The Shallow Seas (4 page)

“Tigran has made bequests to me and Miriam and to his
nyai
and his legitimised children. All the rest, including this estate, will come to you,” Takouhi said.

Charlotte looked out over these vast grounds of lawn and forest stretching down to the silver line of the river and beyond. What she could see was not even one tenth of the land which Tigran owned in Batavia. In addition, Takouhi went on, there was the tea plantation in the hills at Buitenzorg, coffee in the Preangar, the sugar lands and factories near Semarang, the fleet of ships and other business interests and properties too numerous to mention.

On top of this breathtaking wealth, to her amazement Charlotte discovered a good many things she did not know about both Tigran and Takouhi and the whole Manouk family.

The first was that Takouhi had been married! Charlotte was filled with an almost indecent sense of curiosity, but to her annoyance Takouhi did not elaborate. She merely said that she had been widowed and inherited half of her late husband's estate, with which she had bought the house she owned in Nordwijk, Batavia's most fashionable street. It was currently rented out to a Captain Palmer, an American who had set up in business with a long-time Resident of Batavia, Gillean Maclaine. In a few days, Takouhi said, she would take her on a long visit to this street and its fashionable shops and they would pay a visit to Captain Palmer and look at the house. Listening to Takouhi discuss legal arrangements and property rental, Charlotte discovered a very different side to her friend, one which was quite hard-headed and down to earth. Perhaps, Charlotte thought, I had just not seen this before. In Singapore, Takouhi had been a mother and loving companion, revelling in George's adoration of her and their daughter, happy and carefree in love and security. Here in Batavia, she had a different role. Here she was an older widowed sister of a wealthy merchant, no man by her side, her child lost. And, too, Charlotte found that Takouhi had another sister, Miriam, who was the wife of Josef Arathoun, another wealthy Armenian merchant. She was Tigran and Takouhi's younger half sister, by a concubine of his father's, whom he had legitimised.

This discovery of an extended family certainly surprised Charlotte, but the greater shock was this news about Tigran. For it transpired that, though Tigran had no wife, he had, for many years, had a
nyai
, a native woman, by whom he had two sons and a daughter. There were two grandchildren. He had legalised their relationship. In this society, that meant he had papers of legitimacy for the children who had been baptised into the Christian faith. He had recognised his
nyai
as their legal mother and had given her, as was the custom, a Christian first name and his own surname spelt backwards. Her name was Mariana Kuonam, therefore, though the family still used her native name, Mia. She was an Ambonese slave woman who had been given to him as a companion when he turned fifteen.

Mia was older than Tigran, of course, by some ten years, Takouhi told her. Since the birth of Nicolaus, the first son, she had always lived in her own household. Nicolaus and his younger brother, Samuel, worked for Tigran's merchant house, and his daughter, Valentijna, was married to the Assistant Resident in Semarang. Charlotte calculated that the two eldest children were older than her! And grandchildren! She had given little thought to Tigran's life during the years before he met her, but somehow she had not imagined this encompassing and practical domesticity.

Takouhi, seemingly finding nothing odd in the proposal, spoke of taking her to meet Nyai Kuonam.

Charlotte did not know what to say, but Takouhi read on her face a certain shock. No, no, she reassured her, it was all perfectly normal here. For a mature man, the situation was only to be expected. Most men had a wife, several
nyai
and dozens of slave-concubines. Tigran had never had slave-concubines. His head had been turned when he was much younger by a woman who had been his willing concubine, but that was years ago. Girls still came here from the
kampong
, Takouhi added, matter of factly, wanting to be with him. Certainly, though, such goings-on would cease once Tigran was married to Charlotte.

Takouhi smiled at her friend but was horrified to see two large tears sliding down Charlotte's cheeks.

“
Alamak
! So sorry, Charlotte. Too much for you. I am just silly-billy, I think better to know everything, but still hard for you.”

Charlotte took out her handkerchief and wiped her eyes, annoyed at herself.

“It's just so strange. I thought I knew you, but you have had a life I know nothing about. And Tigran …” She stopped and took a deep breath. “I'm pregnant, Takouhi, by the Chinese man. Tigran knows, says he does not care. Now, this whole family of Tigran's and concubines, for heaven's sake. It's just so… not what I expected, I suppose.”

