Remember (37 page)

She had wanted to tell Clee as much of the truth as she possibly could, but she had known all along that she must not tell all of her story.

Thankfully she had managed to tell it without a hitch. No one must ever know that Charles Devereaux was still alive. She had given her promise and she would not betray him, his life was in her hands. And her secret did not harm Clee.

Besides, she would never see Charles Devereaux again. That chapter of her life was finally closed.

fter Mai die in Xiehe Hospital I take her body to parents,” Yoyo said, looking from Clee to Nicky. “Friends help me. We find two pedicabs.

They take us. We go to Mai’s house. Her parents weep.

They very sad. I very sad.” Yoyo shook his head, and he mournfully added, “Mai such young girl—” His voice quavered, and he stopped speaking.

Nicky reached out and touched his arm in sympathy and with deep affection. It was hard to believe that Yoyo was with them in Paris at last, and looking so well, almost prosperous, she thought. He wore a neat, dark suit, a white shirt and a red tie, and seemed totally in command of himself and the situation.

Clearing her throat, she said, “Clee and I know how terrible it was for you, how grief-stricken you must have been, and still are. It is so tragic. We were all upset and so very sorry when Mai died.”

Yoyo tried to smile without much success. “I know, Nicky.” He turned to Clee. “Thank you, Clee, for carrying Mai so far. Trying to save Mai. Taking her to Xiehe. You a good man, Clee. You a good friend.

And you a good friend, Nicky.”

“I just wish we could have saved her,” Clee said, his heart going out to the young Chinese student who sat with them in his apartment on the rue Jacob. It was early on Friday evening, on the first day of September. Yoyo had come over to the sixth awondissenent on the Left Bank to visit with them, tell them how he had escaped from Beijing and share his news. Later they were going out to have the long-awaited celebration dinner together, as the guests of his benefactor, a Mr. Loong.

Yoyo suddenly said, “Mai’s death bad joss.”

“Yes, it was bad luck,” Clee agreed. He and Nicky glanced at each other, and in an attempt to change the subject, Clee went on, “Nicky and I have been terribly worried about you all these weeks, Yoyo. So have Arch and the guys. We didn’t know what had happened to you after we left Beijing. We waited in Hong Kong for you, as we promised we would, and for several days, you know.”

“Sorry I did not come. It was hard for me, Clee.”

Nicky said, “Don’t apologize, Yoyo, we understand. It’s just that we were so concerned for your safety. We hoped nothing bad had happened, that you weren’t locked up in a Beijing jail.” She, squeezed his arm again, gave him a warm smile. “Thank God you’re all right.”

“Many things happened to me. But I lucky. Really.”

“Tell us everything, how you got out of Beijing, how you came to Paris,” Clee said.

“I begin at beginning. Yes?”

“Okay, Yoyo, shoot,” Clee replied, smiling at him.

Yoyo nodded, took a deep breath. “After you leave, police everywhere in Beijing. I go Mai’s house. Mai’s parents hide me.

Police asking many questions about students. Many arrests. Many students go to jail. At Qinghua University very bad things happen. It dangerous. I stay Mai’s house one week. Mai’s parents worry police find me. Arrest me. Mai’s father take me house of friends. They hide me for ten days. It difficult. Dangerous.

Necessary I leave Beijing.”

“Is that when you left the city? In the middle of June?” Nicky asked.

“No. No. I stayed in Beijing. I move many times. I go to friends of Mai’s parents. They hide me. Mai’s mother say she help me escape.

She have,ganxi—” “That means connections,” Nicky interrupted, looking across at Clee. “Philip Rawlings told me when I was at Pullenbrook.”

“How would he know a thing like that?” Clee asked, frowning.

“I told you before, he’s got an important job at the British Foreign Office. Hong Kong is a British Crown Colony and under British protection and government until June 30, 1997.” Nicky thought a moment. “Who knows, maybe he’s on the China desk or the Hong Kong desk at the Foreign Office. He’s always been very cagey about what he actually does there.”

“I understand,” Clee said, then turned to Yoyo. “Sorry for the interruption. Keep going, Yoyo.”

“Mai’s mother have many connections. She sent me to southern China.

Mai’s father give me money. I have your money. I keep it safe. Mai’s mother say I need much money. For bribes. They very important.”

“How did you get to Hong Kong?” Nicky asked.

“Many people help me. Ordinary people. They hate government. They hate what government did to students. They sorry for students.

