The Season of the Stranger (29 page)

He must have moved or made a noise while he was figuring, because the boy was just finished telling how they threw him back in his dark room and left him there when Mr Girard looked up and smiled and said, “If you are so interested you had better sit down. Get yourself a cup of tea first.”

Now there was a problem. He never knew what to do when he said something like that. He supposed he meant it, because he was a foreigner and strange anyway and he would not joke too much about things like that; and he knew the girl did not mind; but he did not think Mr Girard should do it in front of the boy that way. He remembered when he was a boy and they sent him to lower school. Sometimes he would have to stand up and repeat rules from Confucius.

So he stood there feeling foolish and not knowing which way to move and then Mr Girard said, “Do not worry so much about face,” and that embarrassed him so he had to move.

He said, “I will get some tea,” and went out to the kitchen. He got the tea and came back quickly. The boy was still talking. Wen-li took a chair and put it a little away from them where he could drink and listen. Then Mr Girard passed over an ashtray and some cigarettes. Wen-li took them and took a match from his gown and lit the cigarette and then he was embarrassed and so he did not look at Mr Girard but at the boy.

The boy was saying that they had left him alone and he had been frightened, very frightened, with all these thoughts running through his head about what they would do to him. And then he had thought of the girl and that maybe she was doing something outside, and that had made him feel much better. And then nothing else had happened until about an hour later, when he heard noise in the room outside and a great deal of shouting and then he had heard the girl's voice and he had known it was all right. And since that time he had been shaking, he said. Trembling. His legs and his arms. He held up his hand and they could see it shake.

Then the girl told how she had gone to the student center and gotten out to telephone. She said the old man at the student center almost made her crazy because he took so long to remember where a telephone was. Then she had trouble with a boy at the place where the telephone was, a pharmacy, she said. Finally she had called Dean Chou and told him to get Mr Girard. Wen-li remembered Dean Chou's cook coming to his room looking very sleepy and waking him and telling him that the dean wanted Mr Girard. Then after she had telephoned she had waited in the pharmacy, and she said it was strange the way she could feel herself getting stronger and stronger while she waited until when Mr Girard, she called him Andrew, came in the dean's automobile she thought that she was in charge and the first thing she said to him was, “Give this man money and drive me to the Central Barracks and do it quickly.” And she had not even smiled. But when she told about it now they all laughed and the boy looked embarrassed and the girl and Mr Girard looked at each other very warmly so Wen-li smiled.

Then the girl looked at him and he stopped smiling and she said, “One of the men who took Cheng away was the lieutenant who was here.”

He nodded and Mr Girard looked at him and he nodded at Mr Girard and said, “The one I told you about.”

Mr Girard nodded. Then he said, “When we got to the Central Barracks the trouble began.”

They had gone to the Central Barracks and Mr Girard had talked quickly and used money. At first the soldiers had not trusted them at all, but when the money began to be passed here and there they became more friendly. But all they told him was that it could be any one of the Barracks in the City. So then Mr Girard asked for the location of all the Barracks and they gave him a list of addresses. Mr Girard said he did not think the list was complete but the soldiers only smiled and said that was all they could do for him. So he and the girl left and they decided to try first at the Northwest Barracks, nearest the student center, but nothing was happening there and the officer in charge was asleep and even money failed to rouse interest, although the soldiers accepted the money. So then they tried the North Central Barracks. They had luck because they spoke first to a sergeant who took the money and said, yes there was a student here, in fact three or four had been brought in. So then Mr Girard went to the officer in charge and threatened and stormed and finally mentioned money and after a halfhour of arguing and dealing it had all been arranged and they had brought the boy home.

When Mr Girard finished talking they all looked at one another. It was as though they were all amazed and miserable and happy at one time. They sat like that for a minute and then Wen-li decided he had heard all there was to hear so he stood up and asked if he could get them anything else, and when they said no he said goodnight and thank you. When he said thank you they all looked surprised. Then he went to bed. He slept very well.

