The Silk Merchant's Daughter by Dinah Jefferies Page B

face and wanted to tell her about going out on the lake with Mark, but something made her change her mind. ‘You always know how to cope with Papa, don’t you?’ she said instead.
    Sylvie blushed slightly and had the grace to smile. ‘About the shop. You do realize that if you make a go of it you’ll be able to earn a good income? You are serious about it, aren’t you?’
    ‘Of course. I’ve already begun the cleaning.’
    ‘And will you try to finish your studies too?’
    Nicole shook her head. ‘I don’t see how I can if I’m running the shop.’
    ‘True. Better to focus on the shop. Papa will understand that.’
    ‘I’m looking forward to it. But, Sylvie, why are you taking pills? I came across them in the bathroom.’
    Sylvie frowned. ‘You were nosing in my cupboard?’
    ‘But what are they for? Are you ill?’
    Sylvie seemed to hesitate. ‘Just headaches and tiredness.’
    Nicole nodded. Since seeing Mark again the unfairness of the division of the business no longer seemed to matter so much and she felt for her sister. ‘It’s not surprising. You’re taking on a lot.’
    She watched the breeze from the open window lift the muslin curtains, shifting the air in the room. ‘What’s happening to the house in Huế?’ she asked. ‘Are we selling?’
    ‘Papa has appointed a submanager to operate the buying there. He’ll live in the house.’
    ‘Well, I’m determined to make the shop a success.’
    ‘I’m glad.’
    ‘Do you know about the assassination in the bamboo grove?’ Nicole said.
    Sylvie nodded. ‘And the possibility of more to come. Still, I suppose the Vietminh could shoot somebody here if they had a mind.’
    When Nicole couldn’t sleep again that night she opened the shutters and braved the ghosts. The moon was full but the garden was surprisingly peaceful, with every leaf and every blade of grass glowing like silver. It smelt woody out there and the air was thick and syrupy. She thought about what theyoung man had said to her at the shop:
You will soon be needing me
. Surely he’d been lying? Nobody believed they would lose against the Vietminh – the French army far outnumbered the rebels. Everyone said so. But a small voice echoed in her head – what if everyone was wrong? She’d heard her father talking about an underground network in the port of Haiphong. In contrast to the 570 kilometres they’d driven from Huế to Hanoi, Haiphong was less than a hundred kilometres away. What if the Vietminh were already in Hanoi in larger numbers than anyone imagined?
Ân đền oán trẚ
– An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. What if the world they all lived in was about to change for ever? She shook her head. For all she complained about her father and Sylvie, she didn’t want to lose them. And if the worst happened, who would care about the little silk shop or a young mixed-race girl with hopes of success, and maybe even love?

8
    A pan was rattling on the stove and, as steam filled the air, Lisa sang at the top of her voice to an old French song on the radio. Nicole gazed at the kitchen window. Several days had passed since their outing on the lake but she hadn’t heard from Mark. The hot, wet season was setting in and it wasn’t so bright outside; the day looked likely to be miserably humid. But a crusty golden loaf lay on the table and the sight of that always made things better. She picked at the skin round the edges of her nails and watched as the cook stopped singing and began to sway while chopping some red peppers. The lovely scent of their freshness filled the room.
    ‘Are your eyes closed?’ Nicole asked.
    ‘You think I’d chop with my eyes shut!’
    ‘Well, there are sometimes strange things floating in the soup.’
    Lisa swiped at her with a dishcloth. ‘Impudent child!’
    Nicole ducked then went back to picking her skin. ‘What are we having today?’
    ‘Rabbit. I caught it myself. Anyway, why haven’t you opened the shop yet?’
    Nicole shrugged.