Crimson China (15 page)

“I need you to do me a favour,” he says cautiously.

Jin raises an eyebrow. Wen looks around the room a little self-consciously.

“They can’t understand you,” she says with a snort of impatience.

“I need to get a new passport. On the black market.”

“What happened to yours?”

“Gone,” says Wen with a dismissive wave. “Along with the rest of my stuff. Besides, it would be no good to me now. It isn’t really a new passport I need – it’s a new identity.”

Jin frowns. She takes a deep pull from the cigarette and blows a careful smoke ring into the air between them.

“So you’re going to give it all up,” she says, looking around the café. “Your name? Your family? Your history?”

Wen falters. He had not thought of it in this way. But she is right. He will have to give it all up. All except for Lili. He has not yet decided what to do about Lili.

“For the most part, yes,” he admits. Jin tilts her head to one side and stares at him for a long moment, then reaches forward and taps ash into a dish.

“What about me? What were you planning to do about me?”

Once again Wen is silenced by her bluntness. He thought that Jin understood that he could not be with her; he thought that she was reconciled to this. Perhaps she wishes to punish him by making it explicit.

“I will always be indebted to you,” he says quietly.

Jin’s nostrils narrow slightly. She nods at the envelope.

“The passport will cost you most of what’s in that envelope.”

He pulls it out and throws it back to her. It lands with a thump on the table, and Jin stares at it a moment, before picking it up. She thumbs through the cash and pulls out a small stack of twenty-pound notes and hands them back to him, then puts the rest of the cash in her bag.

“I’ll start with this. If I need more, I’ll let you know.”

When they leave the café, the wind has begun to blow. Jin steers them towards a stone column with a statue of a seabird on top. “Here,” she orders. “Stand right here.” She positions him carefully by the statue, then pulls a small digital camera from her pocket.

“What are you doing?” he asks suspiciously.

Jin doesn’t answer. An older couple are just walking towards the café and Jin hurries up to them.

“Excuse me,” she says in English. “Could you take a photograph?”

The woman smiles and takes the camera from Jin’s hand, while Jin crosses over to Wen and links her arm in his. Wen stands frozen, taken aback. He does not want his photo taken here – indeed, he is appalled by the idea, but he is silenced by Jin’s boldness.

“Okay?” the woman calls from behind the viewfinder.

“Yes,” says Jin.

Wen glances sideways in time to see Jin smile for the camera. He hears a ringing in his ears as the woman takes the shot.
This
picture will be my undoing
, he thinks. When she is finished, the woman walks towards them, the camera extended in her hand. Jin thanks her, and when the couple are out of earshot, Wen turns to her in disbelief.

“Why did you do that?”

“Because I wanted proof.”

“For whom?”

“For me,” she says. “In case I wake up tomorrow and decide that you were nothing but a ghost.” She turns on her heel and walks back to land.

On Saturday, Lili offers to take May out for the afternoon so that Adrian can finish some work. They hop on a 94 bus to Piccadilly Circus, then walk up Shaftesbury Avenue and into Chinatown. May clutches Lili’s hand tightly as they walk along the crowded pedestrian streets festooned with coloured lanterns. They wander in and out of several shops on Gerrard Street, then buy some rice noodles in a Chinese grocery. At one point, they pass an elderly Chinese woman in a light grey trouser suit who nods at them approvingly. Lili realises with a start that the picture they form is that of mother and child, and she has the sudden sense that she is masquerading. Almost without realising, she drops May’s hand, but a moment later she feels May’s small fingers seeking out her own.

“Do you like coming here?” asks May.

“Of course.”

“Is it like home?”

“Not really. But it is more like home than other parts of London.”

“Do you miss it?”

Lili considers this. She misses Wen. But does she miss home?

“Sometimes,” she answers. “But not today.” She is vaguely surprised by this truth.

“Sometimes I think I miss it,” says May elliptically.

“But… you were only a tiny baby when you left.”

“I know. But some days I wake up with a funny feeling. Like I should be somewhere else.”

Lili glances down at May. If Wen’s ghost is here with her on earth, then maybe the spirit of May’s mother is here also, pulling the child back to her homeland. But it is impossible to know if May’s Chinese mother is dead or living: the woman may well be mother to some other child by now. The thought makes her uneasy. May is too young to realise now, but the day will come when she will have to reconcile herself to this uncertainty.

She leads May over to a small Chinese restaurant and pauses in front of the window. Just inside is a counter with two enormous steaming vats of soup. A string of plump golden ducks hangs upside down in the window, their wings splayed open, their necks a dark pocket where the heads have been severed. Further inside Lili sees that the restaurant is crowded with mostly Chinese people sitting at square wooden tables. May stares at the window, her eyebrows knit together.

