The Silk Merchant's Daughter Read Online Free PDF Page A

delicately pretty, her plaited hair hanging down her back in one thick rope. ‘Hello,’ the girl said. ‘Is the shop yours?’
    Nicole stood and gave a little bow. ‘It is mine now, yes.’
    ‘Will it open again soon? It is not good to leave it empty so long.’
    Nicole glanced at the bales of fading fabrics still displayed in the upstairs window that, without a blind, kept an eye on the outside world. ‘Maybe.’
    ‘My name is O-Lan,’ the girl said. ‘Would you like a coffee?’
    Nicole hesitated but the girl was beaming at her and waiting for a reply. ‘Thank you. I’d love one. Can I just take a look inside and then come over after that?’
    Nicole watched the silk birds twirling in the window of the shop and pictured the place bursting with racks of shiny new fabric, fresh upstairs curtains billowing in the breeze. The girl next door was friendly and although the silk shop itself looked a little shabby it didn’t seem as bad as she’d expected. Much to her surprise, she was enjoying herself.
    Once inside the shop she switched on the lights, then tugged on the front blinds. They rolled up with a snap, releasing clouds of dust. She held her nose, hurrying through the tube-like ground floor to the doors at the back, to throw them open. In the inner courtyard beyond the doors, she pulled at some of the yellow blooms of creeper populating most of the courtyard walls and obscuring part of the upper windows. The courtyard, open to the sky, was inhabited by a dozen cats who lay sleeping on the flagstones, soaking up the sun’s warmth. Cats kept vermin down. The extinguished earthen oven, the broken pots on a bench and the well in the middle of the yard signalled the courtyard had been used as an outdoor kitchen. She took a quick look at a basic bathroom on the leftand, accessed via the courtyard, an indoor kitchen and the servants’ rooms beyond, currently in darkness. When she spotted a door at the back of the kitchen storeroom, she unbolted it and saw it led to a narrow alleyway. She glanced back at the main building where an exterior staircase curled up to the next floor, and saw that O-Lan had orange and red
hoa cuc
, chrysanthemum, growing in pots on her balcony. She made a mental note to buy some plants.

5
    After a disturbed night, Nicole was woken far too early by the recurring dream. Only this time it wasn’t a clammy nightmare. This time it happened on a windless day, when the lilac mist lay suspended over the river like an endless ocean. She had felt as if she was sinking beneath the surface of a lavender-coloured pool; above her the sunlight shimmered on the water growing ever stronger until the yellow globe of the sun filled the entire horizon. The key was not to struggle. The worst thing about the dream was the awful smell of fish and the fact that, for a second, Sylvie was in the dream too. It left Nicole feeling unsettled and that remained, even after the dream ended. They say you never die in a dream but, if you do, it means you won’t wake up – so death, even in a dream, will always remain a mystery.
    The day they’d left Huế to come to live in Hanoi had been one of those glorious bright blue days with a cool wind blowing down from China, and not the least bit muggy. Nicole had glanced at the icy morning water of the Perfume River that divided Huế and, despite everything, knew how much she’d miss their home on the southern tree-lined riverside.
    No river to gaze at here in Hanoi, but the banyan and frangipani trees blew about in the breeze, the rain had gone, and with the sun settling over the garden, the peacocks next door were sleeping. She slipped down the stairs and found Lisa, who habitually rose at five to stoke the boiler. Today it was sluggish, unwilling to cooperate, and the room had filled with smoke. Lisa wiped the hair from her eyes, leaving smudges of coal dust on her face as she knelt beside it.
    ‘Damn the old bastard!’
    Nicole laughed. ‘Are you talking about