familyheirlooms,othershappythattheymanagedtohidetheirvaluablesaway.“Didyouhidetheminyourbum,then?”asksHarryOverbyetothegroup,anunpleasantsortwhois

smugbecausehehasaChinesegirlontheoutsidewhoheissurewillprovideforhim.HehasawifehesentbacktoEnglandsomemonthsbefore,andthenheacquiredthegirlfriend.Heisignored.

“While we’re here,” Will says, “I’m organizing a cleaning detail to make our conditions morepleasant.I’llhaveasheetupwhenIcanacquirecleaningsupplies,andIexpecteveryonewillwanttopitchinandhelpkeepourtemporaryhomeascleanaspossible.”

Overbyesnorts,buttherearegeneralnoisesofassentfromtheothers.“Good,”hesays.“It’snottheRitzbutitwillhavetodofornow.”“That’sanunderstatementifIeverheardone,”Johnniesays.

Will isgettingveryworriedaboutNed.Hespeaksonlywhenspoken to,and thenonly inone-ortwo-wordreplies.Hesayshefeelsallright,butheiswastingaway,hairthinandmatted,eyesdull.Hesleepsalldayandshowslittleinterestinfood.

“Shock,” says Dr. McAllister, when Will asks him. “He’s had such a shock, he can’t processanything.Whoknowsifhe’llcomeoutofit.Thisiscertainlynottheidealsituationforconvalescence.”Askedforatonic,oranything,hethrowsuphishands.“Ihavenothing!Notevenanaspirin!I’veputinarequestwithSelwyn-Clarkeandtheauthoritieshereforsomebasicmedicinesandsupplies,butthey’veyettoreply.Justkeepaneyeonhim.Unfortunately,that’saboutallwecandorightnow.”

Atdinnertime, theygather in thedininghall,where theseparationofcountries isagainevident.Atall,rangyAmericanbusinessman,BillSchott,hasbeenelectedcamprepresentativetotheJapanese,bytheJapanese,andhestandsuptoaddressthewholecamp.

“TheJapanesehavedecidedthatwearetomanthekitchensandcookourownmeals.Thesewillbecovetedjobs,sowearegoingtorotatethemsothateveryonegetsachancetoserve.”Hedoesn’tsaywhythejobswillbesodesirable,buteveryonecanseethatproximitytofoodisonlyapositivething.“WewillalsobeassignedwhatI’llcallhousekeepingduties,notonlyourprivaterooms,whichshouldbekeptcleanandwhichwillbeinspectedonaregularbasis,butalsosweepingthecourtyardandotherdutiesastheyseefit.IhavebeenassuredthatthesetasksandourconditionswillbeinkeepingwiththeGenevaConvention,although,technically,Japanisnotunderitsauspices,astheysignedtheagreementbutneverratified it. They say they are agreeing to it for goodwill.Wewill be given adequate food, as per theConvention,whichIbelieveissometwenty-fourhundredcaloriesaday.Ihaveinquiredastomailandcontact with the outside world and we are to receive letters and packages on set days of the week.Obviouslywewillnotknowwhether that is reliable,but theyhavesaid theyarewilling todo it.OurgovernmentsaretobenotifiedofourpresencehereandofthelivingconditionsandwearetohaveRedCrossrepresentativescomeperiodicallyandmakeinspections.Inthebestcase,ofcourse,therewillbearrangements for repatriation and therewill be some sort of swap of citizens between countries.”Hepauses.“Obviouslyitisunclearwhenallthiswillcometopass.Weare,itisimportanttoremember,inawarthatisstillverymuchgoingon.Itcouldbeweeks,itcouldbemonths.Inthemeantime,Ihopewecanalllivetogetherinharmonyandtrytohelpeachotherasmuchaspossiblewhilethesituationislikethis.Ifanyonehasanycomplaintsorcomments,pleasecometomeandIwilltrytomakeourviewsknowntothecampsupervisors,butI’mafraidwearenotoperatingfromapositionofgreatpower.Atanyrate,Iwisheveryonewellaswegoforthfromhere.Let’smakeourcountriesproud.”

Hesitsdown.Thereisanexhalationofair,aseveryonedigestswhathehassaid.Andthenhandspopupintheair.Schottstandsupagaintotakequestions.

“Dowehaveanyideahowlongwe’retostayhere?”“Noneatall,unfortunately.”“Areweallowedtohavemoney?Orcanwegetmoneyfromtheoutside?”asksaDutchman.Schott laughs. He is very rich himself and has already acquired a great many comforts for the

Americanfaction,whichhaveallbeendiligentlyandenviouslynotedbytheothergroups.“Iimagineyou’reallowedtohavewhateveryouwant,ifyoucankeepitasecret,orifyouwantto

share it with them. I don’t know. This is one of thosemurky areas you don’t really want to get intoofficially.Justuseyourcommonsense.”

“Canwewriteletterstotheoutside?”HughTrotterasks.“Idon’tthinkso.Orifwedid,Ithinkthepeoplewewrotethemtowouldneverreceivethemorget

suchcensoredlettersthattheywouldberendereduseless-anexerciseinfutility,Isuspect.Iwillcertainlyask,butitseemsunlikely.I’lltrytogetOhta,that’stheheadofthecamp,inagoodmood,andaskhimthen.”

The questions fly fast and furious, mostly routine matters, prisoners worried about their dailycomforts.Willstartstoeat.

“Whataboutme?”Nedsayssuddenlytothetable.It’sthefirsttimehe’sspokenallday.“Whatdoyoumean?”“I’mregisteredasBritish,butthere’snoBritishNedYoung.It’sgoingtobeallmessedup.Nooneat

homeisgoingtoknowI’mhere.WherearealltheCanadians?”“I thinkyourcompatriotsareat thePOWinternmentcampatShamShuiPo.It isoddthereareno

otherCanadiancivilians,butperhapstheywenthomebeforeallthiserupted.Ithinkyou’rebetteroffherethanwith the troops.And I’m sureBritain has enoughNedYoungs or EdwardYoungs-it’s a commonenoughname-thatthey’lltakeyouinfirst,andthenyoucansortitoutwhenyou’rein.Itwillbeaskingfortroubletogetyoubackwithyourcolleagues.”

“No,no,”hesays.“It’sallmessedup.It’sallmessedupnow.I’vedoneitformyself,haven’tI?NooneknowsI’mhere.Nobody.Mymumwon’tknowI’maliveoranything.”

“It’sallright.You’rehereandyou’realive.That’stheimportantthing.Don’tworrytoomuchaboutregistrationandthingslikethat.”

“That’seasyforyoutosay,”theyoungCanadiansnaps.“You’reallproperandaccountedfor.I’malonehere.”Hestandsupandwalksout.

“Heneedstohaveamoment,”Johnniesays.“Leavehimalone.He’llbeallright.”WilllooksafterNed’srecedingbody.“It’shardforhim.Idon’tthinkhe’seighteenyet.He’shere,

halfwayacrosstheworld,allbyhimself,withnohope.”“Jointheclub,”Johnniesays.“It’smiseryallaroundhereatCampStanley.Andit’sonlythesecond

day.”

Afterdinner,heandJohnniegobacktotheirroom.OnWill’sbedisaneatlywrappedpackage,withanote.It’sunsignedbutit’sapparentthatit’sfromNed.

“Iwish you the best.Don’tworry and thank you for everything.”He has left themajority of hisborrowedclothing.

“Howonearthdoeshethinkhe’sgoingtogetoutofhere?”Johnniesitsdownonthebed.“Lordknows.Hedidn’twanttoincriminatehimselforus,Isuppose,withthisrathercrypticnote.

I’m thinking theworst.Hehasno ideaof the terrainouthere,oreven in town,no friends,noChineselanguage, nothing. Even if he gets out of the camp boundaries, he’s a blindman.And he’s left all hisclothes…”Hisvoicetrailsoff.

“Notthesignofasaneman,certainly,”Johnnieoffers.“No.”Willcrumplesupthenoteandputsitinhispocket.In the morning, some internees are talking over breakfast about how they heard gunshots in the

middleofthenight,towardthesouthernwallofthecamp.

February dawns the nextweek and it is cold.HongKong has a subtropical clime so there is noheatinginfrastructureandthewinterisalwaysaninsidious,creepingcoldthatsurprisesyouinthemiddleofthenightorwhenoutsidetoolong.NosignofTrudy.It’snowbeenmorethanthreeweekssincehe’sseenher. It’s getting to bemore thandisheartening-it’s embarrassingnowas people inquire as to howshe’sdoing.Amahs,houseboys,localgirlfriends,andspouseswhoarestillontheoutsideforonereasonoranothercometotrytoseetheinternees,butthecampisstillworkingoutthevisitationrulesandtheyare turned awaywith their packages. Still, their visitors are allowed to leaveword that they’ve beenthere.

Willconcentratesinsteadonwinterizingthebuildingsasmuchashecan.Bedshavebeenprovided,withsomesemblanceofbedlinens,butthetemperatureplummetsatnight.He’sneverthoughtofthecoldinHongKongasanythingmorethanbrisk,butherealizesnowthatthatwaswithaproperwintercoatandwell-insulatedwalls. Everyone is hunched over, trying to conserve body heat, sleepingwith all theirclothes on, shivering in the bathrooms, not taking baths.WhenWill brushes his teeth, the silverwaterfeels like ice. He puts in an official request for more blankets and winter coats, especially for thechildren,whoarerunningaroundintheirparents’extraclothing,hemsandsleevestrailingthefloor.Heorganizesapatchingteamthatgoesaroundplugginganyholesinthewallwithacrudemixofmudandleaves.All this does little to alleviate the creepingmisery of unrelenting discomfort that clouds theirdays.

Trudy,whenshecomes,isunexpected.AguardplucksWillfromthelunchqueueandtakeshimtotheofficeofOhta,theheadofthecamp.

Expectingaresponsetohisblankets-and-coatsrequest,Willistakenabackwhenheistoldhehasavisitor.Theyhavenotbeenallowedyet.But,ofcourse,ruleshaveneverreallyappliedtoTrudy.

Ohta,aportlymanwithgreasyskinandsmudgedwirespectacles,gesturesthatWillistositdown.HeisattiredinaJapaneseversionofasafarisuit,butonewithlongsleevesandpantlegs.

“Youhaveavisitor.”“Isthatso?”“Wehavenotyetallowedanyvisitors.”“I’mawareofthat.ButIdon’tknowanythingaboutit.”OhtaeyesWilloverhisdesk.“Youwantdrink?”“Please.”Willknowstoaccept.HegesturestothesoldierbythedoorandbarksoutsomethinginJapanese.Whiskeyispouredinto

small,dustyglasses.“Kampai!”Heliftsuphisglasswithonepink,porcinehand,anddrainsit,tossinghisheadbackwith

agrunt.Willfollowssuit,withlessvigor.Ohtashakeshisheadasiftothrowoffcobwebs.“Good!”Hepoursanother.

“Yourvisitor,yourwife?”“Ihavenoideawhomyvisitoris.”“Woman,Chinese?”“TrudyLiang?”“Yes.MissLiangisheretoseeyou.”

“Oh,good.”Will’sheartisbeatingfast.“Thankyouverymuch.”“Itoldheronlyonetimeshecancomeonnovisitors’day.Specialforher.”“Well,sheisspecial,isn’tshe?”Ohtastaresathim.“Noonespecialnow.Everyonesame,prisonerornotJapanese.Same!”“Yes, of course.”Mercurial, he thinks. “Well, I think she’s special because she is tome.” Lame

finish.Ohtagetsup.“Waitinroomhere.”Aftera fewminutes,duringwhichWill sipsathiswhiskey,enjoying thewarmburn inhis throat,

tryingtocalmhisnerves,theguardgesturesforhimtocome.Theygointoasmallroomwithatableandfivechairs,whereTrudyissitting,lookinguncomfortable.Sheisthin,herclothesserviceable.Herhairispulled back into a chignon, face colorless without any sort of makeup. Still, somehow, she radiatesprivilege.

“Darling,”shesays.“I’vemissedyousomuch.”Hedoesn’tsayanythingaboutherabsence,justasksherwhatshe’sbeendoing,forfeitingtherightto

rebukeherforherneglect.“ Frederick is dead, so I’ve beenwithAngeline, but she hasn’t really spoken forweeks. I keep

tellinghershehastocopeforGiles’ssake,butshedoesn’tseemtolisten.Shewantstobringhimbackherebutwhatkindofplaceisthistoberesponsibleforachild?Shedoesn’twanttogotoEnglandwhereshedoesn’thaveanyfamilybutFrederick’s,notthatshecouldgorightnow,andhisfamilywasagainstthemarriageinthefirstplace,soit’saratherdifficultsituation.Sothat’swhatI’vebeendoing.Besidestryingtogetafootholdinthenewworldoutthere.”

“You’reallrightforfoodandallthat?Dominickistakingcareofyou?”“The Japanese are so odd,” she says, ignoring him. “They have this extraordinary custom of

defecating in every room of every house they loot. Isn’t that awful? Marjorie Winter’s house wascompletelysoiled-shefounditwhenshewentuptogetsomesupplies.Theodor!Thewholecitysmellsofwaste.That’soneJapanesecustomI’mnottooenthralledby.Soextraordinary.Theyhavethatbeautifulteaceremonyandallthatlovelygardening,andthentheygoanddosomethinglikethat.Andofcourse,allthewomenareinatizzyaboutrape.You’renotsupposedtogoanywherealone.Ibroughtadriver.”

“Nedisgone.IthinkhetriedtoescapebutI’mquitesurehewasshotintheattempt.Hewasgoingrathermad.”

Trudy’s face falls. “Don’t tellme suchawful things,darling. I can’t stand it as it is.Canwe talkabout something else? Something else entirely, something quite trivial in comparison. Like how I’mscrabblingallthetime.It’sterriblyunbecoming.Atleasthere,youdon’thavetodothat.Youjuststandinalineandgetfoodhandedtoyou.”

“Youhavequiteagoodideaofwhatgoesonhere,haveyou?”It’sthefirsttimehe’sbeensharpwithherandshetakesnote.

“IsthereanythingyouneedthatyouthinkImightbeabletoprocureoutside?”“It’sscanthuntingouttheretoo,isn’tit?”“Yes,butIcouldgetDommieonit.Wehavefoodbutit’sratherdear.IcouldweepwhenIthinkof

theJapanesebombingthegodowns.Therewassomuchfoodinthere,andtheyjustincinerateditall.Theysaidyoucouldsmellthefoodburningmilesaway.Makesmeravenousjustthinkingofit.Atleastthere’snochanceI’llgetplumpif thisgoeson.Youdon’t likeplumpwomen,doyou,Will?Nochanceofmegettingthatway.”Shechatterson.“ConditionsinShamShuiPoandArgylearesupposedtobehideous,”shesays.“They’recomingdownveryhardontheuniformed.You’reluckyyou’rehere.ThatJanewomanatthehospitalreallysavedyou,Ithink.Verycleverofher.”

“DoyouthinkIshouldbethere?”heasks,hard.“DoyouthinkI’macowardforbeinghere?”

“Areyoumad?”shesayswithgenuineastonishment.“OfcourseIdon’t.”Howquicklyhehaslosttheabilitytogaugewhatshethinks,herealizes.Sheisofftosomethingelse

entirely.“Doyourememberwhatitwaslikejustthreemonthsago?”sheasks.“Conder’sBar,theGloucester,

theGripps,theparties.Canyoubelieveitwasjustafewlousymonthsago?”“No,” he says. “Have you any news ofwhat’s going on out there?We’ve noway of getting any

reliableinformationandit’sdrivingusmad.”“CaroleLombarddiedinaplanecrash,that’sthebiggestnews.”Shewincesathisreaction.“Sorry,

irreverencenotappropriate?Allright,reality,then.It’sgrimallaround,darling.Idon’tknowmuchbutI’ll try to find out for you. The paper now is all Japanese propaganda and says everything is goingswimmingly.Wecangetriceatoneoffourteendepots,sothat’susuallyourmaintask,gettingfood.Wesendthemaidstoone,andwegotoanother,andhopeoneofusgetslucky.Butthat’snotsograndinthewayofnews, is it?Whatelse. In thedaysrightafteryou left, theywere inademocraticmoodso theywereencouragingoneandalltogototheoldcolonialbastions,soyouwouldwalkintothePenandseelaborerssquattingonthechairs,havingtea!Theycamewiththecashtheymadefromlooting,totrytoseehowtheotherhalflived.Itwasjustbeyond!It’sdifficulttogetreliableinformation-thepaperjustsaysthattheJapaneseareconqueringeverythinginsightandit’shardtoreadbetweenthelines.”Shepauses.“Dommie’s doing fine, fraternizing with the Japanese. He seems to think he’s one of them. He’s inbusinesswithVictornow,abitshady,butwhatisn’tthesedays?WhenIgotovisithiminhisoffices-hehasofficesinCentral-healwaysopensupabottleofchampagne.ThewholethingmakesmequiteillbutIdrinkitanyway.AndIseesomeofVictor.He’stheonewhogotmeinhere.Hadawordwithsomeonehedoessomebusinesswith.”

“Dommie’sneverhadajobbeforeandnowhe’sabusinessman?”“Wardoesstrangethingstopeople.Ithinkthismightbethebestthingtohappentohim.He’srather

foundhimself.”Shelaughs,anoddlaugh.“Heshouldbecareful.Attheendofallthis,he’sgoingtohavetoaccountforhimself.AndVictor

too.”“Dommiedoesn’tthinkthatway.He’salwayslivedinthepresent-youknowhim.Victorisanother

story.I’msurehe’scoveringhistrackswell.”“Butyou shouldwarnDommie thathe should thinkahead this time.And tellhim tobecarefulof

Victor.”Shewavesherhandimpatiently.“SoI’vebeensummonedbyaJapanese,”shesays.“Amannamed

OtsubowholivesintheRegentSuiteandisinthegendarmerie,whichI’mtoldisagoodthingtohaveonyour side. They’re the military police. He wears a special chrysanthemum pin on his collar, whichsignifiesgendarme-ness.IthinkhemightwantmetoteachhimEnglish.DoyouthinkIshoulddoit?”

“Notyoutoo,”Willsays.“Areyougoingtobebestfriendswiththeenemy?”“Iresentthat,”shesays.“Youknowme.”“Ido,darling,andIloveyoudespiteit.”“Veryfunny,myidiot.”Howare theyback to this already?Thisneedling, their sophisticatedparrying, froma timewhen

suchthingsmattered.“Doyouthinkit’ssafe?”hesaysafteramoment.“Well,I’mbringingAngelinewithme.She’llbeachaperone,sodon’tworry.”Shepauses.“It’sthe

funniest thing… I’ve had a phrase running through my head all week-plutocrats and oligarchs-and Ihaven’ttheslightestideawhatitmeans.ItmusthavebeensomethingIheardsomewhere.You’reclever-whatdoesitmeanexactly?”

“Plutocratsaretherulingclass,”hesays.“Andoligarchsaregovernmentsruledbyafew.Isuppose

theymeanthesamething,really.Whydoyouthinkyou’vehadthatonyourmind?”“Haven’taclue,”shesays,dismissingitasquicklyasshebroughtitup.“SoI’llbeatutor.He’svery

important, apparently, head of the gendarmerie.And he lives at theMatsubara-Imean theHongKongHotel.They’verenamedeverything,youknow.ThePeninsula’stheToanow.MaybeI’llgetsomespecialprivilegesandthenwe’llbeoneasystreet.”

“Yes,maybe,” he says. He notices, but is not suitably appreciative of, the “we.”Hewishes shewouldgo.Heistired.Butwhenshegetsuptoleave,hefeelsbereft.

“I’llseeyouagain?”“Ofcourse.I’llbringthingstoo,whatI’mabletoscrapetogether,ifyouthinkitwouldbehelpful.

Maybenextweekifthey’relessirritatingaboutthevisitinghours.”Andshe’soutthedoor,eleganteveninherreducedcircumstances.Hesmellsherjasmineperfumeinthesweepofairshe’sleftbehind.

There are five guards assigned to their building. They patrol the adjacent grounds, do randominspections, andmake their presence felt.Most leave the prisoners alone, but one, Fujimoto, a skinnyfellowwhosmellslikerancidfish,isparticularlycruelanddelightsinmakingthemensweeptheyardordoonehundredjumpingjackswhentheyaresotiredandweaktheycanbarelystandup.FujimotohasitinforJohnnie,forsomereason,andwheneverheseeshim,hewillstophimandhavehimcleanthelatrinesor dig up holes in the garden-senseless tasks that just reveal the hardness of theman. But he ismildcomparedwiththemenwhoareassignedtoinvestigatecovertactivities.Wordofashortwaveradiogetsoutandthethreemenwhoaresupposedtohavethecomponentsaredraggedofftoadistantroom.Onlyonecomesback,andheisbarelyalive,bonesbrokenandoneeyealmostgougedout.Hedieslaterinthemakeshiftinfirmary.“Theylethimcomebackaliveasawarning,”saysTrotter.“Thatmuchisclear.”

Lackoffoodmakesthemtired.Thepromisedtwenty-fourhundredcaloriesturnouttobemorelikefivehundredperperson-alargebowlofriceissupposedtofeedaroomfulofadultsforthewholeday.Sometimes,thereisaprotein,congereelorredmullet,butitisoftenspoiledandmeltsawaytooilwhencooked.Still, theyeat ithungrily, theirbodiesravenousforanyfator taste.Peoplearesickconstantly-pellagra,dysentery;woundsneverheal,teethrot,fingernailsdon’tgrow.Will’slidsarehoodedandhislimbs leadlike. All he wants to do is lie in bed, especially in the late afternoon when everything isdragging.Heforceshimselftogetupandfindtaskstodo.Manysleepthedaysawaybuthecan’tabidethat. “Doesn’t it seemas ifwe shouldbegetting somethingout of this time?”he asks Johnnie. “Whenpeopleaskwhatwedidduringthistime,Idon’tthinktheanswershouldbeslumber.”

“Suchagoodman,”Johnniesays.“Industriouslittlebee.”ButheisalsothefirsttohelpWill,andnevercomplains.

Thenextweek,Trudyisallowedtovisitagain,andothersareallowedinaswell.Sheisebullient.TheheadofthegendarmeriesayssheistocometwiceaweektoteachhimEnglishatthehotelwhereheisquartered.

“Thefoodthere!Youwouldn’tbelieveit!”Hervoicelowerstoawhisper.“Ieatenoughtolastmeuntilthenextvisit.Andhe’shadmeuptothehousehe’srequisitionedinthePeak,theoldBaylorplace.Hehasitasasortofweekendplace.Theoldstaffarestillallthereandweresothrilledtoseeme!Anoddscene,though.WhenIwentup,hewaspracticingarcheryonthelawnandhadsomeonebringmeaglassofchampagne.It’sasifheweremimickingthelifeofanEnglishlord.Onecanalmostbelievelife’sbacktonormalwhenit’slikethat.Andhejustwantstochat,gethisconversationalEnglishuptopar.Ofcourse, he’s pumping me for information too, thinks I’m an idiot, but who cares when you’re eatingbananasandfreshfishandallthericeyoucanfinish!CanyoubelieveI’vebecomesuchapeasantaboutfood?Anyway,Otsubo isobsessedwith lininghispockets.He thinks Iwillhelphim,unknowingly,or

knowingly.It’satime-honoredtraditionofwar,Isuppose,theofficersgettingrichofftheconquered.”“AndyouandAngelinegototeachthisman?”“Hetoldmetodropher,sayshedoesn’tneedtwoteachers,butIbringherbackloadsoffood.Told

himI’mstayingwithherandI’mobliged.HewantsmetoteachhimWesterntablemanners.Isn’tthatascream?Hewants toknow thewhole thing, fishknives, dessert spoons.He can’t pronounce thewordetiquettesinceI’vebroughtitintohislife,buthemeanstobeamasterofit.Wehadlobstertheothernightandhewantedtoknowtheproperwaytoeatit.IjustsmashedawayatitmerrilyandhethoughtIwasjoking.”

“Sonowyou’rehavinglobsterdinnerswiththisman?”“Oh,it’snotwhatyouthink-Dommiewastheretoo.They’rebestfriends.It’sreallyquitesickening.

I’mjustalongforthefreefood.Ibroughtyousometoo,darling,look.”Shelooksbehindhertomakesuretheguardisn’twatching,andspillsoutaduffelsackoffruitandsometinsofmeatandasmallbagofrice.“Islipped theguardwhochecks thebagsomecigarettesat thedoorsohedidn’tbothermebut Idon’twantthisonetogogettinganyideas.Don’tgobeingnobleandsharethiswitheveryone.Iwantyoutohaveit,notlittleOliverorPriscilla,nomatterhowgauntandadorabletheirweefacesare.It’sforyou,andIwouldn’tgiveittoyouifIthoughtitwasgoingelsewhere.Youhavetodevelopathickskin,Will,it’swartime.”

“WhatmakesyouthinkIdon’thaveone?”“You’retoogood,that’syourproblem.Peoplelikeyouhavetroublesurvivingintimeslikethese.”“Butyou’rehavingdinnerswiththisman,”hesaysagain.“Yes,”shesayspatiently,asifhe’smentallyimpaired.“It’snotthesortofsituationwhereIcantell

himtobuggeroff.Ihavetokeeponhisgoodside.”“Butsurelyyoucandothatwithouthavingtheseinappropriate…”Shecutshimoff.“You’venoideawhat it’s likeoutside. It’squite thenorm.Wehavetogetalong

withthesebeastlypeopleuntilweprevail.Haveaplumandshutup.”Whenhedoesn’ttakeitimmediately,shesnatchesitbackpetulantlyandtakesabite.Juicecomesout

ofhermouthandWillthinkssuddenlythatshelookslikeananimal.

When it rains, it isdifficult to rouseoneself.Onacold,dampTuesday,Will lies inhisbed, thinmattresshardagainsthisbody,andlistenstotherainsplatterrhythmicallyontheroof.He’snotsad,justimmobile.Thegraywallopposite is trickledwithwater leaking in,and there isapool formingon theconcretefloor.It’sbecomearoutinefasterthanhewouldhavethought,interneesshufflingaround,arguingaboutfooddistribution,pilfering,workduties.

There is no damn color here in camp.Their clothes have long faded to gray, the food is all onecolor-an indistinct muddy brown on the plate, the buildings concrete. He longs for red, magenta,sunfloweryellow,avibrantgreen.Theonlyrelieffromgrayandbrownisthesky,sometimesagloriousbell-clearblue,andthesea,achoppyturquoise.Sometimeshesitsatthefenceandjuststaresout.It isabsurdly beautiful still, the horizon and the water and the clouds. Dr. Selwyn-Clarke chose the sitebecausehe thought the seaside locationwould reduce cholera outbreaks andother infectious diseases.Unfortunately, it is not the infectious diseases that are the issue, but the lack of vitamins and propernutrition.

Johnniewalksin,soakedfromtherain.“Lovelyday.”Hesitsdownheavilyonhisbed.“Canyoubelievewe’rehere?”AninaneresponseisallWilliscapableof.“Rather be home, that’s for sure.”He brightens. “There’s a rumor thatRedCross packages have

arrived.Theymightdistributethemafterdinner.”“What’sinaRedCrosspackage?”

“Food,man!Chocolate sometimes.Diversions. The children have been talking about it all day. Imighthavetowrestlealittlegirlforherpackage.”

Intheafternoon,WillhearslittleWillieEndicottshoutingasherunsthroughthecampasfastashisspindlylegswilllethim.

“Thepackagesarehere!Thepackagesarehere!”Lookingoutthewindow,WillcanseelittleWillie’sarmsarecoveredinmosquitobites,whichhe

has scratched until they are red and runny, making his mother worry herself to death because of themalaria.Shehascoveredhisweltswithvaluabletoothpaste.Heruns,thewhite-toothpaste-speckledboy,shoutinghismessage,deliriouswiththenotionoffood.

Thelineistenseaseveryonewaits.Whenitcomestotheirturn,theguardhandsthemasoftbrownpaperpackagewrappedintwine.Theyretiretotheirroominhighexcitementtoopenit.

“FeelslikeChristmas!”Willisfindingthepackagehardtoopen.Hisfingernailsareassoftasthepaper.Finallyheisableto

undo the knots. They store the string away carefully-nothing is ever discarded these days-and gaze ingratefulwonderatwhatisinside.

“Itlookslikeascientistpackedthis!”Johnnieexclaims.Therearesixchocolatebars,slightlymoldy,butnomatter,alargetinofMcVitiesbiscuits,coffee,

tea,agoodamountofsugarandpowderedmilk,andsomeknittedsocksandamuffler.Theseordinaryitemslookasvaluableasgoldcoins.Thereisalsoabonus:atinychesssetand,hiddendiscreetlywithin,asmallpieceofpaperwithrounded,girlishwriting.

Johnniereadsitaloud,themufflertiedcomicallyaroundhisheadlikeaturban:“‘Ourthoughtsandprayersarewithyou.KeepyourspiritsupandgoodWILLprevail.Mynameis

SharonandIwouldlovetocorrespondwithyouifyouareable.Ihaveblondhair,blueeyes,and,peoplesay,areadysmile.’”

“Lovelypenmanship,”saysJohnnie,sniffingthepaper.“Nicesenseofbalance,justenoughsothatthecensorswouldn’tgether,yetstillunambiguous.Andlook,hereshe’swrittenheraddress.”

“Delightful,”saysWilldrily.“SharonfromSussex,oursavior.”“I’mgoingtolookSharonupwhenIgethome,”saysJohnnie,tuckinghernoteintohisshirtpocket.

“SheseemslikethekindofgirlIshouldsettledownwith.”“Whataboutme?”“Youalreadyhaveasweetheart.Don’tbepiggy.Sharon’smine.”Johnnieshovesanentirebarof

chocolateintohismouth.“Doyouknowhowtoplaychess?”Willbeginstoassemblethepieces.“Isthereanymoneyinit?”“No, but there is your mental well-being to consider. Our brains are beginning to rot in here.”

Johnnieishisfirstfriend,Willrealizes.Hehasn’tmadeanyinthecolony,didn’thaveto,withTrudy.Itfeelsgood.

The next morning, Will sees the little boy from the hotel, Tobias, squatting alone outside thebathroomwithhisairplane.

“Didyouenjoyyourchocolate?”heasks.There’snoanswer.“Where’syourmother?”Theboyjuststaresathim,hisfacepale,hisfairhairlankyandmatted.Heworkstheraggedairplane

aroundhishand,smoothly.It’sbecomeapartofhisanatomy.“Isyourmothernotfeelingwell?”Theboystartstocry.

“It’sallright.Ifshe’sinthereshe’llbeoutinaminute.”Justthenthedoorbangsopenwithacrash.Fujimotostepsout,buttoninghistrousers.Willstepsback

instinctivelybutthemanignoreshimandwalksaway.“Iguessshe’snot.Doyouwanttocomefindyourmotherwithme?”Willextendsahand.Theboy

looksdownatthefloorandshakeshisheadvigorously.“Listen,”andthenthedooropensagainandMaryCoxcomesout.Heblinks.Herhandgoestoher

mouthwhensheseesWill.Sheturnsaway.“Comeon,darling,”shesays toTobias.“Let’sgoget supper.”ShebrushespastWillandscuttles

downthehall,draggingthechildwithher.Thensheturnsaroundandstaresathim,herfacehardeningintosomethingunapologetic,fierce.

Sothat’showitgoes,hethinks.That’sthebeginningofhowitallchanges.Webecomesurvivorsornot.

HetellsJohnnieaboutMaryCox.“Thatwasonlyamatteroftime,though,wasn’tit?Marketeconomyspringsupeverywhere.People

figureoutwhattheyhavetosellandwhattheywanttobuy.”“Bloodlessofyou.”“Thiswarhasbeenbloodyenoughwithoutmegettingallsentimental.Andyoutoo,oldman.Don’t

getallsoftonus.Itwon’tdoanyoneanygood.”ButWillisunabletogettheimageofTobiaswaitingoutsidethebathroomoutofhismind.Atdinnertime,theywalkoutsidetofindascandalofanothersorthaserupted.ReginaArbogasthas

accused one of the mothers of stealing chocolate and biscuits from her Red Cross package and isdemandingatrial.HughTrotteristryingtoexplaintoherthatthelegalsystemtheyhavesetupismeantformoreseriousmatters,suchasmistreatmentbytheguards,orstealingfromthecommunalkitchen,butsherefusestolisten.

“Youandyourfilthychildrenareeatingmorethantheirshare!TheyshouldhavebeensenthometoEnglandmonthsago.Theyshouldn’tbehereatall,takingfoodfromothers!Theyshouldn’tbehereatall.”

Thewomanlooksambushed.“Regina,” shestarts.“Ididn’t takeyour foodbutyouhavea family too.Howcanyou talkabout

childrenlikethat?”“Mychildrenwereraisedright,notlikeyours.They’relikeanimals!AndmineareinEnglandwhere

theybelong!”“Butyoursaregrown.Icouldn’tsendSandyandMargaretaway.They’retooyoungtobeseparated

fromtheirmother.”“Youshouldhavegonewiththem!”“You shouldn’t be here either, then,” themother says finally. “It should be just themen. All the

womenandchildrenaresupposedtobegone.Soyou’redrainingusofresourcesaswell.”“Whatrubbish!”Reginalooksasifsheisreadytostrikethewoman.“Yourfamilyhasalwaystaken

advantageof situations.Reggie’sdonebusinesswithyourhusbandandalways saidhewas a commonman,aslipperysort,alwaysgettingaroundthings.”

“Justaminutethere,”HughTrotterinterjects.Hehaswiselytriedtokeeponthesidelines,butthisventureintothepersonalcannotbeignored.“Let’skeeptothematterathand.”

“Thematterathand,Hugh,”Reginasaysslowly,asifheismentallychallenged,“isthatthiswomanhastakensomeofmypersonalbelongingsandyouarerefusingtotreatitinaseriousmatter.”

“ForGod’s sake,Regina.”Hugh throwsuphis hands. “We are bloody refugees here.Noneof usownsanythingatthemoment.Theywerepackagesforwarrefugees.Can’tyoubealittlemoregenerous?We’reallinthesameboat.”

“Don’tyoudareswearatme!”Hervoicegoeshigh-pitched.“Wearenot in thesameboat! Iwillneverbeinthesameboatasthatwoman.Sheissomethingelsequiteentirely.”

TheAmericansarewatchingfromafar,aghast.SometimesWillfeelstraitorous,thewayheadmirestheAmericans,ornotreallyadmires thembutfeels likeheismoreoneof them.DespiteherprofessedloveforAmericans,Trudyneverreallylikedthem-Willthinksthey’retoodemocraticforhertastes.Shelikesalittledelineationbetweentheclasses.Here,though,theirsystemissoclearlysuperiortoanythinganyothergrouphas.Eveninthesesurroundings,theyradiateplentyandwealth.BillSchottisautocratic,tobesure,buthegetsthingsdoneefficientlyandquicklyandhasmanagedtoacquireagreatmanythingsforhispeople,mostlyathisownexpense,itissurmised,butstill.ThoseintheBritishcampwhohavethewherewithaltohelpothersrarelydo,preferringtohoardwhattheyhaveforfearofdarkerdaysahead.TheAmericanshaveasystemforsharingwhattheydohave,althoughbecausetheyarefewerandnotsostrapped,itmustbeeasier.

ReginaArbogaststompsherfootlikeachildandcriesout.“Thisisjustimpossible!Therearenostandardsatall!Nothingistobedonehere.I’llhavetotake

mattersintomyownhands.”Shewalksoffinahuff.“A little diversion is alwayswelcome,” observes Johnnie. “She’s quite a pistol, that one.We’re

goingtohavetowatchher.”

Rice, rice, rice.After some twomonths, it’s all anyone talks about. They have become absurdlycreativewith it-grinding it for flour, boiling it for gruel andwater, trying to stretch it out asmuch aspossible.Foodisthemaintopic.Foronegloriousweek,thereisporkontherationlorryeveryday,untilthestorygetsout thatapig farmhadbeenshutdownfordiseaseand theyarebeing fed thecarcasses.Still,mostjustboilitwellandcontinuetoeatit.Beggarscan’tbechoosers.

Theinterneessteepteaoutofdriedbarkanddrygrassonsheets,whichtheythenshredandrollforcigarettes.Theyhavelostsomuchweight,men’sfacesaregaunt,womenlookdecadesolder.Somesufferexcruciatingpainintheirfeet,theresultofmalnutrition,andcannotwalk.

Somepeoplearecrackingunderthepressure.ReggieArbogastcomestoWilltoaskhimtotalktohiswife,whohasstopped talking toanyone,butapparently shehasalwayshada soft spot forWill, afeelingthathehadcertainlynotknownexisted,anddidnotreciprocatetoanydegree.Still,heagreestogovisitwithher.

Knockingonthedoor,hegoesintofindasurrealpicture-ReginaArbogastsittingonherbeddressedin a crimson evening gown, her hair put up in a messy chignon, some wisps escaping. Her eyes aresmudged with black. Looking closer, he realizes it is charcoal. Her lips are messily slathered withlipstick,thecrimsonbleedingpastherlipsandontotheskin.

“Mrs.Arbogast,”hestarts.Shecontinuestosit,lookinglikeagrotesquemarionette.“Regina,”hesays.“Youmustgetout.Thesunisglorioustoday.”Shelooksathim.“Will,”shesaysfinally.Thereislipstickonherteeth.“Yes,Regina?Thefreshairwilldoyougoodifyougooutside.”“Will.Youhavealwaysbeenagoodman.Ihaveadmiredyou.YoucametoHongKongandwerenot

pollutedbyitlikesomanyothers.”“Thankyou,Regina.Idon’tknow…”“But others are poisoned by it. It’s too easy here, life. As many servants as you want, lives

subsidizedbythegovernmentoryourcompany.Everythingisprovided.Youbecomeweak.”“ Regina, these are not good things to dwell on. Keep yourmind exercised. I think some of the

womenaretalkingaboutputtingonashow,aplay.Youshouldgetinvolvedwiththem…”

“Paaah!”Sheexpectoratesontothefloor.“Stupidcows!”Hesits,notwantingtoprovokeherfurther.“Theyarestupid,absurdwomen,whothinkafewcleverlineswillmakeusforgetwe’rehere,inthis

tragedyofasituation.Idespisethem.”Andthey,you,Willthinks,butdoesn’tsay.“Whatwouldyouliketodo?”Shelooksathimincredulously.“WhatthebloodyhelldoyouthinkI’dliketodo?GetoutofhereandgohometoEngland!”Regina

Arbogastseemstohavebeentransformedintoadockworker.“Language,Regina,”saysReggie,who’sjustcomethroughthedoor.Hiseyesaredullandsunken.

