Read Online Tuvalu by Andrew O'Connor - Free Book Online Page A

time.’
    Harry fell casually against the doorframe. ‘Great sport, hockey,’ he said. ‘Just like that Australian Rules football of yours. Mean but fair.’
    â€˜What room are you in?’ I asked, wondering how he had picked my accent.
    â€˜Two-ten. Just off the boat from Hawaii.’
    â€˜Two-ten? You’re my new next-door neighbour. I thought that Subramani was still in there, but—’
    â€˜Subramani? He the hockey fan?’
    â€˜I don’t think so. Why?’
    â€˜There’s a hockey poster in there. That’s what got me thinking about hockey.’
    â€˜Oh that. That’s been there forever. Gretztky, right? Subramani tried pulling it down, but it rips the paint. No one wants to pay Nakamura-san.’
    â€˜Nakamura?’
    â€˜The fat old Japanese woman over the road—the one who runs this dive.’
    â€˜Oh her,’ Harry said, head lolling in what I took to be a nod. ‘She didn’t say a word, just wrote a price and how long I could stay.’
    â€˜You’re unlucky you’re not black. She likes the black guests. They’re taken care of.’
    â€˜You’re kidding?’ Harry massaged his ample belly.
    â€˜No. She loves black foreigners—male or female. They get the best the place has to offer. The rest of us are an economic necessity.’
    â€˜You’re serious. How about that.’
    At that moment, appearing from nowhere, Lin Huang slunk past in one of her moods. As always, she appeared not to have a rumple of fat on her emaciated frame. Bones jutted out beneath her skin as they do from drought-stricken cattle, scarcely hidden by her nightgown. Her hollow face spoke of a deep mistrust and both her feet dragged beneath her dolefully, like runty animals beaten in their infancy.
    Harry gave her a warm smile. ‘Hello,’ he said. But she dropped her head and hurried on upstairs, arms clasping tightly at her torso.
    â€˜You’ll get used to her,’ I said. ‘She’s in the room opposite us. I don’t know why you’ve been put up there with me. It’s sort of the International Floor. Nakamura-san normally puts the Americans downstairs.’
    â€˜Perhaps she doesn’t consider Hawaii part of America.’
    â€˜Perhaps.’
    â€˜You know,’ he said without warning, ‘I’m thinking about working my way into international trade.’ Harry began examining random objects with the fierce but fleeting interest of a child—a Japanese magazine, a power point, an empty Asahi ‘Aqua Blue’ beer can. ‘I just need to find things I can—’ he broke off mid-sentence and peered behind the TV, but seemed not to discover anything especially novel.
    â€˜Find?’
    â€˜Ideas. I’ve got plenty of capital,’ he said, ‘presuming the damn banks get on and make my transfer. What is it with the banks here?’
    â€˜They’re not easy.’
    â€˜Well,’ he said, ‘soon I’m going to export those toilet seats, the ones at the airport—the heated ones. They’re perfect. I have a friend who’s a builder. He’ll include them in his projects as a sort of extra.’ He paused. ‘What about this place? Any hidden gems?’
    â€˜I doubt it.’
    â€˜Mind showing me around anyway?’
    â€˜What, now? Okay.’
    I started the tour by leading him down to the basement—dark and dank. Ground water had seeped through thin walls and stale air hung thickly. I pointed out splotches of black, tumour-like moss on the roof and other discolourations smattered across the plaster. Harry nodded at each, then pulled at a tattered cord hanging from the ceiling. He stared expectantly at the room’s one bare bulb as if, being Japanese, it might prove saleable. It remained dead and he shrugged.
    â€˜Smells musty,’ he said.
    â€˜This is the kitchen section.’ I pointed out a rectangular gas stove