Читать книгу A Cold Season In Shanghai - S.P. Hozy - Страница 9

By the time China was declared a republic, a few months after Tatiana's fourteenth birthday in 1911, the Relnikovs were well-established Shanghailanders and she was slowly becoming aware of the turbulent underbelly of Chinese political life, if only as it affected what she saw. Men everywhere had begun to cut off their pigtails to disassociate themselves from the despised Manchu Dynasty that had ruled China since 1644. As a result of her friendship with Lily, Tatiana had been allowed to meet Lily's family and to visit her home for the past few years. Through Lily's brothers and her many cousins, several of whom were at university, Tatiana began to learn about the history of China and the plethora of revolutionary movements that were dedicated to bringing the country into the modern world. It seemed as if Sergei's predictions were coming true.

The first time Tatiana was invited to Lily's house, Sergei and Katarina had made a big fuss. Lily's father belonged to one of the most prosperous and powerful families in Shanghai. Tatiana didn't discover until many years later that he had been secretly financing Dr. Sun Yat-sen's movement to expel the Manchus and take power. Dr. Sun's plan was to control China through a strong central party with himself as its absolute leader. Once the people were educated in the ways of representative government, he believed, China would emerge as a democracy. Forced into exile several times, Dr. Sun would spend most of his time raising money so he could return to China and implement his plan. In 1912, he would form the National People's Party, the Kuomintang. In the first-ever elections in China, in 1913, the Kuomintang would win the majority of seats in parliament. In reality, China continued to be governed by local warlords whose interests were best served by keeping the country divided and preventing a strong central government from taking hold. When Dr. Sun died in 1925, he would be succeeded by his old friend Chiang Kai-shek, leader of the Kuomintang army, who continued the campaign to unite China. Chiang Kai-shek was a personal friend of Lily's father and, as Tatiana was to learn, he had also been a classmate of Lily's future husband.

On her first visit to the Soong's, Tatiana was invited to celebrate Lily's tenth birthday. She was scrubbed until she shone, dressed in her best clothes, and Katarina braided her long hair so tightly it hurt. It was a sweltering July day in Shanghai, where the summers were not just hot but steamy, wet and stinky hot. Tatiana complained loudly but to no avail. She was instructed to ignore the heat and to think snowy thoughts of cold Russian winters so she wouldn't perspire. She wore her best pink dress, which had a lace collar and cuffs, and white gloves and stockings that stuck to her hot feet inside her buttoned leather boots. She carried a small bouquet of flowers for Lily's mother and a beautifully wrapped silk box that contained a hand-painted fan she had chosen as a gift for Lily. She knew Lily probably already had hundreds of fans, but Tatiana had decided this one would be special.

“Do you remember what I told you, Tatiana?”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Repeat it for me.”

“Say please and thank you and only speak when spoken to.”

“And don't complain about being hot and uncomfortable. A lady never complains.”

“Yes, Mother. I won't complain.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Good girl,” said Katarina. “Papa and I are very proud of you.”

A rickshaw was sent to pick up Tatiana and deliver her to the large walled compound where Lily lived and which contained the households of her extended family. The compound contained several multi-storied wooden buildings arranged around a courtyard that had a large pond in the centre. The pond was like a carefully crafted work of art. The plants that were set around its perimeter had been chosen for their variety of textures, colours and styles of leaf, either broad and flat, tall and sharp, or feathered with delicate fronds. The water bubbled gently with a soothing gurgling sound. Several fat orange fish darted gracefully between lily pads upon which rested pink, yellow and white blooms, their fine long roots gently swaying like a young girl's silken tresses, right to the bottom of the pond. Each of the houses had wooden railed balconies on the upper floors, where the women of Lily's extended family usually sat and chatted as they watched the comings and goings of children and servants. The compound housed Lily's paternal grandparents, two of her father's unmarried sisters, three of his brothers and their wives and children, plus Lily, her parents and her three brothers. There were a couple of cousins and their families living there as well. The number of servants exceeded the number of family members by at least two to one.

The meal was lavish and consisted of many delicacies like bird's nest soup (which Tatiana later learned, to her dismay, included real birds' nests made from twigs and bird saliva), tiny steamed dumplings, smoked duck, delicately prepared vegetables carved in the shapes of flowers, a fish that was surrounded by more carved vegetables, tiny little spare ribs in black bean sauce, plus a few things she didn't recognize and, of course, the essential bowls of rice. All of it was washed down with great quantities of jasmine tea. The family ate with carved ivory chopsticks, but Tatiana was given heavy silver forks, knives and spoons because it was assumed she had not mastered the art of eating with sticks, which was true.

