Crimson China (10 page)

Afterwards, they go for lunch in a restaurant. He orders a hamburger, the only food on the menu he has heard of, but when it comes he is dismayed. The meat is grey and flavourless; the bread it sits upon stale. A thin slice of pale pink tomato and a withered leaf of green lettuce sit sadly to one side, next to a pile of chips that look like fat fingers. His appetite vanishes; he finds that he can only nibble at the food. She has ordered something in a bowl with red beans and bits of meat in thick tomato sauce, which she eats only half of in the end. He is relieved when she eventually suggests they go. Once out of the restaurant, he starts to head towards the car park but she catches his arm.

“Wait. There’s one more thing.” She pulls him along the row of storefronts until they find a shop that sells books. Inside he trails along behind her through the aisles until she pauses in front of one section. She runs her fingers along the shelf and finally pulls out a fat plastic wrapped box, which she places in his hands.

“Here. You’ll be wanting this.”

He looks down. The cover says
Easy English for Beginners.
The box contains a book and a stack of eight CDs. Is such a thing possible? he wonders. To learn a language from a box? He thinks of
his English teacher at school: Wang Laoshi, a short prim woman with thick glasses and hair pulled so tightly in a bun that you could see her scalp. Teacher Wang would rap sharply on her desk with a ruler whenever she was irritated or impatient. English, she had said, was like a giant crane that would lift China out of poverty. His marks were consistently low, while his sister came top of the class. After each exam, Teacher Wang would frown at him with exasperation. “How is it that the same seed produces such a different flower?” she would ask.

“Okay,” he tells Angie. She hears the hesitation in his voice.

“Please. You must try.”

“Yes.” He struggles to erase the doubt from his voice. He wants to reassure her, to let her know that he will do his best. But most of all, he wants to reassure himself.

It is almost dark by the time they reach her house, and he feels an enormous sense of relief as he passes through the front hall into the sitting room that has become his home. He watches as she puts the clothes they have bought him in the bedroom. His eyes drift to the corner of the sitting room, where the bedding he has slept on this past week sits in a carefully folded pile. She comes out of the bedroom and her eyes follow his to the bedding. She stops short, the colour draining from her face.

“I didn’t mean…” She pauses, her voice unsteady, and motions with one hand towards the bedroom. She takes a deep breath and calms herself.

“You can do what you like,” she murmurs. She walks into the kitchen and reaches down under the sink for the whisky, then pulls a glass down from the shelf and fills it. He follows her into the kitchen, sees her hands tremble as she lifts the glass, and wonders again what beast has taken hold of her, and why. She takes a large drink, nearly half the glass, then turns to him, her expression vaguely defiant. They stand staring at each other for a long moment.

“Okay,” he says then.

“Okay,” she replies.

They have reached some sort of agreement, but he does not know what it signifies.

The day after her trip to Morecambe Bay, Lili does not see Jin until the evening. But from the moment she wakes, the image of Jin and Wen in front of the statue smoulders inside her. She knows that Jin is withholding information from her. What she needs to uncover is the depth of her deception. That night when Jin returns home from teaching, Lili is at the counter making a mug of instant noodles. Jin greets her matter-of-factly, drops her bag on the floor, and flops backwards onto the bed.

“I’m exhausted,” she says, throwing an arm over her eyes to shield them from the bare light bulb overhead. After a minute, she lifts her arm and squints at Lili.

“Where were you yesterday?” she asks pointedly. “You were out all day.” Lili picks up the mug and moves to the tiny round table, sitting down in a chair opposite the bed. She feels her heart begin to race.

“I went to Morecambe Bay.”

At once Jin sits up, her expression stunned.

“Why?”

Lili stirs the steaming mug of noodles slowly with a spoon. She speaks in a carefully modulated tone.

“Because I wanted to see it for myself. The place where Wen died. Didn’t you?”

Jin shakes her head.

“No,” she says. “Not at all.”

“So you never went there?” Lili presses her. “Not even before?”

“Before what?” Jin frowns.

“Before his death. To visit.”

“He didn’t want me to visit,” says Jin coldly. She rises and goes over to the counter, rummaging in the cupboards. Lili watches her covertly.
Is it just this one, small thing that Jin conceals?
she wonders.
Or something far bigger?
Jin finds a packet of biscuits and takes one out, popping it in her mouth.

“So what was it like?” she asks, chewing. She leans back against the counter, her long legs stretching out across the floor. Lili pauses, choosing her words with care.

“It was strange. And unfamiliar. Like travelling to another planet.”

“Of course it was unfamiliar,” Jin says with a snort of disdain. “What did you expect?”

“I don’t know. Some sign that he was there, I guess. I wanted to feel his presence. But I couldn’t.”

“You need to let go of him.” Jin’s voice is laced with disapproval.

Lili frowns. She knows that she will keep Wen with her always. Why shouldn’t she? Surely that is her right? He was her twin: her
shuang bao tai
.