The boy was gone the next morning. He had gone to the dormitory to sleep and perhaps tell his friends about it. Mr Girard and the girl got up late and had breakfast late, and then the morning passed quickly with little pieces of work around the house, so Wen-li did not start working on lunch until almost one o'clock. At one o'clock he was standing in the kitchen chopping beef and thinking about a moving picture that was going to be shown at the auditorium. He knew Mr Girard would get tickets for it because he was a teacher, but he did not know how he himself would get tickets and he wanted to see it very much. He had a friend in the City who had already seen it and had said that he must not miss it.

When the kitchen door opened he looked up and told himself he should have known that anyone who would open the kitchen door without knocking would be a soldier. The soldier stood there and then looked around the kitchen. Wen-li put down the knife and said, “Yes?”

The soldier looked straight at him and said, “Is this where Mr Girard lives?”

Wen-li said, “Yes.”

“I would like to see him,” the soldier said.

He was only a corporal. Wen-li picked up the knife and started to chop again. “Mr Girard is about to eat,” he said. “You can come back later.”

“No,” the soldier said. “I must see him now. I have not much time.”

Wen-li shook his head and went on chopping. “I am sorry,” he said. “He has left orders not to be disturbed at mealtimes.”

“Then I take the responsibility,” the soldier said. He started toward the house.

“I would not,” Wen-li called after him. He came and stood in the doorway.

The soldier stopped. “Why not?”

“Mr Girard is an influential man,” he said. “You must know that he is involved with the police and the army. And at a high level.” He watched the soldier. The soldier was only a corporal and he felt very good about talking to him this way.

The soldier hesitated. “Is that true?”

“Yes,” he said. “If you have a message for him you may leave it in writing and I will take it to him with his lunch.”

The soldier shook his head. Then he thought for a while. Then he said, “Aaah. I will come back later.” Wen-li bowed to him and smiled. The soldier went out of the courtyard. When he was outside he turned around and shouted, “There is no need to smile.” Wen-li smiled at him and went back into the kitchen.

In half an hour lunch was ready so he went in and set the table. Mr Girard said, “Good. I was getting hungry.” The girl just smiled. She had been smiling all day.

“I will bring it right in,” Wen-li said.

He waited until they had eaten and when he brought the tea he told Mr Girard. “There was a soldier here to see you,” he said.

Mr Girard frowned. “What did you tell him?”

“I told him you were going to eat and that he must come back later.”

Mr Girard smiled. “And he went away?”

“Yes. He went away. He was only a corporal.”

“I have lost face,” Mr Girard said. “They formerly sent lieutenants.” Then he said, “Will he come back?”

“Yes.”

“I will talk to him.”

Wen-li nodded and cleared away the meat dishes and ricebowls.

After lunch he wrapped a towel around his head and went down into the shelter to bring up coal. This was a good house to work in. In the courtyard, off to one side, there were two big air raid shelters dug down into the ground, with concrete steps going down and concrete walls and floors. The Japanese had built them when the American large planes had started coming over. Now they had coal in one and canned food in the other and they had a place to put the extra tools and the ice-cream bucket. They had a coal shed above ground, too, but it was almost empty. So he went down with two big sacks and filled them and brought them up and put the coal in the shed and then did it again five or six times, and then there was enough coal above ground to last a week. He put the sacks away and went in and cleaned the kitchen, and then he washed himself and did the dishes and ricebowls and cooking bowls and put everything away. He took out the English book and had a cigarette and studied.

Then the door opened again without a knock. He closed the book and not looking at him said, “I will show you in.” He closed the kitchen door behind him and went across the court and opened the front door. “Wait here,” he said. He went inside and said, “The corporal is here.”

Mr Girard smiled and the girl went into the bedroom. “Show him in,” Mr Girard said. Wen-li turned to the soldier.

“Come in,” he said.

The soldier walked in and stepped in front of him. Before he had a chance to leave the soldier said loudly to Mr Girard, “Your servant is insolent.”