ThedoctorhastoldhimheneedsvitaminCbutthereisnocitrustobehadanywhere.“Oh,shutup,Reggie.”Willstandstoleave.“No,youstay,”Reginaorders.“Reggiecandowhateverhewants.Ireallydon’tgiveafiganymore.

IhavethingsIwanttotellyou,Will,becauseIthinkyoudeservetoknow.”“Regina,Idon’tthinkWill…”“Reggie!”ReggieArbogastlooksatWillhelplesslyasiftosay,SeewhatIamdealingwith?andthenleaves.

Willlookslonginglyatthedoor.“Regina?”“Will, youwere one of the ones I had high hopes forwhen you arrived,” she said, like the high

priestessofsocietyshehadalwaysstyledherselftobe.“Reggieknewaboutyoufromworkandalwaysspokesohighlyofyou.Iwantedtohaveyoutodinnermanytimes.”ReginaArbogast’sdinnerpartieshadbeensought-afterinvitationsinHongKongfortheirlavishstyle,elaboratethemes,andrestrictiveguestlists,forthosewhohadcaredaboutsuchthings.

TrudyhadlaughedateverythingReginadid.“Sofussy!Sopretentious!”shesaid.“Youknow,shewasaManchestershopgirlbeforeshemarriedReggie.Allofherairsareveryrecentindeed.Iheardheusedtobeaverynicemanbeforehemether.”

“That’sverygoodofyou,Regina.”“ButthenyoutookupwiththatLiangwoman.Didyouknowaboutherpast?Ifeltshegotherclaws

intoyou rightaway.Sheknowswhat she’sdoing, that’s for sure, thatone.She tookyouoff themarketbeforeanyoneelseevenknewyouhadarrived.Youknowwhat theycallher,don’tyou?ThequeenofHongKong!”Shelaughs.“It’ssopreposterous!Withherqueerhalf-breedcustomsandwayof thinkingsheisaboveeverything.Forgivemebutsheisinsufferable.Isupposelovemakesyoublind.”

Willdoesn’tknowwhyReginaistalkingtohimasifhewereoneofherfellowsocietymatronsandtheyweregossipingoverteaatthePeninsula.

“Idon’tknowthatthisistherighttimeorplaceforthis,”hestarts.“Listen.Ihaveapoint.YouthinkIdon’tbutIdo.”ReginaArbogastleansforward.“Reggiemetwith

thegovernorwhenhearrived.GovernorYounghadasecretmeetingthefirstweek.ThedayoftheTinHatBall.Hewantedtogettoknowsomekeypeopleinthecolonyandasktheiradvice.Hewasnewtothecolonyanddidn’tknowathingabouthowitran.HeknewthewarwasgettingclosetoHongKongbuthedidn’twantittogetoutandalarmthegeneralpublic,thenincompoop.So,atthismeeting…”Reginasitsback.“DoIhaveyourattentionnow?

Willlooksather,exasperatedandcompelledatthesametime.“Regina.”Satisfied,sheleansoveragain.“Atthismeetingitwasdiscussed,amongotherthings,whatwasto

happentotheCrownartcollectionatthegovernor’smansion,which,asyoumightknow,containssomepricelesspieces,mostlyChineseantiquitiesthataresensitivebecausetheChinesethinktheywerestolen,

ancienttextsandvasesandthingslikethatthatwereexcavated.Reggiesaidtheywerecenturiesold,someofthem.Itwasdecidedthatthecollectionwouldbehiddenawayandthelocationwouldbedivulgedtothree people in three very different situations so that nomatter what happened, at least onewould…survive.”

Despitehimself,Willislistening,intrigued.“And,ofcourse,Reggiewasoneof the three.”Reginapermitsherselfa smileofcongratulations.

“Andhetoldmeaboutit.Buthehasn’ttoldmewhere.Orwhotheotherswere.”Hersmiledisappears.“He’s always been irritatingly honorable about that sort of stuff. He values country over anything,somethingbredintohimbyhisfamily.Ireallythinkhewouldgivemeupifitcametothat.Maybeeventhechildren.Isupposehewasagoodchoice,then.”

Shegetsupoffthebedandshufflestowardthedoor.“Idon’thaveanypropershoeshere,andnoonehasbeenabletoprocureanyforme.Doyouknow

anyone?AllIhavearetheseterribleslippersthatlookliketheybelonginafishmarket.”“Regina,whydidyoutellmethis?”Shesmilescoyly.Itisagrotesquething.“Ihaveafeeling,Will.Iknowthingsaregoingonoutside,andIknowthatmanysecretsandplots

areinmotion.Ijustwantedyoutoknow.”Shereachesoverandclaspshishandinhers.Theyaredryandreptilian.“Consideritagiftfromme.”

Trudyturnsupthenextweekinawell-tailoredsuitandahat,carryingthemostenormouspackagewillhaseverseen.

“Theoutside is soqueer,” she says,pullingoffherglovesandsittingdown.“There is theoddestsocietyofpeopleyou’veeverseen,amotleycrewifIeversawone.AlltheRussianswhoweloathedbefore are everywhere, and they are even more unbearable. They think they’re somebody now thateverybodyisgone.They’reworsethantheSwisswiththeirself-righteousness.Iwasatadinnerwiththedoctor-you know Dr. Selwyn-Clarke, he’s the official medical adviser to the new Japanese governorwho’sarrived,Isogai-andSirVandeleurGrayburn,who’sstilldeliciousasever,althoughterriblydownabouteverythingthat’sgoingon,andthisRussiangirl,Idon’tknowifyourememberherbuthernamewasTatiana,alwaysoutandabouttownbefore,butoutinthatbadway,drinkingalittletoomuch,alittletooforward, you know, and she just said the rudest thing to him, the doctor, and she ismarried now to aChinesemanwhoisinbedwiththeKempeiteiandsonowshe’sbulletproof,orsoshethinks…Ofcourseshedidn’tbringhimtodinner.Ithinkshejustmarriedhimasaninsurancepolicy.I’mgoingtoshoothermyselfwhenthisisallover.”

“Wherewasthedinner?”“AttheSelwyn-Clarkes’,butyouknowtheyhavetodoitsohush-hush.Hehadtopretenditwasa

planningmeeting,forsuppliesandthings,whichitpartlywas,buttheyhadguardsoutside,listening,soitwashardlyacasualevent.Anddoyouknowwho’sdead?Crumley,theAmericanwhowasalwaysattheGrill?IrememberthedayhecameinandtoldushowhehadopenedhismouthwhilehewasatapicnicinShekOandabutterflyflewinandheswallowedit,andnowhe’sdead.Swallowedbutterflyornot.That’swhat I think about sometimes, you know.” She speeds up, talking about this and that, nonsenseaboutpeople.

“OtsuboadoresmenowandgivesmeanythingIaskfor.LookatallIwasabletobringyou!Hamand coffee, sugar and powdered milk. I’ve unearthed more of that strawberry jam that seems to beeverywhere.Honey,even.Youdohavecausetobejealousnow,darling.”Butshelooksworsethanever,gaunt,withcracked,drylipsandhairscrapedbackintoanuntidybun.Herblouseisverylargeonher,thecollargapingupbehindherneck,asifshe’ssinkingintoit.

“I’vebeentryingtothinkwhatkindofmanheis,andIthinkI’vegotit.He’sthekindofpersonwho,

whenyousaysomething,andhedoesn’tunderstand,hewillaskyoutorepeatit,andthenagainandagain,until he understands, whereas most people would politely pretend to get it after the second or thirdexplanation.He’sunrelentingandhasnointerestinsocialgraces.Isupposethat’swhyhe’sdonesowellforhimselfinhiscareer-meticulousandallthat.”

“Areyoueating?Youlooklikeyou’reeatingnothing.”“I tookOtsubo toMacauand fedhim those“beans,”youknow, thebabymice that theuninitiated

thinkarebeans?Helovedthem.AndtheysaytheChinesewilleatanything.”“Idon’tcareaboutthat…youlooklikedeathwarmedover.”Hegrabsherhand.“Idon’tcareifhe’s

madaboutyouandyouhavetodothingsyoudon’twanttodo…Ijustwantyoutobeallright.”Shelaughsabruptly.“AndhowdoyouknowIdon’twanttodothem?”sheasks.“WhatifI’mawillingparticipant?”Shethrustsapackagetowardhim.“Here,”shesays.“Morefood.”“Comeintothecamp,”hesays.“I’lltakecareofyou.”“Will,darling.”Shecupshisfaceinherhands.“It’stoolate.Ilikeitontheoutside.I’vefinallygota

footholdonthesituation,howevertenuous.”ThedooropensandEdwinaStorchcomesinwithalargepackage.“Hullo,”Trudysays.“AreyouheretoseeMary?”“Yes,”saysEdwina.“Hello,Will.Howareyoudoing?”“I’mfine,thankyou.Maryisaswellascanbeexpectedinhere.Hergoodspiritsandcouragearea

boontothecommunity.”“Yes,she’sverygood,”Edwinasays.“Whatahorridsituation.”ShetakesinTrudy’spackagewitha

discerningeye.“You’vegottenalargerationofthejam,Trudy.Andcoffee!Youmustknowsomeoneveryimportantindeed.”

MaryWinkleentersandthetwowomenembrace,onelarge,onesmall.Theygointoanotherroom.Trudylooksattheclosingdoor.“Iseeheraroundallthetimenow,”shesays.“She’squiteinevidenceinthepostwarworld.”She

pauses.“ButIthinkIlikeher.”Willtakesherhand.Shelookssolost.“Doyouknowmybestquality?”sheasks.“Ofyourmany,Icouldnotsay,mydarling.”“I see thebest inpeople. I fall in lovewithpeoplewhen I see awindow into their beings, their

shiningmoments.I’vefalleninlovewithsomanypeoplebutthetroubleisIfalloutoflovesoquicklytoo.Iseetheworstinthemjustaseasily.

“DoyouknowIfellinlovewithyourightaway?ThatdayattheTrotters’Ihadnotedyoubecauseyouwerenew,ofcourse,andthenyousatdownatthepiano,andyouplayedafewnotes,butyouplayedthemsowell,withnoself-consciousness,andnoideathatanyonemightbelistening.Itwasinthatroomoffthegardenandyouweretheonlyonethere.Iwaspassingthroughonthewaytotheladies’roomandsawyouthere.Ifellinlovewithyourightthen,andsoIspilledmydrinkallovermyselfsoIcouldmeetyou.”

“DarlingTrudy,”hesays.Shestandsup.“Ican’tbearit,”shesaysinarush.“Ijustcan’t.”Andthensheturnsaroundandleaves.“Eatwhat

I’vebroughtyou,”shecallsoutbehindherasthedoorswingsshutbehindherwithaclang.“Youneedtobestrong.”Hervoicefadesasshewalksaway.

“Johnnie,Ihavetogetoutofhere.”He says it that night, after they have gone to bed, and he can hear his companion’s breath just

deepeningintosleep.Itstops,thenstartsagain.“Youdo?”“Yes.I’mlosingher.”“Isee.”“Willyouhelpme?”“Ofcourse.”

Buthedidn’tneedtoask.Ofcourse,Trudyhadanotherway.

“I’vegottenyouaweek’sfurlough.Otsubogotmeapassthatsaysyou’retodosomeworkforhim.Isn’tthatwonderful?”

“WhatkindofworkamItodo?”Shelooksathimasifhe’scompletelymissedthepoint.“Noidea.Somekindofclericalworkwhichyouandonlyyou, the inimitableWillTruesdale,are

qualifiedtodo.Properaccounting.Plantwatering.Japaneseflattering.Doesitmatter?Yougettogetoutofhere!Aren’tyouthrilled?That’sgratitudeforyou!”

“WhatdoIhavetodo?”“Areyouacompletemoron?Nothing!”shecries.“Absolutelynothing.Ithoughtitwouldbenicefor

youtogetoutandseewhat’sgoingonoutside.Nooneelsehasthiskindofopportunity,youknow.”“Well,thankyou,”hesays.“Idoappreciateit.”“You’llgettoseewhatlifeoutsideislike,whatmylifehasbecome.”“Perhapsyou’lldoanexchange,”hesays.“Comeinhereforafortnight.”“Peut-être,”shesays.ShealwaysrevertstoFrenchwhenshewantstochangethesubject.

SothenextMonday,Williswaitingbythesentry’sbungalow.Hehasbeentreatedratherwellforthepastweek.Ohtacametoseehimwithacopyofthefurloughorder,tryingtofishsomeinformationfromhim.

“Otsubohassentforyou,”hehadsaid.“Yes,”Willnodded.“Heisheadofgendarmerie.”“Yes.”“Youhaveimportantskill?”“Yes.”Ohtastoodforamoment,tryingtoseeifWillwouldgivehimanything.Whenhedidn’t,hethrewthe

orderonthefloorandsaidheshouldwaitbythegateonMonday.ButthenWillnoticedthatalltheguardsweremorepoliteandthathewasnotsubjecttotauntsandsearchesanymore.

Trudypullsupinaconvertibleandinsistsondrivingalthoughsheisalarminglybad,screechingthegears and turning far toowide. “Whathappenswhenyouhaveadriver all your life,” she sayswith ashrugwhenWillfinallydemandsshepulloversohecantakethewheel.

“You lookwell,”he says,glancingover.She’s ina springdress,now that theweatherhasgottenwarmer,andawide-brimmedyellowstrawhat.

“Ifoundmyoldtailor,andhewhippedupafewthingsforme.HedesperatelyneedstheworkandIhaveeventsI’msupposedtolooknicefor.”

Hedoesn’task.

ShetakeshimtothePeninsula.

“It’stheToanow,remember,”shesays.Trudy isgreetedwith smilesandbowsas shesweeps through the formerlygrand lobby,which is

nowfilledwithsoldiers,steeltables,andothergrimarmy-issuefurniture.“OtsubohasasuiteofroomsheresoDommieandIstayinthem.He’srequisitionedaplaceupon

BarkerRoad forhimself. It’sbetterhere than the ratholewehaveoutside.We’re lucky.Youwouldn’tbelievehowpeoplearelivingoutside,twoorthreefamiliesinaflat.Ratherappalling,butIsupposeit’swartime.Myoldplacehasbeenrequisitionedforsomemidlevelsoldier. Insulting, isn’t it?I thought itwasquitenice,myself.”

“How’syourfather?”“Fine,”shesaysabruptly.“He’sfine.”“Whatareyoudoingforfunds?”Nowthatheisoutside,heisthinkingofmattershehasnothadto

worryaboutinweeks.“We’re allowed to withdraw a little money every week, but it’s touchy. Not large amounts,

obviously,butnonethelessit’soddforthemtoknowyouhaveaccountsthatyou’redrawingagainst.Youdon’twanttomakethemwondertoomuch.Everything’sfluid,inabadway.Therearenorules,andeveniftherewere,theycouldbechangedatanymoment.”

“Doyouhavetolookoutforyourself?Isn’tOtsubothemagictrumpcard?”Trudyconsiders.Hermouthdrawsintoabow.Willresiststheurgetokisshersmall,self-preserving

face.“Mmmmm…Iwouldn’t saya trumpcardbecausehe’s rathermercurial.Hedoes favors and then

regretsthem.Hegivesandwantstotakeaway.Andhehastobepersuadedratherstronglynotto.Notagenerous man. Powerful men usually aren’t. Here we are.” She opens a door into a room that is averitablepalacecomparedwithhisquartersbackatStanley.Asuitewithlargewindowsoverlookingtheblue sea dotted with boats, plush carpet, thick silk draperies, and fans that swing lazily around andaround.

“WelcometothePen!”Trudycurtsies.“Look at this,” he says, sitting on the bed. “A bedmade upwith actual linens!Curtains to draw

againstthesun!AndIwagerthere’seventoiletpaperinthebathroom.”“You would be right. And now, do you want to thank me, you ingrate? It’s been complaint and

suspicioneversinceIcookedthisup.Thankme.”Thereunionissweet,thelateafternoonsunslantingthroughthewindow,theflathorizonofthesea

andtheboatsfloatingintheharbor,andTrudy,righthere,rightnexttohim.Hehasthoughtofherforsolong,missedthefeelofherskinandthesmellofherbreath,thathemovesasifhe’sinadream.Sheisquiet,morethanusual,andseemsskittish.Theyarebothtoosapped,toothirsty,toeverbequenchedbysomethingasmundaneasthephysical.

“Tellmethetruth,”shesays,sittingupafterward,clutchingthesheet,“isthereahussyyouhaveinStanley?SomeAmericanvixenwho’sstolenyourheart?Surelyyoucan’thavebeencelibateallthistime,someoneasvoraciousasyou.Whatelsedoyouhavetoamuseyouinthatdrearycamp?”

“I’monlyvoraciousaroundyou,youknow.”Hedoesn’taskherthesamequestion,feelsanyanswerwouldbeunbearable.Ifhecankeepsomesmallpartofherforhimself,itmightbeallright.“Don’tmindaboutthosethings,andIwon’teither.”Heextendsthisolivebranchsothattheirtimetogethermightbeenjoyed.

Sherelaxesandcurlsintohim.“It’sbeenhorrible,”Trudysays.“TheJapaneseareroundingupChinesewhoaresympathetic,shall

we say, or pretend that they are, for business purposes, and holding these absurd dinnerswhere theirpoliciesare toastedwithchampagneand they’re lionizedas if they’vemadeenormouscontributions to

society.All quite surreal.VictorChen is hot andheavywith the Japanese, of course, and trying to dobusinesswiththemeverywhichway.I’mworriedaboutDommie.Victorisjustusinghim.

“Wewenttooneofthesedinners,andanoldfamilyfriendofours,DavidHo,stoodupandofferedatoasttoPan-Asiansuperiority.Now,mindyou,hewasmarriedtoanAustralianwoman,anddevotedtoher,butshediedafewyearsback,andheremarried,luckyforhim,toaChinese.He’ssuchacoward.Iwouldn’thavebelievedit ifIhadn’tseenitwithmyowneyes.Hehaschildreninschool inAustralia.Don’tknowhowhe’llbeabletolookthemintheeyenow.Theyarethefunniestdinners.TheyhavethemintheballroomoftheGloucesterandtrytomakethemfancybuttheyarejusttheworstfunctionsyou’veeverseen.Propagandafilms,badalcohol,andhypocrites.Nothingworse.”

“Sowhydoyougotothesethings?”Shegetsoutofbed,herbodyalongrebuke.“Ihadforgottenwhatitwasliketohavemyconsciencewithmealways.Sometimes,Will,youhave

todothingsyoudon’twantto.Wecan’tallliveinperfectharmonywithourintegrity.”Hehearsherturnonthewater.Shehasalwayslovedbathsandusedtospendsomuchtimeinthem

shewouldemergewithherglossyskinprunyandherfaceglowingwiththeabsorbedheat.“How’sthewaterhere?”hecallsout,bywayofapology.Theirtimeistooshorttobebesetbyold

complaints.“Notbad,asthesethingsgo.Nothingworsethanalukewarmbath,don’tyouthink?Doyouwantto

joinme?”Shepours inBadedas,bubbling thewaterhotandsteamy.Thegreen, limysmell rises in theheat.

Together,theyslipandslide,washingeachotherwhilecarefulnottoprodtoodeeply,keepingeverythingonthesurface,theirmoodasfragileasthebubblesinthebath.

Outside is strange-an odd approximation of free society. Pinched faces, suspicious shoulders,everyonetryingtoblendinandlookinconspicuous.Theoppositeofnormal-Americansspeakingsoftly,Britishactinghumble,Chineseactingshy.Everything ishushed,except forTrudyandDominick,who’sjoiningthemforlunch.HemeetstheminthelobbyofthehotelandkissesTrudyonbothcheeksandnodsslightlytoWill.

“Hello,darling,”hesays toTrudy,handinghera largeenvelopefilledwithpapers.“This is fromVictor.Hesendshislove.”Trudyblanches.

“Love,isit?”Astheyleavethehotel,TrudyandDominickwalkdownthestreetasiftheyownit,laughingloudly

andwearingflamboyant,obviouslyexpensiveclothes.“Ifyouactasifyou’rebulletproof,mostpeoplewillassumeyouare,darling,”TrudyassuresWill.

“Believeme,I’vetestedthistheoryextensively.”Shepullsoutawornbluebookletcoveredinstamps.“Andthishelpsenormously,ofcourse.It’sfromOtsuboandittellswhateverfootsoldierstopsmethathebettertreatmewithkidglovesorthere’llbehell topay.Usually,whentheyseehisstamp,theysortoffreeze,thenshoveitbacktowardmeasifit’sonfire,andtheybowandscrapetoanembarrassingextent.I’mquiteaddictedtoit.”

“AndDommie?”“He has one with his patron’s stamp. All the best people have one, you know.” Her laughter is

brittle.“AndwhatdoesOtsubothinkofyouspringingmefromthecamp?Doesheknow?”“Well,hearrangeditforme.Idon’tthinkhe’sthejealoustype,tobehonest.Idon’tthinkyouwillbe

spendingmuchtimetogether.DoyouwantCantonesefood?I’minthemoodfornoodles,actually.”“Chinese?”“Yes,theotherfoodisunbearablethesedayssincethere’snoonepropertocookit.”

“Haveyouevermissedameal?”“Darling,ifyoumissameal,thelightquitegoesoutoftheday.AllChineseknowthat.Iwouldn’t

unless things were absolutely desperate. Dommie knows this little place where they serve the mostamazingricenoodleswithbroththeysteepalldaylong.Ofcourse,it’sbetterattwointhemorningsinceit’sbeencookingallday,butnowadaysyou’reviewedsuspiciouslyifyou’reoutlatewithoutoneofourgreatleaders.”

“HowistheGrill?Stilloperating?”“Oh,westillgo.It’sprettyjolly,actually.AndnotallJapanese.TherearegroupsofAmericansand

Britishontheoutside,andit’snotdonetoaskwhy,andtheJapanesedon’tseemtobotherthem,andallsortsofotherpeople,youknow,SwissRedCross, theoccasionalGerman.I tellyou,HongKongrightnow is themost interestingmix of people. Thewar just shook out all the people andwhat remainedbehindinthesieveisdiverse,shouldwesay.There’sthiswoman,JinxBeckett,who’sanAmerican,andIcan’tquite figureoutwhather story is andwhyshe’snot inStanleywithyouas I’msure she’snotanimportantbankerorgovernmentofficial.I’msureyou’llmeether.Sheisabsolutelyeverywhere,andpokytoo,nosingaroundinallsortsofthings.Andtherearestillparties.WestillgototheGrippsfordancingbut they’ll stop themusic everyonce in awhile andproject thesehilariouspropaganda filmsonto theballroomwalls. It’s all aboutPan-Asiatic superiority,don’tyouknow?Theydon’t seem tounderstandthatthey’rescreeningforabunchofnon-Asiatics.Screamingirony.”

Willseesanewsstand,forhimastartlingsight.“I’dloveanewspaper.HowistheEnglishbroadsheetthesedays?”“RunbyaSwedeunder thecarefulwatchof theJapanese,”saysDominick.“Resultasyouwould

expect.Piffle.Iexpectyou’dlikeone.”“Iwould,”WillsaysandtakestheStandardandtheNews.Trudypays.“Itispropaganda,”whispersTrudy.“Theyprintwhateverthey’retoldto.”“Subtlety,mydarling,”Dominicksays,shushingher.SuddenlyherelaxesandturnstoWill.“So,how

isitbeingontheoutside?”Theyhaveexchangedonlythebarestofcivilgreetings.“Andisitasatrociousontheinsideastheysay?Ofcourse,thepaperclaimsthatyouarebeingtreatedasifyouwerehonoredguestsattheRitz.”

“Certainlynotideal.Butitseemsratherfraughtouthereaswell.Everyonetiptoeingaround.”“Is it true thatAsburyis in there,doinghisownwashlikeacommonrickshawboy?”Afamously

haughtybanker,whomWillhas indeedseenpokingaround in thedirt, trying toestablishagarden,andhanginguphisundershirtstodry,ashiswifeisabedmostdays.

“Heis,buthe’sholdinghisown.Surprising,thedignitythatstillholdsinanycircumstance.”“Yes,we’renotourownmenanymore,arewe?”Dominicklooksaround.“Butsomearemoreso

thanothers.”Willsaysnothing.“It’sbettertobeafreeperson,though,isn’tit?”asksTrudy.“Wehavetomindourmannersouthere

butthere’snoonetellinguswhattodoorwhentoeat.Servicesareallgettingback.Foodpricesweregoingupanddownbuttheyseemtohavestabilized.Wecanwithdrawsmallamountsofmoney.Publictransportisworking,asisthemail, inaway,andpeoplearestartingtosettle,althoughit’sstillahardlife.Youdostillrunacrosstheoccasionalcorpseinthestreet,whichisunpleasant.AndtheJapanesedowork the coolies quite hard, harder than anyChinese I’ve seen, and they are having a hard timeof it.They’resendingthembacktoChinaindrovesaswell.Ithinktheyaimtoreducethepopulationbyhalf.”

“Nothingiseasythesedays,isit?”Dominicksays.“Aaah,here’sthenoodleshop.”

Afterlunch,Dominickgoestowork,“suchasitis,”heremarks,languidasalways,andTrudyandWillgoshopping.Trudyfrequentsthemarketsinsearchoftreasures.

“I’veseenthingsthatIrecognizefromfriends’houses!”shesays,riflingthroughatableofpilferedgoods.“TheormoluclockfromtheHos’,andthatextraordinarydaggerthatwashangingabovethemantelattheChens’.Iwantedtobuythembutdidn’thaveenoughmoney.Those,”hervoicedrops,“filthyratsjusttookawayeverythingtheycouldcarry,andthenthelocalscameafter,andpickedeveryhouseclean.Enoughtomakeyouweep,seeingthoseshipssetoutforJapanfilledtothebrimwithallthelovelythingsourfriendshadcollected.Carsandfurnitureandjewelry!Manyasoldier’swifeisplayingteapartywithsomeoneelse’sWedgwoodthesedays.”

“IstherefoodwecanbuysoIcouldbringitbacktocamp?”“Depends on the day and what they’ve been able to find. Sometimes there’s powdered milk,

sometimesthere’scratesofmustard.We’llsee.”Shepauses.“It’ssortoffreeing,thisparingdowntothenecessities.Itseemssofrivoloustohavethoughtaboutdressesandpicnics.”

“You andDominick seem to have yourmeals and lodging pretty well figured out.” He says thisstrivingforatonewithoutjudgment.

“Yes,wedo,”sherepliescarelessly.“Butitcouldallbetakenawaytomorrowsowemustenjoyitwhilewecan,no?”

ShecutsdownPottingerStreetandintoasmallalley.“There’sasmallshopherewhereyoucangetsomeamazingthings.”“What’sindemand?”“Food,mostly.Somepeoplehavestartedspeculatingingoldandsuch.We’llgotothemarketafter

this.”A bell jingles as Trudy pushes open the door. Inside, it is dark and pungent with the smell of

teakwoodandthewaxyoilusedtopolishit.Acurioshop,withscratched,smudgyglasscountersfilledwithOrientalpeculiarities.TrudyspeaksinCantonesetothewomanbehindthecounter,whoscurriestotheback,clothslippersswishingonthefloor.

“Whatarewelookingforhere?”“Oh,I’mjustdoinganerrandformymaster.Youknow.”“Howmysterious,”hesays.The woman comes back with a man, small, with a bent back, dressed in black silk. He seems

irritated.Trudyspeaksrapidlyagain,hersmallhandsoutliningalargerectangleintheair.Themanshrugsandshakeshishead.Trudy’svoiceturnsshrill.Sheendswithasharpoutburstandturnstoleave.

Outside,thesunisshining,anabruptchangefromthedarkgloomoftheshop.“So,food?”heasks.Shewilltellhimwhenshe’sready.“Yes,food,”shesays,takinghisarm,animplicitgestureofthanks.“Sometimes,Ithinkyoucouldbe

Chinesetoo.”

***

Thewetmarketseemsthesameasever-wizenedoldladieswithwide-brimmedcooliehats,dressedinblacksmocks,bentovertheirwares,callingouttopotentialcustomers.Here,abasketofgreens;there,soybeancurds resting inacontainerofmilkywater,withyellowsprouts.He remembers thesmell, thegreen, slightly brackish scent of dirt andwater still clinging to the vegetables.He used to comewithTrudyonweekends,hermotherhavingtoldherthatshewasnevertobecometoograndtogotothemarketforherownfood.“Atleast,everyonceinawhile,”shesays.“Notallthetime,ofcourse.Andyouwon’tcatchanyoneweknowhere.ButIdon’tmind.It’skindofelemental,isn’tit?Decidingwhichexactonion

youwant,orwhatfishyou’regoingtoeatandhavethemcleanitforyou.”“Howisitthatthereisn’tashortage?”heasks,asshebendsovertoinspectsomeradishes.“Thereis,buttheseareavailableforexorbitantprices.Allthepeasantsfromtheoutlyingterritories

makethetripintotownnowbecausetheyknowthey’llgetfiveorsixtimeswhattheycouldgetoutthere,soit’sallconcentratedhere.Theycomeoutwithtenwatermelonsorabagofwatercress.It’sgoodforthesoul to seehowbasic life canbe.Growsomethingon the land,dig it up, sell it for somemoney,buysomethingyouneed.”

Afterward,whentheyhaveprocuredsometinnedfoods,vegetables,andcigarettesforWilltotakebacktoStanley,TrudytakeshimforadrivearoundthePeak,toseeallthebombed-outhousesandruinedroads.Everywalliscrumbling,bricksfallingtotheroad.

“Canyoubelievewhatallthebombsdid?They’restartingtorebuild,though.Theyhavetheslavelabor or Volunteer Corps fromChina, as they call it, and they’re patching up the roads and trying tosalvagethehomes.SomehavebeentakenoverbyJapanesemilitary,andtheylookquitenice.”

Theypassahousewheresomedozencooliesarepaintingtheexteriorwhite.“ThekingofThailandhasanelephantthattheytrainedtopaint.”“Thatisoneofyouroutlandishstories.”“No,I’mserious.Fathersaidhesawithimself.”“Theyhadtheelephantpaintthepalace?”“Certainlynot!I’msurehejustpaintedtheroughoutbuildingsandbarnsandthingslikethat.”“Ofcourse,darling.”They’vestoppedatanoverlookwheretouristsusedtocometolookoverHong

Kongharbor.“Shouldwegetout?”Thereisawobblyironfence,pebblesanddirtunderneath,windwiththemetallicsmelloflingering

winter. She leans into him, hair blowingwild, as they look out onto the green sea, the white, stockybuildingscrowdingtheshoreandtheharbor.

“Itlookssopeacefulnow,doesn’tit?”Trudysaysmusingly.“ThewaterinHongKongisadifferentcolorfromanywhereelse in theworld-kindofabottlegreen.I thinkit’s themountainsreflectedin it.”Shepauses.“Itwasquiteredwithbloodjust thesefewmonthsago.Thereareboatsandbodiesonthebottomof the sea, thickon it, I’m sure. Itwas shockinghowquickly things lookednormal again, hownatureswallowsuptheaberrations.”

“WhathappenedtoAngeline’shouse?”“She’smanagedtohangontoit,althoughIdon’tknowwhyshedoesn’tcomeintotown.Thisplace

isfilledwithJapanesearmyofficialswhohavetakenoverthehousesandIdon’tseehowit’ssafeforherhere.Wehaveluncheveryonceinawhile,Dominick,Angeline,andI.Trytopretendthingsarenormal.”

“She’sallright,though?”“Notreally.Noneofusare.”

Theyreturntothehotel,whereTrudystartstopackhisnewlyaccumulatedthingsintohissuitcase.“You’llbepopularwhenyougetback.”“We have to figure out a way to get supplies into the camps. The children need vitamins and

protein.”Thephonerings.“Victor,”saysTrudywhenshepicksitup.Hervoiceiseven.“Yes,Ididgetit.Dommiegaveittome.”Shepauses.“Iknow.I’mtrying.”Anotherpause.“I’llbe

intouchwhenIcan,butpleasedon’tcallmeaboutthisagain.”Shehangsupthephonewithabang.“Everythingallright?”Willasks.

“Watchmebefrugal,Will,”Trudysaysinstead,ignoringhisquestion.Shestartstobrewcoffeeonasmall cooking plate. “This ismy third go-aroundwith these grounds.Have you ever seen anything soindustrious?Aren’tyouproudofme?”

Theysipthehot,bitterdrinkwithoutmilkorsugar.“Oh,Iforgot.There’ssomethingIwantedyoutosee.”Shegoestothebedsidetableandpullsouta

folded-upnewspaper.“ThiseditorialwasinthatridiculouspaperonValentine’sDay.Dommiewantsmetoframeit.”She

reads,“‘TheEurasianisaprobleminallBritishcolonies.Thetermisappliedlooselytotheoffspringofall mixed marriages and to their children, et cetera, et cetera. That Britain and some other of theOccidentalpowerschosetovictimizetheEurasianratherthanaccepthimandmakeuseofhisqualitiesisastonishingtostudentsofthequestion.TheEurasiancouldbeofgreathelptothesepowers,contributingvaluableliaisonbetweentherulingnationandthenativepopulation.’”Shelooksup.“Wanttohearmore?”

“CanIseethat?”Shegivesittohim.Hescansit.Acolumnofcoarseintelligence.“Thefunnythingis,IwastalkingaboutbeingEurasiantoOtsuboaboutaweekbeforeitcameout.”“Really?”“Yes,really.Isn’tthatinteresting?IwastellinghimhowwhenIwasyoung,theotherchildrenwould

laughandpointatme,andonthestreets,someEuropeanswouldtakemyphotographasifIweresomeanimalatthezoo.”

“Itmusthavebeendifficult,butthosepeoplearejustignorant.”“Turnthepage,”sheorders,gesturingtothepaper.“Moreofyourinfluence?”“No, justanotherexampleof theabsurditieswearesubjectedtoeveryday.Doyouseethatpiece

aboutthehouseflies,there?Whereifyoucatchtwotaelsofhouseflies,youareentitledtoacattyofriceifyoubringittoadistrictbureau.AndI’veseenpeoplecarryingaroundthesebundlesofflies.It’sbeyond.TheJapaneseareevenmorebizarrethantheEnglish.I’veneverimaginedsuchathing.”

Suddenly,sheturnstohim.“DidyouknowIwaseightwhenmymotherdisappeared?Andeightissupposedtobesuchalucky

number for theChinese. I’vealwayswondered if itwasbecause IwasonlyhalfChinese.Andhalfofeightisfour,whichisaterriblenumber.Youknow,itmeansdeath.”

“Whatdoyourememberofher?”“Bits and pieces. She didn’t go out much, because she didn’t fit in. She wasn’t English, so the

Englishwouldn’thaveanythingtodowithher,andtheChinesetaitaiscertainlydidn’tlikeher.Andshewasn’tstrongenoughorconfidentenoughtodoanythingaboutit.Soshehadveryfewfriendsandshewasat home a lot, dressed beautifullywith nothing to do but gossipwith the servants. I suspect even theylookeddownonher.Myfatherlovedher,marriedherdespitefamilydisapproval,buthewassobusyhedidn’thavemuchtimeforher.Shetookmetothebotanicalgardenseveryonceinawhile,andtoteaattheGloucester.Sheworeglovesandapillboxhat,andthestraightskirts.Shewantedmetobedressedproperlyaswell.Shewasverybeautiful.ButIthinkshewassad.”

“You’venevertalkedaboutherbefore.”“Idon’trememberthatmuch.”Shepauses.“Iremembershetoldmeaboutherchildhood.Shewas

verypoor.Shewasfunnyaboutittoo.Sherefusedtoeatsoup,becausetoherthatmeantpoverty.Shehadgrownupinahousewheretheythrewwhateverlittletheyhadintoapotofwater,sprinkleditliberallywithsalt,andcalleditameal.Shedidn’twantmetogrowupoblivioustoourgoodfortune,butatthesame time, I thinkshe likedhow the rich feltbulletproof-nother,obviously,but I thinkshe liked that Imightfeelthatway,butworriedatthesametimethatitwouldn’tlast.Andshewasright,wasn’tshe?I’mnotbulletproof.I’vecomealongwayintheworld,buttheworldhaschangedandI’mnotsureanymore

ofwhatIamorwhatIcando.”

Afterlove,theylieonthebed.Sheshiftsaway,suddenlyshy,andstaresattheceiling.Wordsburstforthfromher,asifunbidden,aconfessionalfountainshecannotstopper.

“I’vealwaysknown,mylove,thatIwasachameleon.Iwasaterribledaughterbecausemyfatherletmebeone.Hedidn’tknowwhatelsetodowithme,feelingsoguiltyIdidn’thaveamother.AndIwasagooddaughterwhenmymotherwasaround.Becauseshecouldn’timagineanythingelse.AndthenwhenIwasolder,Iwasadifferentpersoneveryyear,dependingonwhoIwaswith.IfIwaswithascoundrel,thenIbecamethetypeofwomanthatwouldbewithascoundrel.IfIwaswithanartist,thenIbecameamuse.AndwhenIwaswithyou,Iwas,forthefirsttime,I’msurepeoplehavetoldyou,adecenthumanbeing.AllHongKongwonderedwhysomeonelikeyouwouldbotherwithsomeonelikeme.Youknowthat,don’tyou?”

Shepropsherselfuponanelbow,bronzehairfallingacrosshershoulders.“Butnowcircumstanceshavechanged,andIhaverevertedbacktoformandbecomeawomanwho

iswithsomebodybecauseitsuitshersituationandfornootherreasonthanthatsimpleandvenalone.I’mnodifferentfromthatRussiangirlTatiana,theoneIpretendtodespise.We’remoresistersthananythingelse.Werecognizeeachother.I’msurenooneissurprised.Doyouunderstand?”

