would clear the clap, but months in a hospital out by Aberdeen harbour would be required to rid her of TB, and the degeneration the disease caused would ruin her looks and therefore her livelihood. Her fears were allayed, however. He hadn’t coughed, nor did he look empty enough of flesh and soul to be tubercular.
‘You chase too many dragon,’ she scolded him, taking his large, rough hand in both her smaller ones and tightening on it.
‘It’s not that,’ he replied. ‘I’ve not been to Ah Moy’s for long while. Several weeks. It’s not chasing dragons.’
‘You shou’d see you doc-tor. He fix you up. My doc-tor fix me up okay last month.’ She sensed he was thinking of this, and added, ‘Right now, I clear pass. No clap.’
He laughed again, quietly.
She let his hand go and deftly unfastened his fly buttons, at the same time gently rubbing his groin to help him desire her. He pulled his trousers off and lifting the front flap of her cheong-sam she lay back upon the bed. He could see her outlined against the thin blue sheets as if on water. In the faint light of the room the bush of hair just below her waist gleamed darkly and he moved towards it as she let her hands slide around his neck. As her fingers ran down his chest, she could feel every bump of his sternum, every ridge of his ribs. On his stomach, just as she started to delve her long fingers into the waistband of his underpants to pull them lower, she felt a rough, dry patch of skin the size of a dollar bill. It puzzled her and she thought about it as he moved to get himself inside her.
* * *
‘How much?’ he asked, as he dressed himself and she dried the sweat off her legs with a towel.
‘Eight dollar.’
He hadn’t been any use on the bed, but that was not her reason for cutting the price. Business was business where that was concerned.
He looked at his watch. It was a quarter to nine.
‘I thought it was twenty-five bucks an hour?’
‘Mistah Wong take eight dollar for one hour,’ she told him. ‘You just pay him money. I fuck you for free.’
He regarded her in silence. It had been a long time since anyone had given him anything. He tried to remember the last occasion, and couldn’t.
With his foot, he pulled the shoe over and bent down. He knew his money was safe for he hadn’t let himself doze off. He thrust two fingers into the toe and pulled out the wad of crumpled notes.
‘Where you get so much?’
‘I stole it,’ he replied bluntly. ‘There’s more’ – he patted the lining of his jacket – ‘but I need that to pay my rent at the –’
He stopped. He didn’t want her to know where he lived.
‘I go now,’ she said, not noticing. ‘You leave room. Jus’ close door and it lock okay.’
Sandingham stood up and kissed her on the cheek. He thought then how beautiful she was. He handed her twenty-five dollars but she took only ten and gave the rest back to him. He saw, to his astonishment, that she was crying. She stood up on tiptoe and quickly kissed him back, like an innocent girl with her first love. Then she left and he heard her stepping quickly down the wooden stairway.
He finished dressing, put twenty dollars behind the joss-stick holder in front of the household god and left.
As he walked past the bar on the way to the tram stop he could hear the shouts of sailors inside. Soon, he knew, Lucy would be back in that tiny room, her legs spread out on that same bed with another man thumping his belly on hers.
As the tram juddered over a set of points at the bottom of Garden Road he thought to himself how much more bearable, somehow, life would have been in those bleak years, had he known that she was on the outside, waiting and thinking, counting the weeks off for him.
* * *
It was past ten when he reached the hotel. The manager was sitting on a stool at the far end of the green marbled bar with a milk shake before him. He was talking to a Chinese man several years his senior.
‘You chase too many dragon,’ she scolded him, taking his large, rough hand in both her smaller ones and tightening on it.
‘It’s not that,’ he replied. ‘I’ve not been to Ah Moy’s for long while. Several weeks. It’s not chasing dragons.’
‘You shou’d see you doc-tor. He fix you up. My doc-tor fix me up okay last month.’ She sensed he was thinking of this, and added, ‘Right now, I clear pass. No clap.’
He laughed again, quietly.
She let his hand go and deftly unfastened his fly buttons, at the same time gently rubbing his groin to help him desire her. He pulled his trousers off and lifting the front flap of her cheong-sam she lay back upon the bed. He could see her outlined against the thin blue sheets as if on water. In the faint light of the room the bush of hair just below her waist gleamed darkly and he moved towards it as she let her hands slide around his neck. As her fingers ran down his chest, she could feel every bump of his sternum, every ridge of his ribs. On his stomach, just as she started to delve her long fingers into the waistband of his underpants to pull them lower, she felt a rough, dry patch of skin the size of a dollar bill. It puzzled her and she thought about it as he moved to get himself inside her.
* * *
‘How much?’ he asked, as he dressed himself and she dried the sweat off her legs with a towel.
‘Eight dollar.’
He hadn’t been any use on the bed, but that was not her reason for cutting the price. Business was business where that was concerned.
He looked at his watch. It was a quarter to nine.
‘I thought it was twenty-five bucks an hour?’
‘Mistah Wong take eight dollar for one hour,’ she told him. ‘You just pay him money. I fuck you for free.’
He regarded her in silence. It had been a long time since anyone had given him anything. He tried to remember the last occasion, and couldn’t.
With his foot, he pulled the shoe over and bent down. He knew his money was safe for he hadn’t let himself doze off. He thrust two fingers into the toe and pulled out the wad of crumpled notes.
‘Where you get so much?’
‘I stole it,’ he replied bluntly. ‘There’s more’ – he patted the lining of his jacket – ‘but I need that to pay my rent at the –’
He stopped. He didn’t want her to know where he lived.
‘I go now,’ she said, not noticing. ‘You leave room. Jus’ close door and it lock okay.’
Sandingham stood up and kissed her on the cheek. He thought then how beautiful she was. He handed her twenty-five dollars but she took only ten and gave the rest back to him. He saw, to his astonishment, that she was crying. She stood up on tiptoe and quickly kissed him back, like an innocent girl with her first love. Then she left and he heard her stepping quickly down the wooden stairway.
He finished dressing, put twenty dollars behind the joss-stick holder in front of the household god and left.
As he walked past the bar on the way to the tram stop he could hear the shouts of sailors inside. Soon, he knew, Lucy would be back in that tiny room, her legs spread out on that same bed with another man thumping his belly on hers.
As the tram juddered over a set of points at the bottom of Garden Road he thought to himself how much more bearable, somehow, life would have been in those bleak years, had he known that she was on the outside, waiting and thinking, counting the weeks off for him.
* * *
It was past ten when he reached the hotel. The manager was sitting on a stool at the far end of the green marbled bar with a milk shake before him. He was talking to a Chinese man several years his senior.
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