“Are you hungry?” asks Lili.

“I’m not sure,” May says doubtfully.

“What’s wrong?”

“The ducks. Why do they hang them in the window?”

“So we can see them. If you want to buy a duck dinner, then first you want to see it.”

“But… they don’t look nice.”

“Maybe not to you. But to all those people inside they do.”

“I guess so.” May turns away from the window. “Can we go somewhere else?” she asks tentatively.

“Of course. But this is the most authentic restaurant in Chinatown. Like the real China.”

“Could we go to McDonalds?” May asks.

They find a McDonalds on Shaftesbury Avenue and May
orders a Happy Meal, delighting in the small plastic toy that comes out of the brightly packaged box. She tears open the wrapper and quickly assembles the toy: a small wind-up version of a cow from a recent Disney movie.

“See?” says May, holding up the cow. “I bet the duck restaurant doesn’t have these!”

Lili glances at the writing on its base. The cheap plastic figure has been made in China, no doubt by someone who has never eaten a cheeseburger. She shows the writing to May.

“This came from China. Most toys come from China.”

“Chinese kids are lucky,” says May, biting into her burger.

May’s remark silences Lili. She does not have the heart to point out that the vast majority of products made in China are for export. Her stepmother’s cousin spent several years working in a toy factory. She did eleven-hour shifts six days a week painting blue Caucasian eyes onto flimsy latex dolls. By the end of each day, the smell of latex fumes was so strong it made her throat and eyelids burn. Her mother’s cousin eventually developed emphysema, and was forced to leave the factory and find work elsewhere as a cleaner.

“When I was a child, we did not have toys like this,” Lili says.

“Did you have Happy Meals?”

“No.”

“Too bad for you,” says May, squeezing ketchup onto her fries.

“I guess so. But we had other things. Dumplings, and rice balls, and red bean cakes.”

“Red bean cakes!” May pulls a face.

“They are very nice. We can buy one and take it home for your father.”

“Okay,” says May with a shrug. “But I bet he won’t like it.”

When they return home, Adrian is working on a set of drawings in his study. He swivels round in his chair as they enter. May
rushes over to him excitedly and climbs onto his lap.

“We went to Chinatown!”

“Fantastic,” says Adrian.

“And we ate lunch at McDonalds!”

“McDonalds?” Adrian raises his eyebrows and glances up at Lili.

“This is her choice,” says Lili apologetically. Adrian looks back to May.

“You chose McDonalds over Chinese food?”

“I didn’t like the ducks,” says May disapprovingly.

“What ducks?”

“The ones without heads,” says May. “In the window.”

“Oh,” says Adrian. “Those ducks.” He nods apologetically at Lili. “Anyway, I’m glad you had a good time.”

“We did.” May jumps off his lap and runs out the door.

“Today I fail in your daughter’s education,” says Lili sheepishly.

“Not at all,” says Adrian with a smile. “I’m very grateful you took her out.”

“Next time I will remember: no ducks.”

“You couldn’t have known.”

“In China, it is custom to show people what they eat before cooking.”

“Yes, of course,” says Adrian. “Very sensible. But here people don’t always like to be reminded that what they eat comes from something living. It’s hypocritical really. Your way is much more honest.”

“I understand this, too. When I was a child, I found a chicken. I hid it in a box on the roof of our building. I called it
mi-mi
, which means ‘secret’ in Chinese. But one day when I went to school, the chicken flew out of the box and fell onto the ground in front of my building. My stepmother found it. That night she prepared a special meal for us. But when I realise it is
mi-mi
, I cannot
eat. My brother, he tried to help me. He asked to eat mine, but my stepmother then is very angry. She did not understand. The English way of thinking, it is very… emotional.”

“Sentimental,” says Adrian.

“You had a pet chicken?” Says May.

Adrian and Lili turn to see her standing in the doorway.

“Yes,” says Lili.

“Do you eat chicken now?” May asks, her eyes narrowing.

“May!” admonishes Adrian.

“It’s okay,” says Lili. “Yes, I like chicken now very much.”

May tilts her head to one side, considering this.

“Well, I guess if you really like it,” she says finally. “But I wouldn’t eat a hamster,” she adds, disappearing once again from view.

Lili retreats to her room, but before long her mobile rings and she sees Johnny’s name light up on the tiny screen. It has been nearly a week since she slept with him and they’ve not yet spoken, although this is the third or fourth time he has rung. She stares at the receiver as it vibrates.

