CHERUB: People's Republic (6 page)

It took three minutes to complete the look, with copious quantities of lipstick and eyeshadow, but Ning drew the line at glitter spray.

‘Enough,’ she said firmly, before standing up and heading back towards the classroom.

Qiang and a couple of other boys were out in the corridor and began to laugh. As Ning walked towards the classroom the trio made
boom-boom
noises, but everyone except Qiang backed into the classroom when she got close.

‘Let me in the door, turd,’ Ning said, as Qiang blocked her way.

Half a dozen other lads stood inside the half-opened door, giggling like idiots.

‘If I hit you, you won’t like it,’ Ning warned.

Qiang laughed. ‘I’ll not be defeated by a mere cat!’ he shouted dramatically.

Ning was keen to get back inside and check her phone, so she made a quick swoop and flicked the end of Qiang’s nose. A roar of laughter erupted as Qiang stumbled backwards, shocked by Ning’s speed. When Qiang realised that his mates now laughed at him rather than Ning, he lashed out with a Karate kick.

Ning intercepted the flying leg. With her thumbnail digging painfully into Qiang’s ankle, Ning stepped backwards, making him hop helplessly after her.

‘Let me go, you elephant!’ Qiang demanded.

Ning wanted to humiliate rather than hurt and spotted an opportunity at the end of the hallway. After making Qiang hop a little farther, she twisted his foot so that he buckled with pain. Rather than letting Qiang bang his head on the ground, Ning grabbed him under the armpit, then wrapped her other arm around his waist, crushing the wind from his chest as she tossed him effortlessly on to her shoulder.

With Qiang’s head hanging behind Ning’s back and his feet kicking in front of her, Ning walked past a startled Mrs Feng to a huge rectangular waste bin planted in the doorway of the school cafeteria.

‘You reek,’ Ning complained. ‘Have you
ever
washed that tracksuit?’

After backing up to the overflowing tub, Ning dropped Qiang head first into apple cores, drink cartons, disposable chopsticks and half-squeezed sachets of soy sauce.

While Qiang thrashed about, buried from head to thighs and desperate to climb out, a dozen boys raced down the hallway towards them, followed by a smaller group of cats.

Ning worried that the boys might attack, but they seemed content to stand back, laughing hysterically as Qiang kicked air and moaned. He was desperate to escape but only managed to rustle garbage and work his way deeper. Two girls who’d also suffered Qiang’s jokes thanked Ning for getting revenge.

‘What is this outrage?’ Mr Ma roared as he stormed across the deserted canteen towards the dustbin.

Ma was the school’s deputy head and several kids at the rear of the crowd bolted for their classroom as soon as they heard his voice.

‘Where is your class teacher?’ Ma demanded. ‘Who is responsible for this?’

‘It was Fu Ning,’ Daiyu announced.

If Daiyu had been within range, Ning would have punched her out.

‘Well, who’d have guessed that?’ Mr Ma said, as he grabbed Qiang’s ankles and picked him out of the bin.

There was laughter as Qiang was planted on his feet, with bits of food stuck in his hair, plus greasy smears and plastic wrappings stuck to his tracksuit.

‘I’ll wipe your smiles off,’ Qiang roared to the other boys, before looking over his back and discovering a chopstick spearing his buttock.

Mr Ma stood in front of Ning. He crouched low and yelled in her face. ‘You’ve already been in trouble for lateness today. Go and sit outside my office. You will be dealt with after the performance.’

But Mrs Feng came to Ning’s defence. ‘Why punish her?’ she asked furiously. ‘Those boys have been ruthlessly teasing girls all afternoon. Their teacher comes and goes, but he does nothing to halt it.’

Mr Ma wasn’t used to being dressed down in front of his pupils.

‘Well,’ he said, shaking with anger as he picked a boy at random. ‘You, find the nurse and bring her here to deal with Qiang. The rest, get back to your classroom. Sit still at your desks in the formal position. I expect silence until the time for your performance.’

Ning gave Mrs Feng a respectful bow, before following her classmates back to their room. The better behaved kids had never been shouted at by the deputy head before, and none dared laugh as the girls dived back behind the curtain and the boys sat at desks, with straight backs, hands crossed on the tables in front of them and feet tucked beneath their chair.