“Melodrama,”hesays.“You’rebeingabsurd.”Sheisquiet,onehandnervouslypullingherhairbackfromherface,theotherflutteringaroundhermouth.

“Don’teversayIdidn’ttellyou.Itoldyou.YoumustknowthatItoldyou.”Thephoneringsintheroom.Trudypicksitupandhermouthdrawsintoatenseline.“Yes,ofcourse.Ofcourse.I’llseetoit.”Shehangsupandturnstohim,faceunreadable.“Asitturnsout,Otsuboisinterestedinmeetingyou.Intéressant,non?”“Isit?”“I don’t knowwhat his intentions are.Butwe have to dowhatwe’re told, don’twe?You don’t

mind?It’snotasifwehavemuchchoiceinthematter.Dommiewillbetheretoo.”

Sothatevening,afteranothersilent,hot,soakingbathandhavinggotdressedinsilence-TrudyhadbroughtsomeofWill’soldclothesandtheyhadlaughedtoseehowtheyhunglooseonhim,onespotofforced gaiety in a tense afternoon-they are seated in a small room of a restaurant in Tsim Sha Tsui,contemplatingnutsinasmallporcelaindishembellishedwithreddragons,asTrudyquaffschampagneatarapidclip.Willlightsacigarette.

“Thisplaceanygood?”“Notmuchtolookatbutcurrentlythebestseafoodintown.”Theyhadseenthetinbucketsinfront

uponarriving,large,lazyfishswimminginside,oblivioustotheirfate.“HelikesChinesefood?”“Seemstobeacquiringataste.”Hernailsclatteronthetableasshedrumsherfingers.“Dommieis

late,thefool.Whydoeshedothisallthetime?”“YoueatwithDominickoften?”“Everynight.”“Whyaretheresomanyseats?Whoelseiscoming?”“Theytravel inpacks,darling.Hewouldn’tdreamofbeingseenwithouthisentirecoterieofyes-

menandsycophants.”“Andheis,ofcourse,late.”Justthen,thedooropensandastringofmenisusheredin.ItisimmediatelyclearwhoOtsuboisas

theotherswaitinsidetheroomuntilhehasentered,andwaitforhimtochoosehisseat.“Otsubo-san,” Trudy says gaily, standing up. “You’re late as always.” She looks lovely tonight,

dressedinasleektomato-redsilktunicdress,herhairsweptbackintoachignon.Timetosingforsupper.Willstandsup.“Verynicetomeetyou.I’mWillTruesdale.”“Otsubo,”themansaysgruffly,andgesturesthattheyarealltosit.“Mr.Channothere?”“He’llbeheresoon.It’sadifficulttimetogetaround.”TrudysitsbetweenOtsuboandWill.Theman is stocky and short, in a finely cut suit of tropical-weight wool. His hair is cut close,

military-style, a centimeter long so the oily surface of his scalp shines through.His eyes, porcine andbulbous, sunken in apuffy, smooth face. In short, anunattractiveman.Next tohim,Trudy looks like agaudy,gorgeousflamingo.

Hismensitdownatthetable,anonymousintheirmultitude.Theytalkamongthemselves,butquietly,sothatOtsuboneedn’ttalkabovethem.HeordersCognac.

“Otsubo’sacquiringChinesetastes,”Trudysays.“HelovesXOnow.”“SomethingsChinesearegood,”Otsubosays.“AtleasttheyareAsiatic.”Thereisasilence.“Whatshouldweeat?”Trudyasksintothevoid.“Abalone?Shark’sfin?Wouldyoulikemetodothe

honors?”Otsubo nods and she orders rapidly in Cantonese. She speaks everything well-Cantonese,

Shanghainese,Mandarin, French, English. Some of themen look at her as she is ordering, their facesunreadable.Shemustbeacompletemystery to them,probablystraight from thecountrysidesof Japan,pressedintoservicefortheircountrytocometothisplace,wherethelanguageandcustomsaredifferent,where a woman like Trudy flits around like a flamboyant butterfly. They drink beer straight from thebottles,andsmokewithoutceasing.TheyarenotofferedCognac.

Dominickentershastily.“Otsubo-san.”Hebows.“Sosorrytobeimpolite.Urgentmattersheldmyattention.”Willhasnever

seenDominickinthisruffledstate.“Youarelateagain,”Otsubosays.“Badmannerforbusinessandsocietytoo.”“Iknow,Iknow.MymastersatHarrowwerealwaysonmefortardiness.”Trudywilltellhimlater,theJapaneselovethatDominickwasatthebestschoolsinEngland,they

wanttoknowallthedetails,andthatDominickindulgesthemateverychance.“Theyhateitbuttheyloveittoo.Isn’tthatalwaysthecase?”

HepresentsaboxtoOtsubo.“Agestureofmyappreciationforeverythingyou’vedoneforme,andforHongKong.”

Otsubogruntsthanksbutdoesnotreceivethebox.Dominick,soobviouslyunusedtogruffness,takesastepback,recovers,andslidessmoothlyintoachair.

“Maybelater,then,”hesaystoWill,acollusivegreetingthatimpliestheyaremadeoffinerstuffthanthisJapaneseman.

Willturnsaway,unwillingtobeallieswithDominick,unwillingtobeasstupidashe.Trudypoursmoretea.

“Mr.Truesdale,”saysOtsuboinEnglish.Thenhespeaksthroughhistranslator.“Howareyoufindingthecamps?”Thetranslatorisayoung,slendermanwithspectacles.Hisaccent

isalmostunnoticeable.Willhesitates.Howhonesttobe?“It’slivablebut,unfortunately,despitethebesteffortsofthecamp

officers,thereareoftenshortagesoffoodandmedicinesand,astherearealsowomenandchildreninthecamp,wefeelthisneedacutely.”

Otsubolistensandnods.Hereplies,“Thatisashame.Wewilllookintothematter.”Thetranslator

looksnervous.Thefirstdishisserved.Chinese-style,itisacoldjellyfishappetizer.WillhaslearnedfromTrudy

thataproperChinesemealunfoldsinacertainway.First,acoldappetizerlikepig’sfeetoverjellyfishvermicelli; then a warm one, perhaps sesame-crusted shrimp, a shark’s fin or winter melon soup; asignaturedishsuchasPekingduck,ameat-sweet-and-sourporkorbraisedbeefwithchoisam,afish,avegetable, finishing alwayswith noodles or fried rice, depending on the region.Chinese don’t take toheavydesserts-enjoyingacoldcoconut-milkdishor,ifespeciallypeckish,appledumplingsfriedinhotoilandthenimmediatelycrispedinicewater.

Otsubo takes the first portion, then spins the lazySusan around to hismen.Trudypretends not tonotice the slight. She serves Will and Dominick before taking her share, a minute serving of ambertentaclescoveredinmustardsauce.

Afterchewinglaboriously,Otsubospeaksagain.“Therearemanyillustriouspeopleinthecamps,aretherenot?Leadersofsocietyandbusiness?”“Isupposethereare.Butwe’reallreducedtothesamecircumstancesnow,really.Nobodyhasmore

thananyoneelse.”“Itmustbecuriousforthemtobeinsuchaplace.Quitedifficulttocomedownsomuchinlife.”“Iimagineitis.”Trudyhasbeenuncharacteristicallyquiet.“LikepoorHugh,”sheinterjectsfinally.“Ican’tbelievethatlovelymanhastowashhisownsocks.

Idon’tthinkhe’devermadehimselfahamsandwichbeforethis.”Theyeatthejellyfish.Itiscoldandrubbery.Otsubospeaksagain.“And there is aman namedReggieArbogast?” asks the translator. “A businessman?With ties to

government?”“Yes,Reggieisoneoftheinterned.”OtsubolooksatWillthoughtfully.“Isheafriendofyours?”heasksthroughthetranslator.“Friend is too strong aword.Weare acquaintancesbut ourmutual experiencehasmadeusmore

intimate,nodoubtaboutit.”“Havemoredrink.”ThetranslatorfillsWill’sglasswithwhiskey.“Thankyou.”HeraiseshisglasstoOtsubo.“Whiskeygood.”Themanspeaksforhimself,pronouncingwhiskey“whysky.”“Yes,verygood.”“Drink.Tonightyouarefree.”

“Notsobad.”WillholdsthedooropenforTrudy.Theeveningairiscrispandcleanafterthesmoky,warmroom.

“Yes,”Trudysays.Sheseemshappy,relievedtheeveningisoverandherpasshasnotbeenrevoked.“Betterthanexpected.”

“He’saninteresting…”Acarstopsinfrontofthem,andawindowrollsdown.ApudgyhandemergesandwavesTrudyin.

Shelookssick,thengiveshimaquickkissandclimbsintothecar.“I’llseeyoulater,darling,”shesays.“Don’twaitup.”

Earlyinthemorning,aroundthreea.m.,whileheissleepingrestlessly,thedooropensquietlyandTrudy stealthily pads herway to the powder room.He turns on the bedside light, listens to thewaterrunning,andwaitsforhertocomeoutfromherablutions.Whensheslidesintobed,heseestheenormous

yellowbruisestartingtoformaroundherlefteye.Somethingaboutherdemeanorwarnshimnottofuss.“That’squiteashineryouhavethere,”hesays.“He’s surprising, that one,” she says, and reaches to turn off the lamp, plunging them into gray, a

wakefultwilightwheretheylistentoeachother’sbreath.Afterafewlongminutes, justwhenhe isabout todrift intosleepdespitehimself,seducedby the

utterluxuryofthesoftbeddingandthenowunfamiliarwarmthofanother,shemurmurs,“Youknow,whenIsaidsurprising,Imeantasurprisinglover.Youknewthat,right?He’snotabadman.Really.”Atthatmoment,lyingtherewiththemoonlightglintingoffhershinyhairandsmooth,glossyskin,hethinksshelookslikeascorpion.

Hecannotletitgo.Hesitsup.Shelooksathim,quizzical.“Trudy.”Hestops,tothinkhowtosaythis.“Ineedyoutoknowthereisalimit.”Heraisesherchin

towardhim.“ThereisalimittohowsophisticatedIcanbe.”“Oh.”“I’mnotthepersonyouwantmetobe.Notrightnow.”“Ishouldbecareful.Ishouldtakecare.”Shesaysitpenitently.“I’msorry,darling.I’mdrunk.Don’t

let’squarrel.”“Yes.”Shesitsupandturnsonthelight.“SleepisnotsomethingIcandorightnow.Shouldwetalk?Shouldwetrytobecomewhowewere

beforeallthishappened,justforamoment?”“That’simpossible.”Hebringshertohim,herheadnestledinhisshoulder.Shesmellsofcigarettes

andliquor.Hetellsherso.“I smell like awhore.”Shemoves closer tohim. “I toldyouFrederickdiedbut I didn’t tell you

how.”“No,”heagrees.“Youdidn’t.”“Well,hewasabletogetbacktoHongKong.Hiswholeregimenthadbeenslaughtered,andsincehe

wasthehead,orwhateverhistitlewas,theyallowedhimhislifeandlethimwalkback,escorted.Theylethimcomeback,buttheymadehimcarry…”Hervoicefalters.“Theymadehimcollecttheearsofallofhisfellowsoldiers,andhehadtoputtheminalittlebagandcarryit.Theysaidhishandsweresoakedinbloodandthebagwasdrenched.Andthesmell…Ikeepthinkingaboutit,overandover,andhowitmusthavesmelledawfulandhowitmusthavebeenslipperyandhowhemusthavebeensotired…

“Andthen,thehungerandthefaminerightafter,beforetheycouldreestablishsomeofthemarkets.Therumors,thehorrible,horriblerumors.Petsdisappeared.Even…”Ahiccup.“Evenbabies,theysaid.”

“Trudy,there’snoendtothemiseryifyoukeepthinkingaboutit.”“AndthatdinnerItoldyouabout,theonewherethelocalswellsweretryingtogetonwiththenew

order,wheremyfamilyfriendwhohadmarriedanAustraliandenouncedthewhiteraces,yourememberthatone?TheoneVictororganized?”

“Yes,Ido.”“Ididn’ttellyoubutatthatdinner,wewereallsitting,alltryingtositinourfancyclotheswithout

feeling toohypocritical,without feeling likeweweregivingup toomuchofourselves andhopingwecouldstilllookatourselvesinthemirrorattheendofitall,andthenatsomepointintheevening-therehadbeenquitealotofdrinking-Dominicksaidsomethingstupid.Idon’tevenrememberwhathesaid,butitwassillyandclever,youknow,likehim.”

“Idoknow,”hesays.“And then themanwho had arranged the dinner, Ito, the head of the economic department of the

Gunseicho,whosetableitwas,hejuststoodup,walkedover,andhewalkedverydeliberately,andthecrowdsortofhushedbecausehehadthissenseof,Idon’tknow,Isupposeyou’dcallitpurpose,andhe

walkedrightuptoDommie-wehadbeenseatedatoneofthebesttables,histable-andhestoodinfrontofDommieandheslappedhimacrosstheface.Heslappedhimreallyhard.”

Sheworksthesheetthroughherhandsoverandover.“Andthatsound,youknow,itsoundedlikeagunshot,becauseeveryonehadbeenwatching,andit

gotveryquiet, theremighthaveevenbeenagasp fromeverybody, Idon’t remember, andDommie satthere,withhischeekgettingred,andthenhetriedtogatherhimself,hejustsortoflookedaway,andthenhepickeduphischampagneglass,andtookasip.Andthenthewholeroomtookacollectivesigh,andwetriedtopickupwherethingshadstopped.AndVictor,thatbloodlessleech,didn’tdoathingaboutit.

“Butitwasasifthewholeroomhadbeenslapped.AndDommie,youknow,hetriestobeacoolcustomer,buthishandsshookthewholenightafter.Iknowyouthinkhe’sdreadfulandsoulless,butyoudonotknowhim.Youdonotknowhim.I’veknownhimallmylifeandhe’sfragile,andcanbreakatanyminute,andIwanttoprotecthimandsavehimfromhimselfifthatisatallpossible.Heismyonlyfamilyouthere.Wearelookingoutforeachother.Hecanbeaterribleperson,buttherearereasonsforthat,youknow.NotlikeVictor,who’shatefulbecauseheonlythinksofhimselfandmoney.Dommiehateshimself,andsohecanbeawful.”Shepauses.“I’venevertoldanyonethis,butDominickwasneverquiteright.Therewasascandalwhenhewasyounger,aroundtwelve,somethingabouthimandthemaids.Hemadethem…dothings,andhedidthingstothem,andtheywerefoundout.Someonewalkedinonthem.Sohisparentsweredreadfullyembarrassedandtheygotridofthemaids,younggirlsfromChina,paidthemoff,andsenthimtoEnglandwhenhewasreally tooyoung.Theywereneverreallycutout tobeparents.Ithinkhewasamistake.Andalthoughhehaddone these terrible things,hewas still soyoung.Andhewent,andhedidn’t speakverygoodEnglishat the time,andhestuckoutwithhisoddclothesandhisfunnyaccent.And then somehow, itgotout at the schoolwhathehaddone, and theolderboys…theymadehimdothesamethings.Theymadehim…youknow.Youknowwhatit’slikeinthoseschools.Hetoldmethisonenightwhenhewasdreadfullydrunk.Idon’tknowthatheevenrememberstellingme.Butwe’vealwaysbeenlikebrotherandsister.So,afterthat,Idon’tthinkhewaseverquitethesame.Howcouldyoube?Andthat’swhyhehatestheEnglish,forthemostpart,althoughheissodamnEnglishinsomanyways.It’sverycomplicated.Andintheend,Ithink,we’realljusttryingtosurvive,aren’twe?”

“Sometimes there are thingsmore important than survival.” It sounds self-importantbuthe cannothelphimself.Hewants towarnher,not forhimselfbut forherownsake.And todefendahorror likeDominick!Shewasblindedbymisguidedloyalty.

“Tellthattosomeonewho’sabouttogoundertheguillotine,”sheretortshotly.“Tellthattosomeonewho isabout togetshot. I’msureall they’re thinkingabout ishowtogetoutof thesituation. I’msuresurvivalisquiteimportanttothematthatmoment.Youmightevensay,theonlything.Youmighthavetheluxuryofpondering thedignityof thesoul,but…nevermind.”Shestops.“Ican’texplain it toyou,orjustifytoyou,oranything,sowhat’sthepoint?”

“I’msorryyoufeellikeyouhavetojustifyyourselftome.”Shewavesherhandsaboveherslowly,likesmallsatellites.“Thisnightfeelslikeforever.IfeellikeScheherazadetryingtoprolongthenight.”“DoyouthinkI’mgoingtokillyoucomemorning?”“Everythingchangeswhenthelightcomes,doesn’tit?”Later,hewillwonderwhatexactlyshemeant.

Theygotosleep,ortheirapproximationsofit,eachcarefulnottodisturbtheother.Inthemorning,overcoffee,sheoffersherfeettohimtoberubbed.“Everythingseemsbetter in themorning,don’tyou think?”Her implicitpeaceoffering.Shepours

creamintohercupandspillssomeintothesaucer.Herhandsareshakingalittle.“Monamour,”shebegins.

“Yes?”“Unequestionpourtoi.”“Yes?”“Thegoodgeneralisinterestedinmeformanyreasons,”shebegins.“OneofwhichisthatI’mrather

pretty.But,asyouknow,HongKongisfilledwithprettywomen,andsohisinterestinmehaslastedthetimeithasbecausehe isalsovery interestedinassuringhisfuturewhilehe’shere.Anambitiousman,Otsubo.AndhethinksIshouldbeabletohelphim.Andbeingamanoflargeappetite,heisnotcontentwiththeoccasionalwristwatchandwoman’strinket-hissightsaresetmuchhigher.He’dtakelandifhisgovernmentwouldlethim,butitwon’t,andhe’sgettingratherfrustrated.”Shepauses.“TherearethoseinTokyowhoareparticularlyinterestedintheCrownCollectionofHongKong.It’ssupposedtohavemanypricelessChinesepieces,centuriesold, inestimable in theirvalue,politicallysensitive,ofcourse.Andthose have not been found. It’s thought they were secreted away before the war began here. And theChinesewant their heritage back, the Japanesewant them for their value, and the English think it allbelongstothem.It’sveryconfusing.

“Tomakealongstoryshort,OtsubothinksthatafewofthemeninStanleyareprivytoinformationthatwouldhelphimlocatethesepieces.Inparticular,hehasanideathatReggieArbogastknowswhereitis.IthinkOtsubowouldbehandsomelyrewardedforlocatingtheseitemsandgettingthembacktoJapan.Youknow,it’sbeenacompletemadhouseoverherewiththelootingandtheransackingandthingsturningupinthemarketplaces,museumpiecessellingfortwocentsorworthlesstwaddlebeingshippedofftothehomelandlikeit’sworthsomething.Noonereallyknowswhat’sgoingon,buthe’sdeterminedtofindthesepieces.He’shadmelookthroughthepawnshopsandtalktopeople,butnothing.So,thatiswhyhefurloughedyouandwantedtohavedinnerwithyouandtalktoyou.”

“ButwhywouldhethinkIwouldknowanythingaboutit?”“He’sheardthatyouarewelllikedincamp.You’vebeenelectedheadofsomethingorother,haven’t

you?”“What’sthatgottodowithit?”“Doyouknowanything?”Theabruptquestiontakeshimbysurprise.“DoyouwishIdid?”“Doesthatmeanyoudo?”Hestandsup.Theparryingissickeningtohim.“Trudy,we’renotatwarwitheachother.”“No,butwemightbeatcross-purposes.Will,Ineedsomethingfromyounow.”“EverythingIhaveisyours.”Itsoundsfalse,eventohim,metallicinhismouth,ashewatchesher

desperate,dissemblingface.Whatdoessheinspireinhimnow?Stilllove?Orpity?“So,you’llhelpus?”Whatcouldhedo?Shedidn’taskforherself.Sheaskedforthem.Shewaslostalready.

PartIII

May2,1953MISSEDWINASTORCH, an institution inHongKong, hosted occasional ladies’ lunches at her

home in theNewTerritories.Shewas theheadmistressemeritusofawell-regardedprimaryschool inPokfulamandarenownedexpertonChineseporcelains-anoldChinahandwhohadretiredtotheNewTerritories. She lived famously in an old house with Alsatians, chickens, an elderlymarried Chinesecoupleinservice,andanotherEnglishspinster-herlifelongpartner,MissWinkle.Theysometimescamefor lunch at the Ladies’ Recreation Club, where Claire had seen them holding court among the otherexpatriatewomen,andshehadseenMissWinklewrestlingcarnationsintosubmissionatMrs.Beazley’sflower-arranging class at the Duddell St. YWCA.MissWinkle was small and slight, with frail birdbones,andMissStorchwas largeandheavy,with thickcalves thatended inastraight lineather feet.Theybothworeknee-lengthskirtsandwhitecottonbuttonedblouseswithPeterPancollarsandoftentookslow constitutionals around the country-sidewith their sensible shoes and large dogs. Her invitationswererarelyturneddown,forsomereasonthatClairehadnotbeenabletoglean.Sowhenherinvitationarrived in themail, heavy creambondwith a gold crest-rathermuch for a retired schoolmistress, shethought-sheacceptedwithcuriosity.

Clairedroveuptoawhitewoodengate.Shehadtogetoutofthecartoopenthegate,drivethrough,and thengetout toclose it again,witha littlehook thathadbeenhaphazardly screwed into thewood.Somehow, she didn’t dare leave it open, although she knew some twenty people had been invited forlunch.Shedroveupadustyroad,pastgraciousoldtrees,onewithawoodenswingattachedtoalargebranch,tothehouseitself,aramblingstonestructurethatseemedonthevergeoffallingdown.Therewasaporch,withascreendoorslightlyajar,butshewalkedaroundthehousetothebackgarden,whereshecouldhearmusicandvoices.

Alongside thehouse therewasadrinks table setupwithabucketof iceandvariousmismatchedglasses,alargepunchbowl,andsmalleggsaladsandwichesthatwerealreadyattractingflies.Fiveotherpeoplehadalreadyarrived,noneofwhomClairerecognized.ThenMissStorchcameovertogreether,walkingslowlywithacane.

MissStorchwasoneof thosepeople so comfortablewithherself that everything shedid seemedunsurprising.Ifsheservedyouwineinateacup,itwouldseemthemostnaturalthingintheworld,andthatanyone thoughtotherwisewashopelesslybourgeois.Her lunchwas,Clairewoulddiscover, rabbitpie, tomato soup white bread tomato sandwiches, and ice cream on a stained cotton tablecloth in aweatheredoldtentoutsideinthegarden.Ateachchippedplacesettingwasacarvedcamphorwoodfantostirupthehotandhumidair.Womenstoodaroundfanningthemselvesastheysippedwarmlemonadeandatecocktailsausagesandpineapplespearedontotoothpicks.

“Sonicetomeetyou,”MissStorchsaid.“I’vebeenmeaningtohaveyouover.”“Thepleasure’smine,MissStorch,”Clairesaid.“I’veheardwonderfulthingsaboutyou.”“Edwina,please,andcallMissWinkleMary.I’mgivingyoupermissionrightnow.”“That’sverykind.”ClairewasveryawareofMissStorch’sintelligent,razor-sharpgaze.Beadsof

perspirationtrickledinherdécolletage.“Doyouhavetheselunchesoften?I’veheardofthem,ofcourse,but didn’t know if they were…” She trailed off, unable to come up with the words to complete thesentence.

“MaryandIlivesofarout,althoughthisisthewaywechoosetolive.Welikepeople,andit’shardtoseethemouthere,sowecameuponthisidea,tohaveregularlunches,andpeopleseemtolikethem,

luckily, so they make the effort to come. We’ve had most everyone out here, a few governors, theoccasionallordandlady,manytravelersinfromEngland.Youknow.”

“Andyou’vebeeninHongKonglong?”“Longerthanyouwouldbelieve,child.”“Oh!”AlargeDobermanhadcomeupandnosedherhand.“That’s Marmaduke, the dear,” said Miss Storch affectionately. “He keeps us safe and eats his

weightinscrapseveryday.”“Doyouhavemoredogs?”“Wehaveseven,butmostofthemareoutroamingaroundrightnow.They’llcomehomefordinner.

Weadoptedthemafterthewarwhenthereweresomanyanimalslookingforhomes.Wecouldn’tbeartosayno,andweendedupwithfartoomany.Thereareeightbudgerigarsinthehouse,withthreecatswhowouldlovetoeatthem,andIthinkthere’saterrapinsomewhereinthekitchenaswell.”

“Wereyouhereduringthewar?”“Ofcourse, throughall themadnessand itsaftermath.”MissStorchadjustedher spectacles.They

weresteamingupintheheat.Hereyesbulgedbehindthem,herskinredandfleshy.“Afriendofmine…”Clairestopped.“Yes?”MissStorchprompted.“A friend was here as well. But I’ve just realized how stupid that must sound. There must be

thousandsofpeoplewhowent through that experience. I’msorry.”Claireducked, a sortof apologeticcurtsy,andleftabruptly.Marmaduketrailedbehindherhopefully,thenwentofftofindbetterprospects.Herheartwasbeatingsohard,itfeltasifitmightburstthroughherchest.Shewalkedinadazeuntilshecametoachairandsatdownheavily.Shehadnoideawhathadcomeoverher,whatstrangecombinationoftheheat,MissStorch’sintentgaze,andherownpreoccupationwithWillhadconspiredtomakethismomentintosomethingthatfeltsomomentous.

Shegotuptogetafanfromoneoftheplacesettingsandfannedherself.Whenshepeekedover,MissStorchwasbusywithsomeoneelseanddidn’tlookatallputoutbyClaire’sstrangereaction.

She sat and cooled off.Gradually she started to take in her surroundings. Itwas lovely out here.Therewasalarge,gracefuloaktreeandanexpansivelawnrollingdowntoaviewofthemountains.

“Doesn’tfeellikeHongKong,doesit?”saidavoicebehindher.Clairejumped.“Sosorry,didn’tmeantostartleyou.”Sheturnedaroundtoseealittlewomanwithspectacleshung

aroundherneck.“MaryWinkle.”“Yes,ofcourse.I’mClairePendleton.Thankyouforhavingmetoday.”“It’sourpleasure.Weliketoseepeoplesowetrytoenticethemoutwithagoodmeal.”AsmallChinesewomancamebyandwaitedexpectantly.“Wouldyoulikeadrink?YoucantellAhChauwhatyou’dlike.”“Someofthatlemonadewouldbelovely.”“Lemonade,please,”MissWinklesaidloudly.AhChaunoddedandleft.“She’sabitdeafsincethewar.TheJapaneseknockedheraboutabit.”“Sosad,”Clairesaid.“Verygoodofyoutokeepheron.”“She’slikefamily.WhenIwasatStanley,shecamewithprovisionseverysingleweek,andIknow

herownfamilydidn’thaveenoughtoeat.AndshestayedwithEdwina,whowasontheoutside.”“AllthesestoriesIkeephearingabout.It’sextraordinary.”“Well,itwasn’tcomfortablebackinEnglandeither,I’dimagine.”“Wewerequitesheltered.Thefoodwasabitshortbutotherwise,nottoobad.Iremembertheair

sirensandrunningtotheshelterwithmymum.”“Ofcourse.Andthedroppingfeelinginyourstomachwhenyouheardthem.”“Yes.Likeabaddream,astheysay.”

Abelltinkled.“Itlookslikeit’stimetoeat.”Theywalkedovertothetent.

Atlunch,ClairewatchedasEdwinaStorchtookoneofthetomatoesthatwerepiledinthecenterofthetablelikeacenterpiece.Shewassittingonherright.Thewomanateitas if itwereanapple,withutterdisregardforthered,stainingjuiceasitdribbledontoherwhitelinenblouse.

MissStorchnoticedClaire’sstare.“Delicious,child.Haveone.They’reassweetassugar,growninmygarden.Wemadethesoupwith

themtoo,togetthelastofthem.”“No,thankyou,”shesaid.“ButhowwonderfultothinkyoucangrowyourownvegetablesinHong

Kong.”“Oh,Icouldn’tliveanywhereelse.I’vebeenutterlyspoiled.IfIwentbacktoEngland,they’dsay

I’dgonenative,andthey’dbeabsolutelyright.”“Do you think you will never return?” There was something about the older lady that invited

intimacy.“I don’t knowwhat I’d return to. I haven’t any real family anymore, and the family I’vemade is

here.”Clairesippedthecoldtomatosoup.Shegrewbold.“CanIaskyousomethingimpertinent?”“IfIcanchoosenottoanswerit,”MissStorchsaid.“Howdoyoudecidewhotoinvitetoyourluncheons?We’venevermetbefore,andalthoughIwas

sopleasedtocome,Idon’tknowhowyouevenknewwhoIwastoextendtheinvitation.”MissStorchlaughed,pleased.“A good hostess always thinks of thewhole.What a bore to see the same people over and over

again.Youneedamixofnationalities,professions,personalities.Asyouknow,HongKonggrowsverytiresomeasthecommunityissosmall.Andonemustamuseoneselfasonegetsold,don’tyouthink?”

AChinesewomanwithanAmericanaccentspoketoMissStorch.“I’veheardyouhaveamuseum-qualitycollectionofSongporcelainfromShanxi.Doyouevershow

people?”“Sometimes,”MissStorchsaidwithasmile.TheChinesewomanwaitedexpectantly.MissStorch’s

smilegrewwider.The red-hairedwoman on the left ofMiss Storch spoke up in the pause. She had been speaking

importantlyonwomen’ssuffrageandrightsandimmigrants’plightsthroughoutthelunch.“Haveyouheard?ThegovernmentisformingacommissiontoroutoutalltheJapanesesympathizers

onceandforall.They’resickofthosescoundrelstryingtoblendinandpretendtheyweren’tpartoftheevil.”

“Well,” said Miss Storch. “That’s a strong word. There were certainly those who wereopportunistic.Butmostwerepeoplesimplytryingtofindanysortofworkandgetsomefoodonthetable.Ithinktheoneswhomostneedtobeprosecutedarethosewhohadnosuchworriesbutsimplywantedtoprofitenormouslyanddidn’tcareaboutwhotheyhurtalongtheway.Greedanddishonestyarealwaysaround,whetherthereiswarornot.”

“They’llhavetoanswertoahigherauthority,”saidtheredhead,withacertainpleasure.“It’sdifficulttoproveanything,whatwiththelackofdocumentationduringthattime,”saidanother

woman,plumpish.“TheyneverdidfindoutwhathappenedtotheCrownCollection.”“Isupposetheywillrelyonwitnessesandfirst-personaccounts,”MissStorchsaid.“Whynow?”Claireasked.“It’sbeenagessincethesurrender.”

“Well,it’snotanythingofficial,buttherehavebeenafeweventsthatmakethisparticularlytimely.Theobviouspeople,Sakai,theJapanesecommander-in-chief,andColonelTanaka,havebeenexecutedorimprisoned,butIthinkthere’sanemphasisonfindingthelocalcivilianswhowerealittletooenthusiasticinbefriendingtheirnewmastersandwhoarepretendingthatnothingofthesorthappened.Idothinkoldgrudgesarebeingdredgedup.”

“Soyou’veheardofthis?”saidthered-hairedwoman.“I have been told that something like thismay come along, as Imay be of somehelp to those in

charge.”MissStorchstoodup.“WhowantstocomeandseemynewCrosley?”shesaid.“Theydeliveredit lastweek. It doesn’t spoil the butter and defrosts automatically.” Itwas clear the conversationwasover.

Womenwere lingering over lemon tea andTcachenko’s cold cream cakewhenMissWinklewassuddenlystandingoverClaire’sshoulder.

“Claire,wouldyoudousthehonorofplayingsomemusic.We’veheardwhatatalentedpianistyouare.”

Sheflushed.“Hardlytalented,”shedemurred.“Iteach,butrarelyplayformyselfanymore.”“YouareteachingLocketChen,areyounot?”“Yes,she’sbeenstudyingwithmeforafewmonths.”“Howdoyoulikeit?Andherparents,VictorandMelody?”“Ihaven’thadthepleasureofgettingtoknowthemmoreintimatelyasthey’rerarelyhomewhenIgo

toteach.”“Yes,they’rebusy,I’dimagine.”“Youknowthem?”Claireasked.“Knowthem?”MissWinklesaidwithanoddcastinhervoice.“Yes,Ishouldsayweknowthem.

AndEdwinaknowsMr.Chenverywellindeed.”“Well,”Clairesaid.“I’llgive themyourregards ifyouwish.”Shesippedher tea.Thankfully, the

ideaofherplayingforthepartywasnotresurrected.MissWinklewascalledawayonsomeissuewiththebiscuitsandshewasfreetogatherupherscarfandpocketbookandsayherfarewells.

May5,1953“People have always expected me to be bad and thoughtless and shallow, and I do my best to

accommodate their expectations. I sink to their expectations, one might say. I think it’s the ultimatesuggestibilityofmostofus.Wearesocialbeings.Weliveinasocialworldwithotherpeopleandsowewishtobeastheyseeus,evenifitisdetrimentaltoourselves.”Shelaughs,liftingherfacetowardhis.Hereyes,herskin,theyglow,distractinghim.“Whatdoyouthink?”

HE WOKE with a startle, then exhaled heavily in the hot air, slowly noticed the fan movingsluggishlyoverheadasconsciousness surfaced.Perspirationcoveredhisbodyand thebed linensweresoaked.Her voicewas as clear as a bell in his head, her sharp, vivid outlinemoving against a darkbackground.Hehadforgottenhowmuchshelovedherownpronouncements,howshewouldphilosophizeoveracolddrink,howshewasstartlinglyinsightfulattheoddesttimes.

Shewaswaitingforhim,expectinghimtosaveher.Whatwouldbecomehisstorynow?hewondered.AndtherewasClaire,whohadgrownimportant

to him despite himself, in whom he saw his undeveloped self, nascent, with her silly prejudices, hercherished ignorance, and, surprisingly,hermomentsof clarity.Hernaïvetéwasa salve tohisbatteredexpectations.Wasn’t lovealwayssomeformofnarcissismafterall?Shecameunbidden tohisdreamstoo,battlingwith theotherwoman, theonewhohauntedhimdayandnight.Claire,withherblondandfamiliarfemininity,EnglishrosetoTrudy’sexoticscorpion.

Theblacknightbeyondthewindowwasvelvetandwelcomeinitsanonymity.Hegotupandopenedthewindows.HongKong’swarm,intimatesmellcameintotheroom,redolentofhumanbodiesandtheever-presentsea,evenatthiselevation.Itwasnevercrisphere,justmoistandclose,thoughnotalwaysunpleasant.Thedarknessenvelopedhim.Alonelightwinkedinthedistance-aboat?Afellowinsomniac?

Heheardhervoiceagain.Itsoundedmoredesperatenow,moreshrill.Heknewitwastimetoact.

May7,1953CORONATION FEVER had hit Hong Kong. The imperially slim Princess Elizabeth and her

handsomeprincehadseized the imaginationofexpatriatesand localsalike,andall through town therewereplacardsdeclaringcoronationsales,tailorsadvertisedcoronationgownspecials,andspecialcoinsandstampswerebeingprocessedtomarktheoccasion.Societymatronswereplanningtheircoronationparties and teas and all the hotels were booked up for balls. Claire found herself waiting for thenewspaperdeliveryeverymorningsoshecouldreadaboutallthedetailsandpreparations.

Shehadalwaysbeenfascinatedwith theprincesses,hadread thescandalousbookby theirnanny,MarionCrawford,anddevouredthedetailsof theirprivatelives.Andnowtheprincesswasbecomingthequeen!

InHongKongitselftherewouldbegrandparadesanddecorations.BoththeSouthChinaMorningPost and theStandard devotedmuch of their front pages to the impending event. Therewas to be anilluminated fountain inStatueSquarewith a royalblueMaypole toppedby a crown, and four lions tosymbolizetheUnitedKingdomandfourbrazierstorepresenttheflameofCommonwealthunity.ItwastobeguardeddayandnightbyHerMajesty’spersonalrepresentatives.TherewasalsoaCoronationGardeninKowloonplantedwithbluehydrangeasandredandwhitewaterlilies,inthepatternoftheEnglishflag.The newspapers also dealt with the mundane. The Building Authority had warned that verandas andbalconies shouldbe sufficientlybuttressed if propertyowners felt that theymight be filled to capacitywithrevelers.

Clairereadcarefullyaboutthearrangementsthepostofficewasmakingsothatthehighdemandforcommemorativecoronationstampswouldbeadequatelyhandled.Therewouldbededicatedcountersforsellingthestamps,andmorecounterswouldbeadded.SheplannedtogototheDesVoeuxRoadbranchtogethers.ShehadalsoputasidemoneyforcommemorativeplateswiththeimageofPrincessElizabethstampedonthem.

Willlaughedatherwhenshetoldhimofherexcitement.“Whyonearthdoyoucareaboutasillywomangettingacrownbecauseshehappenedtobeborn

into a certain family? And also because her uncle fell in love with someone that others findobjectionable?”

Clairewasshocked.“You sound Communist, Will,” she warned. “I wouldn’t go around town airing those kinds of

views.”“Sometimesyouaresuchaninny,”hesaid,buthisvoicewaskind.“Youare thesilliestwomanI

caretoknow.”Andhekissedherforeheadgently.

Theyhadbeentogetherforsomeeightmonths.Longenoughtohavearhythm,butnewenoughthatherpalmsstilltingled,newenoughtostillcheckherreflectioninanyavailablesurfacebeforeshewastomeethim.Martin’ssteadyhoursgavethemtimetogether,butitwasWill’sworkthatconfoundedClaire.

“Theyneveruseyou,”shesaid.“Theyhavetwoothers,localChinese.Whydidtheyhireyou?”“I’musefulinmyownway,”hesaid.Andrefusedtoelaboratefurther.Buthislackofworkmeanttheycouldspendafternoonstogether,inhissmallflat,havingsentAhYik

ononeofmanyendlesserrands.HowtodealwiththesmallwomanwasoneofClaire’sregularordeals.Herillicitstatusateather,makingitdifficulttolookAhYikintheeye.Sheworriedunceasinglyaboutwhattosay,orwhatnottosay,orwhethertoevenacknowledgeherpresence.Whenaskedhisopinion,Willclaimednottocare,evenmoremaddeningthanusual.

