Kate Furnivall - The Concubine's Secret

‘Come here and talk to me,’ she murmured.

‘Sleep first and then we’ll talk.’ From the battered old leather satchel Lydia had given him long ago in China, he drew a tiny bottle of muddy liquid and poured a drop on to her tongue. ‘Sleep now.’

But she forced herself into a sitting position. ‘Ointment first.’ She held out her hand.

He didn’t resist. A ceramic pot appeared from the satchel and she sat him down on the bed, knelt behind him and smeared the creamy substance on to her fingers. With her touch as light as the promised feathers, she massaged it into the raw flesh of his shoulders. She didn’t ask what caused the wound. A burning timber crashing down? A blast of white-hot flames? It didn’t matter now. The ointment smelled strange, of herbs that made her eyes sting and she felt her lids growing heavy. She kissed the good clean healthy skin in the centre of his back, but when she opened her mouth to tell him that he was the bravest man on God’s earth, before the words could form on her tongue she was fast asleep.

When she woke it was dark. The night sky clung to the windowpane, rattling it, trying to get in. Lydia felt Chang’s warmth curled around her but knew instantly that he was awake. She felt stronger after the rest and allowed her lungs to breathe in a shallow steady rhythm, clinging to the pretence of sleep because she was not ready for what lay ahead. The loss of her father had buckled something inside her and she grieved for him, and for the dream that was gone. It came as a shock to find her cheeks were wet. Had she been crying in her sleep? She lay like that, nestled against him, for a long time. An hour, maybe more. Unwilling to give him up. She clutched each second to her and memorised the exact feel of his hand on her hip and his breath on her neck, the way it made the delicate nerves of her skin ripple with pleasure.

‘When do you leave?’ she asked at last in the darkness.

He didn’t respond, except to tighten his grip on her.

‘When?’ she asked again.

He sat up and lit the candle that stood on the table next to the bed. Shadows, black and twisted, leapt round the room, as ugly as her fears. He rested his head back against the greasy wall and focused on the door. Not on her.

‘You can’t stay here,’ he said. ‘Now that they’re searching for you, you must leave.’

‘I know. Though I suppose,’ she smiled up at his profile, ‘with my short hair I could become a street rat like Edik, and work for the vory. I’m good at stealing.’

She felt a shiver in his chest. He touched her cropped hair. ‘It looks like rats have already been at it.’

She laughed and saw it pleased him.

‘Is the pain bad? Do you need more-?’

‘Hush.’ She put a finger to his lips. ‘It’s not bad.’

He raised an eyebrow at her. ‘More herbs?’

‘No, I need a clear head. I want us to talk.’

Gently he drew her to him, cradling her against his naked chest, and for a while both let the moment linger, knowing that things were about to change.

‘You can’t stay here,’ Chang said again.

‘So let’s talk about what we do next. It’s what I’ve been thinking about and working for, a future for us together.’

A little snort escaped from his nostrils. ‘Yet you risked it all for your father.’

She said nothing, just stroked his chin.

‘Ask me,’ he said.

‘Ask you what?’ But she knew.

‘Ask me.’ He lifted her chin and made her look into his eyes. ‘Ask me again.’

‘No.’

‘Then I’ll ask it myself. Am I willing to go to America with you?’

She didn’t breathe.

‘Lydia, my sweetest love, the answer is no.’

She didn’t gasp or cry out or try to cram the words back into his mouth, all of which she wanted to do. She studied his face in silence before asking, ‘What did he say to you?’

‘Who?’

‘Alexei, of course. You and he were together in the courtyard and I can just imagine what-’

She stopped because she felt him tense, heard his quick intake of breath. He was halfway out of the bed with his knife suddenly in his hand when the door burst open and crashed against its hinges. Five men crowded into the small room. They were all Chinese and all carried guns.

‘Get out!’ Lydia yelled at them. She threw a quilt over her naked body.

The one in the front of the pack was young with a long face and dressed in a military padded jacket. The others looked to her like professional killers, all clothed in black with hard eyes. Lydia leapt from the bed but Chang stepped between her and the intruders, and she was terrified he was going to attack.

‘No!’ she screamed.

But he didn’t move. He remained frozen. Instead a torrent of words in rapid Chinese flowed from him and the young man in blue answered in quick bursts, clearly unhappy. At one point the young man gestured at Lydia and her heart kicked under her ribs, but when the words stopped, Chang grew very still.

Without turning he said in measured English, ‘This man is Biao. He is… he was my friend, a member of the delegation.’

Her limbs shivered.

Chang’s eyes were still fixed on Biao. ‘He is the person whom I trusted to find this room for us, the only person who knew where it was.’

‘Why is he here?’

She wished he’d turn. Wished he’d look at her.

‘Biao has come with his companions to ensure that I return to the Hotel Triumfal immediately.’

‘Why? What has happened?’

At last he turned and the look in his dark eyes drew all the shadows in the room to him. ‘Biao said that I should ask you.’

They waited outside the door. Chang forced Biao to agree to it while he spoke to Lydia. He was tempted to slit Biao’s worthless throat in payment for betrayal, regardless of the consequences for himself, but he was not willing to risk Lydia ’s life as well. As soon as the door closed he held her by the arms and refused to let her look away.

‘Tell me,’ he sought out the truth in her eyes, ‘tell me what you have done.’

Her chopped hair stuck out at strange angles and her pale face looked wretched. But far worse was the fear in her eyes. What was she so frightened of? He eased his grip on her thin arms and saw his thumbprints remain on her white skin as though they’d rather be with her than with him.

‘Tell me,’ he said more gently.

The words, when they came, rushed out of her. ‘The delegation is leaving Russia today and you haven’t even told me. So go to them. Go. Go back to your China and to your Communists. Even though you despise their leader.’ Sudden fury made the amber of her eyes look as burned as her hair.

‘Lydia,’ Chang said sharply, ‘how do you know that the delegation is leaving today?’

She had been breathing hard but stopped abruptly. He saw her fox teeth bite down. How was it possible to love someone so much and yet not know the secrets hidden under their tongue? The blisters on her forehead glistened golden in the uncertain light from the candle and his heart jolted for her. He wrapped his arms around her quivering frame and folded her to his chest. He kissed her smoky hair and felt her melt into him, so that all the fury and the questions were gone. Just a stillness remained at the heart of them.

A rap on the door made Lydia jump.

‘Quickly, my love,’ he whispered into her hair, ‘tell me. Tell me everything.’

She rested her head against his neck for a brief moment, then broke free and went over to the window. She pulled on her blouse but remained there, gazing out, as though what lay behind her was too painful to look at.

‘How did you know,’ he asked, ‘that the delegation was leaving today?’

‘Li Min told me.’