Water Lily (22 page)

When daylight came, he would be on the Huangpu River, heading into Shanghai. He would watch the city as it stretched into
his view and he would plan his days of wandering, sketching, shopping, and eating. He’d look for dolphins. He might have another
game of table tennis. He’d avoid Sam and Shin; they could be looking for the girl. But, he reminded himself, they were so
absorbed with themselves that they would have forgotten her by then.

At some point, when the girl’s room was empty of passengers, he would take her bag and dispose of it. And if he forgot, who
would care? Wouldn’t it just be found much later, dumped in some lost property place? It wasn’t as if she had really existed
in the first place. He might just keep one small thing, a souvenir, an item of clothing or the packet of sweets. He would
put it with Apple’s clothes and the pretty lights in the attic, to help him through long nights.

He had learned so much on this trip, had gained confidence in many things he’d found difficult before. He mustn’t get upset
about events he couldn’t change but would focus on the good points. Tomorrow there would be no silliness or missing her. He
needed to stay calm now, no outbursts or confusion.

He snuggled down into his sheets, put one hand down the front of his pyjamas, grasped the warm skin for comfort.
I’ve made a mistake and I’m sorry, but I still don’t want to be alone forever
.

And he remembered that he had another chance. He didn’t have to be alone. When he arrived in Shanghai, Li Hua would be waiting
at the dock to greet him. She was going to be his wife. He’d be more careful this time, take his pills and not do anything
rash. There would be nothing to worry about. He’d clutch her in his arms, there at the water’s edge, and propose.

The Asian woman will bathe you, sing to you. She will always be there for you. She asks for nothing more. When you have been
in love with an Eastern Blossom, you will know what we mean and we promise that you will never again settle for less.

Ralph watched the silhouette of Sam’s hand as it swayed in the dark. You could become fond of something so familiar, even
if you didn’t like the person. Things so comfortable and cozy took the place of home when you were lost or far away. He lifted
his head and looked more closely because the arm seemed too long and one finger was pointing quite definitely at the floor.
It seemed a funny thing to do in sleep. He didn’t want to wake Sam by touching him, but as he watched the hand he saw that
it was moving and Sam was not asleep at all.

Hello Ralph. You’ve been out a long time this evening. What have you been up to?

Nothing much. Just out and about, you know.

With Nanao? Your friend and mine.

No, not with Nanao. She’s in bed.

Is she? I looked for her there but didn’t find her.

She must have been somewhere the.

You’re right. She must have been in another place, after all. I’ll look for her in the morning.

Good night, then.

Sleep well, Ralph. I hope you warm up soon.

Sorry?

I noticed you went outside. It must have been cold at such an hour. You wouldn’t want to get sick. I hope you warm up quickly.
Well, good night.

The top bunk creaked as Sam rolled over and then the arm appeared, again with a finger pointing sharply downward. Ralph stared
until the finger began to turn into an object. He reached slowly, trying to make no noise, and put one finger on the edge
of the object but he knew what it was before the blade flicked and sliced into his finger.

T
he sky has stopped banging and Nanao’s voice has gone. Ping is there, pulling Runa’s hands through the water and leading her
to safety. The ferry has reached China. They are in Shanghai and Runa follows Ping through the dark streets. Crowds move around
them noisily, blurred at the edges like ink blots. Ping lights a cigarette and holds it out but Runa’s fingers can’t feel
anything so it falls to the ground and goes out. They are at the doors of a shopping center, dizzyingly bright and warm. Runa
wants to step through the doorway after Ping and toward the beautiful shops, but feels that she has misplaced something and
won’t be able to enter until she has found it. She remembers the water lily at school and the smiling girl who held it out
to her, but the flower falls to pieces and the petals float away. Her fingers move through the air and water but there is
nothing to grasp.

The season has turned and it is cold. She can feel neither water nor air. Her neck is loose but sleep is near. Her bed rocks
harder and she sinks into its softness, reminded of home.

“Bangkok really was a magical place because, when he took his beautiful bride away from it, she sort of shriveled into nothing.
All her sweetness evaporated; in England she was cruel, taunting, uninteresting, and altogether bad. And when it ended he told people that she had left him and returned to Thailand. He was able to think of her, happily back in Thailand with her family, chasing butterflies or walking under palm trees. And since nothing bad had happened since, he was sure that his wife had forgiven him. ”—from WATER LILY

ACCLAIM FOR SUSANNA JONES’S DEBUT
NOVEL,
THE EARTHQUAKE BIRD

“Jones’s narrative is spare but spares nothing
Gripping and haunting-an unforgettable debut.”
—
Kirkus Reviews
(starred review)

“This small gem… unfolds as neatly as origami… In concise
prose perfectly suited to its setting… Jones captures the sense of
a foreign country and culture and creates an unusually
provocative protagonist.”
—
Library Journal
(starred review)

“Moving… suspenseful and absorbing.”—
Booklist

“Jones’s pacing is skilled and deliberate…. The descriptions are
delivered with fluency and intimacy”—
Publishers Weekly