“Itdoesn’tmatter,”hesaid.“Sheisthesoulofdiscretionandloyaltoafault.”

“That’snotwhatI’mworriedabout,”Clairesaid.“You’reworriedaboutheropinion?”heneedled.“Ifindituncomfortable,Will,”shesaid.“Thatisall.”“Iunderstand.Butshedoesn’tcareatallwhatwedo.She’sseenmuchworse.”“Andhowisthat?”“She’sbeenwithmeforyears.”“Areyousaying…”Shestopped.“Nevermind.”Shedidn’twanttoknowwhathemeant.“Whydoyoucareaboutthequeen?”heaskedsuddenly.“Sheisourqueen,”shesaid.“Whatdoyoumean,whydoIcare?WhywouldInotcare?”“Youbelieveinempire?”“Ofcourse,”shesaid,althoughshedidn’tknowexactlywhathewastalkingabout.Heproppedhimselfuponanelbow,interestednow.“Now,whataboutthis.Doyouthinkthequeencaresforyou?”“What?Youareaskingsuchqueerquestions,Will.SometimesIdon’tunderstandyouatall.”“Ijustwanttoknowifyouthinkthequeen,orrather,thequeentobe,takesaninterestinyourwell-

being.”“ShehasmanysubjectsbutI’msureshewishesthebestforallofus.”“Andyouoweheryourloyalty,andregardyourselfashersubject.”“Ido,yes.”Sheshookherhead.“Whyareyoubeingsoobstinate?Thesearethethingsthatwehold

dearasBritishsubjects,anditisnotsouncommontothinkthisway.”Willsmiled,alazysmile.“IjustthinkthatlovelylittleLizziedoesn’tcareforyouasmuchasyouseemtothinkshedoes.”“You’re incorrigible,” she said. “Let’s not talk about it anymore. It’s puttingme in a badmood.

You’reaterriblepersonandyoumakemeangry.”Helaughed.Helikeditwhenshescoldedhim.

ButWillwaserratic.Histemperflaredattheoddestthings.Shehadlockedthedoorafterthemonce,andhavingheardtheclick,hehadturnedaroundwithreal

angerinhisface.“Itoldyou,”hesaid.“Ineverlockmydoor.Pleaseunlockit.”Shehad,feelingchastised,herfacebloomingwithembarrassment.Later,shetriedtobringitup.“Whydoyougetsoangryaboutlockingyourdoor?Itseemssosilly.”“It’sa longstory,”he said. “Butpleasedon’t everdo it again.”Heofferednoapologyor further

explanation.Shetiptoedaroundhim,butthenhewouldpullherintobedorkissher,andshewouldfeellikeit

wasallenough-thatalltheuncertaintyandhumiliationandguiltwasworthit.

Andtherewasthistoo.Clairewantedababy.Ithadhappenedallofasudden.Afteryearsofregardingthemewlingcreaturesasnothingmorethan

nuisances,somethinghadshiftedinsideher,andeveryparticleofheryearnedforachild,aninfanttoholdandsmellandembrace.Shelongedforherbellytoswellandexpand,tofeelthemysteriousknocksfromwithin,towalkaroundknowingthatshewasnurturingachildinsideher.

She saw babies everywhere, strapped to the backs of Chinese women in their cloth sacks,towheadedinfantsplayingonthelawnattheLadies’RecreationClub.Shefeltbereft,unwomanly,asifsomethingvitalhadbeentornfromher.Sherecordedhermenstrualcyclesandweptwhenbloodstainedherundergarments.Whenacquaintancestoldhertheywereexpecting,herstomachdropped,asiffromthe

want.And,ofcourse,itwouldbeWill’sbaby.ThethoughtofhavingMartin’schildwas,whilenotentirely

repulsive,foreigntoher,asifitwerehardlyapossibility.Martinhadinfactrecededsofarfromherlifeasshe lived it thatshewasalways faintlysurprisedwhenshewokeupnext tohim.Hissmell seemedstrange,hisskintooclammyandcorporeal.Sheresistedhisadvances,andhegood-naturedlyacquiesced,whichmadeherdespisehim,which in turnmadeherdespiseherself.Hadshealwaysbeen thiscruel?Whathadmadeher thisway?Martinsimplyworkedharder,spentmore timeat theoffice,andmade iteasyforher.Whathadmadehimlikethat?Whathadmadeherlikethis?

May8,1953ACHANCEtogettoknowtheChensbetterarose.NotthatClairefeltshewantedto.Ithadbeenanoddcircumstance.Locket’smotherhadcomeintotheroomafterthelesson,looking

ratherharried.Therewassomethingaboutherthatwasdifferent thesedays.Shespentmostof thetimelockedupinherroom,itseemed,asshewasnowalmostalwayshomewhenClairecameforLocket’slesson.Andshehadlostsomuchweightshewasgaunt.

ShestartedwhenshesawClaire.“Oh,Mrs.Pendleton,”shesaid.“Howareyou?”“Fine, thank you.” Claire started to put away her things. It was the end of the hour. Locket had

scamperedoffassoonasClairehadleanedbackfromthepiano.“I say,” Mrs. Chen began. “You wouldn’t be free for dinner tonight, would you? You and your

husband?Iknowit’sterriblyshortnotice.”Clairedidn’tknowwhattosay.Hermouthopenedbutnothingcameout.“Itwouldbelovelytohaveyou.VictorandIarehavingadinnerparty,yousee…”AndthenClairedidsee.Itwasalast-minuteinvitation.Someonehaddroppedoutandtheyneeded

twopeoplewithoutotherobligations.“I’mafraid…”“Oh,pleasesayyou’llcome,”Mrs.Chencried.“It’sanicegroupofpeople.Governmentofficialsas

well,soIwouldthinkMr.Pendletonwouldbeinterested.”ShedangledthisbeforeClaire.“Well…”shesaid.SheknewMartinwouldwanttogo.“It’s settled, then. It’s atTheGoldenLotus, aCantonese restaurant inCentral at eight.Wehavea

privateroom.”“Thankyousomuchfortheinvitation,”Clairehadsaid.

“Doyou think they’ll expectus toeatcaterpillarsorchicken’s feet?”Martinaskedathomewhentoldabouttheirsuddenplans.

“Whoknowswhattheydo,”Clairesaid.“Iwon’teatanythinglikethat.”ShewatchedMartinwethiscombanddrawitthroughhishair.

“WhatshirtshouldIwear?”heasked.“Idon’tknowwhywe’regoingtothisdinner,Ireallydon’t,”shesaid,butMartinhadalreadyleft

the room to rummage through his shirts. She stared at her face in themirror. She looked drawn. Shepowderedhernoseandpinchedhercheeksforcolor.

Thedinnerdidnotgowell.ItwasdifficulttohaveaconversationwithpeoplewhotalkedonascaleClairewasunusedto.Andtheytalkedaboutthemselvessomuch!

Theyhadarrivedontime,sotheywerethefirstotherthantheChens,whowerestandinginacornerhavingadrink.

“Oh, I’m so glad you could make it,” Melody said, coming toward them. Her gaunt body wasenclosedinafantasticoutfitofgreensilkchiffonwithbellsleeves,andshehadonemeraldchandelierearrings and themost enormous emerald ringClaire had ever seen. She couldn’t take her eyes off thestone.

“Melody,”Clairesaid, feeling theunfamiliarnameonher tongue.Shehad thoughtaboutwhatshewasgoingtocallMrs.ChenanddecidedonthewaytotherestaurantitwouldbeappropriateforhertocallMrs.Chenbyher first name since itwas a social occasion. “Melody, this ismyhusband,MartinPendleton.Wemetbrieflyatthebeachclub.”

MartinandMr.Chenshookhands.“Iunderstandyou’reinwater,”Mr.Chensaid.HetookMartinovertogetadrinkfromthebartender.“Yourdress is lovely,”Mrs.Chensaidof thesimpleshiftClairehadalsowornto theArbogasts’

party on the Peak that day ages ago, when she first metWill. “I adore white, so fresh.” She seemedsincere.Heronce-prettyfaceremindedClaireofabonychicken,thefleshthinbutsagging.

Theywereperfectlypleasant-idealhosts,entertainingandengaging,introducingthemtoeverysinglepersonwhoarrived,andyetClairefeltmoreandmoreuncomfortableasthenightprogressed.

ShewasseatednexttoaMr.AnsonHo,whooperatedtextilefactoriesinShanghaiandwassettingupnewonesinHongKong.Hemadeitveryclearthatthescalewaslarge,andthattheBritishhadnothingtodowithhissuccess.

“Chineseareveryentrepreneurial,”hekeptsaying.“Wewillfindawaytomakemoneyanywhere.Theoldgovernmentdidnotgiveenoughchancestothelocalpopulation.TheBritishareveryarrogantbuttheyneedtorealizeitisanewagenow.TheChineseinHongKongneedtogovernthemselves.”Hehadared,bulbousnosethatsuggestedtoomanynightsofCognac.Hedrankhiswineroughly,swirlingitaroundinlargecircles,gulpingitdown.Shenoddedandsmiled.

Martinwasseatedawayfromher,andwastalkingtoanattractiveBrazilianwoman.Hehaddrunkafairamountandhisgestureswerebecomingmoreanimated.AroundthetabletheyspokeofRedChina,theKoreas,“Rheeisplayingwithfire,”andwhatwasgoingoninMyanmar.OppositeClairewasBelle,awomanfromAmerica,ajournalist,shesaid,andshedeclaredtheharborinHongKongtobeinferiortotheonesinSydneyandRio.BellesmokedtheatricallyandaskedClaire’sopinionabouttheharbormatterandClairewipedhermouthwithhernapkinandexcusedherselftogotothepowderroom.

There,shefoundMelodyChenwashingherhandsnervously,wringingthemagainandagaininthewater,lookingatherselfinthemirror.ShejumpedwhenClairecamein.Theringrestedonthebasin.

“That’sabeautifulstone,”Clairesaid.“I’veneverseenanythinglikeit.”“IhavetotakeitoffbeforeIwashmyhands,”Melodysaid,dryingherhands.“Emeraldsarevery

fragileandI’mafraidI’lldosomethingtoit.Itkeepsslippingoffmyfingertoo.”Shepickeditupgingerlyandslippeditbackon.“Suchabother!”

“You’velostsuchalotofweight,”Clairesaid.“Areyouallright?”“Fine,yes,fine,”Melodysaid,notmeetinghereye.“Imusttakebettercareofmyself.VictorsaysI

runaroundtoomuch.”Clairedidn’tmovealthoughshewasblockingthewaytothedoor.“Areyouhavingagoodtime?”TheChinesewomansteppedaroundher.“VictorandIweresoglad

youcouldjoinusonsuchshortnotice.We’redelightedwithLocket’sprogress-you’vebeenarealboontohermusicaleducation.”Sheheld thedooropen foramoment.“It’saniceevening, isn’t it?”Thedoorclosedbehindher.

Clairetookoneoftheclothscarefullyfoldedontherestroomshelfandwipedallthemoistureoffthebasin.Itlookedpristineagain.

Whenshereturnedtothetable,peoplewerereminiscingaboutthewarandtheaftermath.“What I found extraordinary,”Melodywas saying, “was how, after thewar, HongKongwas so

friendlythen,andtherewassomuchgoodfeelingtowardallandsundry,andthenwheneveryonestartingcoming across the border, that lasted awhile. But now, of course, if someonemanages to come over,they’renolongergreetedwithsuchenthusiasm.Therearejusttoomanyofthem,andtoomanysadstories.Oursympathyhasatimelimit.YouknowBettyLiuhadsomesixrelativesstayingwithherforayear.ShefinallymanagedtopackthemofftoCanadabutittooksomedoing.Shehadtohirethreemoremaids!”

“Thatmust havemade for a busy ‘Arrivals andDepartures’ column,”Belle said, speaking of themuch-read column in the Post that marked those leaving Hong Kong by aircraft, and those who hadarrivedandwerestayingattheGloucester.

“It’s like the tide, the Chinese come and go from China to Hong Kong depending on what turnshistorytakes,”saidVictor.“Butnothingeverchangestoomuch.”

“Wherewereyou?”BelleaskedMelody.“WereyouherewhentheJapanesewere?”“Oh, no,” she said. “Victor saw what was coming far before it did, and he packed me off to

Californiatostaywithmycollegeroom-mate,wholivesinBelAir.Iwaspregnantatthetime.”“Verycleverofhim,”Bellesaid.“Buthe’salwaysbeenclever.”Everyoneseemedtohavehistory,asiftheyhadallgrownuptogether,althoughtheyhailedfromall

cornersoftheworld.Theirlanguagewasthesame.“Yes, I’mvery lucky,”Melodysaid.“Victorhasalways thoughtahead.”Her facewasstillasshe

saidit.Therewasaslightpause.“Well!”saidVictor.“Myprescientselfthinksweshouldplaygames.Isn’tthatwhatyouEnglishlove

todoatdinnerparties?”HedirectedthisquestiontoClaire.“I’malwaysbeingforcedtoplaycharadesandactlikeahorse.Forsomereason,that’sviewedasentertainmentbyyourcountrymen.”

Claire opened hermouth but nothing came out. Everyonewaited for her rejoinder.All she couldthink of, absurdly, was the phrase “The Communists are coming, the Communists are coming.” It ranthroughhermindlikeajauntylittleditty.

“Youshouldbeonetotalk,Victor,”Bellesaidfinally,rescuingher.“I’veseenyoucrackamonkey’sheadopenandeatthebrains,andthinkthat’safinewaytospendtheevening.”

“Wellsaid!”saidaFrenchman.“Gooddefenseisalwaysagoodoffense!”Astheconversationdriftedon,successfullydefusedbytheothers,Clairesatquietly,tryingtotamp

down the flush of pure panic that had enveloped her when everyone’s attention had beenmercilesslyfocusedonherforthatbriefmoment.Shewisheddesperatelyfortheeveningtobeover,evenasshefeltMelodyChen’seyes,notunsympathetic,onher,andmanagedawansmile.

When she andMartin returned home, he garrulous with wine, she silent, they went to bed uponwashingupandchangingintotheirnightclothes.

“Didyoufindtherewerealotofawkwardmomentstonight?”sheasked.“Ididn’tnotice,no,”hesaid.Shewanted to beat him then, for his dumb, unknowing nature, beat himwith her fists against his

stolid,ignorantchest.Helaidaquestioninghandonhershoulder.Sheturnedawayandhefellquiet.“Claire,”hestarted.“Martin,I’mexhausted.”Shecuthimoff.“Please.”Hewas silent. Then he settled into the sheets and pulled up the blanket. After a pause, a gentle

“Goodnight,dear.”Shedidn’tknowwhomshehatedmoreatthatinstant:Martinorherself.

ThenextdayshetoldWillaboutthering,howbeautifulitwas.Astrangelookcameoverhisface.“Itisunforgettable,”hesaid.“I’veseenitbefore.”

“Areemeraldsverycostly?”“Somemightsaythatoneiswithoutprice,”hesaid.“Youknowthatparticularring?Hasshehaditlong?”Helaughed,ashort,violentlaugh.“Youwomenandyourbaubles.Allthesame.”Andherefusedtobedrawnoutfurther.“IwasatEdwinaStorch’sforlunchtheotherday,”shetoldhimfinally.“Doyouknowher?”Ashadowpassedoverhisface.Theywerelyinginbedtogether.

“I’veknownher for awhile.She’sbeen in the colony just about longer than anybodyelse.She’spleasantenough,Isuppose,althoughshemanagedtokeepherselfoutofStanleyduringthewarunderverymurkycircumstances.Asurvivor,tobesure.”Hepaused.

“Didyouenjoyyourself?Thedinatthesehenpartiesmustbeasloudasblazeswhatwitheveryonechatteringawayabouttheirlatestfrock.”

“Isthatwhatyouthinkwedo?Talkaboutdressesandhowtomakepreserves?”“Isn’tit?”“I’llhaveyouknow,”shesaid,“wehaveveryseriousdiscussionsaboutpoliticsandreparationsfor

war.”“And amahs,” he said, biting her shoulder. “Andwhere to find the best leg of lamb, and how to

entertainyour…”Shecoveredhismouthwithhers.“Doshutup,darling,”shesaid,thrillingtothenotionofbeingawomanwhowouldsaysuchathing.Afterward,sheturnedtohim.“Therewassomethinginteresting.Someonesaidtheyweregoingtobediggingupallthepeoplewho

hadcollaboratedwiththeJapaneseduringthewarandprosecutingthem.Doyouknowanyonewhodidsuchathing?”

“Whatisitwithyoutoday?”heasked.“IfeellikeI’mbeinginterrogated.Wheredoesthissuddencuriosityabouteverythingcomefrom?”

“Don’tbesilly,” shesaid.“I justwant toknow.Theysaywardoesawful things topeople,and Iwantedtoknowifyouknewanyonewhohadreallydoneterriblethingsandgotawaywithit.”

“No,”hesaid.“Idon’t,andI’mgladofit.”“Mustbeawfultolivewithsecretslikethat.”“Itmustbe,”hesaid.“Iimagineyou’dwanttodiesometimes.”Hepaused.“Isay,Idon’tknowif

youwouldagreebutIneedtogotoMacautotakecareofafewmatters.Wouldyouthinkaboutgoingwithme?Doyouthinkyoucouldmakeupanexcusetogetoutforanight?”

ThisWill,suddenlyshy,touchedher.Itwassorareheaskedsomethingofher.Hewasusuallynotverykindtoher.

Clairecouldn’trestthenightbeforethetriptoMacau.Shehadcoastedontheedgeofsleepformostofthenight,andwhenshefinallygotoutofbed,shefeltlight-headedandsilverywithexhaustion.ShehadtoldMartintheLadies’Auxiliarywasgoingbird-watchingintheNewTerritoriesandmakingatripoutofitatamember’sweekendhouseoutinSaiKung.

WhenshemetWillattheterminus,shefelthimlookatherandimaginedhefoundhersallow.Whenhewasn’tlooking,shepinchedhercheeksandbitherlipstobringthecolorback.

Theywalked to the pierwhere the ferrywould take them toMacau.Therewas a crowd formingaroundtheentrance.Policemenwerestandingaround,preventingpeoplefromentering.Willwenttoaskwhatwasgoingon.HecamebackwhileClairewaitedbytheticketoffice,nervousthatshewouldseesomeonesheknew.

“Veryunfortunate.Amanhasjumpedoffthepier.Apparentlyhehadjustlosthisjobasacook.He’sbeingtakentothehospitalnow,buthe’sdead.”

“Howawful.”“Yes.It’sallgettingclearedupnow,andthey’llberesumingtheservice.”The sea was green and brackish. When she stepped onto the gangplank, she could see rubbish

floating on the water below. Someone died there today, she thought, and could not reconcile themomentousthoughtwiththedirtysurfacethathadpaperwrappersandorangepeelfloatingonit.

Once on the boat, hermotion sickness and nervous apprehensionmerged andmade her unable to

speak.Shesat, trying tofocusononespoton thefarawayhorizon.Twoweatheredmeninsingletsandgrimy trousers clambered around the deck, winding and unwinding the thick sea rope around variousposts,andpushedtheboatoffthedock,chatteringloudlyallthewhile.Theirskinhadthetextureofbrownleatherandtheirteethwereyellowandcrackedastheyspoke.

Around themwere locals, a couplewith a baby, thewoman exhausted-looking, the babywailing.Claire’sstomachflippedandshelookedaway.Thebabycriedonandon,sickenedbythewaves.Amandressedinanundershirtreadanewspaper.ThefrontpagecarriedaphotooftwoEnglishsapperswhohad been lately much in the news for murdering a local woman. They had been sentenced to deathyesterday,thefirstEuropeanssincethewartogetsuchapunishment.

“Theirfacesaresoyoung,”shesaidtoWill.“They’regettingwhattheydeserve,”hesaid.“Toomuchtheoldattitude.Theythinktheycantreat

thelocalslikeanimals.It’sadifferentworldnow.”“Thewomanwasanamahatthebarracks.”Clairewasnotsureifshemeantitasinnocentlyasshe

saidit.ShehadbeenaroundWillenoughtoknowitwasthrowingsomethingdown.“And?”Willsaid.Itwasthefirsttimehehadbeensharpwithher.Later,hetoldherastory.Afamilyhadhadtheiramahfollowthemwhiletheywerebeinginterned

duringthewar.ShewastobringthemextrafoodandsupplieswhenevershecouldtoStanleycamp,whichshedid,inalargepicnicbasket.Shehadbeenwiththemforsixteenyears,fromwhenshewasayounggirl,andthefamilyhadbeenverykindtoher,so,whentheywereinternedshewasdeterminedtoshowthemherloyalty.Theamahbroughtfoodfaithfully,everyweek,untiloneweekshehadnotappeared.Thedayafter shewas tohavecome, the family received the samepicnicbasket. Insidewasa smallhand,wrappedindirtytowels.“Theythoughtitafunnyjoke.Ofcourse,”hesaid,“thetrulysadisticJapanesewere theexception,but theywereallwecould thinkaboutandallweeverremember.Weneverknewwhathappened,whether shehadoffendedsomeoneordonesomethingwrongorwas just in thewrongplaceatthewrongtime.”

Thestorywashisapology.Sheknewhedidn’toweherone.Thiswashowsheknewhisaffection.AtMacauStationtherewasaportraitof thegovernor,CommodoreEsparteiro,withmustacheand

whitehat,waitingtogreetthevisitors.“Helooksverydistinguished,”Clairesaid.Theysteppedoutsidepassportcontroltoinstantchaos.Clamoringmenpressedupagainstthesteel

fences,wavingtheirhands,shouting.“Taxi,taxi.”“Car,car,driveyou.”WillwentofftothesideandnegotiatedwithonequicklyinCantonese.Whenhespokethelanguage

ofthelocals,theunfamiliarsoundscomingfromhisfamiliarmouth,shefeltherinsidestighten,somethingmore than desire. The driver looked at her, understood instantly. He leered, showing brown, chippedteeth. She looked away and let Will put his arm over her, he instinctively knowing what had justtranspired.

“Let’sgonow,”shesaid,gratefulforhisprotection.“Almostdone,”hesaid,andfinishedupthebargaining.Inthetaxi,theairwasthickanditwasunbearablyhot.Willrolleddownthewindows.Asthecar

pickedupspeed,thewindwasfilledwithparticlesthathitherface,butitseemedchurlishtocomplainatthis,thebeginningoftheirromanticescapade.

HereIam,shethought,awomanonanillicitholidayintheFarEastwithherlover.Shelookedoutatthepeopleonthestreet.Theydidn’tknow.Hersecretwassafewiththem,theirblankOrientalfaces,theirbusylivesunencumberedwithhertransgressions.

TheygotoutofthetaxiattheHotelLusitania,offtheLargodoSenado.“Thisisthecenteroftown,”Willsaid.“AndthatoverthereisSaoPaolo,thewhitestonefaçadeof

anoldJesuitchurch.It’sjustthefrontthat’sleft.”“Wasitthewar?”“No,a fire in the1800s.We’llgo there later.Youcanstill seeall the reliefsandcarvings.Quite

beautiful.”Thelobbywasshabbybutgrand.Willseemedtoknowhiswayaround.“Haveyoubeenhereoften?”“Iusedtocomeafairamount,”hesaid.“Butnotintherecentpast.”Theywereshownuptotheir

roombyaChinesebellboy,andwhen thedoorclosedbehindhim, they lookedateachother, shyonceagain.

“Youlookdifferenthere,”shesaid.“Yes,”hesaid.Inthewaninglightoftheday,sunstreakingthroughthedustywindow,theyreacquaintedthemselves

witheachother,theirdisplacedbodiessomehownew,somehowmorethrilling.Afterward he said, “It’s almost like we’re an oldmarried couple, coming away to a new place

together.”“It’snice,”shesaid.Histendernesswasnewanditunnervedher.“Itis.”“Whatisityouhavetodohere?”sheasked.“Ihavetopaymyrespectstosomeone,”hesaid.“AmItocome?”“Ifyouwish.”Hetwirledherhairaroundhisfingers.“Itdoesn’tmatter.”

***

They took a taxi to a cemetery.Will paid the driver and got out. Paint peeled off a dilapidated,vacantguardhouse.AlargetinsignwithgarishredChinesecharactersteeteredprecariouslyaboveit.

“Acemetery!”shesaid.“Youknowhowtotreatagirlonholiday.”“DoyouknowanythingabouthowtheChineseburytheirdead?”hesaid,ignoringher.“No,”shesaid.“Isitverydifferentfromourway?”“Yes.”Heconsultedamaponthewallandtracedhisfingeralongaroute.“Herewego.”Theairseemedthickerhere.Clairedidn’twanttobreathein,forfearthattheessencesofthedead

wouldenterintoher.ShehadgrownmoresuperstitiousdespiteherselfduringhertimeinHongKong.Inthe cemetery, there were tombstones-smallish gray stones with English and Chinese charactersinterspersed-andpathsintricatelyintercutamongthegraves,withroughstonestepsleadingupahill.

Shereadthetombstonesastheypassed.“‘HereliesWilliamWalpole,brotherofHenry.’Nootherfamily,Isuppose.Hediedin1936atthe

ageofforty-three.Andthisone,‘MargaretPotter,beloved.’Ilikethatone.IthinkIwouldwantsomethingsimpleonmytombstone,don’tyou?”

Willspokeasifshehadnotsaidanything.“Itwasverydifficultafterthewar,youknow,tocatalogthedead.Forthemostpart,theydidmass

graves.Butitwasveryhardonthefamilies.Nothavingthebodyoftheirlovedonestobury.”“Theceremonyiswhatcomforts,alittle,atleast,Iwouldthink.”“Yes,theseritualscameaboutforareason.Peopleneedsomethingtofocuson,tofocustheirgrief

on,andtokeepbusy.Allovertheworld,ritualsarepartofdeath.Itmakesyouhopefulforhumans,that

theyhavesomethingincommon.”“Incivilizedtimes,”Clairesaid.“Peoplearedifferentwhenlivesareatstake,notdeath.”Willlookedup,surprised.“Yes,”hesaid.“Incivilizedtimes.Atothertimes,allbetsareoff.”Hegrinned.“Mysavagemistress,”hesaid.“Youaremagnificenttoday.”“CanIaskwhatwe’relookingfor?”“Anoldfriend,”hesaid.

Theystoppedatthetop.“Chinese like theirgraveyards tobebuiltonhills.They think it’smoreauspicious, andbeing the

class-conscioussocietytheyare,theyareconsistentevenindeath:thetopoftheheapisstillthetopoftheheap,asitwere.”

Thegravestoneshadgivenwaytosmallstructures,somequiteelaborate,withturretsandgatesandcarveddoors,resemblingsmallresidencesortemples.Somehadporcelainurnsunderneath.

“Dothosecontainashesorbones?”sheasked.“Bones,”Willsaid.“Theskullislaidontop.”Hewaslookingcarefullyateachlittlehouseashepassed.Suddenlyhestopped.“Herewego,”hesaid.Itwaswhitewashedstucco,withawoodendoorthathadanironknockerintheshapeofadragon.

AbovethedoorwasasignwithgoldChinesecharacters.“Wedidn’tbringanything,”Clairesaid.“We’renotheretogive,”Willsaid.“We’reheretotake.”Hepushedthedooropenandstoodoutside.Heseemedtobewaitingforsomething.“Will!”Clairesaid,scandalized.“You’redisturbingthedead!”“I’mquietingthem,”hesaid,andwentinside.

May12,1953WHATSHEREMEMBERED later ofMacauwas vague.The heat, of course, a goodPortuguese

restaurant with wooden benches and crumbling plaster walls, hot, crusty bread, carafes of red wine,somethingcalledAfricanchicken,and thedan taat, theglossyyellowegg tarts. “Yousaypataca, I saypotato,”hesangtoher,changedinthislittlecolony.Thecemetery,comingbacktothehotel,andWillonedge throughout.The interior of the little shrine hadbeen cool anddark, butwith the pungent odor ofincense.Theyhadknockedupflurriesofdustwhentheyentered.

“ThisiswhereDominickis,”hehadsaid.“WhoisDominick?”“Amanwhowas,Ithink,misunderstood.Notleastofallbyme.Atleast,that’swhatIthinkwhenI

ambeingmymostcharitableself.Butasadstory.Intheend,hisfamilydidn’twantanythingtodowithhim,andsoheisburiedherebyhimself,notwithhisfamilyinHongKong.Hewasn’tfromMacaubutthisiswhereheendedup.Anunwillingexile.”

“Didhedieduringthewar?”“Somethinglikethat.Maybebecauseofthewar?”Willraisedhisvoiceinaquestion.“Whoknows.

Itwasn’tthatsimple.”Heranhisfingersalongthedustyaltar.“In the end, it doesn’t matter though, does it. Here he lies, and all he’s done and all he did is

forgottenbymost.”Thenhespatonthecoffin.

Hehad takensomething from the littlemausoleum,somethingheput inhispocket socasually shedarednotaskwhatitwas.Butafterthat,theydidnothingelseunusual:theyategoodmeals,nappedaftertiffin,hadchampagneatthehotelbar,walkedaroundandlookedatMacau,sosheassumedthatwaswhathe had come for.He reverted to his old sarcastic self.They cameback toHongKong and he did notmentionwhathadhappenedatthecemeteryagain.

May13,1953SHEWENTtotheChens’thenextweekandfoundLocketmissing.“She gone somewhere!” cried one of the servants. “Don’t know!” But the girl didn’t seem very

concerned.Shesatintheroomforhalfanhourbeforegoingtothepowderroom.Asshewashedherhands,she

sawMelodyChen through the sheercurtain.Shewas sittingoutside in thegarden,writinga letter andweeping.Quietly,Clairegatheredherthingsandleft.

Thenextweek,YuLingbroughtthenewspapertothebreakfasttable.Themainstoryofthedaywasthequeen’slist.VictorTsingYeeChen.

“Look,Martin,”shesaid.“VictorChen’sgothimselfanOBE.”“Really?”Martinsaid,impressed.“They’renothandingthoseoutbytheboatload.”“Yes, and it has his history.” She scanned the column. “Did you know his grandfather was

instrumentalinopeninguptradebetweenChinaandtheworld?”“Well,you’llhavetogivehimmycongratulationswhenyougototheirhouse.Istodayyourlesson

day?”“ItisbutIrarelyseehim,”shesaid.“There’susuallynooneinthehouseexceptthechildandthe

servants.”“Well,I’msureit’saprouddayforhim.”“Ineverknewtheygavesuchthingstoforeigners,”shesaid.

ButwhenshewenttotheChens’,sheendeduplosinghertemperwithLocket.Ithadbeenaterriblelesson.

“Locket, if youdon’t practice, youwill never improve,” she said as she stoodup andputonherjacket. Her head was throbbing from the atonal pounding Locket had produced. There had been longsilencesasLocketstrainedtoreadthenotesshehadclearlynotlookedatsincethelastlesson.

“Yes,Mrs.Pendleton,”Locketsaidasshepushedbackfromthepiano.“Andit’sawasteofmytimeandyoursforyoutohavealessonandthennottouchthepianountilthe

nextlesson.”Locketgiggled and coveredhermouth.Shehad the irritatingOriental habit of laughingnervously

wheninuncomfortablesituations.“Idon’tknowifit’sworthittoteachyou.”Clairewasgettingmoreandmoreagitated.Thegirlhad

stumbled over the simplest exercises and had no instinctive ability to read music. And she with aSteinway!

“I’msorry,Mrs.Pendleton.”Locketwasalreadybythedoor.“Andit’sextremelyrudeforyoutostandbythedoorasifyouarewaitingformetoleave.”VictorChenpokedhisheadin.“What’sgoingonhere?”Hisvoicewasnotfriendly.“Ihaven’tbeenpracticing,Baba,”saidLocket.“AndMrs.PendletonwastellingmeIshould.”“Butwhatwasthetalkaboutmanners?”Claire’smouthopenedbutnothingcameout.“Mrs.Pendletonsaiditisrudeformetostandbythedoor,”Locketsaid.“Shedid,didshe?”HelookedatClaire.“Youthinkit’srudeforLockettostandbythedoor?”“Ido,”shesaidfinally.“IfeelasifI’mbeingrushedoutthedoor.”“Locket,youcangotoyourroomnow.I’msureyouhavestudyingtodo,”hesaidwithoutlookingat

thegirl.Sheduckedoutgratefully.“Didyouenjoyyourselfatdinner theothernight?”hesaidfromthedoorway,aproposofnothing.

“Thecompanywasgood?”Shenodded.Thensheremembered.“Congratulations,”shesaid.“OntheOBE.Yourfamilymustbeveryproud.”VictorChenwalkedright intotheroomandupnext toClaireas ifhehadn’theardher.Heputhis

headclosetoClaire’s,asifhewereabouttotellherasecret.Sheflinchedevenbeforehespoke.“Ihearyou’respendingtimewithTruesdale,”hewhispered.Heputhishandbehindherheadand

drewitcloser,gently,intimately.“Isitlove?”Theviolenceinhisvoicewaspalpable.Shestartedback,stumblingalittleontheedgeofthecarpet,

andthengrabbedblindlyatherbag.“Dogivehimmyregards,”Victorcalled,asshebackedoutoftheroom.“Andbesuretoaskhimif

he’sgoingtocomebacktoworkanytimesoon.Wehaven’tseenhimlately.”Sheranoutoftheroomandoutthedoor,intothesuddenheat.“And ask him about Trudy!”VictorChen’s voice filled the hallways of his house. “I’m sure you

shouldknowaboutthat.”Helaughed,aloud,bittergasp.Shewalkedquicklydownthepath,pastherbusstop,pasttheotherbuildings,inapanic.Herhead

wasfilledwithahot,whitesoundthatslowlydiminishedasshegotfartheraway.Almostimperceptibly,the sounds of the day, cars passing by, the occasional bird cry, began to filter through again and sheslowedherpace.Shewasdrenchedinperspirationandherblousewasstucktoherback.Shepulleditlooseandtriedtoairoutherbody.Theheatroaredupherbackandexplodedinherhead.

“Claire?”Thevoicecamefromadistance.“Claire?”“Will?”shesaid,strugglingthroughthedark.“It’sMartin,”saidherhusband.“Who’sWill?”“Martin,”shesaid.“WhereamI?”Itwasnowtoobrighttosee.Herheadthrobbedfromthesudden

changefromblacktowhite.“You’rehomenow.TheChens’amahfoundyouonthestreetandbroughtyouhome.YuLingcalled

meattheoffice.Youwokeup,hadsomewater,andwentbacktosleep.”“DidIfaint?”“Musthave.Howdoyoufeel?You’rewhiteasaghost.”Sheshuthereyes.“Awful.”Sheremembered.“Oh!Victor…”shestarted,thenshuthermouth.“VictorChen?”askedMartin.“…wassokind,”shesaid.“Isawhimattheendofthelesson.”“Well,that’sgood,then,”Martinsaid.Thenheremembered.“Didyoucongratulatehim?”“Iforgot,”shesaid.“Ijustsawhimamoment.”“Oh.”Hepaused.“Well,I’llletyougetsomerest.Doyouwantanything?”“No,Ishouldbefine.Justneedamoment.”“Thethingis…”Helingered.“There’sthisproject…”“Go,”shesaid.“Nogoodyouhangingaroundhere.I’mfeelingbetteralready.”Hepressedhislipsonherforehead.“Darling,”hesaid,andleft.

Thenextday,MelodyChenrangasClairewasabouttoleavethehouse.“I heard you fainted outside our house,” she said. “I justwanted to call tomake sure you’re all

right.”“That’sverykind,”Clairesaid.Thenshedidn’tknowwhatelsetosay.“So,iseverythingallright?”Melodyrepeated.“Oh,yes,”shesaid.“Sorry.Ididn’t…”shetrailedoff.SherememberedVictorChen’sbreathhoton

herface.SherememberedseeingMelodyweepingthroughthewindowofthepowderroom.“Andyou’refeelingbetternow?”Melodyaskedintothesilence.“Yes.”Clairerememberedthedinner.“Andthankyousomuchforinvitingustothedinner.Wehada

verynicetime.”“Oh, of course.”MelodyChen clearly had no ideawhat shewas talking about. She had already

forgottenaboutthedinner.“I’msopleased.”TheconversationhadstartedandstoppedsomanytimesClairefeltdisoriented.“Well,thankyouverymuchforcalling.It’sverykind.Iwasjustonmywayoutthedoor…”“Ofcourse,”Melodysaid.“I’mgladyou’refeelingbetter.”

ShewasmeetingWillatthebotanicalgardensaboveCentral,asteep,windingmazeoftropicalfloraandanimals.Shehadcalledhimforanemergencyrendezvous,buthehadsoundedquiteunconcernedwithherurgency.

“IjusthadacallfromMelodyChen,”shesaidwhenshesawhimwaitingforheronthecorner.“Hellotoyoutoo.”Hesnakedanarmaroundherandkissedherhardonthemouth.Possessive.She

lookedaroundinstinctively.Theanimalslazedinsidetheircages,toohottomove.“Themonkeysdon’tknowyou’remarried,”hesaid.Sometimesshehatedhisnonchalance.“MelodyChencalledme,”sherepeated.“SomethingwithlittleLocket?AsituationwiththeSteinway?”heasked,notreallyinterested.“Somethinglikethat,”shesaid.Suddenly,shewasafraidofwhatWillwoulddoifhefoundoutwhat

VictorChenhadsaidtoher.Ormaybeshewasafraidofwhathewouldnotdo.“Let’sgoback tomyplace,”hesaid lazily, turningaway,sureshewouldfollow.Andher insides

folded,likealways,asshedidexactlythat.

***

Thesoundofwatersplashing,Willhummingasonginthetub,thedoorslightlyajar,ahumidmilky-sweetfragranceescapingthebathroom.Clairesatathisdesk,heartpounding.Sheopenedthedrawertohisdeskquietly.Abankbook.Sheopenedit-amodestbalance.Someletters,tiedtogetherwithredpostalstring, with names and addresses she did not recognize. London postmarks, scribbly writing. Somestamps,apen,abookofmatchesfromtheGripps.Andthen,aphotograph.Fourpeople,ineveningdress,laughing,withcigarettesanddrinks inhand,ataparty:apictureofprivilege.Will,MelodyChen,andanother man and woman, both Asian or Eurasian,Will the only European. The woman who was notMelody (Trudy?)was very striking; she dominated the photograph, although shewas slight, in a slim,shortdress,withhervivid faceandshort, simplehair thatsomehowemphasizedher femininity. Itwashardtotellwhowaswithwhom;theyallwerelinkedtogetherfamiliarly.ClairetracedWill’sfacewithherfinger.Helookedsoboyish,soinnocent,hisfaceallsmoothcheekandbrighteyesabovehisdinnerjacket,bowtieloosenedandhanging.