Mr Girard was quiet for a minute, putting out a cigarette. Then he said, “I do not think so.”

“He is very rude,” the soldier said. “He was very rude to me.”

Mr Girard looked up at him and smiled. “Sit down,” he said.

The soldier sat down.

“The cook follows my orders,” Mr Girard said, “and I find that he does it in a very satisfactory manner.”

The soldier looked down at his shoes and then he scowled up at Wen-li. Wen-li bowed and went out.

Standing at the kitchen door waiting for him was his old friend Kuo-fan, looking even smaller and more worried than usual. He was also the cook of a teacher.

“How are you,” Wen-li said.

“Terrible,” Kuo-fan said. Everyone else answered with another “How are you,” but Kuo-fan always said, “Terrible”. When he said it the lines in his face deepened and his eyes became sorrowful and even his hair seemed to turn greyer.

“Come in,” Wen-li said. “Tell me about it.”

Kuo-fan followed him in. Wen-li sat down and pointed to a chair for him. Kuo-fan sat down and shook his head. “I wish I were working for a foreigner,” he said.

“You do not mean that,” Wen-li said.

“Why?”

“Did you see the man I just ushered into the house?”

“No.”

“A soldier.”

Kuo-fan raised his head and his eyes shone. “A soldier? What for?”

“Mr Girard and the soldiers have many dealings, all of them unfriendly.”

“Ah,” Kuo-fan said.

“So it is not all gold and free rice to work for a foreigner.” Kuo-fan looked happier. “And at your age it could well be fatal.”

He slapped his thigh in disgust. “Will you not commence again about my age. I have told you often that there are thirty good years left to me.”

“Of course,” Wen-li said. “I forget always.” But Kuo-fan was more animated now and would be better company.

Kuo-fan gestured toward the house with his head. “What are his dealings with the soldiers?”

Wen-li shrugged. “He disagrees with them.”

Kuo-fan shrugged. “This is not unusual.”

“No. But here it is complicated.”

Kuo-fan nodded. “Why have you never mentioned it before?”

“Three men cannot be in as much trouble as four men,” Wen-li said. “But now it makes little difference. I suppose in a month it will make no difference at all.”

“You mean …?” Kuo-fan made the finger sign of the Communists.

“Yes,” Wen-li said. “One hundred fifty li. Or such is the rumor. Even with a pause for restrengthening they could be here in a month.”

“A month,” Kuo-fan said. “Planting time.”

“I did not know you had become a farmer,” he said.

Kuo-fan looked at him severely. “I was a farmer for the first forty years of my life.”

“And the second forty?”

Kuo-fan looked hurt. “The second forty began only a short time ago,” he said. “Please refrain.”

Wen-li laughed. “All right. Would you like some wine?” Kuo-fan brightened. “Yes.”

“Come into my room. We will heat it on the small stove.”

He followed Kuo-fan out of the kitchen and opened the door to his own room. He told Kuo-fan to sit on the bed. He stirred up the fire and poured some wine from the bottle into the teapot and put it on the stove.

“I would not like to work where soldiers came,” Kuo-fan said.

“No,” he said. “It is not amusing.” They waited for the wine to boil.

When it was boiling he brought out two cups and poured. Kuo-fan took his and nodded thanks. “Dry cup,” Wen-li said.

“Dry cup,” Kuo-fan said. They drank them down and Wen-li poured another cup for each of them.

“Soldiers will always come,” Kuo-fan said. “They always have.”

“Probably,” he said.

“Even when the City falls. What will you do then?”

“Do? Why must I do anything?”

“You work for a foreigner,” Kuo-fan said. “They,” he made the finger sign again, “do not like foreigners.”

“Neither do those that we have now,” he said.

“I know,” Kuo-fan said, “but those that we have now depend on foreigners, whether or not they like them.” He held his cup out again. Wen-li filled it and then his own.

“I will worry about it when it comes,” he said.

“I hear that they are unbelievably cruel,” Kuo-fan said.