Эльвира Барякина - White Ghosts

Daniel was clearly referring himself, but for Nina it was another hint of her inability to see true value in people and things.

“What happened to the Seal afterwards?” she asked.

“For more than a thousand years, it passed from generation to generation, and then it disappeared under mysterious circumstances. The only thing that is certain is that the last two dynasties ruled without the Seal, and it all ended up with the collapse of the Empire.”

Daniel could talk endlessly about porcelain manufacturing, ancient scrolls, and China’s great libraries reduced to ashes by successive waves of barbarian invaders. His stories were so fascinating that Nina had even forgotten about the soot on her cheeks.

Two hours seemed to pass like a minute in his company, and she was amazed how quickly Daniel managed to win her over with his charm, wit, and erudition. She had always had a soft spot for self-confident, well-educated men with a delicious sense of self-irony.

But there was more to their meeting that just that. They were both in sore need of the balm that good company could provide to smooth over their recent troubles. Nina was desperate not to be left alone with her thoughts about Klim, and Daniel, it appeared, was just grateful to be alive and not brooding on the murders, the suffering, and the long hours of marching through the mountains. Now he could just smoke his cigarette and chat with a random fellow traveler about history and culture.

They agreed to have dinner together. Nina went to wash her face and came to the dining car a transformed woman.

“If the bandits hadn’t taken all my luggage,” Daniel said, “I would have made more of an effort to make myself presentable too. I had a remarkable German gas mask in my suitcase that I found at a flea market. I think it would have been just the thing to wear to dinner in polite company, considering the state of my face at the moment.”

Tamara was right: Mr. Bernard was an extraordinary man.

6

All the way to Shanghai, Nina and Daniel were almost inseparable, and they enjoyed every minute of each other’s company.

What if we are really fated to be together? Nina thought in dismay. She couldn’t imagine him as her lover, but she kept telling herself that his burnt face would heal up and that she’d get used to his strange gestures.

Finally, the train arrived at the North Station, and the passengers poured out onto the platform. Steam escaping from under the platform billowed onto the passengers’ feet. The crowd buzzed, the engines whistled, and the porters jostled from all quarters trying to attract the attention of their customers.

Nina had forgotten all the words she had wanted to say to Daniel before parting. He was silent, too, fiddling with her visiting card.

“It was a great pleasure meeting you—” he began, but at that moment a young lady in a checkered suit ran up to him.

“You’re alive!” she cried, throwing her arms around him.

Nina stared at her in amazement. Who on earth was this woman?

Daniel’s face didn’t betray the slightest emotion, as if he was at a business meeting.

“Edna, let me introduce you to Miss Nina Kupina. Nina, this is my wife, Edna.”

Nina was appalled. In her wild imaginings it hadn’t even occurred to her that there might already be a Mrs. Bernard.

Edna greeted Nina and immediately forgot about her existence. “Come on, the car is waiting for us,” she called to Daniel.

He followed his wife without a backward look, while Nina watched them go.

“Did Mr. Bernard forget to tell you that he was married?” Jiří asked as he stepped off the footboard of the railroad car. “How very ungentlemanly of him! But then I suppose you weren’t in any great hurry to tell him that you have a husband either?”

“One day I’m going to get rid of you for good, you clown!” Nina hissed through her teeth.

But Jiří only laughed. “You’ll just have to accept it. I’m the only man who is truly worthy of your rank. And unlike these fickle princes of yours, I’ll never abandon you.”

1

In the past, no white girl in Shanghai would have agreed to dance with a Chinese man, but with the arrival of the Russian refugees, all that changed. Speaking English was not a mandatory requirement to work as a taxi-girl, and hundreds of immigrants flooded the docks and port’s bars and taverns. These young women were able to provide for a whole family by dancing foxtrots and tangos and sweetly whispering the only English phrase they knew into their client’s ear: “Darling, just one small bottle of wine, please.” They didn’t care who they danced with as long as they got paid.