“
Wei?
”

“Lili. I thought I had the wrong number.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“No,” she says quickly. “I’ve been busy.”

“I forgive you. Can we meet? For dinner?”

An image flashes into her head: a row of male faces ranged across the flickering darkness of Johnny’s sitting room.

“I have to work,” she lies.

“Tomorrow then.”

Lili hesitates. She realises she will have to see him.

“Okay,” she says reluctantly, uncertain what she is agreeing to. Is it dinner or more?

She arranges to meet him at the same restaurant she took May
to. She will feel safer in Chinatown, she decides, more in control.

The following night they sit at a small wooden table just behind the steaming vats of soup. She has deliberately placed her back to the plate glass window and its garland of headless ducks. When she entered the restaurant, she was surprised to feel a sudden shiver of aversion, as if she had somehow contracted May’s disgust from the previous day. But she does not object when Johnny orders braised duck together with a pot of stewed tripe. Once the waiter has departed, Johnny fixes her with a look.

“So why so busy?”

“I’ve just moved.”

Lili tells him about her arrangement in Notting Hill. Johnny leans back in his chair and crosses his arms.

“Just you and him and the daughter?”

“Yes. Like an au pair.”

“Except he’s a widower.”

“Yes.”

“So there’s no wife.”

“No.”

“Do you trust him?”

“Of course. He’s very kind. Definitely a gentleman.”

“Still. You should watch out. He’s probably lonely. And frustrated,” Johnny adds pointedly.

“I don’t think so. Besides, I think he has a girlfriend.”

“Oh.” Johnny relaxes a little.

It is only a small lie, Lili decides. Adrian must certainly have friends who are women, at any rate. And he doesn’t seem frustrated to her, only somewhat overwhelmed by the task of parenting a young child on his own. She eats some tripe and picks at her rice, but when the duck arrives the look of it is enough to put her off. Johnny urges her to eat, but in the end he finishes most of the plate himself.

After the meal, they walk out onto Gerrard Street together. Darkness has fallen, and there are fewer people about. As they round the corner, Johnny pulls her into the lee of a building and kisses her. She feels his lips on hers, but this time the clench that grips her insides is one of panic rather than desire. She eases apart from him, desperate to be away.

“Come back with me,” he murmurs into her ear. “I’ve been thinking of you.”

“I can’t,” she stammers. “I have to work early tomorrow.” Another lie, she thinks, this one even easier than the first.

“Then when?”

“I’ll call you.”

He is standing there, eyeing her. The lies are multiplying now: one begets another. Lili takes a few steps backwards.
It is like the
ducks,
she thinks.
Things change so quickly
.

The following day, Lili is in the small kitchenette in the language school making tea when she hears Jin’s voice in the hallway just outside.

“Don’t be stupid,” hisses Jin urgently. “If you go back, they’ll come after you!”

Lili freezes. Something about Jin’s tone causes the hairs upon her arms to stand on end.

“Then you’re a bigger fool than I thought,” Jin says.

Lili hears the phone snap shut and just has time to turn away before Jin rounds the corner. Jin stops short when she sees her. The colour drains from her face. Their eyes meet for an instant, then Jin turns on her heel without a word and walks out of the room. Lili stands motionless in the tiny kitchen, her face suddenly hot. The last time she heard Jin call someone a fool, it was Wen. Somewhere downstairs a door slams. Lili glances out the window to see Jin dash across the road, her coat and bag hastily clutched in her arms. She watches as Jin disappears around the corner.

A moment later, Fay comes into the kitchen, a cigarette in the corner of her mouth. She turns the kettle on and takes the cigarette out, exhaling.

“What’s wrong with Jin?” asks Lili. Fay shrugs.

“Maybe boyfriend trouble,” she says, exhaling smoke.

“I didn’t know Jin had a boyfriend.”

“Who knows? Jin likes her secrets,” says Fay, reaching into the cupboard for a teabag. She drops it in a mug and fills it with boiling water.

“Does she?” Lili’s voice sounds odd, as if she is squeezing it out of her throat.

“I hear you’ve solved your housing problem,” Fay says, changing the subject. “I guess you found a sugar daddy after all.” Fay smiles, arching her eyebrows knowingly.

“No,” Lili stammers. “It isn’t like that.”

“Don’t be coy,” Fays says in a no-nonsense tone of voice. “I’m flattered. You took my advice, after all. I thought Jin was the operator. But I can see I’ve underestimated you,” says Fay approvingly. She picks up her mug and walks out of the room.