Takouhi took her hand. “I know about this baby. Is great blessing. Change is hard, nobody like change. When I bring Meda here, I miss George so much, and all my life in Singapore. Then Meda pass away. I sorry now I take Meda from George, he not there to hold her when she die. So sudden, no time for him to come. She like angel to him. Sorry he go far away. He give you no letter for me. He hurt I know. Maybe cannot forgive me. I not know where he is now. Cannot write to him. I love him Charlotte. Still I try not to be empty.”

Takouhi looked down, falling silent, turning the Claddagh ring on her left hand. Charlotte knew something of this pretty gold band with two hands holding a heart surmounted by a crown. Worn on the left hand, with the heart facing the body, it signified marriage. George had given it to her. Charlotte clutched her friend's hand, felt a flush of shame and a constriction in her throat. She swallowed and took a deep breath.

“Forgive me, Takouhi. Just feeling a bit sorry for myself. Feeling sick and missing Zhen, just like you miss George. I miss George too. He loves you, I know it. He will come back. He built the cupolas on the hill in Singapore for you and Meda, you know, filled with love for you both.”

Charlotte rose and put an arm around her shoulders.

“I am the silly billy, eh? Scared about marrying Tigran, about being with him, you know. Scared about the baby, scared of everything.”

Charlotte gave a tight little laugh. Admitting all this fear was a relief. She was not sure where it all came from. She was not unused to feeling out of place. Her own life had made her stoical. She thought of Robert, how she missed him, this brother who had been everything to her for so long. What a strange life had led them both to these tropical climes. She recalled the happiness of their childhood in Madagascar, the devotion of their French-Mauritian mother and Scottish missionary father. How hideously it had all ended when they had been dispatched for their safety to Aberdeen's grey, cold stones and the keeping of a dour grandmother, their parents lost to them forever. Robert had gone off to school, and Charlotte had found herself alone. Lessons in the morning had been all that constrained her, and she had roamed the hills and sailed the waters of Scotland with her cousin Duncan and found solace in the care of her maiden aunt, Jeanne. Only Duncan and Jeanne had loved her, and fortunately that had been enough. Jeanne had been a perfect aunt, Charlotte and Robert the children she never had. Jeanne had lost her officer fiancé young, in the war with Napoleon, and Charlotte had learned, like her aunt, to build her defences out of good sense, good humour and Macleod grit. She had sailed with Duncan on the chilly waters around Aberdeen and developed a tough sailor's hide, an ability to look danger in the eye. Robert's unexpected appointment as police chief to Singapore had saved her from an unwanted marriage to some lecherous old squire.

She had loved Singapore immediately, all the more completely for meeting Zhen. Her mind strayed to his silken-skinned body, his dark almond eyes, his full lips, the curve of his jaw and the long, lustrous black queue which fell to his waist. She could still feel her fingers entwined in his hair, the touch of his lips on her skin. He had invaded her whole being. There was never going to be anything but trouble with him, though, for not only was he Chinese but she knew he was promised to another woman. But after an ineffectual and pointless struggle with Pallas Athena, the Goddess of Reason, she had simply fallen into the whirlwind. Even now, though, she could find not an ounce of regret. He had “subdued her heart” as ever Othello did Desdemona's and “to his honours and his valiant parts did she her soul and fortunes consecrate.” Not entirely, of course, for her fortunes and his were not in their hands. She had had to leave: nothing but scandal could have ensued. It would have ruined Robert, and eventually Zhen, especially with the child on the way. Love had made her vulnerable; thoughts of motherhood, separation from Robert and the familiarity of Singapore had made her anxious. There were little rents and tears in her nature which allowed doubt and fear to enter, and she was having trouble rebuilding the edifice.

Takouhi patted her friend's hand.

“We make a life here, different life maybe, but not unhappy. We wait for this baby, and wait for Meda's
slametan
, and feel better.”

Takouhi rose and called a servant to serve tea outside on the terrace.

