The Empire Trilogy - J. G. Farrell [506]
‘You are most surprised, I expect, to see me here, are you not? (You remember, yes, Vera Chiang.) Well let me put things straight for you, Matthew, and then you won’t be any longer looking in such a condition. You see, I still have in this house the bedroom which your dear, dear father gave to me when I was “on my uppers”. Your father, Matthew, was such a good, kind and generous man. You can be pretty sure I’ll always say one for him for the help he gave me … And so here I still have some of my precious bits and pieces, such things like my books (because I always have my “nose in a book”) and “snaps” of your dear father with no clothes on and of my family (all now having “kicked the bucket” I’m sorry to say) who were very important in Russia and obliging to leave in Revolution and so this evening, when we were split up by those rowdy sailors, I remembered I must look at them again, which I haven’t for some time and I heard you come in and I thought Matthew will also enjoy looking at my “snaps” … There! And, are you all right, dear? You look rather “hot about the collar”, I must say.’
Matthew, who was very hot indeed and distinctly unwell despite the pleasant surprise of finding Miss Chiang again so soon, had been obliged to steady himself against a table as the bungalow gave a lurch. After a moment, however, he felt sufficiently recovered to say: ‘As a matter of fact, I’m not feeling very well. I seem to having an attack of the Singapore Grip, or whatever it’s called.’
It was Miss Chiang’s turn to look surprised at this information and she even went a little pink about the cheeks, which made her, thought Matthew, look prettier than ever. For a moment she appeared nonplussed, though. What a pretty girl she is, to be sure, he mused, and what a pity that everything seems so unreal.
‘Matthew!’ called a voice from outside and in no time there came the by now familiar sound of the door being opened. Joan stopped short when she saw that Matthew was talking to Miss Chiang. She raised her eyebrows and looked far from pleased.
‘D’you know Miss Chiang?’ Matthew managed to say. ‘I think she said she was going to show me some photographs …’ he hesitated and eyed Miss Chiang’s face carefully: it had occurred to him that she might already have shown him the photographs, in which case what he had said would sound rather odd. Miss Chiang agreed, however, that that was what she had been about to do and Matthew gave an inner sigh of relief.
‘Gracious, Miss Blackett, you’re all wet! Let me get you a towel.’
‘No, thank you, Vera, I shall have dried out in no time. Besides, I find it pleasantly cool.’ And Joan slipped into a cane-chair not very far from where Ehrendorf had sat and dripped only a few minutes earlier. As she did so, despite his fever (or perhaps even because of it), Matthew could not help noticing how the thin cotton of her dress stuck to her body, outlining its delicious shape and revealing a number of things about it which he had had no opportunity to notice before. In the meantime, Joan, who still had not quite swallowed her irritation at finding Vera and Matthew together, was asking superciliously whether Vera was pleased with the dress which she was wearing. Was it not lucky for Vera, she asked turning to Matthew, seeing that the poor girl was penniless when she came to work for Mr Webb, that her cast-off clothing had proved to be a perfect fit?
‘Oh, it was terribly lucky for me!’ exclaimed Vera, clapping her hands. ‘I had never worn such lovely clothes before, Matthew. Except, of course, when I was a baby in Russia, I suppose, because my mother’s family was of noble blood, princesses at least … and my father was a wealthy tea-merchant, definitely “well thought of” in the highest circles, so I understand …’
‘In our family,’ said Joan, ‘it has always been our custom to give our cast-off clothes away … My mother always gives hers to the amah of to the “boys” for their