Memoirs of a Courtesan

She cast me a curious look. ‘Have you ever been?’

I shook my head.

‘But that’s not possible, a beautiful, talented girl like you! So many men admire you. What about all the rich customers at the nightclub and their rich sons? Or those successful young businessmen? The erudite young professors? Don’t tell me none of them ever chases after you.’

‘I want to concentrate on my singing.’

She took my hand and rubbed it lovingly. ‘Oh, my little Camilla, don’t work too hard. It’s time for you to fall in love. Trust me, it’s a wonderful feeling.’

Wonderful or not, I was not going to fall in love and ruin my mission – and possibly my life. Look at how Carmen had ended up! I wanted this beautiful Gypsy’s freedom, her nonchalance, her power over men, but definitely not her pointless, tragic end. But as long as I was careful, I hoped I wouldn’t end up like her. If I failed in my mission, it would not be carelessness but fate, like my bad karma of being an orphan. But not the foolishness of love, not for a trained spy like me!

My teacher’s soothing voice awakened me from my pondering. ‘Maybe the next time I go to Bright Moon to hear you sing, I can pick out a suitable young man for you.’

I didn’t respond, silently discouraging her suggestion.

She was smart enough to stop insisting and change the conversation. ‘Hai, since my Sergi’s death twenty years ago, I thought someday I might fall in love again, but the chances, as if they had wings, have flown away. And now I’m too old—’

‘No, you’re not.’

‘That’s very kind of you to say, Camilla, but I know the ways of the world.’

Then all of a sudden she began to sing the famous Xinjiang melody, ‘The Waltz of Youth.’

After the sun goes down, tomorrow it will climb back up in the sky.

Flowers wither, then bloom again next year.

But the beautiful bird of youth flies away and disappears,

The bird of my youth will never return …

I closed my eyes to feel her voice’s penetrating sadness. I thought about the two birds – the rebellious one of love that knows no law and the one of youth that flies away and never returns. I sighed silently as Lewinsky’s last note, like the disappearing bird of youth, faded into the unforgiving air.

Her eyes looked as if they were dipped in sweet wine. ‘My Sergi, we were so young, so much in love and so filled with hope and dreams for our future. Just as we thought that the world existed only for us, in a minute, he was gone.’ She wiped away a tear with her lacy white handkerchief. ‘All of a sudden the world decided to turn against me full force. Had I not learned to sing and won awards back in Russia, I’d be starving on the street and wouldn’t be here talking to you, my dear.’

I blurted out before I could stop myself, ‘Why do people fall in love?’

She laughed, her eyes glistening. ‘You’re so naive, Camilla. Love only is – there’s no reason. Of course I could tell you that Sergi was handsome and kind, ambitious and talented and very nice to me. But I didn’t analyse all those qualities before I fell in love with him. I just did.’

Now her eyes drifted like two dreams. ‘You know, when I used to perform, just before I started, I’d look for someone in the audience, pretending he or she was the only person in the hall, and then I’d just sing for that special one.

‘So on that evening – I will always remember, it was on September twelve, nineteen twenty-five – even though the hall was packed, my eyes, with a will of their own, landed on this young man in the back row. I couldn’t move them away. So for the entire hour I was singing, heart, body and soul, just for him. From then on, like the telepathy between identical twins, we were deeply connected. Even now, sometimes I can still feel his presence.’

I’d heard these sorts of sentiments before.

‘But he died …’ she breathed.

‘How?’ I had heard the story many times, but I would not stop my teacher from reliving her tragic love once again.

‘Sergi was a very talented, aspiring composer. However, unable to make a living by composing, he had to take up odd jobs to bring in money. The only work he could find was at a construction site. Then one day, a beam fell on his head. He literally dropped dead on the spot.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ I said, as a courtesy. Why should I feel anything for this man I didn’t even know?

Some silence passed, then Lewinsky dabbed her eyes as she changed the topic. ‘Camilla, why don’t you sing Carmen, and let me hear your beautiful voice?’

I nodded, and she struck a key on the piano. Before I began, I tasted that starting note as if I were sucking on my favourite chocolate truffle. To help me sing better, I sensed each note with its own colour and personality. Middle C is yellow and virtuous, because it takes the imperial position – in the middle of the keyboard. The D next to middle C is orange and honest, for it has royalty as a neighbour. E is Chinese red and expansive. And the rest: F is blue, G is green, A is gold and B is purple. I gave the sharps and flats variations, so F-sharp is turquoise, A-flat becomes a brownish gold, B-flat bluish purple.

I straightened my back, inhaled deeply, then blurted out the first note, singing in French at first, but then reincarnating Carmen as Chinese. I used all my skill to imitate my teacher’s style and emotional nuances. But I especially liked, ‘Love is a Gypsy’s child; it has never, ever, recognised the law.’ Because I had lived my whole life controlled by others, even when outside the law.

When I finished, Madame Lewinsky nodded appreciatively. ‘Very good. But, Camilla, sooner or later, you’ve got to develop your own style.’

Lewinsky stood up and went to put a record on her gramophone. Besides her piano, this was her most treasured possession. Even in affluent Shanghai, few could afford this amazing machine from the West. She set the needle down on the record, and a beautiful voice singing ‘La Habanera’ perfumed the room like fine old wine being poured. We half closed our eyes and let the music kidnap our minds for a few moments.

‘It’s Maria Gay. You feel her subtlety and sensitivity?’

I nodded.

‘That’s what I want you to focus on, my dear. Camilla, you’re gifted with an innocent, sweet voice that is like a pacifier in this ruthless, chaotic world. Those people at Bright Moon, they’re wicked and scheming, but deep down they crave purity.’

I chuckled inside. Did she really believe I was innocent? If I ever had been, my training as a spy had long since ended it.

My teacher spoke again. ‘Maybe those politicians and businessmen at your nightclub can’t tell, but I can.’

‘Sorry. What can you tell?’

‘Let me be blunt with you, Camilla. Your singing doesn’t have real feelings, only the imitation of feelings.’

I didn’t respond.

‘Don’t worry, once you fall in love …’

‘But I won’t.’

My teacher cast me a curious glance. ‘What makes you so sure?’

Of course I knew why, but the ‘why’ was not something to be shared.

Lewinsky winked, smiling. ‘Hmm … you’re sure you’re not in love already?’

‘No way.’

‘I can tell your mind has been wandering.’

I meant to ask how could she tell, but she was already speaking. ‘With my experiences of focussing on one person during my concerts, I can spot any musician’s wandering mind.’

‘Hmm … Madame Lewinsky, unfortunately I don’t have your kind of sensitivity.’

‘Next time when you sing at Bright Moon, find someone to focus on.’