Together they left Takouhi's sitting room and went down a wide marble staircase into the hall and out through the French doors onto the great basalt and teakwood terrace which ran the length of the house. A deep roof sheltered them from the sun. A dining table and chairs stood to one side, for the family took all their meals here. Charlotte saw three long
punkahs
standing idle now over the table. In the evening, the
punkah wallahs
pulled them to and fro, creating the semblance of a cooling breeze. Several rattan and bamboo easy chairs and tables were set about the terrace, and they sat and looked over the vast lawn where spotted deer grazed silently.

“Tigran have love for you, Charlotte. He can be hard in business, hard with other man, but with woman is kind and gentle. Like Robert for you, Tigran is for me. Best brother in whole world.”

Takouhi poured some tea, and looked at her friend. She so much wanted Charlotte to care for Tigran, to be happy, to make him happy, and she knew that meant Charlotte must learn something about him, about them, for there was so little time before the wedding. Takouhi knew Tigran was passionate about Charlotte. She had never seen him so filled with emotion about any other woman. Surya, yes, he had adored her. Perhaps Petra Couperus for a brief time? But not quite like this. She debated whether to take Charlotte into her confidence. She loved Charlotte; this woman had become her closest friend, would be her sister, Tigran's wife. The baby and others to come would be Tigran's children. She wanted Charlotte to feel a connection to them all, a connection to Batavia, to Java. She wanted her to forget the Chinese man.

Takouhi took a sip of tea and placed her cup gently on its saucer.

“I will tell you a story. This story between you and me. Only Tigran and George know this story.”

Charlotte looked at her. After all the other revelations, she had no idea what to expect.

“My mother die when I am seven years old. Her story also very sad. I tell you this another time.”

Takouhi ran a hand lightly over her hair, which had blown across her face in the breeze, and looked out over the lawn. Charlotte was again struck by her beauty. She was almost fifty-six years old, but her appearance belied every year. Slender as a reed, she was a graceful, tawny cat, black shining hair to her waist, dark eyes turned up at the corners. Her age was revealed only in the tiniest lines at the corner of her eyes and on her hands. Usually she dressed in a sarong and
kebaya
, like all the mixed-blood Indische women, but today, surprisingly, she was dressed in a former European fashion, in a soft, pale yellow lawn, the dress falling Empire-style from beneath her bust. It suited her, but Charlotte thought it was unlike Takouhi not to dress in the latest fashion. In Singapore she had always been vastly interested in any new books that came from London, Boston or Paris.

“Father marry again. Marry Tigran's mother who become like my mother. She very good woman. Widow of Dutchman. Her name is Valentijna, so beautiful woman. Why she marry Father then not understand. He cruel man. Now understand, she no choose anything, like me, like my mother. She lose many babies. Now I know Father never leave her alone, always greedy for her. Before she can think of losing baby, she pregnant again but he not leave her alone. Never give her peace.”

Takouhi shook her head slightly, frowning, her eyes misty.

“Really I love her. She and Jawa maids care for me, love me. She teach me letters, show books, speak Dutch. This not usual in Dutch house. Girls not read or write, only talk Malay or Javanese, do nothing, learn nothing. But one day, nothing she can do. When I am fourteen, my father give me to old Dutchman for wife. His name Pieter Laurens, old friend of father in government. He maybe fifty years old. Very fat, very ugly … very cruel.”

Charlotte frowned. Takouhi's voice had changed.

“I married at church in Batavia. I never forget that day. I scared so much. When pastor say he and me husband and wife, he pull me to him and put his hand hard between my legs. In the church in front of priest, Father and all people. Then put his mouth and tongue on my mouth, how you say, lick me. His breath smell bad, his mouth like old tobacco and betel. I never forget that smell.”

Charlotte was transfixed, filled with shame for her friend. Fourteen years old. It was unimaginable.

“He not wait. Before even wedding party finish, he take me to his room, rip my dress. When I cry out, he hit me. Hit so hard I think he break my face. Then he put me on bed, take down his pants. He do this to me hard, hurting, fat belly on my chest. I cannot breathe, so much pain I think I die. He finish, thank the gods, finish quickly, big groan in my ears. Then he go, tell me to shut up and sleep. I have blood on my legs, blood everywhere.”