The Shanghai Wife Read online

  The Shanghai Wife

  Emma Harcourt

  www.harlequinbooks.com.au

  PRAISE FOR THE SHANGHAI WIFE

  ‘A superb debut, conjuring all the mayhem of pre-revolutionary China through the eyes of a young Australian woman. I hope Emma Harcourt writes many more!’

  Paul Ham, historian, author and journalist

  ‘With extraordinary historical and sensory detail, Emma Harcourt brings the world of early twentieth century Shanghai to contemporary readers. Into this lush and complex setting comes a young woman straining against convention. In Annie, Harcourt has created a dynamic and vivid character, a woman both conflicted and courageous, a woman readers will fall in love with.’

  Kathryn Heyman, author of Storm and Grace

  ‘Emma’s book is lyrical and beautiful ... she has written a love story as dangerous and exotic as the worlds she describes.’

  Caroline Overington, author and journalist

  ‘An immersive tale of illicit love set in Shanghai during the Chinese anti-Imperialist movement of 1925. Propels you straight to the streets of 1920s Shanghai.’

  Nicole Alexander, author

  Photo: Nicholas Purcell

  EMMA HARCOURT has worked as a journalist for over 25 years, in Australia, the UK and Hong Kong. In 2011, she completed the Faber Academy Writing a Novel course and The Shanghai Wife was born. Emma lives in Sydney with her two daughters and she has a son who lives in London. She is currently working on her second novel.

  For Oliver, Clare & Zoe and for my intrepid

  grandmother, Ilma Hilda Harcourt.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  This novel is a work of fiction, although it takes as its inspiration my grandmother’s story. She was born and died in Australia but as a young woman she lived in Shanghai in 1925–26 with her husband, my grandfather, who captained boats on the Yangtze River.

  My grandfather, Captain A V Harcourt, wrote a navigational account of the river and I used this excellent resource when writing the river section of the book: Yangtse-kiang, The Great River of China, 1930. I am indebted to a number of other books on Shanghai in the 1920s, especially Hanchou Lu’s Beyond The Neon Lights (University of California Press, 2004), Robert Bickers’ Empire Made Me (Penguin Books, 2004) and George Wang and Betty Barr’s Shanghai Boy Shanghai Girl (Old China Hand Press, 2002).

  While all the characters in this book are fictitious, the story is set around real historical events, although as a novelist I have taken some liberty with the dates and details of those events.

  For more information please see the historical note at the end of this book.

  CONTENTS

  About the Author

  Author’s Note

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Historical Note

  Acknowledgements

  CHAPTER ONE

  The Yangtze River, April 1925

  The water was as still as the early morning air. Annie stood alone on the starboard deck, impatient to sail beyond the river’s bend. She threw her arms wide ’til she held the entire view of the distant shoreline and waters in her grasp and stretched her neck with the glorious sensation of freedom which the Yangtze voyage offered. A sudden wind sent dark green eddies whirling across the river’s glassy surface and Annie watched the shifting colours move towards her before feeling the breeze swirl deliciously through her hair. Less than a year ago she’d been stuck on her father’s farm, now she lived in China. Beyond the rocky shoreline, farmers with bullocks tilled the rice paddies. Annie kicked off her shoes and rolled up the trousers she planned on wearing as often as possible, now there was no one to judge. Without her nylons, her bare feet felt clean and cool. She wiggled her toes triumphantly. There were no Shanghai rules here. A shudder from the engine room signalled they would soon be underway and Annie turned to watch the receding view of the river. She belonged on this working boat as a guest of the Captain, her husband. The air was cold and fresh; she took in a deep, cleansing breath. Finally, Annie felt she could stop running.