Willcameintotheroom,wrappedinatowel,rubbinghisheadwithanother.Hestoppedwhenhe

sawherinfrontoftheopendrawer.“Whatareyoudoingrummagingthroughmythings?”hesaid.Shecouldn’treadhistone.Shedecidedtobeunapologetic.“What’sthis?”Sheheldupthephotograph.“Apicture,”hesaid.“Icanseethat.It’sofyouandMelodyandsomeotherpeople.”“Yes,”hesaid.“Itis.”“Did you used to see her socially? Who are the others?” She tried hard to make her tone

conversational.“Sometimes,Claire,youcanbesoprovincial.”Heletoutanexasperatedwhistle.“Butyes,I’llsay

itforyou.IusedtoseeMelodyatparties,notjustinthebackseatofthecarIdrive.”“Butit’ssostrange,”Clairesaid.“Whathappened?”“Doyoufeelmyfallinsocialstatus?Doesitbotheryou?”hesaid.Hewasmockingher,mean.“Ijustwanttoknowaboutyou!”shecried.“Whymustyoumakeeverythingsougly?”“There’salotthere,Claire,”hesaid.“Youdon’twanttoknow.”“Howcanyoubesosure?”“Claire,”hesaid.“JuststicktopilferingfromtheChensandleavethelargerstuffbe.”Shefeltimmolatedfromwithin.Herfacestungwithablushthatrosesoquicklyshefeltalmostfaint.

Shehadn’tbeensurehehadknown.Shehadstoppedthestealinglongagobutheknewhowtoturntheknife.Sheslappedhim,hard.Hedidn’tmove.Asshegotherclothesonandleft,hestoodstill,watchingher.Thesilencebetweenthemwassolongitwaxedandwanedinitsintensity,andthenfeltridiculous.Theotherquestions-Who is theotherwoman?WhydoesVictorChencare?-sobig shecouldnotbringherselftoaskthem.Sheclosedthedoorbehindherquietly.Slammingitwouldhaveseemedchildish.Shehatedhim,didshenot?

On the street, she didn’t knowwhere to go. She hailed a taxi to go into town. Itwas still brightdaylight,andinCentral,everyoneseemedtohaveapurposetotheirwalk.ShegotoutonQueen’sRoadandwanderedamongtheframeshopsandjewelrystores.Shestoppedinfrontofawindow.Thedisplayglittered out at her, necklaces and rings and bracelets, even a small diamond tiara.TheChinesewerequite showy with their jewels. In the reflection from the glass, her face floated in front of her, anEnglishwoman,attractivebutwan.Someonewhoseloverhadjustbeencruel,someonewhodidn’tknowwhattodoaboutit.Shetriedtopositionherfacesothatadiamondnecklacewouldbereflectedaroundherneck.Shecrouched,tomakeittherightheight.

Thenshestoodup,straightenedherblouse,andwalkedtotheStarFerry,whereshewouldwaitforthebusthatwouldtakeherhometoMartin.

May20,1953WHENCLAIREWENTtotheChens’thenextThursday,shenotedadriversleepingonabenchin

the garden, newspaper over his head, the maids chattering gaily as they washed the windows, andbreathedasighofreliefthatVictorChenwasapparentlynotathome.

“Misseeallright?Falldown!”themaidwhohadansweredthedoorasked.“Yes,thankyouverymuch.”Shenoticedforthefirsttimehowthisservanthadagenerousface,with

bright,wideeyesandapleasantmouth.“It’sverykindofyoutoask.”Thewomansmileduncertainlyandledhertothepianoroom,whereLocketwaswaiting.“Iheardyouhadanaccidentlastweek,Mrs.Pendleton.Areyouallright?”Locketwasleaningover

atrayofbiscuits,crumblingoneintohermouth.“Wouldyoulikesomelemonade?”“That’s very kindof you,Locket. I am feelingmuchbetter, thankyou.”The little girlwas finally

learningsomemanners,shethought.“Mummysaidyoumustbeexpecting!”Locketgiggled.“AndDaddylaughedandlaughed.”Claire’sbackstiffened.“Locket,haveyoupracticed?”shesaid,withfrostinhervoice.Locketlookedup,startledatthesuddenchange.“IhadarehearsalonMondayforTheMikado…”shestarted.“Nevermind,”Clairesaid.“Let’sjustbegin.”

After the lesson,MelodyChencameby theroomandaskedClaire tostayforacupof tea to talkaboutLocket’sprogress.ShewalkedClaire to the livingroomandexcusedherself togoseeabout themaids.

TheChenshadamantelfullofphotographs,insilverframes.VeryEnglish,Clairehadthoughtwhenshefirstsawthem,except thephotographswerefilledwithOrientals.Shegotup to lookat themmoreclosely.MostlyVictorandMelody,withvariousfamilymembersandolderpeople,afewofLocketbyherself,andthenawoman,inaswimsuitatthebeach,holdingacigaretteandstickinghertongueoutatthecamera.Itlookedlikeapictureoutofafashionmagazine,andasClairepeeredclosershegotashockasshe realized it was the same woman in the photograph withWill andMelody at his house. She wasEurasian,whippet-thin, very glamorous,with a flowered bathing cap.Her face stuck out, angular andattractive.

“That’smycousinTrudy,”saidMelody,comingupfrombehindwithasmallglassofwater.“She’sverybeautiful,”saidClaire,carefulnottosoundtooeager.“Not beautiful,”Melody said immediately. “Not beautiful. Shewas half-Portuguese, so Eurasian,

you know, and theEuropeans always found her attractive.ButChinese don’t like half-breeds, really.”Clairenotedthecasualslur,wassurprisedbyit.Melodywasusuallysorefined.

“Buteveryone,absolutelyeveryone,noticedher.ShewasveryfamousinHongKongduringherday.Somemightsayinfamous.Shebroughtherterriertoadinnerpartyonceashercompanion.Hadhiminabowtie.Shesathimataseatandeverything,untilheurinatedonit.LivyWongwaslivid!”

“Well,shelookslikesheknowshowtohaveagoodtime.”“Yes,Ialwaysthinkthatifshewerestillaround,she’dbethefirstwomaninthecolonytoweara

bikini,andshe’dwearittoapicnicatthegovernor’shouseorsomethingwildlyinappropriatelikethat.Shewasthattypeofgirl.Scandalous,butshegotawaywithitusually.Fearless.”

“Isshenot?”Claireaskeddelicately.“Aroundanymore,Imean.”Melodylookedaway,sippedatherglass,madeagrimace.“No,notanymore.Shewasacasualtyofwar,Iguessyouwouldsay.”

“It’s difficult to believe,”Claire said, looking at the photograph. “She looks like shewas full oflife.”

“Almost to bursting,” Melody said. “Her father was my father’s cousin, so she was my secondcousin.”

“Wereyouclose?”“Oh,inaway,”Melodysaid.“Ithinksheprobablyfoundmequiteboring.Wewereverydifferent.

Andwehada lotofcousins runningaroundHongKong.We’reabigfamily.Shewasclose toanothercousinofours-Dominick-buthediedduring thewar too. Iwouldsay theywere likebest friends.Theywerequitewell-known,thetwoofthem.TheTerribleTwo.”

“And…”Clairedidn’tknowwheretobegin.Butitdidn’tmatter.MelodyChenwasinthemoodtotalk.

“Andshegavemethisbeautifulemeraldring,onethatIalwayswearonspecialoccasionsbecauseit’ssospectacular.”Shestretchedoutherhandasifshehaditon.

“Isawit,atthedinnerpartyyouhad.It’sreallysomething.Thatwasverygenerousofher.”“Iliketohavesomethingtorememberherby,”saidMelody.“Isn’tthatwhatfamily’sallabout?”The

servantscameinwithasilversalverofdrinks.“Tea?”“Yes,please,withlotsofmilk.”Melodymadeheracup,butdidn’thaveanyherself.Shesippedathersmallglass.“Victortreatsmelikesomefragileflower,”shesaidsuddenly.“ButI’mnotasweakashethinksI

am.Youknow,he shippedmeoff toCalifornia. I kept askinghimquestions. I think Iwas irritating tohim.”

“I’msureyouwerenosuchthing,”saidClaire.“AndIcameback,andeverythinghadchanged,”shesaidfaintly.Theafternoonstretchedon,withMelodyChentalkingincircles,seemingasifshehadallthetimein

theworldtochatwithherdaughter’spianoteacher.ShehadnotmentionedLocketorherprogress,evenonce.

“Have you ever thought back about someonewhodied?”Melody asked. “How itwaswhen theywerealive.Sometimes,whenI thinkaboutTrudyandDominick, I feel likeIsawablackspothangingovertheirheads,asiftheyweremarkedandIjustcouldn’tfullyseeitatthetime.Ifeelliketheyweredoomedfromthebeginning,thattheyhadthisspecterhangingoverthem.”Melodystopped,andhereyesbecameglossy,wet.

“Istillcan’tbelieveTrudy’sdead.HerfathermarriedaPortuguesewoman,andshewassopeculiar.DoyouknowshedisappearedwhenTrudywasachild?TheyputitoutthatitwasanabductionbutmymotheralwaysthoughtshegottiredofthewholethingandjustgotonaboatforAmerica.

“Herfatherwasrelatedtomyfamily.Whoknewhewouldhavesuchaheadforbusiness?Ithinkhedidbetterthananyone,actually.”

“Ishestillalive?”Claireasked.“Ofcoursenot,”Melodysaid.“Hediedalongwithalltheotherwretcheddetritusofthewar,those

whowerenotontherightsideofthings,whorefusedtoplayalong.”Clairenodded.“Soyoudohavesomeoneclosewhodied?”Melodyaskedagain.“Iknowit’sasillyquestionafter

thewar,butstill,somehaven’tbeentouched.Somewerelucky.”“Yes,”saidClaire.“Notanybodyclosethough.”Anuncle,metonce,apictureofhimathereighth

birthdayparty.Variousacquaintancesduring thewar.Theclosesthadbeenagirl fromprimaryschool,whohadgoneonholidaytoWalesanddrowned.Theschoolhadgiveneveryonethedayoff,andwhenthestudentscameback,manyhadblackribbonstiedaroundtheirarms.Clairehadnotknowntodothat,and

shehadfeltexcluded,asifeveryonehadknownsomethingshehadnotbeenprivyto.“DoyouknowReggieandReginaArbogast?”askedMelody,switchingsubjectsagain.“I’vebeentotheirhousebutIwouldn’tsayIknowthem,”saidClaire.Shewasjusttryingtokeepup

withtheodd,meanderingconversation.“They’re having a coronation party. They’re having two actually. The first is a bit smaller,more

intimate,andthey’relisteningtothecoronationontheradio.Thenthey’rehavingthereelsflowninfromEngland,andthey’regoingtohaveatelevision-watchingpartyforalargergroup.Ithinkthatoneismoreofacocktailparty.Itshouldbefun.Doyouhaveplansforthecoronation?”

“Notasofyet,”Clairesaid.“I’mputtingsomethingtogethersoyouandWillmustcome,”Melodysaidsuddenly.“YoumeanMartin,”saidClaire,takenaback.“Ofcourse,”Melodysaidsmoothly.“Sosorry.”“Ofcourse,”repeatedClaire.Melody seemed to be waiting for something else. The afternoon light had dissipated and Claire

could no longer see the motes of dust floating on the rays of sunlight that had streamed through thewindow.

“I think it’s late,” she said. It had been the oddest, most disjointed afternoon she had everexperienced.“Ishouldbegoing.”

Atthatmoment,Willcamethroughthedoor.“You!”Melodycalled tohim inawaveringvoice. “You’re stirringeverythingup!”Her tonewas

light, but for the first time, Claire understood, the knowledge blooming in her head like a rapidlyspreadinginkstain:TheChenswereafraidofWill.Theyhadtakenhimontokeephimclose,hadpaidhimmoneyforajobhedidn’tdo,becausetheyhadnochoice.Shesawherloverthroughanewlens.Hewasthebenevolentone.Hewasthedispenseroftheirdestiny.

“IneedtoseeVictor,”hesaid,withoutacknowledgingClaire.“He’snothere,”Melodysaid.“Isheexpectedbacksoon?”“Don’tpatronizeme,Will,”Melodysaidabruptly.“We’veknowneachotherlongenough.”“Youhavenothingtodowiththis,Mrs.Chen.”“Oh, stop the charade,Will,”Melody cried. “TheMrs. and theMr. and the Sir, and the ‘Where

wouldyouliketogotoday?’Wereyoulaughingatustheentiretime?Andwhatyou’vedone.Andpoor,poorTrudy.”

ClairegraspedthatMelodywasquitedrunk,andthatshehadbeendrinkingakindofspirit,notwhatClairehadassumedwaswater.

“Don’tmentionher,Melody.Youhavenorighttoeversayhernameagain.”“Andyou!Youhaveone?”TheChinesewoman’svoicegrewshrill.“Asifyouhaveanyrightatall.

Thewomanyoupretendedtolove!”Willgrewwhitewithanger.“Melody,”hesaid.“Thatisutterrubbish.”Hecontrolledhimselfwithdifficulty.“Thisisnotforyou

todo.Youstayoutofit.”“Will,”Melodysaid.“This isallspinningoutofcontrol.Victor isfurious.Youhavetostopwhat

you’redoing.I’mtellingyouassomeonewhowasonceyourfriend.Youhavetostopit.”“It’stoolate,Melody,”Willsaid.“There’snothingIcandonow.”While they spoke, Claire let herself out, quietly, and stood in the corner of the driveway, heart

pounding,waiting.WhenWillwalkedout,helookedangry,hishandsshoveddeepintohispockets.“WhoisTrudy?”sheasked,steppingforward.

Hestarted.“Notnow,”hesaid.“Notnow,Claire.Comewithme.Let’sgoforabathe.”

May20,1953THESHARKSWEREBACK.TheyhadbeensightedoffStanleyBeachandShekOaswell.Alocal

manhadbeendippinghishandsinthewaterwhileonadivingplatforminSouthBay,andhadafingernippedoff.Hehadsatinblindpanicwavinghishandaboutwhilescreaminguntilawomanonthebeachhadheardhiscriesandtheysentaboatouttogethim.

ClaireandWill likedtobatheatShekObuttheycouldonlygointheearlymorningorinthelateafternoonduringtheweek,whenitwasunlikelythatanyonetheyknewwouldseethem.Onthisday,theydroveinsilencetoWill’sflatandpickedupsomebathingclothes,drovetothebeach,andparkedthecar.Theywereinluck.Thebeachwasempty.

ThesandinHongKongwasgritty.Willhad toldherofbeaches inIndiawhere thesandwas likesiftedflour,sofineyoucouldalmost inhale it.ButatShekO,when the tidewentout, therewere tidalpools filledwithhermit crabs, and in thepast theyhadcaught themandClairehadbrought thembackhomeandputtheminabowlwithseawateruntiltheyhadstartedtosmellfetid.

“Youareamermaid,”Willsaid,finallybreakingthesilence.Hewassittingonthestrawblankettheyhadunfurledonthebeach,watchingherassheundressed.

Shestillgottongue-tiedaroundhim,unabletorespondtohisteasing.Shefoldedherclothesandputtheminherbasket.Hestoodup.

“Let’sswimtothedock,”shesaid,thenremembered.“Doyouthinktherearesharksaround?”“Theunfortunatemanfromlastweekwouldsayitisacertainty,”hesaid,gettingup.“Shouldwebathe,then?I’vebeenlongingtoallday.”“Howadventurousareyoufeeling?”heasked.Theywerebothfacingthewater,sheslightlybehind

him.“Neververy,butit’ssohot.”Sheputherhandsflatonhisback.Hehadtakenoffhisshirtandhis

backwasalreadyslickwithperspiration.“Doyouevergetusedtoit?Theheat?”“No,youjustliveinit.”Hereachedbehindandtookherhandsoffhisback.Hedidthingslikethata

lot,gesturesthatfeltlikerebukes,waystokeepadistancebetweenthem.Shepretendednottonoticeandmovedaway,walkedintothewateruptoherknees.

“Andthewater’snevercoldhereeither,isit?”shecalledbacktohim.“Morelikeabath.”“Yes,Claire,”hesaid.“HongKongisnotEngland.”Shelookedtowardthehorizon.Thisdayhadhadajerkyquality-thingshappeningthatwereoutof

control,thatshedidn’tknowhowtoreacttoorhowtofeelabout.“Whysorude?”shesaid,buthedidn’thearher,orpretendednotto.Heplungedintothewater.“Lastonethereloses.”“Wait,”shecalled.“Idon’t…”Buthewasalreadyinthewaves,swimmingafastcrawltowardthe

diving platform. She hesitated but, watching him grow smaller and smaller, knew she would have tofollow.

“Damnyou,WillTruesdale,”shesaid.Thewaterhad two levels-thewarm layerabove,heatedby thesun,and, somewherebelowwaist

level,thefrigidwaterofthedeep.Shetriedtoswiminthewarmpart,frightenedbythecold,butherlegssometimessankintoit.

Shedidaleisurelybreaststrokeandtriednottothinkofsharks.AheadofherWillpulledupontothedivingplatform.Hisbodyglistenedinthesun.Hiswasanolderbody,butstilllean.Heevokeddesireinher,sostrangewhenherbodywassurroundedbywater.Sheswamon,pushingawaythepanic,thedesire.

Bythetimeshegottotheplatform,shewasfurious.

“ItoldyouIdidn’twanttoswimouthere.”“Youdidn’t.”“Onlybecauseyouweresofaroutalreadyyoucouldn’thearme.”Shesatawayfromhim,on the

bobbingdisk.“Yougavemenochoice.”“Don’tbeangry,kitten.”She didn’t answer, just twisted her hair into a ponytail and squeezed the water out. The drops

puddledontothewoodanddisappearedintoalargedarkstain.“Doyourememberthefirsttimewewereonaplatform?”Hewastryingtomakeamends.“Doesn’t

itseemsolongago?”Onthebeach,alocalcoupleappeared,setupablanketandanumbrella.“Itdoes,yes,”sheallowed.Then,“YoushouldknowIcango.Youcouldloseme.”Henodded,understanding,capitulatingforthemoment.“Youdon’tneedmeanymore,Claire,ifyoueverdid.”“Yes,”shesaid.They sat together peaceably now, the pressure let out. The weather was perfect, the sun slowly

sinkingtowardthehorizon,acoolbreezecomingoffthewater.“Will,”shesaid.“Whatisgoingon?”Whenhedidn’tanswer,shesaid,“YouknowwhatI’mtalkingabout.Everyoneisbehavinginsucha

queermanner,andyou’reattheheartofit.”Helaydownandshuthiseyes.“Youknow,themostabsurdthingshappenedduringthewar,”hesaid.“Doyouknowthatwhilewe

wereinterned,theJapaneseadministrationpresenteduswithabillforaccommodationandfood?Canyouimagine?Andwecouldn’tverywellthrowitbackintheirface,sowehadtotellthemwewouldwritepromissorynotesthatwouldbehonoredbyourgovernmentwheneverythinghadbeenworkedout.Theywantedustopayfortherottenvegetablesandcupofricewegoteveryweek.”

“Butnow?”sheasked.“I’mgettingthere,”hesaidwithanedgetohisvoice.“Justlisten.”Hebeganagain.“Andsowedancedwiththem,ourcaptors,althoughitwasalwaysafinelinebetweenbeinggood

andbeingproud.Wealwayshoped.Thereweresmall things likegrowing thevegetables in thegardeninaVsothatwhenitsproutedup,itwouldbeanicesurpriseandanencouragement.Childish,youknow.Onenevergetsusedtobeingaprisoner,althoughwegotusedtoourdailyroutine.

“Andpeoplewerepetty,ofcourse.Andotherswereunbelievablykindandgenerous.Youhadallsortsofbehavior.TheJapstoo.Thereweregoodonesandbadones.”

“Therewasawoman,”Clairesaid.“Trudy.”“Yes,Trudy.”Hestopped.“Trudy.Ithinkyouwouldhavelikedher.”“Wearedifferent,”Clairesaid.Shedidn’tknowwhy,asshesaidit,shefeltthatshewasbeingkind

toWill.Willsnorted.“Yes,youare.That’sanunderstatement.Butyouwouldhavelikedher,Iknow.”“Youwerewithher.”Hehesitated.“Yes.”“And…”“Nolonger.She’sgone,”hesaid.“How?”“Ifailedher,”hesaid.“Shewantedmetocomeoutandliveontheoutsidewithher.Shewasonthe

outsidebecauseshewasn’tBritish.Shegotmeapass.ButIrefused.”“Youdidn’twanttoleavethepeopleinsidethecamp?”Claireasked.

“Yes,” he said. “That was part of it. I was helpful inside the camp and could get things done.Certainlynoonewantedmetoleave.But-”Hestopped.

“Yes?”Claireprompted.“ButIthinkIwasafraidtoo,”hesaidsoftly.“IfIwentoutside,itwasawholenewworldandI’d

havetolearnthenewrules.Iwouldhavetostartasabeginner,disadvantaged,getmybearingsalloveragain.

“Iwastired,”hesaidsimply.“AndIdidn’twantmorechange.Itwashardinthecampbut ifyouobeyedtherules,youweren’tbothered.Outsideitwaschaos.Trudyhadthingssnatchedfromherhandsasshewalkeddownthestreet.Onceitwasfoodandtheboycrammedsomebreadinhismouthasheran.Hewas starving and couldn’t run properly. He had no shoes and no shirt. I think all he hadwas thetrousershehadon.Therewasstarvationanddesperationandmisery.Shetoldmeaboutit.Therewasnofilter.Itwasreal.”

HelookedatClaire.“Andshedied,”Clairesaid,almostwithoutknowingit.“Yes,shedied.”“How?”“Somewouldsayby thehandofherbenefactor,”hesaid.“Amanwhogavehermanythings,and

tookthemawaywhenhewanted.IfIhadbeenoutsidewithher,hewouldhavecontrolledmetoo.”Amosquitobuzzedbetweenthem,floatinginthedampair.“Hemadeherdoawfulthings.Hefoundoutshewassmugglingmessagesintothecampalongwith

thefood,sohemadeherbringtaintedfoodthenexttime.Notenoughtokill,justsicken,andtherewasnothinginthewayofmedicalsupplies,sopeoplesuffered.That’sthekindofbastardhewas.Ihadtotellherthenexttimeshecame,andherfacejustcrumpled.Shehadn’tknown.Ibelievethatstill.Shehadn’tknownbutshecouldn’tdoanything.Shedidn’tknowifhewoulddoitagain,orifthefoodwouldbeallrightthenexttime,andwewereinsuchdesperateneedthatwejusttookitandateit.”

“Howdoyouknowhedidit?”Claireasked.“Maybeitwasjustamistake.”“Oh,yes,”Willsaid.“Weknew.Heaskedheraftershereturnedhowherfriendsweredoing,andhe

laughedinherface.Sheonlytoldmethatafterward.”“AndVictor?”“VictorChen.”Helaughed.“Oh,yes,myesteemedemployer.”“ButPwhat?”sheasked.“Whatofhim?”“WhatofVictorChen?”Willsaid.“WhatofVictorChen?Howtobegin?”HeslappedClairesuddenlyonthearm.“Gotit,”hesaid,liftinguphishandtoshowabloodiedblackspot,atangleoftinyinsectlegsand

antennae.“Damnbloodsuckers.”He leaned over and rinsed his hands in the sea.He lifted themup.Drops ofwater sparkled and

drippedfromhisfingers.Helookedatthemcontemplatively.“VictorChenmurderedTrudy,”hesaid.

April10,1943“AGRATEFULOTSUBOiswhatIwant,”Trudyissaying.“Ifhe’sgrateful,whoknowswhathe’ll

do.Maybehe’llgetyourepatriated!Butyoucan’tleave.Idon’twanttoliveinEngland.”She never asks him again, not directly. She whispers, implies, ingratiates. She dangles rewards

beforehimandthen,finally,hate-fully,hintsatwhatmaybefallherifshedoesnotcomethroughfortheman.

“Hewantsonebigpayday,youknow,”shesays.“Heisasimpleman.Hewantstogobacktohiscountry,buysomelandinthecountry,andbuildacottageforhimselfandhisfamily.Hewantstobringhisparentsout,takecareofthem.He’sreallyafamilyman.”

Assheoutlinesthisoutlandishidea,henods,pretendstolisten,possiblyagree.“And he’s getting a wee bit impatient, but I think he’s getting close. He’s found out that Reggie

Arbogastisindeedoneofthepeoplewhowasentrustedwiththelocation.Soyoushouldknowthat.HehaseyesandearseverywhereandIthinkthey’remakingprogress.Buthedoesgetfrustrated…”shetrailsoff.“Andwhenhe’sfrustrated…”

Threeweekslater,anotherfurlough.“I’mworkingongettingitweeklyforyou.Doyoulikeit?”shesayswhenshepickshimup.“Allthe

bankersareoutside,Idon’tseewhyyoushouldn’tbe.They’reputtingthemupattheLukKwokandtheyescort them down to the office every day. I don’t think they’re getting better rations than us, butwhoknows.”

Hegetsinthedriver’sseat.“HaveyouseenAngeline?Howisshedoing?”Trudylooksupatthesky.“Angeline,”shestarts.“Angelineseemstohavesufferedacrisisofconscience,isthatwhatyoucall

it?”“Whathappened?”Hestartsupthecar.“ShehasgottenalluponherselfandhasdecidedthatIamnotapersonthatshewishestoassociate

with.Canyouimagine?”Shesmilestightly.“Thegodmotherofherchild!”“Didshegiveyouareason?”“No,”shesays.“Iwent tovisither inKowloonandhermaid toldmeshewasn’thome.Shewas

funnyaboutit,though,andwhenIwalkedawayIlookedupandsawAngelineatthewindow.Shewasn’teventryingtohide.Shelookedatmestraightandthendrewthecurtains.Verygrim.”

“Youarepresuming…”“Oh,no,darling,”shesays.“IknowAngelineverywellandshedoesn’tneedtosayanythingtome

formetoknowexactlywhatsheisthinking.I’mjusthopingyouwon’tcometothesameconclusion.I’mgoingtobecomeapariah;Icanjustseeitnow.”

Heburstswithhisownconfession.“Trudy,Ihaven’tasked.”Sheknowsimmediatelywhatheistalkingabout.“Maybetherighttimehasn’tcomeup,”shesays.Hecannotlietoher.“Iwillnotask,”hesays.“Itjustseemswrong.”“Oh!Youwon’teventry!”Achokedsoundcomesfromherthroat.“Wrong!Well,Icanseethat.”“AndwhywouldArbogasttellmeanyway?”hefinisheslamely.“Wearen’tfriends.”Shedoesn’tspeakagainuntilthey’reattheToa.

“Hereweare,”shesays.“Areyouhungry?”AlwaystheChinesewiththeirdamnfood,hethinks.“No,”hesays,gettingoutofthecar.“Areyou?”“Otsubowantsustomeethimforlunch,”shesays.“He’swaitingupstairs.”“Andyouweregoingtotellmethiswhen?”hesays.“WhenIsitmyselfdownonhislap?”“Will!”shecries.“Thisisserious.DominickhaspromisedOtsubohewillgettheinformationand

thatIwillhelphimtogetit.Iwouldn’taskyouifitweren’timportant,but…”shetrailsoff.“Trudy,Ican’thelpyou,”hesays.“Icannot.”“Will,”shesays.“Ifyoureallyknewwhatwasatstake…”Buthermouthisset.Sheknowsthisman.Thequestionishowmuchshecanmanagetheotherone.Bythetimetheygettotheroom,shehasshakenoffherbadtemper.Hermoodinessislikeacloak

shecantakeonandoffatwill.“IfIlosemypassbecauseofthis,you’llbethefirsttopay,”shesayslightly.Shepushesthedoor

open.“Otsubo-san!ThevaliantWillTruesdaleisheretotellusofthewonderfulresortlikeconditionsinStanley.Was it coq au vin at dinner last night?And I heard you have entertainment now.The StanleyPlayers?”Andshe’soff,bubblingwithvivaciousenergy,goingaroundtheroom,dispensingkissesandquixoticpronouncements,clinkingiceinhighballs,asifshehasn’tacareintheworld,asifshehadn’tfixedhimwithalong,pleadinglookrightbeforetheyentered.

Dominickjoinsthemforlunch,andWillnoticesthewayOtsubolooksathimwithbarelydisguisedcontempt, and yet, now his hand lingers on Dominick’s shoulder longer than necessary, he allowsDominicktoservehimfood,andDominicktreatshimwithaservilefacilitythatsickensWill.Sothat’showitgoes,hethinks.Thesophisticatebecomesthedogandthesoldierbecomesthemaster.Bruteforcetrumpsallintheend,doesn’tit.

Still,thisisnotwhatconcernshim.What’sbeeneatingathimsincetheyalightedfromthecarandmadetheirwaytoTrudy’ssuiteissomethingelseentirely.

Whatismakinghimuneasyishisownunwillingnesstocompromiseandwhereitmightbecomingfrom-thenigglingfeelingthathecannotshake:thatheiscallinghisreluctanceintegrity,butwhatitmightbeissimplycowardice.

May2,1943ARBOGASTISSCREAMING.Willcannotstandtohearit,cannotstandnottohearit.Heisfrozen,

wants to clap his hands over his ears,wants to screamhimself.AroundWill, the adults are pale andsilent,mothersrushingthechildrenaway.

Usuallytheguardstaketheunfortunatesuspectsawaytoafar-offhousewheretheyaremadetosigntheir confessions,written long before they start to talk.ButArbogast! They had come silently, grimly,filledwithpurpose-twomen-andseizedhimunderhisarmsanddraggedhimtoOhta’soffice,justnexttotheofficers’mess.Hehadgonequietly,butthenthescreamingstarted.

It has been three days sinceWill returned fromhis furlough and he hasmade it a point to avoidArbogast,asifevencomingclosetothemanwilltransmithissecrettohim-asecrethehasnointentionoflearningifhecanhelpit.

Hedoesn’twanttoknowanythingaboutArbogast.Ifheisthetypeofmantokeepasecrettotheend,ifheisthekindofmanwhowillvaluehisfamilymorethanhiscountry,orifheisthekindofmanwhowilltakeadealtobetterhiscircumstances.Hewantstoknownothing.Instead,hetriestoignorehim-theonceproudmanwithhisswollenberiberifeet,draggingaroundthecamp,complainingabouthiswifeandhisdysentery.

ThedooropensandArbogastisbroughtout,bucking.Strangehowviolenceisnotasvividinreallife.Thereareonlya fewstreaksofblood.Mostly the impression is thathe iswet.Thewater torture.Theytakehimtotheoutskirtsnow.Heisstillscreamingbuthisvoiceisstartingtofrayfromtheexertion.Will’sownthroathurtsfromthetearingsoundscomingfromArbogast’smouth.

Sothisisthemanherevealshimselftobe,Willthinkssuddenly,inappropriately,bloodlessly-amanwhoscreamswhenheisindanger.Hehopeshehimselfwillbesilent.Butoneneverknows.

Johnnieisathissidesuddenly.Theywatchthemanbeingdraggedoffagain.“Thatpoordevil,”hesays.“Iwonderwhattheythinkhe’sdone.”“Doesitmatter?”Willsays.“Notatall,”Johnniesays.HeglancesatWill.“Whatacynicyou’vebecome.”Thenextday,Arbogastisbroughtbytwosoldierstohisroomanddumpedunceremoniouslyonhis

bed, where Regina has a fit, falling and having hysterics on the floor while her husband lies, nearlyunconscious,aboveher.Hisrighthandisgone,thestumpofhiswristwrappedinbloodyrags.

Some sensiblewomendragRegina awayandplyherwith teawhile thedoctor is summoned.Heshakeshishead,powerlesswithoutanyequipment,anymedicine.

“WhatcanIdo?”hesays.“Hewillliveordie.Thatisall.”Theyleavehimthere,with thepowerlessdoctor,hisfaceswollenbluebeyondrecognition,blood

fromthewoundsoaking through layersof rippedsheets. In themorning, theotherresidentsofDBlockwillcomplaintheycouldgetnosleepbecauseoftheoldman’smoaning.Arbogast,therichbusinessman,hasbeenreducedtothis,andtheothershavebeenreducedtothat.

Thesecretmustbeoutnow,Willthinks.Andthatshouldbethat.

May27,1953VICTORCHENwasinapanic.EvenClairecouldseethat,hiddenawayinthepianoroom.Hewas

streaming from room to room, shouting at the servants, shouting atMelody, picking up the phone andbangingitdownagain.

For thesakeof thechild, she tried tokeep the lessongoingbut itwasalmost impossible.Afteradoorslammedforthethirdtime,shereachedoverandshuttheinstructionbook.

“Well,Locket,whatdoyousay?”shesaid.“Aboutwhat,Mrs.Pendleton?”Forthefirsttime,ClairefeltsorryforLocket.Whatmustitbeliketoliveinahouselikethiswith

parents likeMelodyandVictor?Thechild’s facewasheartbreakinglysmooth, theOrientalskinalmostglossy,hereyescurioushazelorbs.ClairereachedoverandtuckedaloosestrandbehindLocket’sear.Thematernalgesturesurprisedheralmostasmuchasitdidthegirlherself,whogaveaquick,shysmile.

“Howaboutwefinishalittleearly?”“Allright,Mrs.Pendleton.”Locketgotupquickly,bumpingthepiano,andspilledtheglassofwater

thathadbeensittingontop.“Oops,”shegiggled.“MummysaysI’mveryclumsy.”“Youjusthavetobemorecareful,”Clairesaid.“Allchildrenarecareless.”“Mummy says I give her a headache,” Locket saidmore somberly. “I’m not to disturb her in the

afternoonsanymoresothat’swhyshe’sgotmesignedupforsomanylessons.”“I’msureshewantsyoutogrowuptobeanaccomplishedladywithmanyinterests.”Clairepatted

herhead.“We’rehavingaparty!”Locketbrightened.“Forthequeen’scoronation.Daddygotabighonorfrom

thequeen,youknow.”“Yes,Iheard.Youmustbeveryproud.”“I’mgettinganewdress. It’sa tangerinesilk taffetawithguipure lace,” thegirl recitedcarefully.

“MummyhadthelaceflowninfromFranceandit’stheonlyoneofitskindinHongKong.”“Thatsoundslovely,Locket.”Thegirlbeamed,thenlookeduncertain.“Ofcourse,”Locketfaltered,confessed,“it’sjusttheleftoverfromMummy’sdress.Shehadsome

extrasoshegaveittomesoIcouldhaveitputonmine.”“I’msureyou’llbothlookatreat,”Clairesaid.ThereasonVictorChenwasinsuchastate,Clairesurmised,waswhathadappearedinthepaper

today. It had been relegated to page 7, pushed back by the relentless, breathless coverage of PrincessElizabeth and the latest details of her procession toWestminsterAbbey, but itwas still there-a smallcolumnabouttheformationofaWarCrimesCommittee,tobeheadedbyaSirReginaldLythgoe,basedonnewinformationthathadcometolight.Willhadpointeditouttoherearlierintheafternoon.

“It’sbloodyunfathomable!”sheheardVictorshoutintothephone.“It’sawitchhunt.Thewar’sbeenoverforadecadeandtheywanttodredgeupthisrubbish.YoutellDaviesIwon’tforgetthis.It’spureanti-Chinesesentiment.Theycan’tstandtoseesomeonedowell,andtheOBEwasjustthelast…ThatwretchedoldwomanwasplayingChopinontheGovernmentHousepianotheentirewar,drinkingscotchanddiningonveal,undermyprotection!Shehasnoright…”

Someoneshutadoorsohisvoicewasmuffled.Locketsmiled.“SoIcango?”“Yes,”Clairesaid.“Runalong.”Claire letherselfoutquietly,without running intoMelodyorVictor.Shehadanappointmentwith

EdwinaStorch.

***

Theoldwomanhadrungheruplastweek,askingtogettogetherforacupoftea.TheydecidedontheLibrarians’AuxiliaryinMid-Levels,andClairehadarrangedtomeetheronthenextThursday,today.

The bus stopped outside the building onTregunter Path andClaire got out.Miss Storchwas justentering the clubhouse.Claire stopped towatch her. She had on a pink hat, underwhich her salt-and-pepperbunpeeked.Herbottomwaswideandencased inamatchingpinkcottonskirt thatwent to theknee.Varicoseveinstraileddownherthickcalves,andasshewalkedwithhercane,sheswayedeversoslightly from side to side.She stopped to catchher breathoutside thedoor, then steppedup andwentinside.

Behindher,Clairewaited, thenwalkedtothedoorandpusheditopenherself.Inside, itwasdarkandcool,fansswayingastheyturned,andheavydamaskcurtainsshieldingthefurnitureagainstthebrightsunoutside.Clairesquinted,tryingtomakeouttheshapesintheroom.

“Hullo,”saidEdwinaStorch.Clairejumped.EdwinaStorchhadtakenoffherspectaclesandwasrubbingthemwiththehemofherjacket.“Theysteamupinthishumidity,youknow.”

“Hello,MissStorch,”shesaid.“Iwasrightbehindyouonthepathbutitwasjusttoohottorush.”Theoldwomandidnotreiterateherpastdesiretobeaddressedbyherfirstname.“Yes, it’s terrible out there, isn’t it,” she said, pulling out a white handkerchief and wiping her

forehead.“Doessomething to thecharacterbut Ihaven’tpinned itdownyet. It’ssomething thatpeoplewholivehereovertwentyyearsdevelopbutIcan’tputanametoit.”

“Theheat?”Clairesaid.“Yes.Mostofyourdayisspenttryingtoavoidit.Andtheendlessnessofit.Alwaysatwarwiththe

elements, instead of in harmony with them. That’s us, the British colonials, battling against ourcircumstances,always.”MissStorchpeeredatClaire.Shewasremindedofthefirsttimeshehadmetherandthegazethathadalmostmadeherfaint.“Shallwesit?”

