Эльвира Барякина - White Ghosts

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.

A split second later, Ada felt a searing pain in her left ankle.

“She’s been hurt!” Betty screamed, but Ada didn’t understand who she was talking about. Faces started floating around her, and she passed out.

3

On the way to the hospital, Martha cursed the Japanese and their idiotic habit of carrying guns around with them all the time.

“Well, at least he hit you and not one of the customers,” she said to Ada. “If that had happened, the authorities would have shut us down without batting an eyelid.”

Ada nodded, sobbing. She was shaking not so much from the pain, but from the horrific realization that several minutes ago she could have been killed.

A bald doctor with a monocle on a string stitched up and bandaged Ada’s leg. “No bones broken,” he said breezily. “You’ll be fine in a month.”

Ada gasped. “But how am I going to dance?”

“No dancing for you,” snapped the doctor. “You need to stay at home and rest, unless you want to lose that leg of yours.”

“Great,” Martha muttered, cursing under her breath.

She took Ada to the House of Hope and helped her up to her room.

“Where’s Klim?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Ada said. “He left two weeks ago and didn’t even say where he was going.”

“If the police come here, tell them you caught your foot on a nail,” Martha said over her shoulder as she made her way down the stairs.

For a long time, Ada just sat in the dark. Not only was she now unable to go out to buy groceries, she couldn’t even fetch boiling water from the kitchen. Hopping up the stairs on one leg with a hot kettle was not an option, and even emptying the night pot was an impossible task. Ada was overwhelmed by a sick feeling as she calculated how much it would cost her to pay the neighbors’ kids to do it for her.

She tried to put a little weight on her injured leg but nearly collapsed. It was so painful!

That’s it, it’s over, she thought. I can’t work and soon I’ll die of hunger. In a week or so, Chen will come to collect the rent payment and discover my corpse under this blanket.

Ada lit a candle and took a crumpled paper icon from under her pillow.

“Lord, please, help me!” she whispered.

After she had had her fill of praying and weeping, she tried to climb up on to her top bunk, but even this was beyond her. She fell asleep exhausted on Klim’s bed.

4

The next morning, Ada was woken up by the sound of a loud argument coming up from the street. Betty, resplendent in a full skirt and red jacket trimmed with exotic tropical bird feathers, was standing at the gates of the House of Hope. Chen hadn’t wanted to let her in, but she gave him such a roasting that he soon retreated with his tail between his legs.

Betty marched upstairs to Ada’s room, flung the door open so that it banged against the wall, and stopped at the threshold.

“So, you’re ready to dance with any Oriental in order to pay for this bird cage? You’re a bigger fool than I thought.”

She walked over to the table and placed canned meat, biscuits, and smoked sausage onto it. “This should keep you going for a while. The other girls and I have decided to keep an eye on you until you get better.”

“Thank you!” Ada whispered, deeply touched.

Betty sat down on the stool and took out a cigarette.

“Now you listen to me. It’s not safe for you to be penniless in your situation. You need to seize the day, while you’re still young, and start working on the second floor. I know what I’m talking about. I had a hard time too, when I first arrived in Shanghai. I used to work as a waitress on a steamer, but was fired for soliciting the passengers. The captain told me that I’d die here but he’s not the first person I’ve proved wrong in my life.”

Ada looked at her with such pitiful eyes that Betty couldn’t help laughing.

“I’m only wishing the best for you, you silly girl! Men like beautiful, bold, and flexible women. Can you do the splits? No? Then you’ll need to start practicing. Here’s another trick that always works as well—”

Betty flicked her cigarette out of the window, took off her hat, and proceeded to do a handstand, her skirt slipping down over her head.

Ada stared in silence at Betty’s black silk stockings and white cami-knickers trimmed with blue ribbons.