“He was my twin,” she ventures defensively.

“No,” says Jin. “He was more than that.”

Lili feels the blood rush to her face.

“You’re one to talk. You slept with him for months! And now it’s like he never existed. You don’t even mourn him properly,” she says bitterly.

“No. Perhaps not. Not like you, at any rate. You’ve been mourning Wen all your life.”

“What do you mean?” Lili asks uneasily.

“That’s why you never dated anyone at university. Why you stayed a virgin all these years.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

“He was never going to be yours,” says Jin bluntly.

Lili stares at her in complete disbelief.

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Well, let me tell you something about your precious brother. He was massively in debt to the snakeheads. It would have taken him years to pay them off. But I’ll bet he never told you that.”

“Wen had no secrets from me,” says Lili guardedly. “I knew he’d gone to snakeheads to arrange his passage to the UK.”

“And do you know what he offered them as security?”

Lili stares at Jin, the question hanging in the air between them. She feels as if she’s being dragged into a dark tunnel. But it is too late. In front of her, the mug of noodles slowly congeals; the smell makes her feel ill.

“You,” says Jin, in a quietly triumphant tone. “He offered you. And your precious chastity. So I wouldn’t save yourself for his sake. Because he would never have done the same for you.”

Lili struggles to make sense of her words. There is a hot ringing in her ears. In front of her, the noodles begin to blur. She rises a little unsteadily, and without a word, she grabs her handbag and jacket and pushes past Jin out the door. Jin calls out to her, her tone suddenly contrite.

“Lili, wait!”

But Lili is already halfway down the darkened hallway. She can hear Jin calling her name again, but soon she is out on the dark pavement, running along the road towards the high street. She doesn’t stop until she reaches the shops, where she stands in front of the newsagent, staring down at the plate glass window. Behind her, buses lurch along the busy road. Jin has lied to her in the past, more than once. But this time she may be telling the truth.

Lili knew that Wen had run up debts, though he had never shared the details with her. When he first went to the snakeheads, she questioned him about how he would repay them. He told her not to worry, said that England was awash with money – it would come quickly and easily. He could earn enough to repay his debts and buy a house upon his return. A house that they could share, he had said, perhaps with a garden where they could grow their own vegetables, like the one their stepmother had kept before she died. He had seemed so optimistic, and Lili had wanted so much to believe him. The idea of the house delighted her: a place where she and Wen could live for ever, free from the demands of the outside world. A haven. She desperately wanted to believe that such a place existed.

But it didn’t. She knows that now. How naïve she had been. Jin was right. She had saved herself all these years for nothing. Wen was gone. And now she was alone.

She looks at her watch. It is nearly ten o’clock. She has no desire to return to Jin’s flat. And nowhere else to go. She turns and sees a bus crawl forward to a stop just in front of her. It lurches to a halt and the doors open, disgorging a string of tired-looking passengers. With a start, she sees that it is a No. 9, the bus she takes to Hammersmith. It is a sign, she thinks. She leaps on board without another thought, and the doors close behind her.

Half an hour later, she arrives at the takeaway where Johnny works. A small knot of apprehension has formed in her stomach. She pauses just outside the window, uncertain what she will say. Inside she can see Johnny serving two young blonde women. Lili understands at once that they are flirting with him, casting knowing glances at each other and laughing at his jokes. Suddenly she feels as if she is seeing him for the first time; that his lean frame and chiselled good looks are something she should covet. She watches as he hands a white polystyrene container to one of the blonde girls and takes her money, his easy smile causing an abrupt
pang of jealousy. He glances through the window just then, and she sees a brief flicker of disapproval cross his face. She waits until the two girls have pushed past her out the door before stepping inside and moving forward to the counter. Johnny picks up a damp cloth and slowly wipes the countertop, eyeing her.

“Hey,” she says with a nervous smile.

“Hey,” he replies cautiously.

“I guess you weren’t expecting me.”

“You guessed right,” he says. He folds the cloth methodically and lays it to one side, then leans back against the counter behind him and crosses his arms.

“I came to apologise. For yesterday.” She waits for his response. Johnny frowns slightly, then shrugs.

“Apology accepted,” he says evenly.

“There’s something else,” Lili continues nervously. She looks down at the pale brown linoleum floor: a long crack runs the length of the room.

“Go on,” says Johnny.

“It wasn’t just about him,” she says, raising her eyes. “It was about you, too.”

Johnny stares at her for a long moment. She feels her face flush.

“Okay,” he says in English. His tone has softened slightly, and Lili feels a rush of relief. She smiles.

“Maybe we can go for a drink later,” she says tentatively. “When you get off.”

Johnny looks down at his watch, then back up at her. “It’s your lucky day,” he says.