They like democracy movement. Many different people help me.

Mai’s mother help me go to Shenzhen—”

“That’s adjacent to Hong Kong,” Clee cut in, looking at Nicky and explaining. “It’s an economic zone, something like long Kong, and it became a sort of boomtown overnight.

Yoyo nodded. “You know Shenzhen, Clee?”

“Yes, I did a story there about a year ago.” Once again he glanced at Nicky. “It’s kind of honky-tonk, full of criminals and lowlifes, as well as legit businessmen and entrepreneurs. But continue with your story, Yoyo.”

“I needed papers to go to Shenzhen. All Chinese citizens need special certificate. Mai’s father have friend. This friend have guanxi. This man buy certificate for me.”

“But how did you get to Shenzhen from Beijing, it’s a long way,” Nicky said.

“Mai’s father take me to Shanghai. In car. His brother help. He pass me along. To many friends. It is network, Nicky. They help students.

I cannot say more. Okay? You understand?”

“Yes, of course I do,” she said. “You don’t want to divulge too much about the network, because other students may have to use it as an escape route.”

“That is correct, Nicky. I arrive Shenzhen beginning of August. I have special connection. Friend of friend. I stay two weeks.

Friend in Shenzhen take me to Zhong-Ying Street one day. It busy shopping street. One side China. Other side Hong Kong. Many tourists. We bribe police. They look other way. I go over border.

” “But there are Hong Kong police stationed on the other side of Zhong-Ying Street,” Clee said. “On the Hong Kong side. I know that area because of the story I did on Shenzhen. How did you manage once you’d crossed over?”

“I run. I slip through back streets. Alleyways. I hide. I get to water. Hong Kong on other side of bay. Mr. Loong have boat waiting.

Every day boat wait for me. Until I come. I go to Hong Kong on Mr. Loong’s boat. Mr. Loong look after me in Hong Kong.

He good man.”

“Who exactly is Mr. Loong, Yoyo?” Nicky probed.

“He brother of Mai’s mother. He very important man in Hong Kong.

Big businessman. He leave Shanghai in 1948 before Communists come in 1949. He start export-import business in Hong Kong. Now he very rich man . He help me . He bring me to Paris .”

“You were an illegal immigrant in Hong Kong with no papers. How did you manage? And how did you get out?” Clee asked. “You have a Chinese passport, I know, but what about visas and all that?”

“Mr. Loong fix everything. He has many friends. Important friends.

He buy me real Hong Kong passport. It is in my name.”

Nicky said, “May we see it, Yoyo? You don’t mind showing it to us, do you?”

“No, Nicky.” Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out the passport and handed it to her.

Clee rose and walked over to join her on the sofa. Together they examined it, and then looked at each other. They had expected to see a forgery, but it appeared to be an authentic and valid Hong Kong passport in Yoyo’s full name, Chin Yong Yu.

Handing it back to him, Clee said, “Very good, Yoyo. Your friend Mr. Loong obviously has bigguanxi.”

Yoyo laughed and nodded.

“And what are your plans?” Clee now asked. “Are you going to stay here in France, or what?”

“Mr. Loong has Paris office for import-export company. He brought me here as his secretary. Maybe I stay. Maybe I go to New York.”

As he said this he looked at Nicky questioningly.

“We’ll talk that over tomorrow, shall we, Yoyo?” she said, glancing at the clock on the mantelpiece. “I think we ought to be going. Isn’t Mr. Loong expecting us at eight o’clock?”

“Yes.” Yoyo got up, and continued, “He and Mrs. Loong expect us then. At Ritz Hotel. Place Vendome. Ernest Hemingway suite.”

Clee caught Nicky’s eye and they stared at each other, and then before she could stop herself Nicky burst out laughing. Clee stood next to her, laughing too.

“What is it?” Yoyo looked puzzled.

“I can’t help thinking that your luck has changed, Yoyo. Mr. Loong is definitely good joss.”

“Oh yes, Mr. Loong very good joss,” Yoyo agreed.

Nicky had been thinking of Anne Devereaux ever since Madrid, and on Sunday morning she decided to phone her at Pullenbrook.

“It’s lovely to hear your voice, Nicky,” Anne said.

“And yours, Anne. I’m here in Paris with Clee, and I thought I’d call to say hello.”

