As the weeks progressed they grew increasingly stifling. Sum Sum, puffed up like a pastry, burst into Pietro’s rooms one day and announced: ‘‘I’m in love.’’
‘‘What do you mean, you’re in love?’’ Pietro replied.
‘‘His name is Cluck.’’
‘‘Cluck? Like in chicken?’’
‘‘Dark hair, strong jaw, aiyo and shoulders like a Tibetan yak.’’
‘‘Have you been at the whisky again, sausage?’’
‘‘I spent two magic-fantastic hours at Cosmo Cinema.’’ Sum Sum shuddered.
‘‘Ayo, this Captain Bligh one scary, crazy-crackpot man. Skin-crawling good film, lah. And this Cluck Gable damn-powerful handsome.’’
A Hawker Hurricane buzzed by overhead en route to RAF Upwood.
Sum Sum reached into a punnet of wild raspberries and popped one into her mouth. Pietro eyed her. ‘‘When is Lu See back?’’
‘‘In two days’ time.’’
‘‘You must have been lonely without her.’’
‘‘She tell me she’d be gone for four weeks. It’s now five.’’
‘‘Oh, what treachery.’’
‘‘Coming to England, I imagined it would be like fairy tale story, like Cinderella.’’ Sum Sum patted her bump. ‘‘But look what happened to my fairy tale! I end up as Humpy Dumpy. Maybe I will go back to Tibet soon.’’ A determined look swept across her face. ‘‘There is someone I want to see again. This baby is making me see my life through different eyes.’’ Pietro knew she was talking about her mother; it was clear even without having to mention her name.
‘‘I always wanted to be Cinderella too,’’ Pietro sighed, showing Sum Sum his left profile. ‘‘You’d think glass slippers would cause bunions, wouldn’t you?’’
Sum Sum smiled politely. She was exhausted. My breasts are tender, I need to pee all the time and I feel this constant mild aching inside my lower abdomen. She felt rung out. Like Mrs Slackford’s washing. Scrunched and squeezed dry of her contents. Oh for goodness’ sake, lah, stop feeling sorry for yourself!
Pietro took a dramatic puff from his cigarette. ‘‘You never speak much of Tibet, do you? Tell me, how did you get to know Lu See and her family? Lhasa’s a long way from Malaya.’’
‘‘When I was twelve my A-Pha died. A-Ma and I rode on mules to the Nepal border where she put me on train for the south. She handed me a medal and a letter. She tell me to contact Master Teoh, Lu See’s father, in Penang. I had to look for Penang on the British army map she gave me.’’
‘‘Is Lu See’s father a sort of grand pooh-bah or something?’’
‘‘I don’t understand your fancy talk, but her father is important man, yes. My A-Pha, you see, worked for British in Nepal, number-one Sherpa, he saved many lives of British officers, was awarded a medal, King Albert Medal, by Viceroy.
‘‘Master Teoh owned bank where many British officers keep their money. Officers say to A-Pha, if you ever have problem you contact this man. He can help you. So when A-Pha died, A-Ma sent me to get work and get education, to learn to cook and clean in a stranger’s house. I came with one set of clothing and shoes with holes outside.’’
‘‘You seem quite well schooled, forgive me, sausage, for a maid-servant.’’
‘‘That is because Master Teoh insisted I go to local school twice a week. I also shared a private tutor with Lu See. Matty-matics every Friday afternoon. She had him for one hour, then my turn for half-hour. They also taught me how to sit at table and to use knife and fork rather than my hands.’’
‘‘Do you think you will go back to Tibet then?’’
Sum Sum shrugged. ‘‘Only if God wills it. For many years my karma, my life, was tied to Lu See. Now she is married, maybe my life rests elsewhere. And recently my karma has changed for the worse.’’
On the day Jesse Owens won his fourth Olympic gold, Lu See and Adrian returned from their honeymoon.
They moved straight into their new home on Jesus Lane, a two-storey terraced house with views of the park and the river.
Lu See purchased new sheets and pillowcases for the double bed, fresh soap and towels for the bathroom, and bread, milk and teabags for the kitchen. She installed a telephone line and had a wireless set up in the living room. She laid down a tastefully frayed Persian rug and hung Adrian’s collection of watercolours in harmonious groups. In the tiny back garden she pruned the holly hedge and deadheaded the roses; she also cleared a small weed bed and planted rosemary plants, beans and onions. Within a week they’d turned the place into a home. Every night they dined by candlelight and each morning they breakfasted by the front window, bathed in sunshine. And always they found time to immerse themselves in little distractions.
And then one morning, she squeezed her stomach until she turned purple in the face.
She got a piece of her ankle between her nails and pinched.
‘‘What are you doing?’’ asked Adrian.
‘‘It’s finished. It’s all over. Months of studying wasted.’’
She pinched the tender, underside of her knee and winced.
‘‘What the hell are you talking about?’’
‘‘All my plans are ruined. There’s no way Girton will take me now.’’
‘‘Will you please tell me what’s going on?’’
‘‘Adrian,’’ she said. ‘‘I think I’m pregnant.’’