  It had taken a day to sail beyond the crowded, commercial section of the river that ran from the Bund all the way around Pudong Point. She’d watched steamships power away from them, amazed at how the large vessels managed to avoid the junks that dipped and bobbed in the churned-up waters. Huge billboards dotted the shoreline, advertising cigarettes, tiger balm, even chewing gum. There had been British gunboats positioned out from the Point, a potent reminder of the unrest. But now, with the violence of Shanghai behind her, and rural scenery on either side of the shoreline, it felt like a real river journey.

  The passageway smelt of damp carpet and fuel as Annie made her way to her cabin. The ship pitched forward and she felt a thrill of excitement as she fell onto the bunk bed, her feet touching the end where she lay. From the open porthole, the smell of cold water breezed through and briefly disguised the dank that pervaded every inch of her small cabin. Annie pulled off her trousers and shirt and let the cool of the river breeze ruffle her slip.

  Opposite the bed, a wash basin stood on a small table against the wall. A stalk of plum blossoms sat in a jar; a gesture from one of the crew. The shiny bolts that kept her bunk locked to the floor glinted as the sun slipped into the room.

  The river boat was considered substantial by professional standards. But Annie couldn’t help comparing it to the splendid American passenger liners they’d passed as they sailed away from the Bund and into the Whangpoo River. Beside those, this working vessel was endearingly drab and small. But Annie wasn’t bothered by the conditions onboard; this ship was her chance to experience the Yangtze and see something of the real China beyond the cloying social scene of the International Settlement. Even though she’d only been in Shanghai for six months, she was ready to escape.

  One deck ran the length of the boat, coming to a point at the stern where a bench allowed for contemplation of the receding waters. There were no deck chairs, no cover from the sun. Annie slept in one of two staterooms—Alec had the other. There were no double berths on board. A thin passageway snaked from bow to stern of the interior. To one side a mess served as dining hall and recreation area for Alec and the crew. On the other was the captain’s saloon which served as Annie’s lounge. The crew slept in a tight room of bunks below the waterline close to the bilge.

  Annie sat up at the sound of the door opening and was surprised to see Alec with a cup of tea. He dipped his head through the doorway and she couldn’t help smiling. Such a big man was not made for these river boats. The tea was hot and black. He bowed gallantly as he placed it on the small table and Annie smiled at his playful theatrics.

  ‘How on earth do you manage in these small spaces?’ She dangled her feet off the end of the bunk, laughing.

  ‘With a lot of bruises,’ Alec smiled ruefully, grabbing hold of the bed as the ship keeled unexpectedly.

  ‘What about seasickness?’

  ‘Don’t forget I’ve spent a lot more time than you on the water. You’ll get your sea legs soon enough.’ He towered over her as he spoke, one hand pressed to the roof of her cabin to steady himself, the other planted on her bed. ‘In the meantime, hold onto the bulkheads when you move around and try not to hurt yourself, blossom.’ Annie fel
t his gaze travelling up her body. The skin on her forearms prickled; she still wasn’t used to such cool directness.

  In truth, she hadn’t planned to marry anyone; she’d just wanted to get away from home and be someone other than Annabelle Samuels. The future her father talked about, as the only family left to him—it wasn’t for her. Leaving the Macleay Valley was the most exciting thing she’d ever done.

  It was only once the ship had sailed far beyond Sydney’s headland, with the ocean’s constant swell beneath them, that Annie realised she had no idea what to do when they docked in Hong Kong. All her energy had gone into leaving home. She’d stood on deck watching the vast spread of water roll out in limitless waves to strange, unknown coastlines. The view didn’t change for days, but each morning, Annie stopped and looked out across the sea, contemplating her future. Until the day Alec Brand, First Officer, came into her sights. He’d risked his position protecting her from the unwanted attention of a lewd passenger, and after that, he became her regular companion, watching Annie as she played quoits on the promenade deck, or offering a blanket for her knees when the shadows crept over her deckchair. He described the work that was taking him to China, the city as he’d been told. He grew as a romantic male lead right there and then; Shanghai, navigating ships up and down the Yangtze, a home, a purpose, belonging. Annie married him two weeks after arriving in Hong Kong, and they left for Shanghai the very next day. The boat’s engine rumbled again and Annie’s attention was back in the small cabin. Alec shifted his feet in response to the thudding vibrations.

