Janice Lee - The Piano Teacher

EDWINA STORCH had told her everything, sure that she would pass on the information to Will.

Edwina’s voice in her head, the old woman pouring tea in the dark club.

“Trudy redoubled her efforts to be indispensable to Otsubo. She knew what kind of asset she had in him. I knew Otsubo because he had been of some help to me in getting my pass, and I kept in touch and tried to help him in whatever small matters I might be of assistance.” She had peered at Claire over her spectacles. “You understand, I was not collaborating with the enemy. I thought I would be of better use to England and everyone if I kept abreast of the situation, and there was no reason to alienate the man.” She took off her glasses and rubbed them again.

“And when Trudy started to prove herself really indispensable to Otsubo-you know, the girl knew everything about Hong Kong and all the skeletons in the closet-her cousin, Dominick, who I never liked, started to get jealous. It was as if they were both vying for his favor, and there was only room for one. Dominick was a terrible person. I don’t know if you know anything about him but he was just awful. A sadistic, small man who always felt that life owed him everything. They were both Otsubo’s flunkies and ran around getting him meetings with Chinese leaders and keeping him informed about everything that went on in the Chinese community, and even in the small European community that was still outside. Dominick made some money buying and selling necessities. He would buy it cheap through his sources and charge exorbitant rates to the local market. Very distasteful. He’d also try to get information on who was helping whom and report back to Otsubo. Needless to say, this made him less than popular with their old crowd, but he was certainly the best fed. Dominick was more out in the open about it than Trudy. People stopped talking to him.”

Claire interrupted.

“Did you have to do any work? How did you survive?”

Edwina pursed her lips.

“I’ve always preferred not to dwell on the unpleasantness of the past.”

Claire almost laughed aloud, but saw that Edwina Storch was unaware of the enormous irony of what she was saying.

“There was all this business of the Japanese in Hong Kong trying to enrich themselves. It’s quite common in a victory but there was a lot of chatter about the Crown Collection, which had some extremely rare and priceless porcelain pieces. Otsubo found out I knew a bit about the subject and called me in to get some information. I told him what little I knew.”

Edwina’s eyes sparkled.

“Actually, I knew quite a bit more than I let on but didn’t think it was an opportune time.” She paused.

“What if I were to tell you, Claire, that the governor had just flown into Hong Kong on the eve of the war.” She sat very still, as if in a trance. “He was stepping into a very tricky situation and he knew it. He had just been sworn in and was taking over a colony that was, from most intelligence reports, going to be conquered in short order. He had orders from London, one of which was to secure the Crown Collection which was in Government House. His strategy…”

She laughed, interrupting herself. “Interesting story, isn’t it? Politicians are so stupid. No sense at all. His strategy was to tell three different people about the location he was going to have it sent so that it would survive the war. Communications to London were already compromised so he had to think of another way.” She looked at Claire. “I was one of the three.”

“That must have been a great honor,” Claire murmured. She imagined the scene: Edwina Storch summoned to Government House, given tea, scones, a cordial reception from a man who had little knowledge of his new territory, still settling into his private quarters, getting to know the servants, his enormous task, Edwina condescending, as only a woman of her age and experience could be. How did she get away with it for so long and without challenge?

“They knew I had been a long time in Hong Kong and knew a great deal about the people, the history, the place, which I do, of course,” Edwina mused. “And the other two. Well, I found out who they were as well. We weren’t supposed to know, but this kind of information gets around. The governor was nervous and confided in a few people, not the location but our identities. As chatter grew, it all came to light. One was Reggie Arbogast. Do you know him?”

Claire nodded. “Slightly.”

“He turned a bit queer after the war.” Her mouth grew set, grim. An unforgiving expression settled on her face. “And a silly cow of a wife, Regina.”

“And the third?” Claire couldn’t help asking.

Edwina looked surprised.

“I thought you would guess. The third was Victor Chen.”

WHEN IT RAINS in Hong Kong, the world stops. The deluge is so overwhelming, so strong, that the city disappears under a sheet of gray water and people vanish like panicked rats, scurrying into doorways, shops, restaurants. Inside, they shake off the water, ordering coffee or browsing through dresses while they wait for the rain to stop.

Trudy and Victor Chen sit inside Chez Sophie, a small French restaurant in Causeway Bay, and watch the rain fall outside.

“It never seems clean here, even after the rain,” Trudy says. “The water washes the grime off the streets but it’s back two instants later. Hong Kong is just dirty. Always has been. Can’t live anywhere else, though. This filthy city is home.” She rubs the arm of her chair, red velvet, the fabric starting to shine from constant use. “I’ve always loved this restaurant,” she says. “As a child, Father used to take me to the Sunday brunch here every week, and I’d buy a new dress to wear.”

Victor harrumphs.

“Every week?” he says. “You were spoiled, weren’t you?”

“Spoiled?” she asks. “Don’t worry, Victor. I’m sure this war will beat every last shred of privilege out of me.”

“People will show their true colors.”

“They already are, Victor, dear cousin, and people are already commenting on it. I’ve heard people call us collaborators. Isn’t that what you call those who get too close to the conquerors?”

“Collaborator is a dirty word, Trudy. I’d be careful how you use it.” Victor sips Cognac, his face reddening. Trudy lounges in her chair, sleek in a tan wool skirt and ivory blouse. A half-empty coffee cup sits in front of her.

“But that’s what we are, aren’t we, Victor?” Trudy asks, needling him. “Isn’t that what they call people like us?”

“Don’t be naïve,” he snaps. “You are providing English lessons and etiquette. You’re basically a governess to the good general, educating him in the ways of the Western world that he is so interested in, despite himself. And I am merely doing my best to provide a smooth transition so that our people do not have to suffer. Never say something so stupid again. Not everything is so black and white. Should we spite ourselves and alienate the very people who might help us through this difficult time? Trudy, you are no longer a child.”

“But Otsubo is so…”

“You do not have to concern yourself with him other than to give him English lessons and try to fulfill his requests.” His face turns shrewd. “I would say you should comply with every request, no matter what it is or how veiled it is.”

“He is a pig,” she says quietly. The waiter comes and silently refills her cup. She puts sugar and milk in, takes a sip.

Victor studies her face.

“You’ve changed,” he says. “Is it the Englishman? Has he inculcated you with his timeless values, the right way to do things, honor and all that rubbish the English are so good at spewing? And yet, when it comes to their responsibilities, they always find a reason why they can’t fulfill them, and they always sound so good when they do. They’ve refined it to an art. They sound good and do nothing.”