And the Bride Wore Red

‘No more to it than that,’ he echoed in a comically robotic voice.

‘Then you can strangle him.’

‘That sounds like a good idea. But what do I tell him when I take you out again?’

‘Tell him to mind his own business?’ she suggested vaguely.

‘I can see you’ve never lived with a family like mine.’

‘Wait a minute, you said when you “get home”? You don’t live in the same house, do you?’

‘Sometimes. I have a room there, but also a little place of my own near the hospital where I go if I’ve done a long stint at work and need to collapse. But if I want warmth, noise and cousins driving me crazy I go to the family home, so they tend to know what I do. But next time we’ll avoid this place and have some privacy.’

‘Look-’

‘It’s all right.’ He held up a hand quickly. ‘I don’t mean to rush you. I know you haven’t decided yet. But, when you do, let me know where you want to go.’

Her eyebrows rose at this quiet assurance but his smile disarmed her, making her complicit.

‘I didn’t finish telling you about our tradition,’ he said.

‘Yes, I’m curious. How did a family that had to work so hard come to put such a high value on romantic love? Surely it made more sense for a man to marry the girl whose father owned a strip of land next to his own?’

‘Of course, and many marriages were made for such practical reasons. But the descendants of Jaio and Renshu always hoped for more.’

‘Who were they?’

‘They lived in the reign of the Emperor Qin, of whom I’m sure you’ve heard.’

She nodded. In reading about China, she’d learned about the time when it had been divided into many states. Qin Shi Huang, king of the state of Qin, had conquered the other states, unifying them into one gigantic country. Since Qin was pronounced ‘chin’ the country had come to be called China. Qin had proclaimed himself emperor, and on his death he’d been buried in a splendid mausoleum accompanied by any of his concubines who hadn’t born him a child.

‘One of those concubines was Jaio,’ Lang told her now. ‘She didn’t want to die, and she was in love with Renshu, a young soldier who also loved her. Somehow he managed to rescue her, and they fled together. Of course, they had to spend the rest of their lives on the run, and they only had about five years before they were caught and killed. But by then they’d had a son, who was rescued and spirited away by Jaio’s brother.

‘Nobody heard anything for years, but when the son was an old man he revealed the writings that Jaio and Renshu had left, in which they said that their love had been worth all the hardship. Of course, they had to be kept secret, but the family protected them and still has them to this day.

‘Because of this the Langs have always cherished a belief in love that has seen them through many hard times. Often their neighbours have thought them mad for trusting in love when there were so many more important things in life, but they have clung to their ideals. It was that trust that made Meihui leave China and follow John Mitchell to England. And she never regretted it. She missed her homeland, but she always said that being with the man she loved mattered more than anything in life.’

Hearing these words, Olivia had a strange sense of familiarity. Then she realised that this was exactly what Norah would have said.

She sipped her wine, considering what she had just been told. On the surface it was a conventional legend- charming, a tad sentimental. What made it striking was that this serious man should speak as though it had a deep meaning for him.

‘It’s a lovely story,’ she said wistfully. ‘But did it really happen that way?’

‘Why not?’ he asked, giving her a quizzical smile.

She suppressed the instinct to say, Because it’s too absurdly romantic to be real, and said, ‘I only meant that two-thousand years is a terribly long time. So many things get lost in the mists, and you could never really know if they were true or not.’

‘It’s true if we want it to be,’ he said simply. ‘And we do.’

For a moment she almost queried who ‘we’ were, and then was glad she hadn’t, because he added, ‘All of us, the whole family-my aunts, great-aunts, my uncles, cousins-we all want it to be true. And so it is-for us.’

‘That’s a delightful idea,’ she mused. ‘But perhaps not very practical.’

‘Ah, yes, I’d forgotten that you must always be practical and full of common sense,’ he teased.

‘There’s a lot to be said for it,’ she protested defensively.

‘If you’re a schoolteacher.’

‘Doesn’t a doctor need common sense, as well?’

‘Often, but not always. Sometimes common sense is a much over-rated virtue.’

‘And sometimes it can come to your rescue,’ she said wryly.

She didn’t realise that she’d spoken aloud until she saw him looking at her with a question in his eyes.

‘Has it rescued you very often?’ he asked gently.

‘Now and then. It’s nice to know I can always rely on it.’

‘That’s just what you can’t do!’ he said with sudden urgency. ‘You must never rely completely on your head, because sooner or later it will always let you down.’

‘And you think the heart doesn’t?’ she retorted with a touch of indignation. ‘We’re not all as lucky as Meihui.’

‘Or Norah.’

‘I’d hardly call her lucky.’

‘I would,’ he said at once. ‘The man she loved died, but he didn’t betray her. That makes her luckier than many women, and men too, who live for years with the shadows of failed love, bad memories, regrets. Or the others, who never dared risk love at all and have only thoughts of what might have been if only they’d had a little more courage.’

‘That sounds very fine,’ she said. ‘But the fact is that most people are unlucky in love. Is there really much to choose between taking the risk and regretting it, and deciding not to take it at all?’

‘And regretting that?’

‘And living free,’ she said defiantly. ‘Free of regrets, free of pain-’

‘Free of joy, free of the sense that life is worth living or ever has been?’ he interrupted her firmly. ‘Being free of pain can come at a heavy price.’

How had they strayed into this argument? she wondered. And why? The conversation was becoming dangerous, and she acted instinctively to get back into control.

‘I see Wei coming towards us,’ she said brightly.

If he noticed her abrupt change of subject he didn’t say so. Instead he turned sardonic eyes on his cousin, who bustled forward eagerly, his gaze darting between the two of them.

‘We’d like some fruit, please,’ Lang said firmly. ‘And then, vanish!’

Wei gave him a hurt look and departed with dignity. Lang ground his teeth.

‘Sometimes I think I should have stayed well clear of my family,’ he said.

Fruit was served, then tea, and then it was time for the entertainment. Two girls identically dressed in white- embroidered satin glided in. One, holding a small lute, seated herself, ready to play. The other stood beside her.

The lights dimmed except for the one on the performers. The first notes came from the lute and the singer began to make a soft crooning noise, full of a poignancy that was like joy and sadness combined. As Olivia listened an aching feeling came over her, as though the music had sprung all the locks by which she protected herself, leaving her open and defenceless as she had sworn never to be again.

The girl was singing in a soft voice:

‘The trees were white with blossom.

We walked together beneath the falling petals.

But that is past and you are gone.

The trees do not blossom this year.

Aaaii-eeeii!’

That was how it had been; the trees hadn’t blossomed this year and she knew they never would again. Andy had been an abject lesson in the need to stay detached. In future no man would hurt her like that because she