“Certainly.”ClairewasunsureastowhyEdwinaStorchhadrungherup.Theoldwomanmovedslowly,andwas

treatedwithgreatrespectbythestaff.“Lovelytoseeyouagain,MissStorch,”saidthemanageress,whohadcomeouttogreetthem.“So

nicethatyoucancomeintotownandseeus.”“DoyouknowMrs.Maxwell?”EdwinaaskedClaire.“She’sbeenaroundalmostaslongasIhave.”Theyshookhandsandwereescortedintothediningroom-moreoftheheavydamaskcurtains,amix

ofold,goodtablesandnewchairs,tooshiny.“Wehaveyourfavoritecurrantsconestoday,”Mrs.Maxwellsaid.“AndthegoodChineseoolong.”“Splendid,”Edwina said as she loweredherself carefully into a chair. “You’re tookind,Harriet.

We’llbothhavethehightea,please.”“It’sverypleasanthere,”Clairesaid.“It’smyfirsttime.”“Nottoobad,”Edwinasaid.“Duringthewar,Ispentafewnightshere.”“Yes,”Clairesaid.Thewaitresscameoverandpouredwaterforthemintofaded,scratchedglasses.“There’ssomethingsadabouttheEurasian,isn’tthere?”EdwinaStorchsaid,lookingafterthegirlas

she left. “Something incomplete, something wanting in them. I always feel they are searching forsomethingtomakethemwhole.”

“Doyou think so?”Claire saidpolitely. “I find themveryattractive, actually,with theirbeautifulskinandgoldeneyesandhair.WhenI firstwas inHongKong, Idid find themodd-looking,butnowIthinktheyarejustsplendid.”

“Hmph,”snorted theoldwoman.“You’reyoungandromantic.Thechildren feeldreadfulbecausetheyarenotacceptedbyeitherrace.”

Clairehadnot thoughtMissStorch tobesonarrow-mindedwhenherownlifestylewasnotatallconventional.

AsifshecouldsensewhatClairewasthinking,MissStorchdrewherselfupslightly.“MaryandIhavealwaysledourliveswithgoodChristianvalues!”shesaid.“WeloveallofGod’screatures,eventhelessfortunate.”

“Ofcourse,”saidClaire.TheEurasiangirlcameoveragainwithapotoftea.Shesetdownthecupsandputastraineroneach

ofthem.Hereyesweredowncast,steadyonthetable.“I’llpour,”saidMissStorch,dismissingher.“Youdon’tthinkshe’sattractive?”Claireasked.Shefeltanobstinateurgetopursuethematter.“Claire,”Miss Storch said. “I do not. She is unfortunate. She is lucky to have a respectable job

becauseIamsurethatherfatherlefthermotherafterhehadhisfunwithher.Youknow,that’showmostofthesesituationsare.”ShepouredthehotteaintoClaire’scup.Claireliftedupthemilkpitcher.

“Youdon’tpourmilkintothissortoftea!”MissStorchbarked.Claire’shandhungsuspendedintheair,frozen.“Thewholepointofthisteaistohaveitunadulterated.Putthatmilkdown.Idon’tknowwhytheyevengiveusmilk.”

Clairepausedandthenpouredthemilkintohertea.“Iprefermyteawithmilk,”shesaid.MissStorchstaredather,thentookoffherspectaclesandstartedrubbingthemagain.“Soyou’vegotsomespunk,”shesaid,inspectingherglasses.“Gladtoseethat.”Clairewassilent.“You’regoing toneed it,”EdwinaStorchsaid.“There’saprettykettleof fishgoingon,andfrom

whatIunderstand,youareinthemiddleofit.”“Idon’tunderstand,”shesaid.“Oh,Ithinkyouunderstandmorethanyouleton.”MissStorchsippedhertea,madeagrimace.“Too

strong.Theyletitsteeptoolong.”“I’llcallforhotwater,”Clairesaid,andraisedherhand.“Don’tbother.I’vebetter thingstotalkabout.”Shesighed.“Youhaveafondnessfor theEurasian

race.”“Hardly,”Claireprotested.“Ijust…”“AndIamsureyouknowofTrudyLiang,then.”ShepeeredintentlyatClaireoverherglasses.“She

wasoneofthebetter-knownEurasiansinHongKongwhenshewasalive.Shewasfromaverywealthyfamilyandsoescapedmuchoftheprejudicethatcomesfrombeingmixed.”EdwinaStorchsaidthiswithacompletelackofirony.“YouknowwhoI’mtalkingabout?”

“Yes,”Claireallowed.“Ihaveheardofher.”“Andthatwholebusinessduringthewar.ShewasoutofthecampsbecauseshewasPortugueseand

Chinese,andIwasoutofthecampsbecauseIthoughtitbetter,andIhadaFinnishmotherandIwasabletoworkitout.Ifyouwerepersuasiveintheearlydays,thesethingscouldhappen.Itwasveryconfusingandtheruleschangedeveryday.”Hereyesshifted,becamewistful.“Ofcourse,Icouldn’tgetMaryout,butIwasabletoprovideforherwhenIwasoutside,andbroughtherpackagesandallthat.Itwasforthebest.

“Youknow,Claire,”shesaidsuddenly.“Youhaveafaceforlistening.Peoplemustalwaysconfide

inyou.Doyoufindthattobethecase?”“Notreally,”Clairedemurred.ShethoughttoherselfthatEdwinaStorch’sfaceresembledalarge,

fleshyreptilenow.Ithadshrewdopportunismandgreedwrittenalloverit.“YouknowaboutTrudyandWillTruesdale,then?”“I’vejustheardstories,likeeveryoneelse,”Clairesaid.“Butithasnothingtodowithme.”“It doesn’t!” Miss Storch laughed, a harsh chuckle. “Oh, I imagine you would like everyone to

believethat.Butyes,thetwoofthemwerethickasthieves.Everyonethoughttheywouldmarry.Ifyouaskme,hegottheshortendofthestick.Hecouldhavedonemuchbetter.Butno,hewaswithher,andthenthewarhappened,andalotmore.”Shepaused.“I’msureyou’rewonderingwhyIaskedyouheretoday,orwhyIaskedyoutolunchtheotherweek.Iwantedtogetagoodlookatyou,atyourface.Butitisalongstory.YoushouldeatwhileItalk.”

Thewomanlookedsuddenlyveryserious.“Youmustbedifferentnow,”shesaid.“Youmustrisetotheoccasion.Andyoumustbestrong.Now

isthetimeforyoutomakeadifference.”

Inthelateafternoonlight,thedoortotheLibrarian’sAuxiliaryopened.Clairestood,blinkingeveninthefadinglight.Shewassayinggood-byetoEdwinaStorch.

“Thankyouverymuchforthetea,”shesaid.“You’requitewelcome,mydear,”saidMissStorch.“IhopeIhavebeenenlightening.”“Yes,”Clairestarted.Then,“No.Actually…Idon’tknow.”Shestumbledoverherwords.“Nottheway,dear,”MissStorchsaid.Therewasexasperationinhervoice.“ButMissStorch,”Clairesaidhurriedly.“MissStorch,Idofeel…ThereissomethingthatIwould

liketosay.WhenImetyouatyourgardenpartysomeweeksago,yousaidthatIremindedyouofayoungyou.IjustwanttotellyouthatIthinkthatisnotatallcorrect.YouandIareasdifferentascanbe.”Thensheturnedandwalkedawayquickly,notlookingback.

ThesunwassettingandClairecouldnotimaginethatithadbeenanordinarydayoutside,beforeshehadentered thedarkroomsand intoanafternoonofstorytellingbyaviciousoldwomanwithanax towield.

1943THEREWASABABY.Therewasamanwithelevenfingers.Nowten.Nowelevenagain.Thefingeralwaysgrewback,

takingoneyear,exactly.Agoodmeasureoftime.Thereweregoodmen.Therewerebadmen.Thereweredeadmen.Therewasawoman,disappeared.

Therewasababy.Trudy, her slim figure enveloped in looser and looser tunics.Her face growing rounder, her skin

mottledwiththemaskofpregnancy.Whenhadhenoticed?Itcameuponhim,likesomanyrevelations,whenhewasabouttodriftofftosleep,afteranotherfurloughedweekend.Hejerked,realized:ababy.Hecouldnotsleepafterthat,turningonhisthinmattress,restlessandwild,hismindaflame.

Shehadnottoldhim.Hehadnotnoticed.Ithadbeensogradual.His thoughts like anoldwoman’s.What sortofworld is this tobringa child into.Howwas she

goingtohaveababyduringawar.Andthentheotherthought,theonehepusheddown,butkeptsurfacingintohisconsciousness.

Didthosethingsevenmatteranymoreatatimelikethis?Thenoneday,anotherweekend,Trudysayingabruptly,“IalwaysknewI’dbeoneofthosewomen

whogrewenormousduringpregnancy.”Thefirst timeshehadacknowledgedhercondition.Shesaiditgamely,overabreakfastofnoodlesandroastpork,shovelingthelongnoodlesintohermouthlikeastreethawker,notcaringwhatshelookedlike.Ifshehadtoldhimafewweeksearlier,beforehehadnoticedhimself,hewouldhavebeenmoregenerous,saiditsuitedher,buthekeptquiet.Hissmall,pettyrevenge.Butagainstwhat,whom?Notthewoman.Thewar.Theunfairnessofitall.

And then it grew obvious, suddenly, in that way women look pregnant overnight. Her growthaccelerated.Shewasstillsmall,butherbellyswelledandspilledoutofwhateverloosedressshewaswearing.Itlookedlikeatumortohim.Hewasashamedhefeltthatway.

Sheneversaidanythingelseaboutit.

Therewasamanwithelevenfingers.Dominick. His face grown sharp with his newly acquired cunning, his body gone soft with

indulgence.Trudy,saying,sottovoce,“Dominickhaschanged.He’swiththatodiousVictorChenallthetime.They’retryingtogetmyfathertogoinonsomeMacaucompanythey’resettingupthat’sdoingalotof tradingwith the Japanese. I don’twantmy father involved in anyof that-he’snotwell-butDommiewon’tlisten.He’sgoneovertoVictor’sside.”Andinthatstatement,herprofounddisappointment.Herbest friend, gone. A loneliness. Will was inside. Dominick was changed. Trudy didn’t have anyoneanymore.

Thereweregoodmen.WhenWillwentbacktocamp,afterthefirstfurlough,eagerfacesgreetedhim,hungryfornewsand

hope.Hedistributedwhathehadbroughtback-theguardslefthimalonenow,asnewshadspreadthathehadaconnectionoutside-andwentbacktohisroom.

JohnnieSandlerappearedatthedoorway.“Youprefertobealone?”

“No,it’sallright.”Hewavedhimin.“So,howwasyourfurlough?Lotsofjealouspeoplebackhereathomebase,youknow.Thenews

spreadlikewildfire.You’reeitherascoundrelorahero.Lotsofdividedopinion.”“Johnnie…”hestarted.Hedidn’tknowwheretobegin.“Anyonestillouttherethatweknow?”“Yes,but…TheysaythattwohundredChinesedieeverydayonthestreets.Brutally.Anonymously.

Halfthehospitalsarestillclosed.”Johnniestudiedhisface.“Youlookabitshell-shocked.Isthereanythingelsegoingon?”“Toomuch,myfriend.Toomuch.”“Trudydoingallrightoutthere?”Willnodded.“Youdon’tknowherthatwell,doyou?”“Justfromaround,”Johnniesaid.“AswellasIknewyou,Isuppose.”“Andwhatdidyouthinkofher?”Johnniehesitated.“That’sarumthingtoask.She’syourgirl.”“No,really.Iwanttoknow.”“Ilikedher.WhatIknewofher.Therewasalwaysthenoiseabouther,Iknow,butI’velearnedthat

mostofthatisjustthat-noise.Sheseemsagoodsort,justhadalotofattentiononherallthetime,andIthoughtthatmustbehard.”

“Verydiplomatic,”Willsaid.Johnniegrinned.“Whatdoyouexpect,oldman?”“Whydidyouneverfindsomeone?Ialwayssawyouaroundwithafewgirls,neverone,neverfora

longtime.”“Neverfoundanyonewho’dhaveme,”Johnniesaidlightly.“Oncethey’dspentenoughtimewithme,

they’dbeofflikearocket.”Theysattogetherforawhile.Johnniebroughtoutsomehomemadecigarettes.“Thegoodstuff,rolledfromnativeStanleygrass.”HeofferedonetoWill.Willshookhishead.“WhatamIthinking?”HeproducedtwopacksofRedSuncigarettesfromhisbagunderthebed.“I

brought these back for you. Japanese, of course, but the real thing, nonetheless. I don’t know if yourscrupleswillallowit.”

Johnnielaughedwithdelight.“That’sverygoodofyou,sir!”Theysmokedforawhile,enjoyingthesmallpleasureofnicotine.“There’safewmeninCBlockwho’veriggedupanothershortwave,”Johnniesaid.“Theyhaven’t

gottenanythinginteresting,butthey’retrying.”“Trudy’sgotinwithabadsort,”Willsaid.Johnnielookedathim.“I’dfiguredasmuch.”“She’s in over her head, although of course she doesn’t think so. She thinks she’s doing well,

surviving,gettinginwiththoseshethinkswillbehelpful.”“Whatdoessheneed?”“It’snotwhatsheneeds.They’reaskingherforthings.Askingherforthingsthatcouldcompromise

others.”“Thatisdangerous,”Johnniesaidsimply.“Sheshouldwatchout,andyoutoo.”“Yes,”Willsaid.“Wewill.”

“It’salmost timeforsupper,”Johnniesaid,standingup.“Ourbrilliantcookshave inventedanewdish that is startlingly good. Banana peel fried in peanut oil. If you close your eyes, it tastes likemushrooms.Ican’tgetenoughofit.”

“Soundsgood,”Willsaid.HewasgladtostoptalkingaboutTrudy.

Therewerebadmen.VictorChen,embracingReggieArbogast,bothintheWesterndress,thebluetropicalwoolsuit,red

tie. He had thrown a cocktail party for select Stanley survivors after the release. Not the riffraff, ofcourse,butthedoctorsandthebarristersandthecompanyheads.Hecommiseratedwiththemaboutwhatthewarhaddonetothemandtheircountriesandpliedthemwithchampagne.

And imagine this. Governor Mark Young returning from his Malaya arrest to the site of hishumiliationandthatofhiscountry.Thewarisover.Everyeffortismadetoglorifythetriumphantreturn.AnRAFDakota,escortedbyBeaufightersandCorsairsof721Squadron.AdramaticlandingatKaiTak.MotorcycleescortbacktothePen,andthentheceremony.Guns,uniforms,pomp.Heshakesthehandofcommunityleaders,iswelcomedbackwithspeeches.AndseeVictorChenthere,readingaspeechofhisown,aboutHongKong’sfortitudeandgreatnessofspirit.

Otsubo,readingdocumentsinthedark,atablelampilluminatingonlyasmallcircleonthedesk.Hislipsmovingashereads,TrudyandDominicksittingnexttoeachotheronabenchintheoffice.Theydonottalkorlookateachother.Theywaitforhissignal.

Thereweredeadmen.Was ithis imagination?Thesoundofamanscreaming.Willsatup inbedand tried to listen.The

soundoftheseacameinthroughtheopenwindow,buthedidnothearanythingelse.Achildcriedoutinhissleep.Amothershushed,drowsy.

Inthemorning,passingby,hediscoveredJohnniegonefromhisroom.Theroomwasrippedapart,althoughthemanwasfastidious.Themattresslayhalfoffthebed,sheetshangingoff.

TheybroughtWilltotheinterrogationroomsontheeastside.Johnnie,hiseyesopen,hisshirtrippedanddirty.Helayontheflooroftheroom,ablanketthrown

carelesslyoverhim,withonlyastoolandabareelectricbulb.TheyhadletWillintoseehim,awarning,hesupposed.

“Hedidn’ttalk,”theysaid.“Sothis.”“Hedidn’tknowanything,”Willsaid.“Yousay,”theysaid.“Hedidn’t,”Willsaid.“Doyou?”theyasked.

***

Dominick.Hescreamedandbeggedandwheedled.Wasproddedwiththetipofabayonet.Hischeekscratched

sobloodbeadedup.Thenapinkiefingerbrokenwithamallet.Thenalloftheothers.Aweekinthehole.Deniedeverything.Confessedtoeverything.Scratchthesurfaceofaman.Seewhatappears.

WanKeeLiang,Trudy’sfather.DeadinhismansiononthePraiaGrande,bodywastedaway,smellofurinesoakingthesheets.A

neglectedcorpse,notfoundfordays.

Therewasawoman,disappeared.TrudyclatteringupthestairsofthegendarmerieheadquartersonDesVoeuxRoad,stomachswollen,

abouttogivebirth.Looking back to blow a kiss toEdwinaStorch,who had accompanied her.Her lookwistful, not

condemning.Wearecondemnedtorepeatthepast.Trudy’smother,gone.Trudy,gone.

May10,1943EDWINA STORCHwas outside by suspectmeans, people whispered. She had parlayed a dead

FinnishmotherintoaFreeNationalpassportandrevokedherEnglishcitizenship.MaryWinklehadbeencorralledandsenttoStanleyandEdwinasentherprovisionsasoftenasshecould.

Spottingheronthestreet,Trudywentovertosayhello.ShehadalwayshadasoftspotfortheideaofEdwina,althoughshehadheardoddstoriesabouthertenureatGlenealyPrimary.Shehadapparentlywieldedherauthoritywithabit toomuchenthusiasmandnotenoughoversight.Therehadalsobeenastoryaboutaboywhohadendedupinthehospitalafteratoovigorousdisciplinaryaction,butthathadbeenhushedup.HehadbeenEurasian, the father anEnglish civil servant, themother a localChinesemistress,preferredbutnotlegitimate.Hehadn’treturnedtotheschool.

“You’reouttoo?”“Yes,thankstomydear,departedmother.Finland.”“Anywayyoucan.It’sdreadfuleverywherethough,isn’tit?”“Yes,butyour relativeVictorChenhasbeenveryhelpful tome.Hehas themagic touchandcan

procureanything!”Trudy’sfacedarkened.“Fortherightprice,I’msure.I’mgladhe’sbeenhelpfultosomeone.”“You’recousins,aren’tyou?”“Notexactly.I’mrelatedtohiswife,Melody.She’sinCaliforniarightnow.She’sgoingtohavethe

babythere.”Edwina’seyesflickereddowntoTrudy’sownswollenbelly.“That works out well, I suppose.” Miss Storch lowered her voice. “Until everything here gets

workedout,Imean.”“Yes,well,”Trudysaid.“Isupposeitwillallworkout,won’tit?”“Ofcourse,”saidtheheadmistress.“Well,”Trudysaid.“IhopeIwillseeyouaroundinthisstrangenewworldofours.I’mjustonmy

waytomeetDominickforlunch.”“Givehimmybest,”theoldladysaid.“Yes,wewillallgetby.”TrudywatchedEdwinaStorchwalkaway,withanoddlookonherlovelyface.

May28,1953INTHELATEAFTERNOONSUN,Willgruntedandmovedinbed,hissleepdisturbed.Hishead

wasdamp,perspiringinthemiddayheat.Claireclappedherhands,toseeifshecouldrousehim,butWilljustshiftedagain,whimpered.

Shelookedathisface,dampwithsweat,hismouthmovingalmostimperceptiblyinhissleep,andfeltpityforhim,forthefirsttime.

***

“TOUCHME,”shesays.Hervoiceisdesperate.“Iwanttofeelrealagain.”Heembracesher,holdingherastightlyashecan.“Youdon’tknowwhathemademedo,”shesays,muffled,intohisshoulder.“Youdon’tknow.”“It’sallright,”hesays.“Don’tworry.”“It’snotall right!” shecries. “It’snot.Youdon’tknow. Ifyouknew,you’dneverwant to seeme

again,nevertouchmeagain.Youcouldneverlookatmestraightintheface.”Shedrawsbackandlooksathim,searcheshisface.

Heisquiet.Shewinces.“Iknewit,”shesays.“Iknewit.WhatdidIexpect?”“Idon’tknowwhatyouneedfromme,”hesays.“ThisiswhyIlovedyousomuch,”shesays.“Notonlybecauseyouweresogoodandyoudidn’t

needanyoneand I thought Imightbeable tomakeyouneedme,butbecause…”andshe’scrying, thisTrudyhe’sneverseen,thisTrudywho’sasfragileasgossameranddoesn’tcarewhoseesit.“Becausenoonehaseverlovedme.TheylovedmymoneyorthewayIlooked,oreventhewayItalked,becauseitmadethemthinkIwasacertainway.Ormyfather,helovedmebecausehehadto.Mymotherlovedmebutthensheleft.Noonelovedmeforme,orthoughtIwasmorethanagooddistractionataparty.It’sthetritestthingintheworld,isn’tit?Butyoulovedme.YoulikedthepersonIwas.Ireallyfeltthat.Anditwasarevelationtome.Butthen,afterOtsuboandafterIaskedyoutogetmetheinformation,Isawthatyouchanged.Orthatyourfeelingschanged.Youdidn’tlovemeinthesamewayanymore.Iwaschangedin your eyes. I wasn’t that person you loved nomatterwhat.” Shewipes her eyes. They are red andswollen.

“Oh,Imustlooklikeatroll,”shesayssuddenly,theoldTrudysurfacingforamoment.“Sowhenthathappened”-shetakesadeepbreath-“whenthathappened,Will,itallsnappedintoplace.

“IhadbeenplayingatbeingthispersonIamwhenI’mwithyou,andallittookwasafewweeks’separationfromyou…”

“Andawar,”hesays.Hedoesn’tknowwherethewordsarecomingfrom,wherethismechanicallyspeakingpersonhassprungfrom.

“Yes,afewweeks’separationandafewwell-equipped,menacingJapanese,andpoof,IwasbacktobeingtheoldTrudy,whocaredonlyaboutherselfandherverymalleablemorals.Anditfeltright.Itfeltawful,butitfeltright.I’mnotwhoyouthinkIam.Itoldyouthatbeforeyoulefttogototheparadeground,andIwantedyoutounderstandwhatIwassaying.Didyou?Didyou?”

“Ican’tbetheonetoabsolveyou,Trudy.”Sheslapshim.

Hishandgoesuptohischeek,likeawoman.“Iwanttokillyou,sometimes,”shesaysslowly.“Youandyourso-calledmorals.”Sheturnsaroundandtriestoleave.Hecatchesherelbow.“Eventhat,”shesays,“issofalse.It’snot

worthyofyou.Beamanandshowwhatyoureallyfeelforme.”Shestaresathim.Hecannotmove.“Ithoughtso.”

Sheturnsbacktothedoor.“Thankyou,Will,”shesaysquietly,withthebackofherheadtohim.“IknowwhereIstand.Thank

youforreleasingme.”Shehasalwaysbeentoostrongforhim.Thewaywehurttheoneswelove.THENIGHTMARES.Thevisions.Menwiththeirtonguesburned,kneescrushed,eyesgougedout,piledinheapsonthesideoftheroad

toStanley,motherscoveringtheirchildren’seyes.Girlsinroomswithblankfaces,torndresses,bloodychunksofhairtornfromtheirscalps,bruised

legsslickwithmen’sfluids.Adooropened,agirlfoundtiedtoadesk,almostmute.Abody,sewninHessian,armscrossed,tippedintothesea,makingbarelyasplashasitsinksdown

intothedark.AhLokbrushingTrudy’shairinfrontofherdressingtable.Methodicalstrokes,theglossystrands,

thesoundofbombsoutside.Trudyapplyinglipstick.Herjasminescent.Dominick’srefinedhead,infrontofOtsubo’slegs.HiseyesmeetingWill’s,openingwideinpanic,

then deadening to gray. He didn’t stop, he just closed his eyes. Will, leaping back instinctively, yetknowingnottoslamthedoor,havingthepresenceofmindtoconcealhisintrusion.

Ababy,borninthemiddleofthenight,givenawaytoanindifferentnurse,neverseenbyitssedatedmother.

Ayoungwoman,justbackfromCalifornia,stillpuffyfromchildbirth,withemptyeyes,armsfilledwithanother’schild.

June2,1953AGOODEVENINGPARTYalwaysgaveoff aglow.Drinkswere refilledquickly, the foodwas

abundant,theservantssilentandefficient,andtheguestsallsecureintheknowledgethattheyhadbeenchosentoattend,thatmanyothershadbeenexcludedandmightwishtobehereintheirplace.

TheChens’coronationpartygaveoffsuchaglow,evenasClaireandMartinapproachedthefrontdoor.

Candlessetinsandinsmallpotslitthedrivewayuptothehouse.Uniformedmenwhiskedawaythecars.Music tinkled in thebackground; theChenshadhiredastringquartet, installed in thefoyer, threesweatyChinesemen in dinner jackets and a tinywomanwith a violin tucked under her birdlike chin.Theirarmssawedbackandforth,makingthemusicseemmorelaborthanart.

Thehostessatthedoor,holdingaglassofchampagne,anapparitioninadressseeminglymadeoutofsilver.

“Hello,hello,”trilledMelody.“Howlovelytoseeyouall.Sceptersforeveryone.”Shegesturedtoabowlfilledwithwands.“We’reallqueentoday.”

“You’resowicked!”raspedarapier-thinblonde.“Anotherday,anotherparty.I’veseenyou,what,threetimesalreadythisweek?AttheGardenPark,atMaisie’slunch,andatthatlittleItalianinCausewayBay?Whowereyouwith,youminx?Thatwasaveryhandsomeman.”

“Acousin,ofcourse.”Melodywinked.“Family’sveryimportanttome.”“Whatnonsensewealltalk!”saidtheblondeandsweptoninside.MartinandClairestoodtogether,waiting.“Claire!”Melodysaid.“I’msogladyoucouldcome.”“Thankyousoverymuchforhavingus,”Martinsaid.Clairecouldseehewasuncomfortableand

shewassuddenlyirritatedwithhimforit.“Nicetoseeyou,Melody,”shesaid.“Whatalovelyparty.”MartingotthemdrinksandClairestoodinthelivingroomshehadbeeninsooftenbefore.Itwas

alive,different,filledwithpeopletalking,laughing,leaningtowardoneanotherconfidentially.“Idon’tknowasoul,”Martinsaidwhenhereturned.“Makesyouwonderwhytheyinvitedthepiano

teacherandherhusband.”“Martin!”Clairesaid.“Youdon’tneedtofeelthatway.”ButMartinwasright.Theotherguestsatthepartyallknewoneanotherandwerenotreceptiveto

newcomers.ClaireandMartinsmiledandsippedtheirdrinksinthecorner,whollyignored.Martingaveupandwentouttothegardentolookattheflowersandtheviewoftheharbor.Claire

stoodbyherselfforamomentandthenwenttoinspectthephotographsonthemantel thatshehadseenbefore.

Trudywasstillthere,inherswimsuit,laughingatthecamera.Therewasagroupoffour,talkingabouttheirlasttriptoLondon,thetypeswithfeatheredhatsand

silksuits.Clairelistenedtotheirconversation,nursingherdrink.“But itwasbeastly.Servicethere ishorribleafteryou’vebeenintheFarEast.Youcan’t imagine

whattheyserveyoufordinner,coldandawful,andthey’renotintheleastapologeticaboutit.TheideaofserviceisdeadinEngland.Grim,grim,grim.Muchpreferitherewheretheytakesomeprideinit.”

“AndPoppy’sinLondonnow,isn’tshe?Iwouldn’tbesurprisedifshewereatWestminsterAbbeynow.”

“Oh,she’shorrible. I’msureshe’s triedeverything togetherself in. I supposewe’llhave tohearaboutitwhenshecomesback.”

Claire cleared her throat. One of the women, a buxom redhead, glanced over her shoulder, and

continuedtalking.Fromherposition,Clairecouldseethetwomenfacingher,andthetwowomenwiththeirbacksto

her.TheywereallEnglish.ShewouldhavethoughttheChenswouldhaveinvitedmorelocals.“IsSuMaycomingtoday?”theredheadaskedtheotherwoman,ayoungerblondewithabob.The

menlefttorefreshtheirdrinks.“Idon’tthinkso.IthinksheandMelodyhadafallingout.”“Really?Dotell!”“The usual. You know”-the blonde’s voice dropped-“Melody is just impossible these days, so

forgetfulandrude.IhadalunchfortheGardenClubonThursday,andshedidn’tletmeknowifshewasabletocome,nevershowedup,andthenneversaidanythingaboutit!Idon’tknowwhat’sgoingonwithherthesedays.”

“TheOBE’sgonetoherhead!”Evenlower.“Isn’titfunnyhowthemostlocalpeoplearethemostAnglophilic?”“Iknow,darling.Lookaround!WecouldbeinMayfair!”“Butyouknow,it’sunusualforlocalstohostanythingattheirhouse.IthinkthisisthefirstChinese

houseI’vebeeninsinceI’vebeenhere.”“Victor is good at hedginghis bets.He’s having another party tomorrow, for an entirely different

crew,butnotathishouse,attheclub,withmah-jonggafterwardandeverything.”“Hisownkind.”“Idon’tknowhowMelodyputsupwiththatman.He’sthemostobvious,venalpersonCharleshas

everdealtwith,hesays.”“But,youknow,I’vewondered.Theysay,opium…”The twowomen stopped talking as anotherwomanpassed by and said hello.They swooped and

rustledandpeckedatoneanotherlikebirds.“Lavinia!”“Maude!”“Harriet!”Claireslippedaway.Later, she found herself talking to Annabel, a frosted champagne-blond American from Atlanta,

Georgia,whowasinHongKongwithherhusband,Peter,whowaswiththeStateDepartment.“What’s your story, darlin’? ” Annabel asked. Her eyes were bright with alcohol, her hair in a

beehive.“Iamherewithmyhusband,who’swiththeWaterDepartment,”Clairesaid.“Allthesedepartments!”Annabelhooted.“TheState!Water!Makesureit’sinthepipes!”“Er,yes,”Clairesaid.SheneverknewhowtotalktoAmericans,whoweresoinformal,orwhatto

saytotheiroddexclamations.“Andyou,whatdoyoudotopassthetime?Doyouhavechildren?”“No,”Clairesaid.“Doyou?”“Ihavefour,allunderfive.IkeeppoppingthemoutandPeter’sreadytostrangleme.I tellhim,I

wasn’ttheonlyoneinvolvedhere,youknow?Atleasthere,wehavealltheamahs.Backhome,it’snotlikethis.”

“HaveyoubeenlonginHongKong?”Claireaskedpolitely.“Three years.Had Jackhere, thankGodhewas aCesarean…”Thewoman chattered on andon,

buoyedbyherowneffervescence, andClaire listened,glad tohaveanexcuse to standquietlyandnotlookawkward.

Martinfoundherlater,waitingbythepowderroom.“Hullo,”hesaid.“Readytoleavesoon?”

Shenodded.“I’llberightout.”Sheduckedintothebathroomandsplashedwateronherface.Shefeltasifshe

werewaitingforsomethingtohappen.

Later,sheheardtheredheadandtheblonde,MaudeandLavinia,discussher.“Whowasthatwomanlurkingaround?”“IthinkIheardMelodysayshe’sthepianoteacher.”“Really?”“Pretty,though,don’tyouthink?”“Inawan,blondsortofway,Isuppose.”Thesoundofalightslap.“Youaresuchabitch!”Laughter.“It’sthatskin,youknow.Drivesmenwild.”“Yes,itjustgoes,though.It’swastedontheyoung.”

Asuddencommotionnearthedoor.Amaidhadfaintedintheheat.Thehouseboywassummonedandcarriedherout.

“Bloodyhot,”amaninaboatersaid.“Always,”rejoinedanother.“Haven’tyouheard?”Into this senseless conversation, Will strode, unexpected. He stopped in front of them, the first

peoplehesaw.“Didyouhear?”hesaid,withshockonhisface.Hisvoicewasnot loudbuteveryoneheardhim.

“ReggieArbogast’sgoneandshothimself.”Thetwomengaped.“Themanwhohad thepartieson thePeak?”Clairecried,beforeshecouldhelp it. Inhersimple

mind,Claire still imagined thatmoneymightbuyhappiness.A fewpeople turned to stare at her;mostwerestillinshock.

Thebuzzroseaudibly,immediate.“Hispoorwife.”Sottovoce.“Regina?Iwonderhedidn’tshootherinstead.”“Thechildren?”“AllbackinEngland.They’llsendatelegram,ofcourse.Whatatragedy.”“WhenIsawhimatFanling,heseemedratherdown.Hewentstraighttotheclubhousefordrinks.

RathertheworseforwearbythetimeI’dfinishedup.”ButWillwasthereforareason.HelookedaroundtheroomforVictorandwalkedovertohim.“Youbastard,”hesaid,andswungattheman.“Youlethimthinkallthistimehewastheonewho

broke.”Theroomquietedimmediately.VictorChenstaggeredbackbutdidnotfall.Hecameup,holdinghisjaw,andtriedtosmile.“Now,Will,youcomehereafternothavingshownupfordaysandthentakeaswingatme?You’ve

beenquitetheabsentdriver.”“Shutup.Youaredespicable.”Around them,peoplewere spellbound,unable tomove,even thoughmannersdictated theyshould

leave.Afew,moredecorousthantheothers,inchedtowardthedoor.“You are behind all of this. You brokered the damn Crown Collection back to the Chinese

governmentundertheguiseofpatriotism,didn’tyou?Youdidn’tcarewhosuffered,justthatyouenrichedyourselfandgotingoodwiththenewpeople.AndyouknowwhatyourChinesegovernmentdidwithit?Theyprobablysmasheditintoshards,asrepresentativeofbourgeoisvalues!”Hisvoicerose.

“TheChinese have the right to their own history,”Victor said stiffly. “It should never have been

takenfromtheminthefirstplace.”“Youaresuchahypocrite,”Willcontinued,asifhehadn’theard.“Whenyouwerereadinghistoryat

Cambridge,youwereallaboutjollyoldEngland,puntingandstrawberriesandcream,andthenwhenitsuited your purpose here, you became themodel Chinaman, currying favorwith theNationalists, theCommunists,whoeverwouldreceiveyou.Youdon’tknowwhetheryou’recomingorgoing,oldman.”HesteppedclosertoVictor,menacing.

“Iwouldn’texpectyoutounderstand,Will,”Victorsaid,adjustinghisshirt.“Youleastofall.YoucometoHongKongandfindyourlittlenestofcronies,andyourhalf-breedfilly,andallisrightwiththeworld.BloodyBritishontheirmoralhighhorse,whiletheypoisonedhalfofChinawithopiumfortheirowngain.”

“Itdoesn’tmatteranymore,Victor.Youaredoomed.”“You’vealwaysbeendramatic,Will,”Victorsaid.“JustlikeTrudy.Sentimentaltoo.Thosequalities

areluxuries,Iassureyou.”Willstoodstillforamoment.“Youaren’tworthit,”hesaidfinally.“Youwillneverbeworthanything.”SuddenlyMelodywasnexttoWill.“Will,” shepleaded. “Weare not enemieshere.We loved the samepeople.Weall had tragedies

duringthewar.Can’tyouforgive,justalittle?”Shelookedathim,buthedidn’tmove.Sheshifted,thenforsomereasonchangeddirectiontoward

Claire,andappealedtoher.“Surely you must understand, Claire. Life is so complicated and we make decisions that are

difficult.”Claire,caughtunguarded,wasexposed.Martinwasthere.Thewholeworldwasthere.Thewomen

whohadbeentalkingaboutherstared;shewasrebornintheireyes-someoneworthseeing.Nowshewasbeingunveiledinfrontoftheworldassomehowconnectedtotheirhosts,andtoWill,

apartofthispuzzle.Shewasunusedtotheattention.SherememberedthemomentattheChens’dinnerpartywhere everyone had stared at her,waiting for herwitty rejoinder, a sign that she belongedwiththem-aresponsethathadnevercome.ShethoughtofthefeelingsheoftenhadaroundWill-thatshewassomeone else entirely, the other Claire who had never gotten a chance to surface, a Claire who hadopinionsandsaidthingsthatpeoplelistenedto,someonewhowasvisible.Shethoughtofallthesethings,andlookedbackattheseaoffacesastheywaitedforhertoanswerMelody.

First,shenodded,asunobtrusivelyaspossible.Sheblushed, lookeddown.EdwinaStorch’spale,sweatyfaceroseinhermind.Youmustrisetotheoccasion.Yes,butinadifferentwayfromwhatEdwinaimagined.

Clairelookedupfromthefloor,raisedhereyes.“Melody,weallmakechoicesbutwehavetostandbythemandacknowledgeresponsibilityifwe

findourselvesonthewrongend.”Hervoicequaveredbuttheattentionofeverypersonintheroomwasonher.

ShefeltMartinstaringather,bewildered.Shecouldn’tlookathim.Shefocusedinsteadonwhatshewasdoing.

“Idon’tknowwhat’sgoingonhere,butIdoknowthatWillistellingyousomethingimportant.”Shewantedtobegenerous,shewantedtounderstand.Thequeen,beingcrownedinEnglandonthis

veryday,surelywouldexpectitofher.Shewantedsobadlytobemercifulandkind,andtotouchMelodygentlyontheshoulderandtellheritwouldbeallright,thatthingswouldworkout,thatsheherselfwouldmakesureofit.

Clairewasthinkingofallofthesethings,feelingthewarmglowofbenevolence.Butthen,Melody’sfacetwitched.

Itwasquick,andthenitwasover,butClairesawitnonetheless.Thiswoman,Melodywasthinking,ismydaughter’s piano teacher! She is someone I hired to teachLocket how to strike someblack andwhitekeysonamusicalinstrument.Sheissimple,English,notanyoneIneedtoaskafavorof.

Andthenitwasgone,erasedbythewoman’sinnatepracticality.Butitwastoolate.Clairehadseenitalready.Theheatrosefromherchesttoherhead.Shewastheonewhodidn’tneedanythingofanyone.Sheturnedtoherlover.