  ‘She’s getting into her stride.’ He peered out of the porthole eagerly and called to someone on deck. The muscles in his neck strained with anticipation. Annie heard footsteps and imagined the crew leaping to attention at her husband’s orders.

  ‘It’s time I got back to the bridge.’ Alec turned to her but he didn’t move. Annie was conscious of the strap of her slip, which had loosened off her shoulder. The room was quiet. Then Alec reached out and hooked his finger under the ribbon of silk before dropping it back into place. ‘Beautiful,’ he murmured.

  Annie shifted on the bed. ‘You’d better give me some privacy to change my clothes if you want me to join you anytime soon.’ She reached past him for her dressing gown and wrapped it around her shoulders. ‘Don’t take long, blossom.’ His words echoed from the passageway. Alec had started calling her blossom from their first day as husband and wife but Annie didn’t feel like a dainty little flower. She looked down at her slim gold wedding band as she reached for her trousers and thought back to the intimate ceremony in Hong Kong’s cathedral only six months previously. It had been as simple and unadorned as her ring and Annie had been relieved not to have to think about trousseaus and wedding breakfasts. She’d just wanted to be married and get on the boat for China. She’d dismissed the fact that Alec was shadowy; they would get to know each other with time, and she’d felt safe in the half-light of their early companionship, when neither revealed too much. Only now she wondered if those shadows would always linger between them.

  She ran a brush through her hair and slid her feet into the flat, canvas boat shoes Alec had insisted she purchase. At least her ring fit snugly. Annie stretched on tippy toes to see her reflection in the one mirror mounted above the wash basin. She didn’t bother with lipstick or rouge. There was only Alec, after all, and it was a relief not to pretty herself up. It still surprised Annie when she caught sight of herself these days, so different to the girl from the farm in the Macleay Valley. Thank goodness she’d met Connie.

  Connie, who shared a cabin with her on the boat to Hong Kong, helped Annie cut her long brown hair into a fashionable bob. She pulled out a pair of scissors big enough to shear a sheep. Annie hung her head over the sink and watched her dark hair fall helplessly into the bowl.

  When she looked up it was a different girl staring back. Her face seemed leaner, her eyes stood out with flecks of hazel and dark green she’d never noticed before and they were larger, brighter. She saw for the first time how clear her skin was.

  Connie gave her the silk dress that showed her legs. The hemline stopped just below her calves, so the skirts didn’t get caught between her legs in the ship’s wind. The waistline sat on her hips. Annie felt modern. For dinner one night, Connie suggested lipstick, a flapper headband, a feather. Annie had never worn anything so outrageous. She wasn’t expecting to be beautiful.

  Now here she was on another boat trip, only this time accompanying her husband up the Yangtze. She had to pinch herself to believe it as she walked along the slim passageway which led to the deck.

  When they first arrived in Shanghai, Annie wanted to join Alec on the river, but he wouldn’t take her; a working boat was no place for a lady. Yet he’d changed his mind, or rather, Shanghai had changed his mind for him.

  He’d clasped both Annie’s hands, she could still picture the way he’d looked at her. ‘Finally, you will see my river.’ His plans had been sealed by the early arrival of the summer high tides which meant Alec could begin the lucrative run shipping fuel to towns in the upper section of the river. His expression had been more open than she’d ever seen. Annie held to the bulkhead as the ship inclined slightly. This was her chance to see Alec in his world and hopefully they’d find the closeness she longed for.

  The brightness of the late afternoon was a shock after the dusky interior of her cabin. It felt glorious to let the sun’s heat seep into her skin. How far she’d come indeed!

