Read Online The Spare Room by Kathryn Lomer - Free Book Online Page B

English so well and so colloquially that I had to remember it was like speaking to an Australian, but the fact that she was Japanese got in the way sometimes. Sweetheart? I thought. What did that mean?
    Are they okay? I asked. Daisy told me to bring something.
    Oranges are lovely, Akira. Come and meet my homestay parents.
    There was a twinkle in Chisuko’s eye which made me uneasy, but I followed her into the house. It was quite different from my homestay house. This one was very modern and open with a bright living area and floor-to-ceiling windows which looked over the city. In the kitchen, two women were standing laughing amid the makings of lunch, with big glasses of red wine in their hands. They made a toast just as we came in, clinking their glasses together.
    To us!
    To us!
    Chisuko called out, Here he is! and they put down their glasses and came towards us, grinning.
    I’m Louise, said one, and shook my hand.
    And I’m Christine, said the other, also shaking my hand.
    I was quite adept at handshaking these days. I didn’t have to count or concentrate.
    I am pleased to meet you both, I said. Thank you for inviting me to have traditional Sunday lunch with you.
    They fell about laughing at this and I wondered if I had been too formal. Or was there a joke I didn’t get? Perhaps it was just my accent. Anyway, Chisuko was there. It would be okay.
    Nothing traditional in this household, I’m afraid, Akira, Louise said.
    Oh, I said.
    Do you have traditional Sunday roasts at your homestay house? Chisuko asked.
    No. Maybe my homestay father doesn’t know roast. He makes Greek, Italian, Spanish, Thai.
    Louise said, The husband does the cooking? That’s good.
    Yes, very good, I said. He is chief cook and bottle-washer.
    The women started laughing again but this time I felt relaxed. They were friendly, and they were happy.
    And I am learning to cook, I added.
    That’s excellent, Akira, said Christine.
    Chisuko laughed. She said, You won’t do any cooking when you go home to Japan, Akira.
    Maybe no, I said. Maybe yes.
    Christine said, Let’s go and sit down, shall we? I’ll get you some wine, Akira. Then you can tell me what you’ve learned to cook.
    That lunch was wonderful. Delicious food, lots of laughter. So much laughter. We drank two bottles of wine between us. At first I was worried because, as you know well, Satoshi, my face goes very red when I drink alcohol (just like yours does!). Remember how we used to discuss the various theories as to why that happens — the length of the gut, or blood which is different from other races’ blood? At least I know now it’s not to do with where you drink or whether you drink Japanese beer. Stolly was quite anxious the first night we had a few beers after work. But I explained to him and he relaxed.
    Anyway, that Sunday I was nervous about it to begin with, but no one said a thing about my face. Perhaps they knew from Chisuko. We had a good time together, talking and laughing. At one point I looked around the table and thought how different it was from meal-times at my own homestay house. And vastly different from here at home. It was probably right then and there that I hatched a plan to have a dinner party and try to recreate a bit of this atmosphere.
    Louise and Christine asked me a lot about myself and my family in Japan. I told them about my father’s business, making women’s underwear. I told them it had made him very wealthy. Louise told me that if I went into his business the way he wanted me to, then I would be able to present my business card and say to people, I’m in women’s underwear. They found this hilarious and couldn’t stop laughing for ages. They had to explain that this was the way you expressed it when telling someone your field of business. In the end, I got the joke. But then I told them that I would never go into the business. It was the first time I had ever said it out loud and