“I’m so glad you phoned—I didn’t know where to find you— I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”

Nicky caught something odd in Anne’s tone, she shifted in the chair and sat up straighter. “What about?” she asked carefully.

“Charles. Nicky, I—” “Oh Anne, I’m so sorry I came to see you at Pullenbrook two ~ weeks ago, with that story, I know how much I upset you, and it was wrong of me. I acted impulsively, without really thinking

things through. Charles did commit suicide three years ago, I know he did. It wasn’t Charles in the news segment, I was wrong about that.”

“I’m not so sure anymore,” Anne said.

Nicky stiffened, gripped the phone tighter. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been thinking—mostly about the two photographs you had.

When you first showed them to me I did see the resemblance. In fact, I thought it was quite striking. But then I immediately convinced myself that they couldn’t possibly be of Charles, for the simple reason that my son would never do anything shoddy like fake his own death. But in the last two weeks those photographs have haunted me.”

“Forget them, Anne, it wasn’t Charles. Honestly, it wasn’t.”

“I’d like to see the pictures again,” Anne said quietly. “Would you be kind enough to send them to me?”

“I don’t have them, I destroyed them. There was no point in keeping them.”

“You really don’t have them?”

“No, I told you, I got rid of them, they were torn up and thrown away.”

There was a silence at the other end of the phone. Nicky waited for a moment, and then she said, “Anne, are you there?”

“Yes, I’m here, Nicky.”

To Nicky her voice sounded very faint, and she exclaimed, “Are you all right?”

“I haven’t been sleeping much lately, to tell you the truth. I suppose my mind has been on Charles. So many memories coming back …”

“Oh, Anne darling, don’t do this to yourself,” Nicky said softly, aching with compassion for her friend. “This is all my fault. I don’t know what to do to help you, to put your mind at rest, to make you feel better.” When there was no response at the other end of the line, Nicky said, “Is there anything at all that I can do?”

“Could you come to England, Nicky? I would like to talk to you-need to talk to you—there’s no one else. Perhaps if I saw you I’d feel less alone …”

Nicky’s heart dropped, and she was about to refuse, but knowing she was responsible for this woman’s pain and heartache, she said, “I could try to come over tomorrow, Anne, for the day. I wouldn’t be able to come to Pullenbrook, could you meet me in London? For lunch?”

“Of course, that would be marvelous!” Anne’s voice sounded stronger, more cheerful, and she hurried on, “Why don’t we meet at the flat?

It’s quiet and private, and so much more comfortable than a restaurant.”

“Yes, that’ll be fine, Anne. All right, then, I’ll see you tomorrow—let’s say between noon and twelve-thirty.”

“I’m so looking forward to it.”

“Give my best to Philip.”

“I will. He’s out taking a walk at the moment, otherwise I would have put him on. I know he would have wanted to say hello. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, darling, and thank you.”

After Nicky had hung up she sat in the chair at Clee’s desk in his small den, pondering her conversation with Anne. Anne had sounded wan and low-spirited at the beginning of their conversation, and she knew it was her fault. She was the one who had ripped open a wound that had partially healed during the past three years, and in so doing had caused new suffering.

The past had come rushing back to torment this lovely woman, who deserved so much better. Nicky experienced a flash of sudden anger, thinking of Charles and what he had done to his mother when he had vanished, and then she instantly pushed this to one side. He no longer played a part in any of this, and certainly not

in Anne’s life. She was going to find a way to stop the bleeding, to help Anne’s wound to heal again. In order to do this she had to go to London, and so she would fly over in the morning. It was only an hour’s flight, after all, and when she got there she was going to convince Anne Devereaux that her son was dead. As indeed he was—to all intents and purposes.

The front door banged and startled her, she jumped up and went into the small entrance foyer. Clee was standing there, his arms laden with shopping bags. Two baguettes poked out of one, vegetables out of another, and flowers were balanced on top of a third.

“Hi,” he said, grinning at her over the top of them. “Come on and talk to me while I unpack this stuff.”

She followed him into the kitchen. “It looks as if you bought enough food to feed an army!” she exclaimed. “What are you intending to make for lunch?”

“Donovan’s famous farm omelette, for one thing,” he replied, dumping the armful of bags on the kitchen table.

“And what’s that, may I ask?”

“You’ll have to wait and see. It’s my specialty, and it’s delicious.

You’ll love it.” Whipping the bunch of flowers out of the bag, he spun around and handed it to her.