  She stayed on deck until the dusk drew in and Alec joined her. He reached an arm around her waist when she began to sway, firm as a tree trunk, and she moved closer to balance herself against him. In the fading light they watched small boats move about on the water, firing up lanterns that served as night markers across the channel. Only when the last lantern was lit and the dark river was softened by each small beacon’s glow did they retire inside.

  ‘That’s her safely lit for the night,’ Alec said, motioning to the river.

  He held the hatch, whistling a tune softly as he let her pass. She breathed in the smoky sweetness of cigars as she brushed past him and took his hand as they walked to the saloon.

  ‘I feel so much more at ease here. Why do you think that is?’ She leant into his shoulder.

  ‘No lists to tick off, no schedule, it’s freedom.’

  Yes, she thought. Free of Shanghai’s overbearing social strictures and the Club ladies who enforced them. For a moment her mind wandered to Shanghai’s latest unrest. There had been violent protests before they left; labourers demanding better wages had stopped work and were joined by students in street riots, the clashes with police fuelled by the underground gangs who armed the protestors with knives and guns in a bid to gain influence and a bigger patch of territory for their own illegal businesses. The city pulsed with a nervous energy but they would not hear any updates until they reached the next major port at Nanking. Annie reminded herself to focus on the journey, not the city she’d left behind. The night air cooled her cheeks as the river curved ahead, bearing her silently forward.

  Dinner would be brought in shortly. Only one place was set, Alec ate with the crew. There was a knock and a coolie entered with two glasses of sherry. She took the glass and was glad for the soft tingle of alcohol. Alec pulled the curtains across the porthole, and came back to join her.

  ‘Don’t make me sit on my own; I would really prefer to eat with you.’

  ‘It’s not just me you know, the whole crew dines together. I didn’t think you would enjoy hobnobbing with the coolies?’

  ‘We’re not in Shanghai now.’

  ‘Too true, my love, and I trust these men with my life.’

  With that he took her hand and, tucking her arm into his own with a quick squeeze, he led her along the passageway to the galley. His palm was warm and familiar.

  A large, wooden rectangular table filled the room. There were more chairs than men, pushed in tightly to make room to pass. Alec said something in Chinese, a long, breat
hlessly connected set of sounds. Chairs scraped back as a space was made for Annie to the right of the captain’s place at the head of the table. Whatever he said, they responded quickly.

  A bowl of soup, with chunks of pork and a few floating green stalks was placed in front of her. It smelt strongly of steam and the sweet spice of ginger. A large terrine of boiled rice sat in the middle of the table with a soup ladle stuck directly into the centre.

  A man spoke to Alec, nodding politely at Annie before leaving. Her husband understood, indeed he looked completely at ease with the conversation. Another man across the table said something. Alec replied in Chinese. She recognised his expression, the nodding and agreement, all familiar conversational tactics of her husband. But the speaking in Chinese was absolutely unexpected.

  ‘Do they all speak to you in Chinese?’

  ‘There are only so many phrases I need to know, and everything works a lot faster if there’s no tongue-twisting around English.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘He’s going to relieve the man on watch so he can have his food.’

  ‘Goodness me!’

  ‘Annie, really, it’s part of the daily rituals on board.’

  ‘It may very well be, but my husband translating for me is not a regular occurrence. What a dark horse you are! In Shanghai you only ever speak English.’

  ‘And that’s as it should be. What would our friends think if they knew I conversed with my crew like a coolie? I don’t have a problem with Shanghai etiquette. But this ship is my domain and on board I do what I please.’

  ‘You are full of surprises Alexander Brand.’

  ‘I’ll have to dream up some more if surprises make you look at me like that.’ She felt his hand gently rest on her knee. He motioned to the bowl that had been placed in front of her and raised his own spoon.

  ‘Eat up, blossom. I can’t vouch for the taste but it will keep the wolves from the door.’ He leant in, so close she felt his breath on her neck, and whispered softly. ‘Though not your husband.’