The Relnikovs had a French cook, and Katarina insisted that he follow the recipes her cook in Russia had used. Sometimes, when their cook had the afternoon off, his Chinese assistant would prepare a local delicacy such as shark fin soup or a whole fish steamed in broth and soy sauce. The family was often surprised to discover how tasty these dishes were. Tatiana had attempted to eat with chopsticks a few times, following his instructions, but was glad that she didn't have to rely on her inadequate skills in front of Lily's family.

Tatiana's parents had instructed her to be polite, above all. Even if she didn't like the food, she was to smile and say thank you for everything. To her young palate, most of the food tasted sour or salty, the texture either soft and slimy, sticky or brittle. Tatiana did her best to swallow small bits at a time, usually followed by a large quantity of rice, and to smile after every mouthful. She noticed that Lily's family ate noisily and spoke constantly to each other in Chinese. Occasionally, someone would address Tatiana in English.

“Did you make a good grade in school?” Lily's Number One Brother asked.

“Yes, thank you,” she replied, smiling.

“Are you happy living Shanghai?” asked Number Two Brother.

“Oh, yes, thank you. Very happy.”

“And honourable parents are also happy?”

“Very happy, thank you.”

It was a bit of an ordeal but, once lunch was over, Lily and Tatiana were left alone to talk and look at picture books in Lily's spacious bedroom, which was decorated like something out of an English magazine, with ruffles and ribbons and furniture painted white. Lily's large canopied bed was at the far end of the room, and the area closest to the door was furnished as a sitting room with a small sofa and armchairs that were upholstered in soft green silk. In the corner was a narrow cot where Lily's amah, her nanny, slept. The amah rarely let Lily out of her sight, and for years they had slept in the same bed. But, as Lily matured, the amah became more of a personal maid who looked after her clothes and her belongings, helped her dress and do her hair, and generally picked up after her. Whatever Lily asked her to do, the amah did. However, she was not above nagging or complaining that Lily made her work too hard. Like the traditional Chinese nursemaid, she was Lily's greatest defender and she had a deep and unconditional love for her charge.

In Lily's bedroom after lunch, Tatiana gave her the fan. Lily was so happy she ran to show her mother right away. The woman came to thank Tatiana personally. She was small and slender and wore a dark blue silk dress with a long skirt, high neck and long, tight sleeves, in the latest European fashion. Her straight black hair was pulled back loosely into a bun so that it fell in flattering soft waves around her delicate face. She wore makeup, as did many Chinese women of her class. Powder to whiten her skin and rouge to redden her lips. Tatiana thought she was very beautiful. Whenever she saw her after that first visit, no matter what time of day, Lily's mother appeared to be wearing her best clothes, as if every day were a special occasion. She was elegant and gracious and spoke to Tatiana in halting French, which she said she had learned in Europe. Lily's mother had been to school in Switzerland for one year and was very modern by Chinese standards. She wanted Lily to be educated before she was married and to learn a bit about the world.

Tatiana didn't know it at the time, but Lily was already betrothed to Tang Wu-ling, a boy she had never met. They were to be married when he completed his university education in France and a period of service in the army. He also came from a prominent Shanghai family, and it would have been unthinkable for Lily to choose to marry anyone else. Their parents had arranged the marriage when Lily was born, and Wu-ling was ten years old. It was considered auspicious that their two families should be united. Love was irrelevant; dynasty was everything. Tatiana knew something of this tradition because of her Romanov cousins. Being princesses, they would not have been free to choose their own husbands.

As the youngest child and a girl, Lily had been sheltered from the life beyond the walls of the family compound and the convent school the girls attended. She and her brothers each had their own amah from birth who spoiled and protected their precious charges. As a result, Lily was as much a stranger to Shanghai as Tatiana had been when she'd arrived. Tatiana and Olga had an amah, too, but she was more like one of the maids who helped their mother and did household chores. More often than not, the amah was glad when the girls were not underfoot so she could get her work done or gossip with the other servants. But Tatiana had seen more of life in Shanghai than Lily ever would. When she talked about what she saw in her weekly excursions with Olga, Lily couldn't believe many of the things she heard.

“You're very brave,” she once told Tatiana, “but also very foolish.”

“No, I'm not,” Tatiana said. “There's nothing to be afraid of, at least not in the daytime.”

“You are wrong,” Lily said. “There are many robbers and bandits who kidnap children and take them far away so they never see their families again.” Tatiana was pretty sure this was not true. It sounded like something Lily's overprotective amah would tell her to keep her from venturing beyond the compound on her own, should she ever have such a notion.

After Tatiana's initial visit to Lily's home, Lily's parents had allowed her to visit Tatiana, but only on the weekends in the afternoon for no more than two hours, and never for a meal. The girls accepted these restrictions on Lily's movements, because Tatiana was allowed to visit Lily whenever she wanted. Sometimes Olga would go with her, but she had begun to form her own friendships, especially with a French girl from her class at school.

