Tears of the Moon - Di Morrissey [134]
She cut into small pillows of dough and nibbled the filling of pork and thick sweet sauce. After an unsuccessful battle with chopsticks, she had switched back to a spoon and fork.
The waiter placed another small woven steam-damp basket in front of her which held two crisp triangles filled with spiced, shredded vegetables. She finished her meal with small squares of sweet bean curd. Draining the last of the pot of China tea, Amy felt amply satisfied and glanced around the room. It was not yet lunchtime, so the tearoom was empty save for a Japanese couple, an elderly Chinese man drinking soup from a bowl and a white man engrossed in a newspaper.
Her gaze rested on the white man, who suddenly put down his paper and regarded her with a frank, amused and appraising look. He folded his newspaper and inclined his head in her direction. It was a courtly gesture but seemed incongruous coming from such an unusual man. He was of swarthy complexion and his dark tangled hair had an oily shine to it, as did his moustache. Two dark bushy eyebrows which almost met in the middle and dark, intense eyes gave him the look of a wild pirate. He was dressed in a coat cut in the European style and a silk scarf was knotted and tucked into a white shirt. He lifted a hand and Amy saw the flash of a large gold and diamond ring.
She gave a brief smile and immediately became engrossed in the catalogue again.
He passed close by her table as he left, trailing a pungent smell of cigars.
Amy thought no more about the man until an hour later when she was in a small shop with rolls of fabric spread like colourful silken rivers before her. She lifted several lengths and held them up to her body.
The Japanese lady behind the counter made complimentary noises like a chattering bird. ‘Velly plitty, velly good kimono silk, this one. Make plitty dress.’
‘Indeed it would,’ boomed a voice behind her.
Amy spun around.
‘Good day to you again, madam,’ added the man from the tearoom, raising his hat with an exaggerated gesture.
He was shorter than she had thought, but of muscular build and she had no doubt he could hold his own in a fight. She noticed the thin white line of a scar running along one cheek. Nonetheless, his amused arrogance and looks attracted rather than repelled her.
The lady bobbed and nodded and jabbered in Japanese and waved towards the back of the store.
The man turned away, saying over his shoulder, ‘I should take the red if I were you,’ and he disappeared behind a beaded curtain.
‘Who was that man?’ asked Amy in a low voice.
‘Velly rich man, I think. Does lot of business … you know … ’ She rubbed her fingers together and put a finger to her lips.
‘And his name?’
The girl hesitated, thinking hard. ‘Him my boss friend, him Mister Karl. Mister Karl Gunther.’
Amy purchased the red silk and left the shop.
Over the next two weeks, Karl Gunther crossed Amy’s path on several occasions. She began to wonder if it was just mere coincidence. They finally connected at the Continental Hotel, where Amy was due to have lunch with Mabel Metta. Amy had issued the invitation saying she wanted some advice from ‘a family friend’. She realised the Mettas were friends of Olivia’s as much as Tyndall’s but Amy needed information and she hoped by saying she was concerned about Tyndall that Mabel would agree to meet her.
Mabel duly arrived at the hotel on the day arranged. Settling the folds of her sari about her round body, she said politely, ‘How can I help you, Amy?’
‘It’s Johnny, he has become very … difficult. He drinks more than is good for him … ’
‘He’s always hit the bottle when he’s down.’
‘Well, he has been muttering about business being bad. They haven’t found any pearls … ’
‘That’s not so!’ Mabel bit her tongue and let Amy continue.
Amy dropped her head and lowered her voice. ‘Sometimes I fear for my safety. I know he resents me … but he is my husband, what am I to do? I don’t wish to leave him. I just want to make him happy. And he spurns me so … ’
‘Oh my dear … ’ Mabel looked at the brimming blue eyes now