the arms of the right kind of man, and now to the colony. I could start anew yet again. But first I needed Trieu to transform me into a woman who looked nothing like my mother.
I called for her when I was downstairs, but she did not come running as she usually did. I rang the silver bell that had been placed in the living room, but still no one came. I wandered into the kitchen, opened the door with more force than I meant to, and Diep, our cook, jumped from surprise. Standing next to her was a young girl whom I’d never seen before. Trieu was not with them.
“Diep,” I said, surprised to see a stranger in the house. “What is this? Who is this girl? I was ringing the bell,” I said, feeling as surprised as Diep looked.
“I’m very sorry, Madame Lesage,” she said as the girl moved behind her. Diep squawked at her in Annamese, and the girl stepped back to her side. “This girl, she is Lanh’s younger sister.”
“And where is Trieu?” I asked. “I need her to help me…” My voice trailed off as I looked at the girl. I needed Trieu to help me with more than just my appearance. I needed her calming presence to set me right for the day, her knowledge of how French women could thrive in the colony to rub off on me. Instead, I felt shaken by the sight of the girl. Her body, her posture, the tired shine to her eyes—she looked nothing like me, but she reminded me painfully of myself when I was her age.
“Lanh’s sister,” I repeated, taking my eyes off the girl. “Does she come here often?”
“No!” Diep exclaimed. “Never. But she had nowhere to go today, as her older sister moved south to Saigon on Saturday. Lanh is finding a place for her, but she is too young to stay at home by herself today. She won’t be here more than a few hours. Just as long as Lanh is working.”
I looked at her again, huddled behind Diep, her simple cotton dress neat but pulling at the hems, at least two sizes too small.
“He should have informed me,” I replied, irritated that I was out of my depth even among the servants. “I’m to know everything that goes on in this house. Especially when Victor is not here. I’m new here, I know, but it is still my home.”
“Of course, Madame Lesage,” Diep said. “That was very unwise of Lanh not to tell you.” From the way she said it, it was obvious she’d known he hadn’t told me—had perhaps even advised him not to.
“How old are you?” I asked the girl, taking a step toward her.
“J’ai neuf ans,” she replied in unaccented French. I nodded and looked at Diep.
I thought of myself at nine. I had been home without parents daily at that age and had babies to take care of, too. It seemed very overprotective of Lanh to feel his sister couldn’t do the same, but it also felt nice to know that there were people who were protective of children. Especially poor children. “I think it’s best if you escort her home and spend the rest of the day with her,” I said. “You can have the day off.”
“Yes, Madame Lesage, I’m very sorry,” Diep said, bowing her head.
As Diep led her toward the side door, the servants’ door that opened into the small yard, I looked at the girl with her dark hair, her thin form. There was something about the way her knees went in, almost hitting each other as she walked, that made me feel like I was looking at my sisters. Those thin legs. Too thin. Coupled with a timidity, a feeling that you just knew the world wanted you to disappear. Poor people, especially girls, really were the same no matter where they lived.
“Wait, Diep,” I called out. “Doesn’t she attend school?” I asked. “Shouldn’t she be there now? Lucie is at school.”
“She had a place at a school for natives. For girls,” said Diep, as Lanh’s sister leaned against the door looking at the floor. I wasn’t sure exactly how old Lanh was, but he looked to be nearly my age. I wondered if they had the same mother, even with a twenty-year age gap. The girl had the same wide-set eyes as her brother, the same elegant line to her nose, so perhaps they did. “But now she needs a boarding