“Will,”shesaid,emboldened.“Iknowyoudon’t…”“Thisdoesn’tconcernyou,Claire,”heinterrupted.Hebarelysawher.Butsheknewhimwellnow.“Iknow,”shesaid.“ButMelodyhasapoint.”Sheknewthiswouldinflamehimfurther.“Don’tbeabsurd.Youhavenoideawhat’sgoingon.”“But…”“Out,”hesaid,pointingtothedoor.PartofherthrilledtoWill’scommandofthesituation.Hewasowningher,finally.Sheheardafaint

“Isay”thatsoundedlikeitcamefromherhusband.Sheclosedhereyes.Shecouldn’tseeMartinnow,couldn’tseehisbewildered,humiliatedface,andhavetosortouthowthatmadeherfeel.Sosheclosedhereyesandfeltthedullthrobofthebloodcoursingthroughherheadandtheweightofallthoseeyesonherandsheopenedherown,lookedaroundattheblurryseaoffaces,andthenshethoughtaboutwhatsheshoulddoandeverythingseemedtobegoinginslowmotion,asifshewereunderwater.Sheblinked,andeverythingwasstillblurry.Amaidcriedoutfromthekitchen,unawareofthedramagoingonattheparty,sheheardglassesclinkas theywereassembledona traybyanotherunsuspectingservant,aflybuzzedterriblynearherear,andshesawaredheadedwomanslowly,slowlysweepherhandthroughherhair,allthewhilelookingather.Allthishappenedasifitwereinaroomfarawayfromher,enclosedinglass.Intheend,shestoodupalittlestraighter,tookadeepbreath,andthenshedidtheonlythingshecouldthinkofdoingatthatmoment,thatparticularinstant:shejustwalkedaway.Itwascowardlyandmessyandleftmuchtobedealtwithlaterbutherheartfeltfullandtenderandshedidn’tseethatshehadanychoice.Shewalkedawayfromthegapingwomenandtheperplexedmen,andwentdirectlytothedoorandputherhand on the knob. She hesitated, she didn’t know why, and then she turned the door handle-sheremembered always the cool metal in her palm-and she walked out. She didn’t look at Martin. Shecouldn’t.Shedidn’tevenlookatWill.Shewalkedoutside,toanewandunknownlife.

July3,1953LATER, SHE HEARD what had happened. Women who had never acknowledged her presence

calledherorstoppedherintown,ostensiblytoaskherhowshewasdoingortellherwhathadhappenedaftersheleft,butreallytofindoutherconnectiontothesituation.

“Theysaidhewentoutonthetenniscourtandputtheguninhismouth.Verymessy.Andyouknow,heonlyhadtheonehand.Thehook,ofcourse.Quitetricky.Theamahfoundhim.Hadtobehospitalizedherselfwiththeshock.Theservantsalwayswanttobeapartofit,don’tthey?”

“PoorRegina,”saidClaire.Sherememberedthepartyshehadbeento,theonewhereshehadmetWill,withthePimm’sandtheboyandhisfatherhittingtheballbackandforthintheirtenniswhites.ShetriedtoimagineReggieArbogastsprawledoutonthegrass,bloodrunningoutofhismouth.“Doesanyoneknowwhy?Otherthanwhatwassaid…”

“He’dnotbeenhimself,”theywouldsay.“Blamedhimselfforlettingthecollectiondisappear.Andcouldn’tstandtoseeallthefussaroundthecoronation,andallthepatriotism.Madehimfeelawful.AndIthinkhefelthewasinsomewayresponsibleforthedeathofTrudyLiang.”Apause.“AnddidyouknowTrudy?OrDominick?”

“No,” she would say. “They were gone before I even arrived. I just found out who they wererecently.”

“Dominickwas just terrible.Hewent throughwomen like theywereusedhandkerchiefs,althoughtheysayhelikedbothsides,ifyouknowwhatImean…”

Clairewouldwaitpatiently.“AndtheChens?TheywerejustlividabouthowWillcameinandruinedtheirparty.Ican’tbelieve

youjustleft,darling,itwassodramatic!Melodywasinhysterics,Victortriedtobecool,andWill,well,he controlled himself and left not long after you, leaving all of us gaping like fools. I’ve never seenanythinglikeit.Whatascandal!Wereyouclose?”

“Idon’tknowmuchaboutthat,”Clairewouldsay.“Yousee,IwasteachingLocketbutdidn’thavemuchcontactwiththeChenssoIdidn’tknowthemverywell.They’dalwaysbeenverykindtome.”

“Oh…”Asigh,downthetelephoneline,disappointed.“Well,theyarereallysomething.”Apause.“Andareyou…allright?”

“Aswellascanbeexpected,”shewouldsay,orsomethingofthesort.“And…”Andonlyafewofthemcouldbringthemselvestosayit.“AndMartin?”Andshewouldnotanswer,andthedeepeningsilencewouldembarrassthemintohurriedlyfillingit

withsmalltalkandferventwishestoseehersoon,tohavetea,ortogoforawalk.Theyrangoffshortlyafterwardandnevercalledagain.Shewonderedattheirtransparency.

The government wrapped up its investigation into the disappearance of the Crown Collection.ReggieArbogastwasposthumouslyhonoredwithacommendationfromthequeenforhisservicestotheEnglishempire.ReginaArbogastsoldthebighouseonthePeaktoaShanghainesemerchantlookingtorelocatetoHongKongandsetsailforEngland.VictorChenwasnotofficiallymentioned.

July5,1953FROMADISTANCEshesawhimapproaching,aspindlyfigurewithacane.Hardtoimaginethis

manwastheenigmawhohadignitedsuchdesireinherameretwoweeksago.Butthenhecameclose,hispale,narrowface,hisuntidyhair,andhespoke,andshefelthispullall

overagain.“Claire,” he said, kissing her on the cheek. “Sit down.”Almost avuncular. She felt rebuffed.He

alwayssetthetoneoftheirmeetings.Theysatonabench lookingover theharbor.Theywereon thePeak,where theyhadarranged to

meet,thinkingtheywouldnotrunintoanyonetheyknew,fordifferentreasonsthanbefore,andtheyhadbeenright.Theywerealoneinthetwilighthour.Thewarmwindblew,notunpleasantly.

“IcameherewithTrudysometimes,”hesaid.“ThatisthesameironrailthatwasherewhenIwasherewith her. I touched it then and I can touch it now, but the circumstances are so different. I’m sodifferent.Doyoueverthinkaboutthat?”

Hewasadifferentman, as if agreatweighthadbeen liftedoffhis shoulders.Shecould feelhislightness.

“Will,”shestarted.“Andwhatwillyoudo?”hesaidasifshehadnotsaidanything.“Idon’tknow,”shesaid.“I’vebeenintouchwithmyparentsbuttheydon’tseemtooeagertotake

mebackin.Somethingaboutthecostandhispension.Idon’thaveajob,oranymeansofgettingone,Ithink.SoIdon’tknow.”Shesaidthissimply,withoutmeaningtocauseobligation.

“Isee,”hesaid.“Andyou?”sheasked.“Idon’tknoweither,”hesaid.“Itseemsimpossibletostayhere,anditseemsimpossibletoleave.”“Yes,”shesaid.“Sohereweare,”hesaid.“Twopeoplewithoutplacestogo.”“DoyouthinkIshouldcontinuewithLocket?”“Theyhaven’tsaidanything?”“No,wehaven’tspokensincetheparty.”“Well,”heconsidered.“Iftheyhaven’ttoldyoutostop,Iwouldgo.Butthen”-hegrinned-“I’msort

ofperverse.”“WhatwasityoutookfromthegraveinMacau?”Shehadbeenwondering.“Oh,that,”hesaid.“TrudyhadadepositboxatthebankandshehadalwaystoldmethatDominick

orIcouldaccessit.AndIgotaposthumousletterfromhersolicitorstellingmeIcouldpickupthekeyafterthewarwhenshehadbeendeclaredlegallydeceased.Shehadtoldmeaboutanotherkeytothesameboxbefore thewarbut Ihadnever tried to find it.AndwhenI received it fromthesolicitors, Ididn’tknowwheretoput it.SoIhidit inDominick’sgrave.Thoughtnoonewouldevergothere.Anditfeltright.Alittledramatic,butright.AndIwasalwayslookingforwhatfeltright.”

“Whatwasinthebox?”“Some bank books, financial papers. But what she wanted me to have were the documents, the

letters,thethingsthatshowedwhatshehaddoneforOtsuboduringthewar,andwhatothershaddone.”“OthersincludingVictorChen?”“Yes,”hesaidsimply.“Andwhatdidyoudowiththecontentsofthebox?”“Ijusthadthemsenttotherightpeople.Anonymously.”“ButVictorknewitwasyou.”

“HeknewIwastheonlyonewhomighthaveaccesstothatsortofinformation.”“Areyouinanytrouble?”“Idon’tthinkso,”hesaid.“ButI’vebeenwrongbefore.”Theysattogether,strangelycomfortable.“The thing is,”hesaid,“VictorChenwasnotwronginsomeway.TheBritishgovernmentdidn’t,

doesn’t,havetherighttoownallthoseirreplaceableChineseartifacts.Theystolethemfromtheminthefirstplace, although theywoulddispute theverb.But thewayhewentabout it…”Heshookhishead.“Thatmanonlyknowsonewaytodothings.

“AndIdidn’tabandonTrudy,not totally.Otsubostoppedsigning the furloughswhenhe realized Iwasn’tgivinghimanything.Buttherewasneveronetime,oronebigreason,thatIcouldn’tgetout.Ihadayearoffurloughs.TrudywouldhavegotmeoutifIhadwanted.That’soneofmydeepestregrets.Thatitjustkindof…fizzled.Shedeservedbetter than that.And Idon’tknow, really,whathappened toher. Idon’tknow.IsupposeIcouldfindout.Thereareonlytoomanypeoplewhowouldbedelightedtotellmeallaboutit.IncludingVictor.”

“Butwhatcouldyouhavedone?”“Anything but what I did,” he said. “Anything but the nonsense I did in camp: form committees,

campaignforhotwaterormoresheets!”Hisvoicerose,grewviolent.“Iwasacoward,acoward.Anddidn’t do anything to help her. The woman I loved. I did nothing. Hid behind what I pretended washonor.”

“DidTrudyever…”Clairecouldn’tfinishthequestion.“Sheneversaidanything.Sheneverreproachedmeorchallengedme.Shewasalwayswhoshesaid

shewas.Sheneverpretendedtobeanythingelse.Thatwasthebeautyofher.”Hestraightenedhisback.“ShebehavedasifshebelievedmewhenIsaidIcouldn’thelpher.Butshewassoclever-shesaw

therealsituation.Butshedidn’tsayanything;sheforgaveme.”He stoodup,walkedover to a tree, and absently snappedoff a leaf.He split it inhalf, thenhalf

again,thenscatteredthepiecesontheground.“ Hong Kong is always so damn green,” he said. “Don’t you wish for some absence of color

sometimes?SomeEnglishgray,alittlefog?”Clairenodded.Hewasunraveling,slowly,andshewantedtogivehimsomeroom.Hecontinued.“Sometimes,Ihateherforthat.Thatshedidn’tcallmeoutonit.Thatsheletmebea

coward.Itwascruel,intheend.”Trudywoulddespiseamanwhowept,heknew.“I have this image,” he said slowly. “This image ofTrudy running around outside, frantic, like a

chickenwithitsheadcutoff,notknowingwhattodo,nothavingacenter,justdesperate.Ifeellikeshewasdesperate.But shedidn’tcome tome forhelp.Notafter the first time.When I saidno, sheneveraskedagain.”

Clairereachedforhishand,restingontopofhiscane.Hedidn’tyieldandshesettledforplacingherhandontopofhis.

“Andshewouldn’thavehadanyonetoconfidein.Shewastotallyalone.AndImadeherthatway.”Theairwasdampstillwith theever-presentHongKonghumidity.Adropofperspiration slowly

wendeditswaydownClaire’sback.Shewilledhimtolookather,toacknowledgeshewasthere,apartofthis,buthestaredoutatthe

harbor,hiseyesblank.Slowly,sherealized:Hisnewlightnesswasnot just reliefat thepassingofhisburden.Therewasemptinesstheretoo.

***

HESEESTRUDY,wavingonthestepsoftheToa,ashegetsinthecarthatwilldrivehimbacktoStanley.Shehasawistfullookonherface,heramberhairlitfrombehind,thesettingsunsinkingintotheHongKonghorizon.PregnantMadonna.Sheblowshimakiss,suddenlywinks.Hehateshowshedoesthat-alwaysturnsaseriousmomentintoajoke.Butthisishowshelives,howshesurvives.Thisistheanimalsheis.Shehadnevertoldhimanythingdifferent.Shehadwarnedhim.

Arbogast broke, she had told him during this furlough, and he had nodded. “Yes, I saw himafterward,”hesaid.

“Butyouknow,”shesaid,hervoiceslightlypanicked,“itwasn’tthecorrectinformation.Otsuboisfurious.Buttherewasevidencethatitwasthere.AnoldstoragebuildinginMongKok.Someoneelsegottoitfirst.”

“HowdidOtsuboknowthatArbogastmightknowwhereitwas?”heasked.Shehesitated.“Ithink,Victor,”shesaidfinally.“AlthoughIhavenothingtobackthatup.Hehashisfingerinevery

pie,thatman.”“Becareful,”hesaid.“Iknow.”Shenodded.“Otsubo’stiredofmenow,anyway.Ithinkwe’verunourcourse.”“Whatdoesthatmeanforyou?”heasked,carefultomaskhisrelief.Shelaughed.“Oh,nothinggood,I’mafraid.JustmeansI’munderhisthumbjustasmuchasalwaysbutInolonger

havethemeanstocoddlehimoutofhisbadmoods.”“Doyouwanttocomeintocampnow?”“Again,with the camp!You cannot cage this bird,my love. I’ve grown used to dark, dangerous

freedomandallitsattendanthumiliations.”“Butyoucould…”“Iamintheprocessofliningupanother…sponsor,”shesaidslowly.“Oroneisbeinglinedupfor

me.Sodon’tyouworry.”Tearssprangtohiseyes,hot,unexpected.Hefeltasifhemightdieifshesawthem.“Ishouldgo,”hesaid.“Yes.”Heturnedtogo.Shecaughthisarm,studiedhisface.“EverytimeIsaygood-byetoyou,Iwonderifit’saurevoiroradieu.YouknowwhatImean?”Henodded.“You’vetoomuchpoweroverme,”shesaidlightly.“Ihavetopretendlikeitdoesn’tmatter,likeyou

don’tmatter.Howdidthathappen?”He looks at her, his love, her face ruddywith pregnancy, birdlike ankles swollen, thiswoman, a

survivor, six months pregnant with an unwanted child, and finds he cannot forgive her this lasttransgression.It iseasier tobrandheravillainandgobacktocamp,play thevictim, lickhiswounds.Thisiswhathedoes.Thereisnogloryinit,butthereissurvival.Andherealizesthatiswhattheyareplayingatnow.

May27,1953EDWINASTORCHhadtoldhereverything,surethatshewouldpassontheinformationtoWill.Edwina’svoiceinherhead,theoldwomanpouringteainthedarkclub.“TrudyredoubledhereffortstobeindispensabletoOtsubo.Sheknewwhatkindofassetshehadin

him.IknewOtsubobecausehehadbeenofsomehelptomeingettingmypass,andIkeptintouchandtriedtohelphiminwhateversmallmattersImightbeofassistance.”ShehadpeeredatClaireoverherspectacles.“Youunderstand,Iwasnotcollaboratingwiththeenemy.IthoughtIwouldbeofbetterusetoEnglandandeveryoneifIkeptabreastofthesituation,andtherewasnoreasontoalienatetheman.”Shetookoffherglassesandrubbedthemagain.

“AndwhenTrudystarted toproveherself really indispensable toOtsubo-youknow, thegirlkneweverythingaboutHongKongandalltheskeletonsinthecloset-hercousin,Dominick,whoIneverliked,startedtogetjealous.Itwasasiftheywerebothvyingforhisfavor,andtherewasonlyroomforone.Dominickwasaterribleperson.Idon’tknowifyouknowanythingabouthimbuthewasjustawful.Asadistic,smallmanwhoalwaysfeltthatlifeowedhimeverything.TheywerebothOtsubo’sflunkiesandran around getting himmeetingswithChinese leaders and keeping him informed about everything thatwent on in the Chinese community, and even in the small European community that was still outside.Dominickmadesomemoneybuyingandsellingnecessities.Hewouldbuyitcheapthroughhissourcesandchargeexorbitantratestothelocalmarket.Verydistasteful.He’dalsotrytogetinformationonwhowashelpingwhomandreportbacktoOtsubo.Needlesstosay,thismadehimlessthanpopularwiththeirold crowd,buthewas certainly thebest fed.Dominickwasmoreout in theopenabout it thanTrudy.Peoplestoppedtalkingtohim.”

Claireinterrupted.“Didyouhavetodoanywork?Howdidyousurvive?”Edwinapursedherlips.“I’vealwayspreferrednottodwellontheunpleasantnessofthepast.”Claire almost laughed aloud, but saw that Edwina Storchwas unaware of the enormous irony of

whatshewassaying.“Therewas all this businessof the Japanese inHongKong trying to enrich themselves. It’s quite

commoninavictorybuttherewasalotofchatterabouttheCrownCollection,whichhadsomeextremelyrareandpricelessporcelainpieces.OtsubofoundoutIknewabitaboutthesubjectandcalledmeintogetsomeinformation.ItoldhimwhatlittleIknew.”

Edwina’seyessparkled.“Actually, I knew quite a bit more than I let on but didn’t think it was an opportune time.” She

paused.“WhatifIweretotellyou,Claire,thatthegovernorhadjustflownintoHongKongontheeveofthe

war.”Shesatverystill,asifinatrance.“Hewassteppingintoaverytrickysituationandheknewit.Hehadjustbeensworninandwastakingoveracolonythatwas,frommostintelligencereports,goingtobeconqueredinshortorder.HehadordersfromLondon,oneofwhichwastosecuretheCrownCollectionwhichwasinGovernmentHouse.Hisstrategy…”

She laughed, interruptingherself. “Interestingstory, isn’t it?Politiciansare sostupid.Nosenseatall.Hisstrategywastotellthreedifferentpeopleaboutthelocationhewasgoingtohaveitsentsothatitwould survive the war. Communications to London were already compromised so he had to think ofanotherway.”ShelookedatClaire.“Iwasoneofthethree.”

“That must have been a great honor,” Clairemurmured. She imagined the scene: Edwina Storchsummoned to Government House, given tea, scones, a cordial reception from a man who had little

knowledgeofhisnew territory, still settling intohisprivatequarters,getting toknow the servants,hisenormoustask,Edwinacondescending,asonlyawomanofherageandexperiencecouldbe.Howdidshegetawaywithitforsolongandwithoutchallenge?

“TheyknewIhadbeenalongtimeinHongKongandknewagreatdealaboutthepeople,thehistory,theplace,whichIdo,ofcourse,”Edwinamused.“Andtheothertwo.Well,Ifoundoutwhotheywereaswell.Weweren’tsupposedtoknow,butthiskindofinformationgetsaround.Thegovernorwasnervousandconfidedinafewpeople,notthelocationbutouridentities.Aschattergrew,itallcametolight.OnewasReggieArbogast.Doyouknowhim?”

Clairenodded.“Slightly.”“Heturnedabitqueerafterthewar.”Hermouthgrewset,grim.Anunforgivingexpressionsettled

onherface.“Andasillycowofawife,Regina.”“Andthethird?”Clairecouldn’thelpasking.Edwinalookedsurprised.“Ithoughtyouwouldguess.ThethirdwasVictorChen.”

April1942WHENITRAINSinHongKong,theworldstops.Thedelugeissooverwhelming,sostrong,thatthe

city disappears under a sheet of gray water and people vanish like panicked rats, scurrying intodoorways, shops, restaurants. Inside, they shake off the water, ordering coffee or browsing throughdresseswhiletheywaitfortheraintostop.

Trudy and Victor Chen sit inside Chez Sophie, a small French restaurant in Causeway Bay, andwatchtherainfalloutside.

“Itnever seemscleanhere,evenafter the rain,”Trudysays.“Thewaterwashes thegrimeoff thestreetsbut it’sback two instants later.HongKong is justdirty.Alwayshasbeen.Can’t liveanywhereelse,though.Thisfilthycityishome.”Sherubsthearmofherchair,redvelvet,thefabricstartingtoshinefromconstantuse.“I’vealwayslovedthisrestaurant,”shesays.“Asachild,FatherusedtotakemetotheSundaybrunchhereeveryweek,andI’dbuyanewdresstowear.”

Victorharrumphs.“Everyweek?”hesays.“Youwerespoiled,weren’tyou?”“Spoiled?”sheasks.“Don’tworry,Victor.I’msurethiswarwillbeateverylastshredofprivilege

outofme.”“Peoplewillshowtheirtruecolors.”“Theyalreadyare,Victor,dearcousin,andpeoplearealreadycommentingonit.I’veheardpeople

calluscollaborators.Isn’tthatwhatyoucallthosewhogettooclosetotheconquerors?”“Collaborator isadirtyword,Trudy.I’dbecarefulhowyouuse it.”VictorsipsCognac,hisface

reddening.Trudyloungesinherchair,sleekinatanwoolskirtandivoryblouse.Ahalf-emptycoffeecupsitsinfrontofher.

“But that’swhatwe are, aren’twe,Victor?” Trudy asks, needling him. “Isn’t thatwhat they callpeoplelikeus?”

“Don’t benaïve,” he snaps. “You are providingEnglish lessons and etiquette.You’re basically agovernesstothegoodgeneral,educatinghiminthewaysoftheWesternworldthatheissointerestedin,despitehimself.AndIammerelydoingmybesttoprovideasmoothtransitionsothatourpeopledonothave to suffer.Never say something so stupid again.Not everything is soblack andwhite.Shouldwespiteourselvesandalienatetheverypeoplewhomighthelpusthroughthisdifficulttime?Trudy,youarenolongerachild.”

“ButOtsuboisso…”“You do not have to concern yourselfwith him other than to give himEnglish lessons and try to

fulfillhisrequests.”Hisfaceturnsshrewd.“Iwouldsayyoushouldcomplywitheveryrequest,nomatterwhatitisorhowveileditis.”

“Heisapig,”shesaysquietly.Thewaitercomesandsilentlyrefillshercup.Sheputssugarandmilkin,takesasip.

Victorstudiesherface.“You’vechanged,”hesays.“Isit theEnglishman?Hasheinculcatedyouwithhistimelessvalues,

therightwaytodothings,honorandallthatrubbishtheEnglisharesogoodatspewing?Andyet,whenitcomes to their responsibilities, they always find a reasonwhy they can’t fulfill them, and they alwayssoundsogoodwhentheydo.They’verefinedittoanart.Theysoundgoodanddonothing.”

“Who don’t you hate, Victor?” She thinks privately that his speech is undermined by his Oxfordaccent.

“YouaremoreChinesethananythingelse,Trudy.Youwillalwaysbeviewedasforeigninanyothercountry.YoubelonginHongKong.”

Helightsacigarette,doesn’tofferherone.Sheknowshe’salwaysdisapprovedofhersmokinginpublic.Hethinkswomenshouldbedemureandquietwhenout.

“Thesearegoingtobecurrencytoonow,youknow,”hesays,inspectingthelittip.“Thingsaregoingto be different, and getting a foothold in the newworld is going to be like building a foundation onquicksand.Youhavetobeadaptable.”

Trudyputsherhandsonthetableandleansforward.Ifshecould,shewouldbareherteethandhiss.“I’mbusy,Victor.Whydidyouwanttoseeme?”“Ijustwanttobesurewe’reonthesameside,”hesays.“Beingaswe’refamilyandall.”Trudylaughs.“You’veneverfeltsofamilialbefore,I’msure.”Shehesitates.“MaybeI’llgointoStanleyinstead.

Willsaid…”“Don’tbeidiotic,Trudy.Youcangetalotmoreaccomplishedoutherethanyoucanbybeingina

prison.Andmakenomistake,that’swhatitisinthere,aprison.Whywouldyougiveitup?”“ButWill…”Victorlaughs.“Ididn’tknowyouweresosentimental,mydear.Andofcourse,there’sthematterofyourfather.”Trudytenses.“Whatofhim?”“Ididn’twanttosayanythingbut…heisnotwell.”Trudy’sfacedoesn’tmove.“He’sneversaidanythingtome.”Victorlooksatherasifshewerestupid.“Andyouthinkhewould?”“Idon’tbelieveyou.”Victorwaveshishand.“Itdoesn’tmattertomeintheleast.”Hecatcheshimself.“Ofcourse,Iam

concernedwithhiswelfareandIthoughtyouhadarighttoknow.”In the restaurant, the pianist comes in and sits down. He starts to practice. Trudy andVictor sit

acrossfromeachother,eachunwillingtomakethenextmove.“Debussy,”Trudysays.“Yes.”Theysit,twochessplayers,lookingatanythingbuteachother.Victorsmokeshiscigarettedownto

thestubandcrushesitinthecrystalashtray.Hespeaksfirst,oblique.“ThePlayersarealreadyhardtoget.TheJapanesearebringingintheirownbrands,RisingSunand

rubbishtobaccolikethat.It’sgoingtobeallabouttransportationandaccesstoimports.Thechannelsaregoingtogetnarrower.Goodswillbedear.”

Trudylooksup.“Goodslike,say,medicine,youmean?”“Well, of course. That’s just one example. Good-quality medicine. American and British

pharmaceuticalcompaniesarecertainlynotgoingtobeshippinggoodstoconqueredterritories.Atleastnotlegally.Peoplearegoingtohavetobeclever.”

“Andyou’vealwaysbeenclever,Victor.Andcriminallyunsubtle.”Hethrowsuphishands.“I’vealwaysbeencalledsomething.ButI’mjust tryingtomakesureyou

understand the entire situation.Food is going to be in very short supply. It’s not just amatter of silkstockingsandgoodport.”

Trudy stands up. “Excuseme, I just have to powdermy nose.” Shewalks gracefully over to thepowderroomandthedoorclosessilentlybehindher.

Victorwaits,tappinghispackofcigarettesonthetablecloth.Whensheemerges,sheisfresh-faced,withanewcoatoflipstick,woman’sarmor.

“Peoplewill thinkwe’re in love,Victor.This illicitmeetinginanout-of-the-wayrestaurant.”Shesmilesathim.

“Havinganaffair?”“Youdon’tfancyme?”Victorconsidersherteasingmoreseriouslythanheshould.“You’relikeasistertome,Trudy.Melodyhasalwaysbeenveryfondofyou.Sheaskedmetotake

careofyouwhileshewasgone,makesureyouwereallright.”“That’sfunny.ShetoldmetogotoMacau,tobewithmyfather.”“Hedoesneedsomeonetohelphimout,takecareofhim.”“HehasLeung.”Her father’sdevotedhouseboy,withhimfor fortyyears.“He’ll takecareofhim

betterthanIevercould.”“Didn’tyouhear?”Trudy’sfacefalls.“No,what?”“Leungwasknifed in the lung.Seemshewas trying topreventsomeJapaneseprivatefromtaking

yourfather’sRolex.Itwastouchandgoforawhile,butthenhefinallysuccumbed.Thesesoldiersknowjustwheretoputtheknife.”

“Fatherwouldhavetoldme,”Trudysays.“Hewouldhavecontactedme.”“Youknowhowit iswithyourfather,”Victorsayssoothingly.“Hedoesn’twanttobeabotherto

you.But don’tworry,Trudy. I took care of it. I have awoman fromShanghai livingwith your father,cookingandtakingcareofhim.Hedidn’twantyoutoworry.Ididn’twantyoutoworry.Ionlybroughtitupbecause…”

There isa longpause.Trudy looksupandsmilesatVictor,brittle.Shereachesslowlyacross thetableforthepackofcigarettesandtakesoneout.Victordoesnotofferalightsoshegoesintoherhandbagandgetsalighter.Herhandsareshaking.SheinhalesdeeplyandblowsthesmokeatVictor.

“Otsubo…”shesays.“Headoresme.ThinksI’msomeexoticflower.”“Iknow,”Victorsays.“Youshouldmakesurethatlasts.”Helooksathersearchinglywithnarrowedeyes,thenturnsaway,satisfied.“I’mhavingagardenpartynextweek,”hesays.“Youwillbethehostess.Wearefamily,sopeople

won’ttalk.BringOtsuboandtellhimtoinvitewhoeverhewants.”Trudynods,soslightamovementitisalmostunnoticeable.“I think we’re finished here,” Victor says. “But one more thing, Trudy.When you decide to do

something,youshoulddoitalltheway.There’snothingworsethanindecision,orambivalence.That’sthekindofthingthatendangerslives.Butyou’reasmartgirl-youknowwhatI’mtalkingabout.Haveagoodday.”

Hetossessomebillsonthetableandwalksout.

May27,1953CLAIRESATinthelibrarywiththeretiredheadmistress,stunned.“VictorChen?”sheasked.“Hewasoneofthethree?Whydidn’thejust…”“Oh,” Edwina said. “He didn’t want to sell the information too cheap. Nothing if not a good

businessman,thatfellow.Verymisinformedabouthim,thegovernmentwas.Icouldhavetoldthemhe’dsellhisownmotherifthepricewasright.TheythoughtitwouldbegoodtohaveaChinesepersonknow,incasetheEnglishwereallimprisonedorkilled.AndtheythoughthehadloyaltiestoEnglandbecausehehadbeenschooledthere.HefoundoutthatIknewandthatReggieknew,butReggiewasinStanleyandheknewhe’dneversayanything.Me,hedidn’tknowsowell.Sohehadmeoverafewtimesaswell.I’veneverbeensolavishlyentertainedandskillfullyinterrogatedaboutmyintentions.ButIknewbetter.Weplayedcatandmouseforawhileandhealwayskepttabsonme.”

“DidTrudyknowaboutthis?”“Idon’tthinkso,orelseshewouldn’thaverunaroundsohard,tryingtoprocuretheinformation.I

thinkVictorgotsomepleasureoutofseeingherworksodiligentlytogetsomethingthathealreadyhad.AndDominicktoo.Thetwoofthemweresomethingtosee.Victorwatchedthemforawhile,andthenIthinkhedecidedtheyweregettingalittletooinfluentialandhedecidedtodosomethingaboutit.Hewasreallytheonepullingthestrings.Theywerejusthispuppets.”

Edwinapaused.“Doyouwantsomeofthesescones?”sheasked.“They’rethebest inHongKong.MadebyaMr.

WongwhoItrainedmyself.He’sthebestChineseEnglishbakerinthecolony.”“No,thankyou,”Clairesaid.Edwinaspreadjamonachunkandpoppeditintohermouth.“Mmmmm,”shesaid.“I’velivedheresolongbutstillcan’tgetbywithoutmyteaandscones.“So,VictorChenstartedtogetirritatedwiththewayTrudyandDominickwerecarryingon.They

werebeingratherconspicuousandtoocozywiththeirrelationshipwithOtsubo.Itwasquiteunseemly.So,hestartedtosowalittleunrestbetweenthem.HewantedthemmoreunderhisthumbthanOtsubo’s.HealsoincludedDominickinhisbusiness,whichwasflourishing.HewassupplyingJapanesetroopsinGuangzhouwithpetrolandbasicsuppliesandmakinganabsolutefortune.WhatDominickhadbeendoingbeforewassmallpotatoesandhetoldhimthat.Hehadfactoriesandenormousresourcesbackinghimup.ThenhetoldDommiethatTrudywasgoingbehindhisbackandtryingtogettheinformationwithouthim,andofcourse,Dominickbelievedhim.SoDominickstartedtodothingsthatwouldundermineTrudy.HetoldOtsubothatTrudyknewwheretheCrownCollectionwasbutjustwasn’ttellinghim.Victorwasonlytoohappytobackthisup.”

“DidDominickknowthatVictorknew?”“No,”scoffedEdwina.“Victordidn’ttellanyone.Iwastheonlyonewhoknew.Butyouknow,the

funnythingis…”Edwina’seyeslookedfaraway.“Itwasveryodd.ItwasasifTrudyknewwhatwasgoing on but she didn’t do anything about it. She had already given up. It was as if she didn’t careanymoreandshewasjustgoingthroughthemotions.”

Someone opened the door and looked inside. Edwina Storch didn’t look up. The door closedsilently.

“Andso,OtsubodecidedthatTrudywastoomuchtroubleandhe’dgrowntiredofher.He’dmovedon toDominick,atanyrate.Theywere loversaswell.He likedanythingandeverything, thatman.Hewasinsatiable.Arealpig.Soheusedthisasanexcusetogetridofher.Andheaskedmetohelp.Butyouknow, theodd thingwas thatnothinghedid seemed to fazeher.Shewasuntouchableand itmadehimcrazy.Aftershefellpregnant,hetoldherhewasgivinghertohislieutenant,thathewasdonewithher,

butshewentquietly.Shedideverythinghesaidanddidn’tgivehimanysatisfaction.Ithinkhewantedherto suffer. So he passed her around-she was an heiress, you understand, had been given the best ofeverythingfrombirth,kneweveryone.Idon’tknowwhyshedidit.Shejustdidnotcareanymore.”Forthefirsttime,EdwinaStorchseemedsaddened.

“SohowdidTrudydie?”Claireasked.“Dominick had told Otsubo that Trudy knewwhere the Crown Collection was. Trudy denied it.

OtsubothoughtshemightconfideinmebecauseIwasEnglishsohehadmebumpintoherafewtimessothatwecould rekindleouracquaintance. Itwaseasybecauseheknewwhere shewasall the time.SoTrudyandIbumpedintoeachotherregularly.”

“Didyoufeelanyscruplesaboutdoingthisforthisman?”Claireasked.“Notatall,”Edwinasaidinstantly.“Youhavetounderstand,Claire,thatnoonewasasaintinanyof

this.Otsubowastheenemy,butTrudy,Dominick,Victor,theywereallgettinginbedwithhim,soasfaras Iwas concerned, theywere all the enemy. They didn’t have anyone’s interest at heart except theirown.”

“Itwasalmostyourpatrioticduty,”Clairesaidquietly.“Yes.”Edwina seizedon this idea. “I thought thiswasoneway I couldhelpour country. I knew

VictorChenwasgoingtogiveuptheCrownCollectionatsomepoint.Itwasjustatwhatprice.AndIthoughtifIkepttabsonit,Imightbeofsomehelpintrackingitdown.So,whatIdidwas…ItoldOtsubothatTrudydidknow.”

“What?”Claire’smouthhungopen.“But…”Edwinastiffened.“Ithoughtitwasthebestapproach.Themanhadtobeleddownthewrongpathsohewouldn’tfind

therightone.”“ButyouassuredherdeathbytellingthistoOtsubo.”Itwasoutbeforeshecouldstiflethethought.“Sosimple,”Edwinasaid.“Soblackandwhiteforyou,isit?Thetruthis,dear,Trudywasdoomed

from the start. Theway shewas acting. Shewouldn’t have lasted anothermonth. So,Otsubo had twosourcestellinghimthatTrudyknewbutwaskeepingitfromhim.Sothenheaskedmetoescorthertohisoffice. Itwasveryodd thewayhewanted tohandle it.MustbeJapanese.Oddpeople,youknow.Sheknewsomethingwasoffbecauseshewentthereallthetimeanddidn’tneedmetoescorther,butshewasverypolite.WhenIshowedupatherdoor,wesatdownforteaandhadanicechat.Andthenwewalkedovertogetherandshewentintothebuildingbyherself.Itoldherhewasexpectingher.And,thatwasit.Nooneeversawheragain.”

Theroomseemedcolder.Clairefoldedherarmsinfrontofherchest.“So…”Thethoughthungintheair.“No,dear,”saidEdwina.“TheJapanesearequiteunsentimentalabout thatsortof thinganddon’t

leavewitnesses.IthinktheymayhaveletherhavethebabyandthenIdon’tknowwhathappenedafterthat.”

“AndDominick,hercousin?”Edwinashookherhead.“That one was never going to come to a good end. He got in over his head. He was used by

everyone. Victor installed him at a company he had formed called Macau Supplies. He made sureDominick’snamewasonallthelegalpaperssohecouldkeephishandsclean.Butitdidn’tmatter.IthinkDominickgotgreedyandstartedskimming,andtheJapanesefoundout.Itwasneverclearwhathappenedtohimeitherbutatleasttherewasabody.Heturnedupinacanalintheseedypartoftown.Allofhisfingershadbeencutoff,saveone-aneleventhfingerhehad,apparentlyabirthdefect.”

“Oh.”Claireexhaled slowly. Itwas somuch to take in. “Andwhateverdidhappen to theCrownCollection?”

“Well,youcanneverletitbesaidthatVictorChenisnotclever.Hehadaninklingthatthesecretmight leak, either throughmeorArbogast, sohehad the collection taken awayand stored somewhereelse.And then he intimated toOtsubo that he had found outArbogast knewwhere itwas. So hewasmasterful atmanipulating the situation.HehadOtsuboowinghima favor then,yousee.AndArbogastneverknew.They tookhis hand.Hewas lucky theydidn’t domore.SoArbogast broke, asmanymenwouldhaveunderthatsortof…duress,andthenwhenOtsubosenthismen,thecollectionwasnolongerthere.Arbogasthadsomeroughdaysafterthataswell,butVictorChengotoffscot-free.Arbogastneverknewwhetherhehadgiven itupornot. I think thatwasworse than the torture.”Edwina’s face turnedcontemplative.“Funnywhatthemindcandotoyou.Hedidverywellforhimselfafterthewar,anddidalotfortheunfortunate,buthewasneverhappy.Felthehadfailedhiscountry,yousee,andhewasthesortofmanthatthenotionwouldalwayshaunthim.

“Anyway, later, Victor could sense the tide turning in the war and he thought it might be moreadvantageoustogiveitbacktotheChineseandbankafewfavorsfromthem.SoheputthecollectiononatraintoChina.Agiftfromaloyalcitizen.Ididn’tknowuntilafterthefact.”