They go to a nearby pub, the first Lili has been to since arriving in London. It is large and dark and strangely quiet, with a dozen people scattered about and a snooker table at the rear. They slide into a dark red booth off to one side that smells of old cigarette
smoke and sour lager. Lili looks around, her spirits dampened by the drab room.

“Beer?” Johnny asks.

Lili hesitates. She is going to need something stronger.

“Could I have whisky?” she asks.

Johnny’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Sure,” he replies. She watches as he approaches the bar and orders, returning a minute later with two small glasses of whisky. He hands her one and slides into the booth opposite her.

“
Gan bei
,” he says.

Lili picks up the glass of amber liquid and takes a small sip. The whisky burns on her lips. Then she takes a deep breath and drains the glass, feels it rocket down her throat to her stomach. Johnny looks at her with surprise.

“I was only joking,” he says.

“I wasn’t,” she replies.

He gives a slow smile of realisation, then picks up his glass and drains it. Lili reaches for his glass and stands up.

“I’ll get the next one,” she says.

Three drinks later, they decide to return to Johnny’s room in Ealing, catching a No. 11 bus just outside the pub. The bus is crowded and they are forced to stand. As the bus rounds a corner, Lili leans into him and Johnny thrusts a hand into the back pocket of her jeans, causing her insides to clench with desire. She raises her face to his, studies the sparse patch of whiskers on his chin, and thinks that after four whiskies things do not seem so very difficult. She is a fish being carried along on the tide, certain now that she wants this, certain that it is the right thing for her to do. She should not remain a virgin any longer – not another second, not another minute, not another hour. Even Wen would not want her to die an old maid, she thinks. But the sudden thought of Wen makes her head reel. She squeezes her eyes shut; she must not think of him now.

The house Johnny shares with other Chinese students is in a run-down neighbourhood: a terraced house of brick on a row with many others. When they enter, they walk straight into a small, dank sitting room, dark except for the flickering light of a television set. A clutch of young men are ranged across a battered dark blue sofa and they raise their eyes curiously to Lili as Johnny waves and pulls her past them into the tiny kitchen beyond. Behind her, she hears them titter with laughter.

“Don’t mind them,” he murmurs into her ear. “They’re just jealous,” he adds with a grin.

She has only the briefest glance of the kitchen as he pulls her along: a harsh fluorescent light, chipped white formica, dull brown tiles, and a sink piled high with dirty dishes. A tiny corridor leads off the rear of the kitchen, with a door at the end. Johnny pulls her through the door into the room beyond and quickly shuts it behind them. She looks around at his room: small, sparsely furnished, with a threadbare dark green carpet and a double mattress on the floor in the corner. Opposite the wall is a cheap white desk piled high with books and papers. The bed is a tangled mass of pale green sheets. Johnny’s clothes are strewn about the room.

“Sorry about the mess,” he says apologetically. He reaches down and turns on a lamp beside the bed, and begins to gather up the clothing hurriedly. Watching him, Lili feels a creeping sense of dismay, as if once again her purpose has been blighted by the shabby reality of the room. But she is determined to finish what she started, so she reaches out and grabs hold of his shirt. Johnny turns around, reading her meaning instantly. He tosses the clothes he has gathered into the corner, and pulls her to him. Gratefully, she surrenders herself to his embrace: his mouth is warm and urgent upon hers, the smell and taste of whisky mixing with his own unfamiliar male scent. She feels his hands roam across her body, pulling at the confines of her shirt, moving up to the front of her bra, then sliding down inside her jeans. Lili allows herself
to be carried along by the wave of passion that has engulfed them. It all happens so quickly that she is amazed – amazed that it takes no time at all to undo a lifetime of chastity. Within moments, they are both naked and lying down on the mattress, Johnny poised on top of her, his knees thrusting her thighs apart, the hard part of him probing her darkest place. He enters her quickly and decisively, seemingly unaware of her inexperience, though at the last instant she gives a little cry of pain and surprise. Johnny pauses, looking down at her with confusion.

“Lili,” he whispers in the half-light. “
Zen mo le
?”

For a moment she cannot speak. Johnny pulls back.

“Are you all right?”

She looks up at him, at his too-handsome features, and wonders how she came to be in the bed of a stranger on the far side of the world. But then she remembers that her life is not what she had once imagined; that it is full of sharp edges and unexpected turns and moments of surrender.

“
Bie ting
,” she says, pulling Johnny in deeper.
Don’t stop
.

Hours later, when she wakes, the room is cold. Johnny’s arm lies draped across her waist: she can feel the dead weight of it pressing on her belly. She eases out from under him and turns to look at his face. Asleep, he looks younger somehow, and exposed. They had made love twice before he had gathered her in his arms and succumbed to sleep. She lay awake for what felt like hours, the wetness of him between her thighs. Now she wonders whether she is somehow changed. She ponders this; decides she does not feel any different. Perhaps chastity is nothing but an empty myth. A feminine ideal that has no basis in reality. At any rate, part of her is relieved to be free of its burden.