‘Canton’s placed many a foot on the ladder of fortune,’ said Fitcher, ‘and I was fortunate that mine was among them.’
‘And what is Canton like, sir?’ said Paulette. ‘Are there gardens everywhere?’
Fitcher gave one of his rare laughs. ‘Oh it’s nothing like that – it’s the busiest, most crowded city I ever saw. The biggest too, bigger even than London. It’s a sea of houses and boats and the plants are in places ee’d never expect. On the roof of a sampan, pouring over the top of a kewny old wall, hanging down from some sheltered balcony. There are carts that roam the streets, loaded with flower pots; there are sampans plying the river, selling nothing but plants. On feast and festival days the whole city bursts into bloom and flower-sellers hawk their wares at prices fit to make an English nurseryman turn chibbol-coloured with envy. Why, I m’self once saw a boatload of orchids sell out in an hour and that too, with each blowth valued at a hundred silver dollars.’
‘Oh how I long to see it, sir!’
Fitcher frowned. ‘But that ee won’t ee know.’
‘Oh?’ said Paulette. ‘But why not?’
‘Because European women aren’t allowed to set foot in Canton. That’s the law.’
‘But sir,’ cried Paulette in dismay, ‘how can that be so? What of all the merchants who live there? Do they not have their wives with them? Their children?’
Fitcher shook his head. ‘No. Foreign women can go no further than Macau – that is where they must remain.’
The discovery that she would not be able to travel to Canton came as a bitter disappointment to Paulette: it was as if a flaming sword had descended from heaven to shut her out of Eden, forever depriving her of the chance to inscribe her name in the annals of botanical exploration.
Paulette could feel tears starting into her eyes. ‘But sir! Will I not be able to go with you to Canton then? Where shall I stay?’
‘Many a respectable English family in Macau takes in lodgers. It’ll just be for a week or two at a time.’
Paulette had imagined that she would be collecting plants in the wild. Now cheated of her opportunity she burst into tears. ‘But sir, I will miss the best of it.’
‘Come now, Miss Paulette,’ said Fitcher. ‘Ee needn’t take it so hard. There’s a passel of islands along the coast where ee’ll be able to do some collecting. There’s no cause to be upset. Look, I’ll show ee…’
Fetching a chart of the south China coast, Fitcher pointed to the yawning mouth of the Pearl River and the hundreds of tiny islands that lay scattered across it. On the western hinge of the jaws lay the Portuguese settlement of Macau: this was where foreign ships had to go to obtain the ‘chop’ that would permit them to travel up the Pearl River to Canton. At the eastern end of the river mouth, lay a sizeable island called Hong Kong: it was a wind-swept, sparsely populated place and the people who lived there did not seem to mind if foreigners went ashore, men or women. Fitcher had been there once: it was the only time he had been able to collect in the field in China. He had found some fine orchids and had always wanted to go back, to give the island a thorough going-over.
‘That’s as good a place as ee could wish for Miss Paulette,’ said Fitcher. ‘Ee’ll be able to botanize in the wild there, just as ee’d hoped.’
*
Zadig greeted Bahram, as always, with a wide-armed embrace and kisses on both cheeks. It was only when they stepped back to look at each other that Bahram realized that a great change – a transformation – had come over his old friend.
Arre Zadig Bey! he said. You’ve become a white man! A sahib!
Zadig was dressed in duck trousers, a high-collared shirt, and a jacket and cravat – he glanced at his clothes in some embarrassment and made a gesture of dismissal. Don’t laugh too loud, my friend, he said. One day you may have to wear these things too. In a town like this it sometimes comes in useful.
They were in the salon of the Owners’ Suite, where two large Chinese armchairs had been arranged beside an open window. Ushering Zadig to one of the chairs, Bahram said: I hope you haven’t become too European for some paan?
No, said Zadig smiling. Not yet.
Good! Bahram gestured to a khidmatgar, who went off to fetch his paan casket.
Zadig, in the meanwhile, had been looking around the salon which he had visited many times before. I’m glad to see nothing’s been damaged here, he said. It was terrible to see what happened to the front of the ship.
Yes, said Bahram. We were lucky it wasn’t worse. I’ve never been in a storm like that one. Two of our lascars were swept away – and my old Parsi munshi was killed, just sitting in his cabin. Some of the holds got flooded too.
Was the cargo damaged?
Yes. We lost three hundred crates.
Of opium?
Yes.
Three hundred crates! Zadig raised his eyebrows. At last year’s prices that would have fetched you enough to buy two more ships!
A khidmatgar appeared with a silver casket and set it on a teapoy. Opening the lid, Bahram took out a fresh green betel leaf and smeared it carefully with chalky lime.
It was the worst storm I’ve ever been through, said Bahram. When I heard about the flooding in the hold I went to see what could be done. There was so much water in there I got knocked over and a very strange thing happened.
Yes? Go on, Bahram-bhai, I am listening.
Bahram reached for an areca nut and sliced it with a silver cutter. For a moment, he said. I thought I was drowning. And you know na, what they say, about the things a drowning man sees?
Yes.
I thought I saw Chi-mei. That’s one reason why I am so glad to see you, Zadig Bey. I want to know what you learnt about Chi-mei and Freddy when you were last in Canton.
Folding the betel leaf into a triangle, Bahram handed it to Zadig, who tucked it into his cheek.
I’m sad to say, Bahram-bhai, there’s not much I can tell you. I went to the floating city to look for Chi-mei’s kitchen-boat, but it wasn’t there. So I sought out your old comprador, Chunqua, and he told me what happened.
Bahram picked up the nut-cutter again. Yes? Tell me.
Zadig hesitated. It’s an ugly thing, Bahram-bhai, that’s why I didn’t want to write to you about it. I thought I should tell you in person.
Go on, said Bahram impatiently. What happened?
It seems there was a robbery. Some thieves boarded the kitchen-boat, and she tried to chase them away. That’s how it happened.
Bahram’s hand froze and the nut-cutter fell out of his fingers. Are you telling me she was murdered?
Yes, my friend, said Zadig. I am sad that it is I who have to tell you this.
And Freddy?
Chunqua could tell me nothing about him, said Zadig. He disappeared shortly before Chi-mei’s death and has not been heard from again.
Do you think something may have happened to him too?
There’s no knowing, said Zadig. But you should not jump to conclusions. He may just have left and gone off somewhere. I heard that his half-sister had married and moved to Malacca – maybe he went to join her there.
Bahram thought back to his last meeting with Chi-mei, three years ago, on the last boat she had bought – a large and fanciful vessel with a stern that was shaped like an upraised fishtail. He had gone to say goodbye to her, before leaving for Bombay. Having long since fallen into a relationship of easy companionability with Chi-mei, he often went to her boat for his evening meal – they had become, in a way, something like a long-married couple. Chi-mei did not usually cook when Bahram went to visit: her specialities were restricted to the subtle fare of Canton and she knew that he liked spicier food. She would send someone off to other boats nearby, to fetch some Dan-dan noodles, and some ‘Hot-and-Numbing Chicken’, and perhaps some fiery Sichuanese ‘Married-Couple-Slices’. When the food came she would serve it to him herself, sitting opposite him and waving a fan to keep the flies away. Over the years she had grown a little portly, and her face had become plumper, but her clothes were still sack-like in cut and severe in colour. It annoyed him that she took so few pains over her appearance and he had asked why she never wore any of the jewellery he had given her. She had fetched a gold-and-jade brooch, pinned it to her tunic and given him a wide smile: ‘Mister Barry too muchi happy now?’