“Will you ever be allowed to go out on your own?” Tatiana asked Lily on one of her rare visits to the Relnikov residence. They were in one of the upstairs sitting rooms, the one with the yellow silk sofa that Katarina called the sunroom because it faced south and was bright and sunny most of the day. She had hung there the heavy, hand-crocheted lace curtains she had brought from their home in Russia, and the sun streamed through the hundreds of tiny openings between the lacy stitches to send shimmering spears of light across the room.

“Perhaps if I go to Switzerland to school, like my mother. Then no one can stop me.” Lily smiled at the thought of one day being able to do whatever she wanted. “Once I am married,” she continued, “I will have to serve my husband's mother, because I will have to live in her house. But someday I will be mother-in-law to my son's wife, and she will have to obey me. It is tradition.”

“That sounds awful,” Tatiana said. “Besides, what if you don't have a son?”

“Of course, I will have a son,” Lily chided. “My husband will insist.”

Tatiana was so far away from thinking about husbands and children that she only half-believed what Lily said. It seemed preposterous that a husband could insist on a wife having sons. Later Tatiana would learn how precious sons were to a Chinese family and how undesirable daughters were thought to be. An ancient Chinese saying compared having daughters to finding maggots in the rice. Some unwanted baby girls in China were literally thrown out with the garbage, either strangled, smothered or simply left to die. Too many families could not afford to feed another hungry baby, especially if it were female. As well, in order to marry, a daughter needed a substantial dowry. She was considered a temporary guest in her family, because she would one day belong to her husband's family and be required to worship his ancestors. It was considered a waste to invest too much in a daughter. Baby boys, on the other hand, were highly prized and necessary to continue the family line. Boys and men had rights and privileges girls and women could never have. A rich man could have several wives, as well as concubines, but they did not have the right to make decisions for themselves. Households were complicated little fiefdoms filled with intrigue and conflict, hierarchies and political manoeuvring. Rarely were they happy and harmonious arrangements. There were many things about China that Tatiana would never understand.

Her father lived in a household of women and knew that to insist on certain things was pointless. Katarina argued with him if she disagreed and frequently got her way, especially when she cried or persuaded one or both of her daughters to agree with her. He would usually just walk away, muttering something from Tolstoy, until everybody cooled down. Although he was the nominal head of the family and made all the important decisions, he depended on his wife's approval and support. There was never talk of obedience between her parents. Tatiana knew they loved each other and that love was the foundation of their family, but sometimes she worried that love might have its limits. Once, when her parents had been arguing for days over plans to expand the summer kitchen at the back of the house (Katarina wanted it but Sergei knew he would be the one who would have the headache of supervising the workmen) Tatiana had gone to her father and asked him if this meant they would be getting a divorce.

“A divorce, Tatushka? Your mother and I? No, no, never, my child. You mustn't concern yourself about such things.” Sergei knew his clever second daughter was prone to fret about some things. She was already developing fine worry lines on her forehead from trying to fathom the ways of adults. He would often catch her squinting into space, as some troubling thought absorbed her.

“Who would Olga and I live with if there was a divorce?” she asked. She still was not convinced. This had been a louder argument than most, and her mother hadn't cried, as she usually did to get her way. A bad sign.

“Tatushka, Tatushka, there will never be a divorce. I promise you.” Why was she so insecure? Sergei wondered. He could see she wasn't reassured by his words. This child, he feared, would want to seek certainty through experience, a route that could lead down many roads, some of them dangerous.

“Go and tell your mother I agree to the summer kitchen,” he said. It was a small price to pay for his family's happiness.

Lily's family, Tatiana knew, was very modern. Her father had only one wife and, as far as Tatiana knew, no concubines. Luckily, Lily's mother had borne him three sons, so the ancestors would be well taken care of. Lily was their only daughter.

Tatiana's friendship with Lily grew and transcended culture, race and language. They were able to talk using their two common languages, French and English, but they also communicated through laughter and gesture. They liked the same things and found humour in similar places. When they were younger, they would laugh until the tears came to their eyes. Anything could set them off. They would look at pictures and make up crazy stories about what was happening in them. If it was a picture of a warrior on horseback and the horse was rearing on its hind legs, one of them would say, “The stable master fed the horse hot chilli peppers so that he would run faster, but now the horse is running all over the battlefield looking for water, and the soldier can't control him.” They thought this was hysterically funny and laughed until their sides hurt. Olga thought them infantile, but Olga didn't have a friend like Lily to laugh and be a fool with, so perhaps she was jealous. As the girls got older, they made up love stories about a beautiful Chinese girl forced to marry an older man, even though she was in love with a handsome young man whose heart was breaking with love for her.

Despite their different natures, Tatiana bold and adventurous, Lily sweet and passive, neither of them would be able to control the events that shaped their lives. Both of them would live to regret the choices they made.