Young Asian men were burning with curiosity to learn about Western ways and were especially fascinated by riotous dance parties. Restaurant owners were quick to realize that there was a killing to be made by allowing Chinese men to dance with Russian girls.

With the bottom falling out of the market, things weren’t going so well at the Havana either, and Martha reluctantly ordered her doormen to let in people of all race and color.

“Our business is going to the dogs,” Betty said indignantly. “Does the Madam seriously think that any self-respecting white woman is going to let herself fall into the arms of an Oriental?”

Betty was Brazilian, and her credentials as a pure bred “white lady” required a serious stretch of the imagination, but no one was in a hurry to take issue, let alone offend her. Betty’s left hook was legendary.

She bluntly refused to dance with the “chinks,” and Martha was forced to accept the situation. Betty was popular with the regulars, and it would have been unwise to argue with her.

Martha told the rest of the girls to stop being so picky, but they secretly persuaded the manager to send all the Chinese men Ada’s way. She was too young to know how to stand up for herself, and she couldn’t even complain to Klim because he had been out of the city for a number of days now.

It was only on Fridays when the U.S. Marines received their pay packets that Ada was given a break. The Asians knew better than to go to a bar commandeered by the Americans for the night.

Initially, Ada had hoped she would meet a nice officer who would fall in love with her and take her away with him to the United States. She had heard rumors that a great Russian beauty from the Black Eyes restaurant had ended up marrying the captain of a battleship. If she could land herself a big fish like that, then why couldn’t Ada?

Martha overheard her talking about her plans and soon brought her down to earth. “American officers never marry taxi-girls,” she said to Ada. “The sailors and Marines might promise you the moon but they’re not allowed to marry anyone without their superiors’ permission. If you want to get married, you should look for a rich old-timer. The uglier and balder he is, the better. They’re the type of men who are usually ignored by women. If you surrender to their advances they’ll be so overjoyed they’ll happily propose. You could even get them to make their will out to you. Then, all you’ve got to do is put up with your catch for ten years or so, and when he dies, you’ll become a rich and merry widow.”

Listening to Martha made Ada shudder.

2

This particular Friday had got off on the wrong foot from the very beginning. The Italian sailors from the cruiser Libia were in town, and they had old scores to settle with the Americans. The taxi-girls had been nervous from the very outset: What if their clients started fighting again?

Ada hadn’t been invited to dance by a single customer, and she sat at the bar, nibbling sunflower seeds and watching an Italian sailor dancing with Betty. He circled her like a predator, while the beaded threads from her dress spun around her like a fan of shimmering water.

Ada couldn’t help but notice an American corporal slumped heavily on a table nearby. He was chain smoking and very much the worse for wear. Whenever any of his companions addressed him, he would start grumbling like an old bulldog. He had been dancing with Betty at the start of the evening, but when the Italians arrived, she had switched her allegiances to them. Now, the other Americans were teasing the corporal about it.

I’d better tell the manager to call the doormen and get this guy out of here, thought Ada.

The manager was talking to a young Japanese man and pointing at her. Judging by the fan of dance tickets the Japanese held in his fist, this was a punter who had money to burn.

Ada assumed a dignified air.

Making his way to her, the Japanese accidentally bumped into the corporal. The American grabbed him by the lapels and shoved him with all his might towards Betty and the Italian officer. Everybody sprang to their feet, and the music stopped with only the drummer continuing to beat out his rhythms oblivious to everything going on around him.

“Call the police!” Ada shrieked, but no one paid her attention.

The Italian moved Betty out of harm’s way, sent the Japanese sprawling across the floor, and took on the corporal. Taxi-girls squealed, Marines rushed over to break up the fight, and several Italians ran in from the street to join the fray. Ada peeked out at the Japanese, who had jumped to his feet, and saw him pulling a revolver out of his pocket.

The sound of the shot was so loud that it made Ada’s head ring. She expected the Italian officer to fall to the floor, with a bullet wound to his chest, but he just kept on punching the American on the floor.