‘One sound,’ Mr Ma roared, as he glowered at the class.

‘Fu Ning?’ a woman shouted, as she barged in, clouting Mr Ma with the classroom door. ‘Is this room twenty-six?’

Ning couldn’t see over the dividing curtain, but the appalling scouse-accented Chinese could only come from her stepmother.

Ingrid Fu was originally from Bootle in Merseyside. She had freckled skin and curly red hair down her back. Dandong was a city of eight hundred thousand, but it was off the tourist trail and Westerners were a rare sight.

‘Ning babes, you in here?’ Ingrid yelled, switching to English.

Ning felt sure the embarrassment her stepmother was about to cause would more than cancel any cred she’d gained by dumping Qiang in the giant food bin.

‘Hello, mother,’ Ning said, respectful and nervous as she stood up. ‘I didn’t know you were coming to parents’ day.’

‘Parents’ you what?’ Ingrid asked, as she ducked through the curtain and banged her thigh on a desk. ‘Oww, ya fecker! I never knew boys and girls were separated over here. It’s like a Jew wedding.’

Even kids who hadn’t paid attention in English class could work out that Ingrid was drunk.

‘It’s only when we get changed,’ Ning explained, as her face burned. ‘Why are you here?’

‘You’re all dressed as bloody cats,’ Ingrid noted, gold bangles on her wrists clattering as she glanced about. ‘Is it the school play today or something? That costume goes right up your crack, it looks terrible.’

Ning spoke slowly, hoping to get through Ingrid’s thick skull. ‘WHY – ARE – YOU – HERE?’ she shouted.

Ingrid’s head snapped sideways, but her eyeballs took a second to catch up. ‘Honey, we’ve got to get out of here. Grab all your shit, yeah?’

‘Is this about the messages I left Dad?’ Ning asked. ‘I said I needed to be picked up
after
school, not right now.’

Ingrid gasped with frustration and waved her hand in front of her face. ‘Can’t be explaining like war and bloody peace or something. I need yous to come with us. Urgent, like.’

Mr Ma spoke in stilted English. ‘Ning, Mrs Fu, perhaps you can talk in the corridor without disturbing the other pupils?’

Ning was fine with this if it at least meant she wasn’t shown up in front of everyone. Out in the corridor, Ning was caught by surprise as Ingrid shoved her back against the wall.

‘Your dad’s in trouble,’ Ingrid explained. ‘You and I have to skedaddle, pronto.’

Ning felt a shot of adrenalin. ‘What kind of trouble?’

‘Too complicated to explain here. But we’ve always been all right, you and me, haven’t we? I mean, I know I’m not exactly perfect mother material, but you trust me, don’t you?’

Ning decided that Ingrid’s description of their relationship sounded about right. She wasn’t the kind of parent who tucked you in when you were sick, or baked a cake for your birthday, but they’d always got along and sometimes even had a laugh together.

‘Do you trust me?’

‘Sure, I guess,’ Ning said.

‘Then you’ve got to come with me, right now. I can’t wait around, they’ll be looking for me as well.’

Ning was baffled. ‘Who’d come looking for you?’

‘Can’t wait around,’ Ingrid said. ‘Come or don’t come. No messin’.’

Ning watched as her stepmother started a drunken walk down the hallway towards the school’s main exit, then stopped and turned back.

‘I’m dressed as a cat,’ Ning shouted. ‘Can’t I at least go back and grab my clothes?

‘No messin’,’ Ingrid repeated. ‘I promised Chaoxiang I’d take you with me, but I can’t wait around.’

Ning looked anxiously back towards her classroom, wondering if she could make a dash for her clothes, boots and phone. But the school exit was less than fifty metres away. There was a chance she’d lose Ingrid and a chance Mr Ma would hold her up by asking for an explanation.

‘Wait,’ Ning shouted, as she raced after her stepmother with her tail swinging from side to side.

7. RIDE

‘So you’re with me?’ Ingrid said, as Ning raced across the car park.