“Andthatwastheendofit.Andyounevertoldanyone?”“No,”Edwinasaid.“Victormadeitabundantlyclearitwastomyadvantagetokeepsilent.”ClairethoughtofEdwina’scomfortablelife,herlargeestateintheNewTerritories,allapparently

paidforonaheadmistress’scivilpension.“Whoknew?”sheasked.“Idon’tknow,mydear.Victorplayshiscardsclosetohischest.”“HowmuchofthisdoesWillknow?”Edwinasmiled.“Well,you’dhavetoaskhim,wouldn’tyou?”“Andwhyareyoutellingmethis?Ihavenothingtodowiththisstory.”Claireasked.“Youare…closetoWill,areyounot?”askedEdwina.“Iknowhim,”Claireallowed.“Don’tbecoy,”Edwinasnapped.“Helistenstoyou?”“Notatall.”Ofthisshewassure.“Well,Ithinkyou’dbesurprised.You’rethefirstpersoninalongtimethatourWillhasdeignedto

spendtimewith.Ijustthinkheneedsalittlepushtodotherightthing.Awomanknowstherightthingtosay.It’sourinstinct.”

“Idon’tknowthatIunderstandwhatyou’resaying.”Clairewasdeliberatelybeingobtuse.Edwinaslappedherpalmsonthetable.“Thatman,” she cried. “Thatman,Victor Chen, promenades himself aroundHongKong as if he

ownsit.Hehobnobswitheveryonewho’simportant-youknowhewaschosentohostapartyforPrincessMargaretwhenshecametotown?Andwhoishe?Sometrumped-upChinamaninaSavileRowsuit!Acollaborator.Anopportunist.”Shesaidthisalmostspitting.“Hepretendstobebetterthaneveryone,evenEnglishpeople!It’snauseatingandIwon’thaveit.”

Heroutburstrangout,incongruous,againsttheheavydamaskcurtains.“HesnubbedMaryintowntheotherweek.He’sforgottenoldfriendsinhishastetoascendtothe

top.Well,he’ll learn.”She lookedatClaire. “He is anawfulpersonwhodoesn’tdeserveanythingofwhathehas.”

“It’shardtosaywhodoesdeservethegoodinlife,”Clairesaid.Shefeltasifshewereplacatingalarge,angryanimal.

“Hethinksthepastcanbeburied.Butithasawayofsurfacing,againandagain.”“Andthebaby?Trudy’sbaby?”Claireasked.Aninnocent,perhapstheonly,inallofthis.“Idon’tknow,mydear.Isupposeitwastakencareof.”Shepaused.“Yes.Thatwastheend.Ithink

aboutthatlastafternoonwithTrudyquitealot,howremoteshewas,howremoved.Shedidn’tcareifshelivedordiedafterWillabandonedher. Ialways thought thatWillTruesdalebrokeherheart.Andhowaboutthat?WhoknewthattheremarkableTrudyLianghadahearttobreak?”

July5,1953“ANDNOW,”Clairesaid.“Whatofus?”SheandWillhadsatinsilenceforlongminutes,lookingoutatthewater,theboatsstreamingsilently

throughtheharbor,passingoneanothersmoothly,liketoyboatsinachild’sbathtub.Itstartedtosprinkleslightly.Ithadtakengreatefforttoaskandshecouldnotbringherselftolookathim.Sheputherhandsinherlapandcuppedthemtogetherprimly.

“Youdon’t needme,” he said slowly. “I’ve said it before and it’s truer than ever. I’m a liabilitynow.”

Her first reaction: automatic withdrawal. Then she realized, with Will’s new release cameuncertainty:hehadlivedtoolongwithhissecretsandnowthattheyhadbeenpouredout,hewaslikelyfeelingempty.

“Idon’tneedyou,”sheechoedhiswords.Howporousheseemed,howhealwaysslippedthroughhergrasp.Evenintheirmostintimatemoments,inbed,hisfacehoveringoverhers,intensewithpassion,hewasneverfullythere.Nowsheunderstoodwhy:hehadalwaysbeenwithanother.

Anotherunbiddenmemory:Will,liftingthestrandsofherhairasshelaybeneathhim,lettingthefinegoldslipthroughhisfingers,hisfaceoddlydistant.“Gold,”hehadsaid.“Ilovehairthecolorofmetals:gold,bronze,evensilver.Thegoldandbronzewillturnsilvereventually,yes?”Theclosestheevergottosayingthewordlovetoher.Itstung,suddenly.Shehadturnedaway,buriedherfaceinthepillow.Inbed,shewasalwaysshyaroundhim,afraidthatshewouldsaysomethingshewouldregretlater.

“Youdeservebetter,youknow,”shesaid,tryingtosavewhat,shedidn’tknow.“Youcanliveyourlifewithoutalwaysregretting.”

“Youaretryingtobekindbutyoudon’tunderstand,”hesaid.“It’snotkindness,”shesaid.Hedidn’treply.“Youalwaystellmetobestrong,butyou’reneverstrongyourself.Whenwefirstmet,youtoldmeI

shouldtaketheopportunitytobecomesomethingelse,totranscendwhatIhadbeengiven.Youcan’tdothatyourself.Youaremired in thepast anddetermined tobeunhappy.”Shehadnever seensoclearlybefore. Anger swept through her-unexpected-clarifying even more. “You cannot let go, and you aresinking. And you pretended to be so strong!” A feeling as if she had been duped, taken under falsepretenses.Themanshehadlovedwasamereshell.Andshefeltsomethingmore,unwelcome:afeelingofpity,fataltopassion.

“And I toldyou togo, don’t botherwithme,”he said, also angrynow.He justwanted tobe leftalone.Butshewouldn’tleavehimwithouttryingtosalvagesomething.

“Whydidyoucometome?”sheasked.“Youchangedmylife.Youdidn’t likeme,yousaid.Whatwasit?Wereyoubored?”Sheshotthelastwordathim,anaccusatoryarrow.

“Youwerepure,”hesaid,tryingtoexplain.“Youweren’tliketheothers.Youhadyourprejudicesandsilly ideas,butyouwereopen,willing tochange.AndIhadn’tmindedbeingalone.Butyoucamealong…”

“Andyouwerethegreatopenerofmyeyes,thewiseand…”“That’s not fair,” he said. “That is beneath you. I never looked at anotherwomanuntil you came

along.Butitfeltwrong,asifIwerebetrayingTrudy,whoIhadbetrayedinsomanywaysalready.”“Youarewastingyour life,”shesaid.Rainhadwethishairso ithung in jaggedspikesdownhis

forehead.Hemadenoefforttowipeawaythewaterrunningdownhisface.Helookedsodefeated.Shewascruel,finally.“Youareacoward.”Howwasthisthemanshehadchangedherlifefor?Itseemedinconceivable.

“Andyouaresimple,”hesaidfiercely.“Andnaïve.Tothinkthatyoucanjustleavethepastbehind,likeshuttingadoor.”

“Youwon’tevenlookatme!”shecried.“Youwon’tgivemeeventhat.You’vealwaysbeenmeanwithyourattention,someasured.”Shelookeddownatherself.Shehaddressedwithcarethismorning,mindfuloftheimpressionshewantedtogive:quiet,notreproachful,confident.Thishadtranslatedintoaknee-length navy cotton-voile dresswith covered buttons all down the front, a few decorative pleats:tailored,notfussy,freshlywashedhairheldbackwithanavysatinheadband.Shetampeddownthewordthatkeptrisingtothesurfaceofherconsciousness:fool,fool.

“Iamtellingyouthatitdoesn’tneedtobelikethis,”shesaid.Hermother’svoicesuddenlyinherhead:“Chasingaman,areyou?Shame!”Herfaceturnedscarletdespiteherself.Shewavedherhandintheair,almostunconsciously,todismisshermother’spresence.

“Doyouknow?”heasked,fiercely.“Doyouknowwhatit’sliketohaveyourlifeunravelbecauseofsomethingyoufailedtodo?”Hestoodup.“Ithauntsyoulikenothingelse.”

“Soyougiveup,”shesaidinalowvoice.“Sometimes,”hesaid,“youdon’thaveachoiceinhowyouleadyourlife.PleasestopbeforeIsay

morethingsthatIwillregretlater.”“Youshouldknowaboutregret,”shesaid.“Itiswhatyouhavemadeyourlifeabout.”Theysat, furiousnow, theiranger runningclear through them likea solvent. Itwashedaway their

shortpastandallowedthemtowipeitclean.Hegotupandwalkedaway.Shedidn’tcallafterhim.

July12,1953THENEXTWEEK,ClairewenttotheChens’toresigninperson.Shewentattheusuallessontime

andwasshowntothedrawingroomwhereMelodywasbyherself.“Areyouallright?”sheasked.TheChinesewomanwassittingverystillontheedgeofthesofawith

acupofteacoolinginfrontofher.“No,”shesaid.“Something’sgoneterriblywrong.There’sbeenamisunderstanding.Everyone’sgot

thewrongidea.”“I’mafraid…”“Theycutme,”Melodysaidwithastrickenface.“Intowntoday,Iwalkedthroughthetearoomat

theGloucester,andtheroomfellsilentandnoonecalledout tome,notevenLizzieLam,andIwasatprimaryschoolwithher.Wewerebestfriends.Shegavemethechickenpox!Shepretendedshedidn’tseeme.”

“I’msureyouaremistaken,”Clairesaid.“No,it’strue,”Melodywhispered.“Peoplearemerciless,youknow.Inourworld,theycanbevery

cruel.”The hypocrisy of the woman was overwhelming. Melody must have seen Claire’s ambivalence

becausethenshesaidimpatiently,“Oh,youwillneverunderstand.“Andyou?”sheaskedsuddenly.“Isupposeyourlifeisquitedifferentnow,aswell.”“Yes,”Clairesaid.“I’vetelegraphedmyparentstoletthemknowmysituation.Iwillprobablyhave

togohome.”“It’s a pretty kettle of fish, isn’t it?” Melody said. “Isn’t that what you English say? And you,

somehowinvolvedinit.I’dwageryouneverimaginedyouwouldbeinthissortofsituation.”“No,”Clairesaid.“Thisisallveryforeigntome.”Melodynoddedandgotup.“I’llletLocketknowyou’rehere.”ClairestartedtoexplainbutMelodyinterruptedher.“TheysayItookherfromTrudy,butIdidn’t,youknow.Trudygavehertome.”Claireopenedhermouth,butnothingcameout.Melodywenton,inarush.“She knewwhatwas coming. She knew shewouldn’t live.And she knew I had lostmy baby in

California.Mybabywasborndead.Icamehomeafterthat.Ididn’twanttostayinAmericabymyself,withoutfamily.Trudywantedmetohavehers.Itwasagift,fromonecousintoanother.Somanypeopledon’t understand, but back in China, it happened all the time, throughout history, particularly duringwartimeorfamine.Weareacountryusedtosuffering;ourpeoplearepractical.Childrenweregiventoother members of the family, if they were to be better looked after that way. You Westerners don’tunderstand. It’swhatTrudywanted, orwould havewanted. She knew thatLocketwould have a goodhome.And I thinkVictor thought Locketwould be good insurance aswell. She is half Japanese, youknow,Locket.HalfJapanese,aquarterChinese,aquarterPortuguese.Althoughyou’dneverknowit tolookather.You’dneverknowit.Youdidn’t,didyou?Andweloveherasourown.Itwasall for thebest.”

Shestopped,lookedconfused.“ThedoctortoldmeIcouldneverhaveanymorechildren,thatIwoulddieifIdid.SoIreallyhad

nochoice.”Shetrailedoff.“Oh,”shesaid.“IwasgoingtogetLocket.”Shewanderedoutoftheroom.Claire sat in the suddenly silent room. A clock ticked loudly. Some long minutes later, Locket

showedupinthedrawingroom.

“Iwaswaitingforyouinthemusicroom,”shesaid.“IwaitedandwaitedandthenLingtoldmeyouwerehere.YouwerewithMummy?”

Clairelookedatthegirlwithneweyes.Trudy’schild.Agirlwhohadneverknownherrealmother,achildbornofviolenceanddeceptionanddesperation.Noneofthisshowedonherwide,placidface.Thepast,herhistory,hadbeensoeasilyburied.

“Yes,Locket,”shesaid.“ButI’vecomebecauseIhavetoletyouknowsomething.Whydon’tyoucomeandsitdownnexttome?”

Locketsatdown.“Doyouwantsomebiscuits?”sheasked.“I’mfeelingabithungry.”Shecalledfora servant and spoke to her in Cantonese. Claire could now tell the difference between the dialects:Shanghainese,Cantonese,Mandarin.FamilieslikeLocket’softenspokeallthree,aswellasEnglishandusuallysomeFrench.“Andwillyouhaveadrink,Mrs.Pendleton?”

Suddenly, Claire saw Locket as a miniature Melody, with her assured handling of servants andhouseholdmatters.Butthensheblinked.Themaidhadbroughtinaplateofjambiscuitswithmilk,andLocketwasachildagain,stuffingtwoinhermouthatonce.

“Locket,”shesaid,“I’vecometotellyouthatIcannotteachyouanylonger.”“Mmmmmm,”saidLocket,withamouthfulofbiscuit.“And that I’ve really enjoyed teaching you, although you never practiced asmuch as you should

have.”“Sorry,Mrs.Pendleton.”“Butthatdoesn’tmatter.Iwanttotellyouthatyouareagoodgirl,andthatyoucandoagreatmany

things.Youaresweetandhavearealgoodnessaboutyou.Yourinnocenceisspecial.”Locketnodded,hereyesconfused.“Iknowyoudon’tunderstandwhatI’mtalkingabout,Locket,butIwanttotellyou.Youareagood

person.Keepyourcenter.Believeinyourinstincts.Ireallywishyouthebestinlifeasyougoforward.”Clairefeltthefutilityofwhatshewasdoing,butpressedon.ShewanteddesperatelytoleaveLocketwithsomething, anything, that would stick. But the very thing that would brand Locket forever, leave anindelible impression, was what she absolutely could not say. She could not take on that mantle ofresponsibility.

“Mrs.Pendleton,youmakeitseemasifI’mgoingtodieorsomething!”“Ijustwantyoutoknow…”shetrailedoff.“Justknow.Thatisall.”ShegotupandkissedLocket

onthetopofherglossyblackhair.“Good-bye.”She left Locket in the drawing roomwith her biscuits and her look of confusion, and a strange,

tumultuousfeelinginherownstomach.

1953INHISDREAMS,shecomesbacktohim.Inhisdreams,sheforgiveshim.

“Iwasalways searching for a saint,”Trudy says.Herhandsare intertwinedbehindhishead,hereyeslookingupintohis.“Ithoughtyouweretheone.”

“I’msorry,”hesays.“IneverpretendedIwasone.”“Oh, I think you did,” she says, without anger. “You always had that saintlike aura around you.

Peoplealwayslookedtoyouforguidance.Youradiateconfidence.Unlikeme.Iradiate…unreliability.ButI’mmuchmorefun.”

Hetouchesherhair,thefine,glossystrandsofumberandbronze.“I never lockedmy door because of you,” he tells her. “I thought even if therewas the slightest

chanceyouwerealive…Strangerthingshavehappened.Icouldn’tlockmydoorbecauseIwastormentedby the thought thatyou’d findyourwayback tome, and that I’dhappen tobeout, and thatyouwouldleave, and then I would have missed my chance. That’s why I could never move. People alwayswonderedwhyIstayedthere,stuckinthepast.”

“OfcourseIwouldfindyou,”shesays,inherclear,bellvoice.“You’veforgottenhowresourcefulIam.”

“Youmademewanttobetheworstkindofman,”heconfesses.“IfIhadafamily,Iwouldhaveleftitforyou.Ifyouwantedabauble,Iwouldhavestolenitforyou.Ifyoutoldmetokillsomebody,Iverywellmighthavedoneso.There’snothingIwouldn’tdoforyou,andthat’sthemostterriblethingintheworld.SoIhadtogetawayfromit.Ihadtogetawayfromyou,topreservemyself.”

“Well,”shesays,amused.“Idon’tknowif that’s thenicest thinganyone’seversaid tome,or thenastiest.”

Shehasalwaystoldhimsheisnotdependable,thatshewillleavehiminaninstant,thatsheisnottobetrusted,butinallherdeclarations,hehasjusttolookintohereyes,andhedoesn’tbelieveher.

“Iliketothinkaboutwhenallthisisover,”shesays.“I’mgoingtohaveicecreamandchampagneateverymealandbatheinhoneyandwine.Iamgoingtobesoprofligate,youhavenoidea!I’mgoingtoacteveryinchtheheiressanddemandeveryextravagance-onlysoapsandscentsfromFrancewilltouchmyskin and fresh, exotic flowers onmy bedside table every night. This restraint is just killingme. I’vebecome a dour,wartimematron and I intend to scrub every inch of that loathsomeperson off as soonas…”Butshecannotsaywhatwillendthewar.

Heshakesher.Hewantstobitehercheek,viciously,untilfleshtearsoffandbloodrunsdownhischin.Hewantstodevourherwhole,untilshefeelsthepainhehasbeenfeeling.Thepainhehascausedhertoo.

Hesurfaces,sherecedes,heremembers theotherone, theonethat’sstillalive.Buthegoesdownagain,intothepast.Itspullistoostrong.

The memory of those days. Sitting on his thin bed, helpless, outraged, angered by the endlessmonotony aroundhim, the small concernsof theothers-whether theyweregetting their fair ration, thatsomeone had moved surreptitiously into an empty room that had not yet been allocated after theAmericans had been repatriated. Ah, yes, the day that the Americans left, their government far moreexpedientinarrangingaprisoner-of-wartrade,theindescribablefeelingofwatchingthelorriesdepart,filledwith joyful,bedraggledpeople,pocketsfilledwithmessagesfromthoseremainingto lovedonesaroundtheworld.Theypromisedtogetthelettersout.Thekinderoneshadleftalltheirblanketsandextra

clothesandequipmentandevenmoney,butafewtookeverylastscrap,asiftheywouldn’tthrowitoutthemoment theygot home.Funny, thementality that springsup in such a place.And a fewAmericansstayedbehind:theCatholicpriests.Theygaveuptheirchancetoreturnhomesotheycouldministertothefaithfulremaininginthecamp,regardlessofnationality.Yes,therehadbeengoodpeople.

Anothermemory, fromevenbefore: the firstChristmas in camp, a year or so after theyhadbeeninterned.Herememberedthehalf-deadgrassinthecenterlawnandthedustkickedupbythechildrenastheyranaround,shoutingexcitedlyintheirraggedshorts-ithadbeenunseasonablywarm.Thewomenhadset up tableswithwatery lemonade andChristmas cookies donated from those still on the outside.Aprogramwithsongsandrecitalshadbeenmimeographedanddistributed.Theyhadalsomanagedtogetahold of some decorations so the straggly trees on the perimeter boasted tinsel and some garishornaments. An old gramophone piped Christmas carols as the internees gathered around and chatted,sipping from their cups, a flask surreptitiously passed around.Bill Schott had acquired a SantaClauscostume and cameoutwith a pillow stuffed next to his belly,much to the delight of the children, andhandedoutamotleybutmuchsquealed-overselectionofpresents:acollectionofshinybuttons,aragdollstuffedwithdrygrass,aChristmascollagemadeoutofleaves.Themothershadbeenbusy.

TheJapanesesoldierswatchedwithbemusement from theside.Theyhadgivenpacketsofboiledsweetstothechildrenearlier.

Regina Arbogast appeared before him suddenly, a red muffler wrapped dramatically around herneck.Shestillhadflair.

“Will,Merry Christmas,” she said. Her husbandwas next to her. It was before the torture. Thatwouldhappenmonthslater.Willraisedaglasstothecouple.

“Ayearpassestooquickly,doesn’tit?Whatadifferencefromlastyear.”“Andhereweare,”saidReggie.“Youenjoyingthefurloughs?”Reginaasked.Will’sfluiditybetweentheinsideandoutsidehadbeen

the source of much envy and speculation, although he always tried to bring back supplies to benefiteveryone.

“‘Enjoy’isapeculiarwayofputtingit,”hesaid.“Trudyistightwiththecurrentregime.”Reginaletthestatementhangintheair,achallenge.“Isthataquestionorastatement?”Willaskedmildly.“Howwouldyouknowanythingaboutthat,lockedupinhere?”Reggiesaidimpatientlytohiswife.

“Youpresumetoomuch,Regina.”“Well,that’swhateveryoneissaying.”Reginawinked.“ButIsupposethelessyouknowthebetter,

right,Will?”Reggierolledhiseyesandlookedapologetic.“Oh,lookhere,”hesaid.“Thechoirisreadytosing.”HetookReginafirmlybythearmandledher

awaytowheretheolderchildrenandwomenwerepreparingtoperform.Will remembers this exchange with a sick feeling, and how it all ended up, how they were all

playingatsomethingthatendedupbeingalltooreal.

Then1945,therecurringsoundsofaircraftoverhead,whispersofanewkindofbomb.Somethingextraordinary,beyondimagination,anunthinkabledeathtoll.AgiantmushroomcloudofdevastationoverJapan. Snippets of information smuggled in through the daily vegetable delivery, the spinach suddenlywrappedintheEnglishnewspaper.

Guards looking sheepish, being slightly friendlier, allowed more privileges. Their rations grewlarger.

Trudy still a daily thought, but now successfully muffled. None of his messages answered, noreportedsightingsfromthepeoplewhovisitedotherinternees.Itwasasifshehadvanishedintothinair.

Likehermother,hethought,andpushedthatthoughtoutofhishead.Inwar,peopledie.Later,hewouldrealizethatwashowadyingmanwouldthink.

Andtheliberation,enteringabravenewworldoutside,stillwaryoftheJapanese,dangerousintheirloss. Some lashed out, killed while they could, but most trod the fine line between conquered andconqueror,thatundefinedspace.

Asifanoldcreakymachinewerebeingcrankedbackintolife,HongKongsputteredback.Thebusesand trams started running on their regular schedules, stores started to receive provisions, and pricesslowlyreturnedtonormal.Peopleranintooneanotheronthestreetandclutchedeachother,remarkedonhowthineveryonewas,happytohavesurvivedandtoseeeachother,eveniftheyhadn’tlikedeachotherbefore.Practicingthenormal,tryingtogettomundane.

Otsubowas repatriated to Japan.Later, theyheard hewas hung at SugamoPrison.Therewas noreliefinhearingthenews.

Thestrangenessofthefirstdinnerparty,andhoweveryoneslippedintoitcautiouslyatfirst,andthenhow everyone got comfortable so quickly it was unseemly. They complained about the lack of basicsupplies,thenthelackofgoodhelp,thenhowharditwastogetgoodwine,theneverything.Theamnesiaofcomfort,soothing,anodyne,tooseductive.Theywerealltoosoonbacktothemselves.

Howcanawomandisappear?Howcansomeonesovividvanish?Searchingforherintheaftermath,theemptytasteinhismouth,thetasteofregret.Funnything:He

wasalwaysthirstyafterliberation.Heprocuredacaranddrovetheemptyroadsthroughouttheisland-toher old flat, to Angeline’s old house, to her father’s house in Sai Kung, all vacant and vandalized,smellingmustyandworse.Atourofabandonedhouses.HerfatherdeadinMacau,unknowncausesduringthewar.Dominickalsogone.Justanothersadstory.

WithoutthelightnessofTrudybuoyinghimup,Willbecamemorose,tooserious,toodark.HelurkedinoddcornersofHongKongorstayedhome,asparseaffairwithoneglass,oneplate,abarelightbulb.Hewasnolongerinvitedanywhere.“He’sgoneodd,”whisperedaroundtown.HecouldnotdefineanewselfwithoutTrudy.

He sank into anonymityuntil he caught aglimpseofVictor andMelodygettingoutof their car inCausewayBay,withtheirdaughter.Theirdaughterwholookednothinglikethem.HerememberedhearingsomethingaboutMelodyintheUnitedStates,atragedy,butsomethingthathadbeenwhisperedonceandthenneveragain.Hestartedtothink.AndthenrangupVictorwithahard-luckstoryandaskedforajob,knowingthat themanwouldlovetohireanEnglishmanforwhathewouldconsideramenial job,bothmenknowingtherewasmuchmoretotherequest.

Victorlovedtoshowhimofftounknowingbusinessassociates,particularlythosejustarrivedfromEuropeorAmerica.Willwouldpullthecararoundandgetouttoopenthedoor.Victor’sguestswouldwidentheireyesandstepintothecar,visiblyimpressed.AnEnglishmanworkingasadriver,evenforafamilysuchastheChens,wasalmostunheardof,especiallysomeonelikehim,who’dbeenoutandaboutinsocietybeforethewar.Still,mostwereembroiledintheirownconcernsandmanyhademergedmuchchanged from thewar-theDutchbankerwhoexitedStanley a schizophrenic andnow lived in an alleybuildinginSheungWanandcameouttobegwitharattanbasket,hisblondhairmattedanddark;ortheMillergirlwhohadbeenengagedtooneof theHos, theshippingfamily,butcameoutof thecamptooused,andnowlivedinMongKokandwasrumoredtobeabarhostess.Willwasjustanothercasualtyofwar,andnot theworstoffof them.People talkedat first,but then itbecamejustanotherquirkyfactofHongKonglife.

HeworkedoddhoursandtriedtogetglimpsesofLocket,buttheChensalwayshadtheotherdriverstakehertoschool.Despitehimself,helookedatherface,lookingforsignsofwhat?Trudy,yes,butalso

whathecouldnotvoiceinhisownhead.Oneday,VictorgotinthecaranddirectedWilltodrivetothePeak.Onthewayup,hehadseemed

agitated,fidgetingwithpapersinthebackseat.“Mistakesweremade,”hesaidsuddenly,opaquely.Willhadnotanswered,whichhadmadeVictormorejumpy.“DoyouknowwhatI’mtalkingabout?”hehadasked.“No.”“Intimesofwar,therearemanydecisionsthataremade,andthingsthatgetdonewithoutthebenefit

ofreflection.”“Yes,sir,”hehadreplied,hisdeferencemorethreateningthananythinghecouldhavesaid.Hesaw

Victor’sfaceintherearviewmirror.Hewasperspiringheavily.“I’vehadsomenews…”Victorstarted.“Yes,sir,”herepeated.Victorhesitated,thenseemedtogetaholdofhimself.“Atanyrate,Will,thewarhaschangedallofus.We’reallinthistogethernow.”Willremainedsilent.“I’vechangedmymind,Will.Youcantakemehomenow.”WillswungthecararoundandtookVictorhome.Theydidn’tspeakonthereturnjourney.Hiswages

were suddenly doubled.Will never found outwhat had spookedVictor but neither he norVictor evermentionedtherideagain.

Hewaswaitingforsomethingtohappen.Andinthemeantime,heremembered.

***

TrudyandDominicklockedinaterribleembrace.Funnyhowsomanythingsseeminevitable,givenenoughdistance.Putagirlandaboyofsimilar

persuasionstogetherinsummerandseewhatevolves.Usuallylove.Twofriends,equallymatched,andthenonesuddenlyhasanadvantage:rarelywilltheyremainfriends.Thismusthavebeenwhathappened.Trudy and Dominick, alike as two peas in a pod when things were good.When the situation turnedfraught,eachrevertedtoform.Trudyessentiallygood,Dominickananimal.Thebetrayalsharp.

Buthisown?Muchworse.Heknows.“Iforgiveyou,”shesays.“Iunderstand.”Heclingstothis.Hearshersayitoverandover.Howcanheleavehernow?

EpilogueAWOMANISSITTINGinachair, readingbyawindow.Acupof teahasgonecoldbesideher.

Duskisgatheringoutside,andwhenitbecomestoodifficulttosee,shegoestoturnonthelight.Theroomissuddenlyilluminated.

She lives by herself now, in a small apartment she has found inWanChai, amid locals andwetmarkets.It isfurnishedsimply,withanironbedandathinmattress,awoodenfruitcrateforabedsidetable,a lampsheboughtatDodwell’sduringtheholidaysales.Shehasacomfortablereadingchairaswell.Shelivesveryfrugally,withinhermeansasasecretaryforashippingcompany,andshehasfoundthatitispossibletolivelikealocal,onalmostnothing,bargainingforeverythingfromlightbulbstoteatowels.Shebuysoneorangeatatime,ortwocarrots,orpicksherownchickentobekilled,apurchasethatwilllastherthreedays.Sheeatsatthestreetstalls:noodlesandcongeeandroastedmeatsandotherdishesshewouldhavefoundunappealingjustayearbefore.Shecanwieldchopsticksnowwiththebestofthem.Sometimes,asshesitsonthestools,nexttoataxidriverorashopkeeper,shelistensandfindsshe can understand some of what they are saying; words emerge from the noise, like jewels. In thebeginning,shewasacuriositytothem,butnowtheyhaveseenherenoughtoignoreher.HerCantonese-stillrudimentary-isimproving.Nowshecanorderatthedaipaidong,andtheywillnotrepeattheorderloudly,inEnglish;theyjustgruntanddumpthenoodlesinthebrothtoboil,sametreatmentasthelocals.

Athome,shesometimeswearstheblacktrousersandwhitetunics-theamahuniform-asnightclothesand finds them oddly comfortable. They aremade of light cotton and are very inexpensive. The shopownerhadassumedshewasbuyingthemforheramahandkeptaskinghowtall,gesturingwithherhands.Claireheldtheclothagainstherframeandnoddedherhead.Thefirstdayshespentinherflat,shewalkeddowntothelocalstreetbarberandsatdown,muchtohissurprise,andaskedhimtocutherhairshortallaround.

And she knows the streets of the town-Johnston, Harcourt, Connaught -and how to say them inCantonese. They are like aweb of veins emanating out fromCentral to Repulse Bay, the Peak,Mid-Levels,placessherarelygoesnow,placesfilledwithEnglishpeopleandthelivestheylead.Sherunsintopeople sheknowsnowand then,and theyalwaysaskhowshe isdoing, in that searching,curiousway,andshe justnodsandsays fine, she isdoingfine,enjoying thecityverymuch.Butareyougoinghome?theyask,andshesaysno,shehasnoplanstogohomeatthemoment.

She is talked about less and less. She is becoming a part of some old history that will soon beforgotten,andthissuitsherwell.

Sometimessheislonely,butshefrequentsthelibraryattheAuxiliary,takingoutthreeorfourbooksatonce.Therearesomanythingstoknowandlearn.ShereadsaboutBeethoven,Chinesericefarming,biographiesofEnglishprimeministers,andfindscomfortinthefactthatshewillneverrunoutofbooks.There isalsoapiano there,and themanageresshas toldhershecanplayafterhours ifshearranges itbeforehand.Shehasbeengoingthereintheearlyevening,whentheheatisless,andplayingforanhourorso,whilethestaffcleansuparoundher.Shegoeslateenoughsothatallthewomenshewouldknowhavealreadyfinishedwiththeirteaandgonehometoprepareforsupper,husbandsandchildrengatheringathome,fillingtheroomswithchatterandnoise,sounlikeherown.

MartinisstillinHongKong,asfarassheknows.Shehadstayedattheflatwithhimforafewdayswhileshewasfindingherownquarters,arequestshehadbroughtupwhenhehadcomehome,ashen-faced,aftertheparty.Hehadnotsaidyesbuthedidnotsayno.Sheknewitwasmorethangenerousofhim.Shehadpouredneatwhiskeyinto twoglassesandsippeditwithhiminsilence.Sherememberedstillhisposture.Hesatheavilyatthetable,drinkingslowly,andfingeredtheedgeofthelinencoaster.YuLing hovered excitedly near the kitchen door, listening for anything, having already been informed by

telephone,beforeeitherhadarrivedhome,of thescandaloussituation through the lightning-quickamahnetwork.

Andhe hadn’t had the stomach for questions.Hewantedher to volunteer the informationbut shecouldnotbringherselftotalktohim.Forthefirstfewdays,hiscoldsilencewhenhereturnedhomewaswelcome;itwaswhenhebegantotrytotalktoherandunderstandwhathadhappenedthatshecouldn’tstand it.Sheslepton thesofa in the living room,and tried towakebeforeYuLinggotup, so that shecouldputawaythepillowandtheblankets,buttoooftenshehadseentheamah’scuriouseyeswatchingherasshewoke.Shesupposes,inYuLing’sworld,suchasituationwouldbesettledwithachopper,andthatsheandMartinseembloodless,bizarretoher.

ThenMartin:“Wereyouunhappy?”Thefirstsentencehehadspokentohersincethatnight.Hehadcomeintothelivingroomfromtheirbedroom;shehadbeenreading.

Andwhatcouldshehavesaid?Sheputdownherbookandtriedtothinkoftheanswer.Shefoundthequestiontooprosaic,andhatedherselfforthat.

“I needed to believe therewasmore to life.”Said simply.The fanciful notion an affront to goodvalues,andshealltooawareofit.

“Wheredidyougo?”Hissecondquestion.Hesatdownatthediningroomtable,farfromher.Herubbedathiseyes.

Sheexplained.ShehadwalkedoutsidetheChens’house.Itwashot,asusual,andshehadnocar.SoshewalkeddownMayRoad,thewindy,narrowstreetcarvedoutofthemountain-asnakeofaroad-untilitbecameGardenRoadandshegottoCentral.Bythen,shewasveryhot,soshewentintoabakeryanddranksomecooltea.Herheadhadbeenfilledwithawhitenoise,similartowhenshehadfaintedoutsidetheChens’houseearlier.Then,notknowingwheretogo,shehadjustcontinuedeast,foundherselfinWanChai,andfoundthecommotionandbustlesoothing.Withsomuchactivityaroundher, thefrenzyinsideherhadquieted.Andshehadlookedaround,andthought,Icouldlivehere.

“IthinkIfoundmyselftooapparentintheworld,afterwhathappenedattheparty,andIwanttobeinvisibleforalittlebit,”shetoldMartin.“Therewastoomuchgoingon,andIdon’tknowwhyI’mapartofit,butIam.AndIrealizethatyoumustfeelthesameway,andforthat,Iapologize.”

Hestaredather-thisunworldlyyoungwomanhehadbroughtoverfromEngland-andrealizedhehadnoideawhoshewas.

So,sheleftassoonasshecould.Shepackedupherbelongingsandgotataxiwhilehewasatwork.She huggedYuLing, feeling the amah’s slight frame under her embrace and an unexpected sadness atleavingher, this life.But shewasnowfinallyconvinced thatpeoplegotwhat theyexpected from life.Martinhadneverexpectedtofindlove,andso,ultimately,hewouldbeallright.Shewouldnotbehisgreatdisappointment in life,his tragedy.Thatwouldcomefromsomewhereelseandshe realizedwithrelief shewasnot responsible forevenknowingwhat thatmightbe.Sheherselfhadn’tknownwhat toexpectfromlife,andstilldidn’t.Herlifewas,isstill,aworkinprogress.

Shesupposesthatsheisbecomingacliché,awoman“gonenative,”someonewhoeschewsherownkind.Amelia,heroldacquaintance,hadcometoseeherinherflatandcouldnotquitehidetheshockatthecircumstancesshehadfoundClaire in.Shehadflutteredaround thesmallspace,givenhera jarofstrawberrypreservesandsomesoaps,andneverreturned.ClairesupposesAmeliadinedoutonthestoryforseveralweeksafter.Thisdoesnotbotherherintheleast.

Lastweekshehadtakenasmallbagofcostlyjewelry,scarves,andtrinketsandgivenittothelocalsecondhandshop.Thewomanwhohadtakentheitemslookedbefuddledandatalossastowhattodowiththem,amidthedusty,inexpensivesweatersandusedpots.Clairehadn’tknownwhatelsetodowiththem.Asshewalkedoutthedoor,shefelthermoodlift,andshebecamelight.

Nowshepauses,looksoutthewindowtothebusystreetscapeoutside.Carstraversethestreets,theredtaxiscrossinglaneswithdouble-deckertramstetheredtotheircables,afewmenonbicycles.Thesky

is blue, delineated by the tops of the low buildingswith their antennae and rooftop clotheslines. Thepungentairfromtheroadrisesandentersthroughherwindow.Asceneshecouldneverhaveimaginedjusttwoyearsago.

Andasimpleknowledgeiswhatsustainsherthroughallofthis:thatallsheneedstodoisstepoutontothatstreetandshewilldissolveintoit,beabsorbedinitsrhythmsandbecome,easily,apartoftheworld.

AcknowledgmentsIwanttothanksomanypeople:

Myagent,TheresaPark,withoutwhosesupportandgentleencouragementthisnovelmightstillbeajumbleofnotesonmycomputer.Shehasbeenwithmefromthefirstpagesofthisbook.

Abby Koons, Julian Alexander, Rich Green, Sam Edenborough, Nicki Kennedy, and AmandaCardinale.

KathrynCourt,mywiseandeleganteditor.ClareFerraroforherearlyandunwaveringsupport.TheamazingteamatViking:AlexisWasham,CarolynColeburn,LouiseBraverman,AnnDay,Nancy

Sheppard,PaulSlovak,IsabelWiddowson,andsomanyothers.ClareSmithandthewonderfulteamatHarperPressUKfortheirenthusiasmandguidance.

PatTowers,whoshowedmegraciousness,always,whileteachingmenuance.AbigailThomas,whoencouragedmewithcake,goodjudgment,andkindwords.Chang-raeLeeforadvicebothwriterlyandpractical,alwayson-point.ElainaRichardsonforthetimeatYaddo

For friendship and encouragement, and understanding: Mimi Brown, Deborah Cincotta, RachaelCombe,KateGellert,KatieRosman,SarahTowers,DaphneUviller.

IreadmanybooksaboutthisperiodinWorldWarIIinboththeNewYorkPublicLibraryandtheSpecialCollectionsLibraryatHongKongUniversity. Inparticular, I learnedmuchabout the timefromEmilyHahn’sexcellentmemoir,ChinatoMe,andthecolorfulPrisoneroftheTurnipHeadsbyGeorgeWright-NoothwithMarkAdkin.

Ialsospentmanyhoursworking invariousroomsat theNewYorkPublicLibrary, theNewYorkSociety Library, and Hong Kong University Library and thank them for being open to the public andprovidingspaceforwriterstowork.

Mymother,father,andbrotherandhisfamily.TheextendedBaefamily.Mychildren,whogivemejoyeverydayandputeverythinginperspective.Andmostimportant,myhusband,Joe,whoismybestfriend,mybetterhalf,andwhosupportsme

withanunstintingloveandgenerositythatIamgratefulforeveryday.