raps softly on the bathroom door. At once he hears the slosh of bath water from within, and after several seconds she opens the door. Steam wafts over him, mixed with the flowery scent of shampoo.
Her face is flushed and her hair slick with wet. She wears the blue dressing gown, hastily closed so that he can see a broad slice of moist cleavage. She takes a deep breath and sways ever so slightly.
“Yes?”
“ Puh-lees . Eat.” He motions to the table where the food waits. She looks at the food, then back at him.
“Blimey. You weren’t kidding.” She crosses to the table and sits down, and after a moment’s hesitation, he joins her. She picks up the fork and takes a bite of the chicken.
“Not bad,” she says. “Much better than I could do.” She turns to him and leans in close. “Good,” she enunciates heavily, nodding.
He gets a brief whiff of whisky mixed with soy and onion.
“Thank you,” he says.
“No, sank you ,” she replies, a slow smile spreading to her lips.
They continue eating, and when she has finished, she lays down her fork, leans back in her chair and crosses her arms.
“So what now? We get married?” She throws back her head and laughs.
Wen smiles uncertainly. She is drunk. And she has clearly made a joke. But he has not understood it. Still, he should humour her. She stops laughing and looks at him, leaning forward.
“What. Are. We. Going. To. Do.” She pauses in between each word. “With you,” she adds, pointing at him.
He takes a deep breath. This time he has understood. Maybe not the words, but the meaning. He lowers his eyes to the empty plate in front of him. He knows that he should offer to leave, but he has no idea where he would go. He does not even know where he is. He raises his gaze to hers: she is frowning at him. They regard each other for a moment.
“I think,” she says slowly. “That you should stay. Here,” she adds. “With me.”
Wen looks at her. He has understood three words: stay , here and me . He does not know precisely what she is offering, but it seems worth the gamble. And he does not really have an alternative. Even if he was prepared to contend with the police, the thought of returning to ill-paid jobs and sleeping eight to a room now seems impossible.
“Okay,” he says.
She nods. “Okay,” she repeats.
He does not know where he is going, but for the moment, his journey has brought him here.
•
The next morning after she leaves for work, he writes a letter to his sister. It is the only letter he has written since leaving China, and he dates it three days previously. He cannot risk telling her the truth: the letter might be intercepted by the authorities en route. When she receives it, she will think it was written the day before he died. He is not certain what the outcome of his present situation will be, but he wishes to set down his life to date. He owes thatmuch to his sister, particularly if he is going to disappear off the face of the earth.
It takes him most of the day to write the letter, and in the end it runs to several pages. He describes his experiences in England, leaving aside a few key details. His affair with Jin he does not share with her. His sister has always been conservative in such matters; for all he knows she has never slept with a man. And Jin is not the sort of woman she would have chosen for him – he knows this even without asking. Though the two were room mates at university, they were very different in their characters. But he was drawn to Jin from the moment he first met her. He admired her strength and her independence, though he sensed that she was cold-hearted. When they eventually became lovers, he was surprised by the contradictions in her nature. Jin was fiercely self-reliant, but over time, became increasingly demanding of him. He could see, after a few months, that she was falling in love with him. This, more than anything, accounted for his decision to leave London.
He finishes the letter
Her face is flushed and her hair slick with wet. She wears the blue dressing gown, hastily closed so that he can see a broad slice of moist cleavage. She takes a deep breath and sways ever so slightly.
“Yes?”
“ Puh-lees . Eat.” He motions to the table where the food waits. She looks at the food, then back at him.
“Blimey. You weren’t kidding.” She crosses to the table and sits down, and after a moment’s hesitation, he joins her. She picks up the fork and takes a bite of the chicken.
“Not bad,” she says. “Much better than I could do.” She turns to him and leans in close. “Good,” she enunciates heavily, nodding.
He gets a brief whiff of whisky mixed with soy and onion.
“Thank you,” he says.
“No, sank you ,” she replies, a slow smile spreading to her lips.
They continue eating, and when she has finished, she lays down her fork, leans back in her chair and crosses her arms.
“So what now? We get married?” She throws back her head and laughs.
Wen smiles uncertainly. She is drunk. And she has clearly made a joke. But he has not understood it. Still, he should humour her. She stops laughing and looks at him, leaning forward.
“What. Are. We. Going. To. Do.” She pauses in between each word. “With you,” she adds, pointing at him.
He takes a deep breath. This time he has understood. Maybe not the words, but the meaning. He lowers his eyes to the empty plate in front of him. He knows that he should offer to leave, but he has no idea where he would go. He does not even know where he is. He raises his gaze to hers: she is frowning at him. They regard each other for a moment.
“I think,” she says slowly. “That you should stay. Here,” she adds. “With me.”
Wen looks at her. He has understood three words: stay , here and me . He does not know precisely what she is offering, but it seems worth the gamble. And he does not really have an alternative. Even if he was prepared to contend with the police, the thought of returning to ill-paid jobs and sleeping eight to a room now seems impossible.
“Okay,” he says.
She nods. “Okay,” she repeats.
He does not know where he is going, but for the moment, his journey has brought him here.
•
The next morning after she leaves for work, he writes a letter to his sister. It is the only letter he has written since leaving China, and he dates it three days previously. He cannot risk telling her the truth: the letter might be intercepted by the authorities en route. When she receives it, she will think it was written the day before he died. He is not certain what the outcome of his present situation will be, but he wishes to set down his life to date. He owes thatmuch to his sister, particularly if he is going to disappear off the face of the earth.
It takes him most of the day to write the letter, and in the end it runs to several pages. He describes his experiences in England, leaving aside a few key details. His affair with Jin he does not share with her. His sister has always been conservative in such matters; for all he knows she has never slept with a man. And Jin is not the sort of woman she would have chosen for him – he knows this even without asking. Though the two were room mates at university, they were very different in their characters. But he was drawn to Jin from the moment he first met her. He admired her strength and her independence, though he sensed that she was cold-hearted. When they eventually became lovers, he was surprised by the contradictions in her nature. Jin was fiercely self-reliant, but over time, became increasingly demanding of him. He could see, after a few months, that she was falling in love with him. This, more than anything, accounted for his decision to leave London.
He finishes the letter
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