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Authors: Ian Hamilton
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rarely uncomfortable.”
Ava heard real humour in his voice and found herself smiling. “Let me tell May about the change in plans. We’ll see you at the restaurant.”
May answered her phone on the first ring.
“I just spoke to our man the florist,” Ava said. “He’s changed the dinner reservation to the Whampoa Club.”
“That’s great. They have fabulous food at Whampoa. Still the same time?”
“Yes, seven.”
“It’s exactly the same distance down the Bund from here, so why don’t we meet in the lobby as planned.”
“See you then.”
( 9 )
The Whampoa Club was at No. 3, The Bund, just less than a kilometre from the hotel. Under normal circumstances it would be no more than a fifteen-minute walk away, but at that hour of the warm, balmy evening it seemed as if everyone in Shanghai had decided to go for a walk along the river. It took them almost half an hour to walk the distance.
May wore a pale green Chanel suit trimmed in gold. The skirt came to an inch above her knees, and she wore three-inch heels. She drew stares from men and women alike. In black slacks, a white shirt, and black pumps, Ava felt like the hired help.
They walked nearly to the end of the promenade before crossing the street. “The place is actually called ‘Three on the Bund,’” May said.
“You’ve been there before?”
“Giorgio Armani and MCM have stores on the ground floor.”
“Ah.”
“And I’ve eaten at the French restaurant Jean Georges, which is a floor below Whampoa. That’s where Xu was going to take us originally.”
They stopped in front of Number Three. Ava looked up at the brown stone building and felt a jolt of déjà vu. Its V-shaped façade looked like a ship’s prow, six storeys tall and topped with a cupola. “I feel like I’m in Paris,” she said.
“I don’t know anything about architecture, but I do remember someone mentioning the Renaissance,” May said, and then paused. “Is that our man at the front door?”
The sidewalk wasn’t as crowded as the promenade, and Ava had a direct view of the door. It was Xu. He was close to six feet and lean, with tightly cropped black hair. He was wearing a black suit, a white shirt, and a black silk tie. He took a long drag on a cigarette, his eyes glancing right and left. Like Uncle, his age was hard to determine; Ava guessed he could be anywhere from his late thirties to late forties. Also like Uncle, he was fine-featured, with a long, thin nose, high, pronounced cheekbones, and a pointed chin.
When he caught sight of the two women, he smiled, threw his cigarette to the ground, and took several steps forward. He reached for Ava, lightly grasped her upper arms, and leaned forward to kiss her on both cheeks. “I am so glad you came,” he said. He turned towards May and extended a hand. “And you too, Madam Wong. We met at Uncle’s funeral but we had no chance to speak.”
“That’s the second time today I’ve been called Madam Wong. Please don’t do that again, and don’t call me Auntie either. My name is May.”
As May and Xu shook hands, the remnants of the day’s sun crept from behind a cloud and lit up the front of the building, drenching them in light. Ava saw that Xu’s black tie shimmered with subtle hints of red woven into the silk.
“Shall we go in?” he said. “The entrance is around the corner, on the side street. Let me lead the way.”
They rode the elevator to the fifth floor. No one spoke, but Ava and May took turns looking at Xu. Every time they did, he looked directly into their eyes and smiled. His teeth are unusually white for a smoker , Ava thought, and then remembered that Uncle’s had been the same. The direct gaze was another Uncle attribute that Xu seemed to share. Uncle’s internal world was filtered through his eyes, and over the years she had learned to read the emotional nuances in them. All she saw in Xu’s was frankness.
When the elevator doors opened, they took a few steps forward before
Ava heard real humour in his voice and found herself smiling. “Let me tell May about the change in plans. We’ll see you at the restaurant.”
May answered her phone on the first ring.
“I just spoke to our man the florist,” Ava said. “He’s changed the dinner reservation to the Whampoa Club.”
“That’s great. They have fabulous food at Whampoa. Still the same time?”
“Yes, seven.”
“It’s exactly the same distance down the Bund from here, so why don’t we meet in the lobby as planned.”
“See you then.”
( 9 )
The Whampoa Club was at No. 3, The Bund, just less than a kilometre from the hotel. Under normal circumstances it would be no more than a fifteen-minute walk away, but at that hour of the warm, balmy evening it seemed as if everyone in Shanghai had decided to go for a walk along the river. It took them almost half an hour to walk the distance.
May wore a pale green Chanel suit trimmed in gold. The skirt came to an inch above her knees, and she wore three-inch heels. She drew stares from men and women alike. In black slacks, a white shirt, and black pumps, Ava felt like the hired help.
They walked nearly to the end of the promenade before crossing the street. “The place is actually called ‘Three on the Bund,’” May said.
“You’ve been there before?”
“Giorgio Armani and MCM have stores on the ground floor.”
“Ah.”
“And I’ve eaten at the French restaurant Jean Georges, which is a floor below Whampoa. That’s where Xu was going to take us originally.”
They stopped in front of Number Three. Ava looked up at the brown stone building and felt a jolt of déjà vu. Its V-shaped façade looked like a ship’s prow, six storeys tall and topped with a cupola. “I feel like I’m in Paris,” she said.
“I don’t know anything about architecture, but I do remember someone mentioning the Renaissance,” May said, and then paused. “Is that our man at the front door?”
The sidewalk wasn’t as crowded as the promenade, and Ava had a direct view of the door. It was Xu. He was close to six feet and lean, with tightly cropped black hair. He was wearing a black suit, a white shirt, and a black silk tie. He took a long drag on a cigarette, his eyes glancing right and left. Like Uncle, his age was hard to determine; Ava guessed he could be anywhere from his late thirties to late forties. Also like Uncle, he was fine-featured, with a long, thin nose, high, pronounced cheekbones, and a pointed chin.
When he caught sight of the two women, he smiled, threw his cigarette to the ground, and took several steps forward. He reached for Ava, lightly grasped her upper arms, and leaned forward to kiss her on both cheeks. “I am so glad you came,” he said. He turned towards May and extended a hand. “And you too, Madam Wong. We met at Uncle’s funeral but we had no chance to speak.”
“That’s the second time today I’ve been called Madam Wong. Please don’t do that again, and don’t call me Auntie either. My name is May.”
As May and Xu shook hands, the remnants of the day’s sun crept from behind a cloud and lit up the front of the building, drenching them in light. Ava saw that Xu’s black tie shimmered with subtle hints of red woven into the silk.
“Shall we go in?” he said. “The entrance is around the corner, on the side street. Let me lead the way.”
They rode the elevator to the fifth floor. No one spoke, but Ava and May took turns looking at Xu. Every time they did, he looked directly into their eyes and smiled. His teeth are unusually white for a smoker , Ava thought, and then remembered that Uncle’s had been the same. The direct gaze was another Uncle attribute that Xu seemed to share. Uncle’s internal world was filtered through his eyes, and over the years she had learned to read the emotional nuances in them. All she saw in Xu’s was frankness.
When the elevator doors opened, they took a few steps forward before
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