A black 760Li was parked at an angle just inside the school gates, blocking off half a dozen parking bays. It was the biggest BMW you can get and this one was pimped up, with tinted windows and matt black alloys.

Ning expected Ingrid’s driver to step out and open the rear doors, but as she closed in she noticed the driver’s side mirror dangling from insulated wires, and a scrape stretching from the front wing to a busted rear light.

‘Where’s Wei?’ Ning asked anxiously, as Ingrid climbed into the driver’s seat.

‘Busy,’ Ingrid said. ‘Get in.’

Ning hesitated, but Ingrid had made it clear she wouldn’t hang about.

‘Can you even drive?’ Ning asked, as she pressed the button that closed the rear door and lunged for a seatbelt.

‘I was doing handbrake turns in nicked Fiestas before you were born, girl,’ Ingrid said.

She looked backwards over her shoulder, preparing to reverse out of Lower School Eighteen into the busy main road. Ning clicked her seatbelt on, glimpsing a shopping channel on the headrest TV as Ingrid hit the gas.

The BMW shot forward, ploughing into a parked Honda, with enough force to smash its front headlight and push it sideways into the much newer Volkswagen parked next door. The huge BMW suffered no more damage, but Ning was tempted to jump out while she had the chance.

‘I guess that’s not reverse,’ Ingrid said, as car alarms chorused.

‘Are you
sure
you can drive?’ Ning asked.

‘That’s my second accident today,’ Ingrid said. ‘Third time lucky, eh?’

Ingrid found the reverse selector. The light down the street was red, so they backed into two empty lanes, before Ingrid selected drive and floored the accelerator.

‘Christ, this has got some poke!’ Ingrid said, as they reached eighty KPH within four seconds, then braked back to nearer twenty-five as they caught the traffic.

After a red light, a right-hand turn and a steep climb up an on-ramp they were on the six-lane Shendan Highway, heading west out of Dandong. Ning realised they were heading home, and calmed down enough to ask a rational question.

‘You said Dad was in trouble. Why don’t we go to the police?’

‘Cos it’s the cops that bloody well nicked him.’

‘But Dad’s not a crook,’ Ning said. ‘They’ll sort it out. We should go to the police station where he’s being held and ask to speak to someone.’

Ingrid looked flustered as she used her fingers to comb strands of hair off her face. ‘Sweetheart, it’s complex. Your father’s a businessman. Sometimes in business, you have to bend rules to get things done.’

‘Pay-offs,’ Ning said.

‘Exactly.’

Ning understood pay-offs well enough. She’d been born in a peasant village, which meant she was only eligible for a country school. To get into a more prestigious and better funded city school, her stepfather had handed an envelope fattened with hundred-yuan notes to an education authority official.

‘I don’t get all the ins and outs,’ Ingrid said, as she switched lanes to pass a truck stacked with steel I-beams. ‘I think there was an edict from Beijing. A crackdown. Corrupt officials and businessmen are getting rounded up and your dad is caught in the net.’

Ning felt scared. Anti-corruption slogans had been appearing all over Dandong, promising three years’ hard labour for those caught.

‘Your dad’s a good fella,’ Ingrid said, trying to sound soothing. ‘Important people owe him favours. Even if he’s found guilty, it’s most likely just a fine.’

‘Right,’ Ning said, but she didn’t stay reassured once her brain kicked in and started asking questions:

Where was Ingrid’s driver, Wei? Why hadn’t she been able to get her dad’s secretary on the phone? And if this was going to blow over, why was Ingrid tearing along the highway in a panic?

‘What are you trying to get away from?’ Ning asked. ‘You’ve got nothing to do with Dad’s business, have you?’

‘Not day-to-day, but in a legal sense I do.’

Ingrid was rarely sober much beyond eleven in the morning, so Ning found this hard to believe.

‘You never go to the office with Dad, or anything like that.’

‘I’m a Brit,’ Ingrid explained. ‘You Chinese are all tied up with red tape. Regulations on investment, tax, foreign exchange. So your dad sets up foreign companies in my name as a way of getting around the rules. And that’s all well and good until the shit hits the fan.’