They carried on up a stairwell that had once been painted cream, but was now the indeterminate colour of sludge, scarred and peeling. Each landing was cluttered with overspill from the apartments. Bicycles and bins, cardboard boxes and sacks of refuse. The air was bitter with the acrid scent of urine. ‘I never had the chance to talk to you about your father,’ Margaret said. Li glanced back at her, frowning. ‘We had a long talk when he came to see Li Jon yesterday afternoon. There’s stuff you both need to talk about.’
‘I don’t think now’s the time, Margaret.’
‘Maybe not. But in my head I can hear you saying that every time I mention it. There’s never going to be a good time, is there? For either of you. But until you talk, you’re never going to get things fixed.’
‘I didn’t break them.’
‘Perhaps you didn’t, but you haven’t done anything to help pick up the pieces either.’
Li stopped on the next landing and turned. ‘I’ve tried, Margaret. Many times. But I’ve only ever cut my fingers.’ He wheeled away to the door at the far end of the landing, and knocked sharply. They heard running footsteps, and the door flew open to reveal a red-eyed Xinxin. She threw her arms around Li’s legs and burst into tears. ‘They’ve taken my mommy,’ she cried. ‘Uncle Yan, they’ve taken my mommy.’ And she craned her neck back to look up at him. ‘You’ll get my mommy back, Uncle Yan, won’t you?’
‘Sure, little one,’ Li said, with a confidence he did not feel.
Margaret stepped up to take the baby. ‘Your uncle will sort everything out, Xinxin. Don’t worry, it’s all just a mistake.’
Xinxin transferred her hug to Margaret, clinging to her in something like desperation. ‘I want my mommy, Magret. I want my mommy back,’ she whimpered.
Li’s father appeared in the hall. He seemed to have aged in just twenty-four hours, and looked blanched and shrunken, and very fragile. Li said, ‘Get your coat and your hat. Are you all packed?’
He nodded. ‘I was ready to leave for the train.’ He raised his left wrist, and his watch looked very large on it. He squinted at it. ‘I have missed it now.’
Li crouched beside his niece. ‘Xinxin, I need you to go and pack some underwear and some clothes. Quickly. You’re coming to stay with me and Margaret until we get your mommy back.’
‘I’ll give her a hand,’ Margaret said, and she took Xinxin’s hand and they hurried off to her bedroom.
Li and his father stood staring at each other. They were within touching distance, and yet the gap between them was apparently unbridgeable. Li said, ‘I’m going to have to take you to a hotel.’
The old man examined the floorboards for a while, then said, ‘Can’t even find room in your home for your own father.’
Li said, exasperated, ‘It’s an apartment for one, Dad. With Margaret and the baby and Xinxin, you’d have to sleep on the floor. I’ll take you to one of those big international hotels. You’ll be safe there, and comfortable.’
‘And on my own,’ he said. ‘Just as well I’m used to it.’
Li sighed. It was an emotional complication he did not need. ‘I’ll get you booked on a train home tomorrow.’
But the old man shook his head. ‘I will not go home until I know that Xiao Ling is safe and that she and Xinxin have been reunited.’
* * *
It was well past the lunchtime logjam, though too early for the evening rush hour, but still the traffic in Jianguomenwai Avenue was surprisingly light. A traffic cop with white gloves stood pirouetting at the intersection with Beijingzhan Street, waving through a huddle of cyclists. Away at the bottom end of the street the clock towers of Beijing Railway station caught the dipping sunlight as it swung westwards. On the north-east corner of the intersection, the three great concave arcs of the Beijing International Hotel swept up through twenty-two floors to a revolving restaurant on the top. Their taxi swung around a semicircular drive to pull up at the red carpet of its chrome, glass and marble entrance. It was beyond anything in old Mr Li’s experience. Li took the old man’s bag and helped him from the taxi.
‘I cannot afford a place like this,’ he said.
‘Not your problem,’ Li said. He paid the driver, and they pushed through revolving doors into a lobby the size of a football field, marble floors reflecting every light in a ceiling studded with them. Every surface seemed to reflect light, and more of it spilled through floor-to-ceiling windows lining the entrance, falling in great slabs across huge polished desks where assistant managers in immaculate suits sharpened pencils while awaiting enquiries.
Li’s father shuffled after him across acres of floor to an endlessly curving reception desk. A young receptionist in black uniform and white blouse smiled at them, as she had been trained to do, but could not resist a flickering glance to take in the shabby, shambling figure of the old man.
‘It’s alright,’ Li said. ‘Our money’s as good as any foreigner’s.’
The smile vanished from her face. ‘Can I help you?’
‘I’d like a single room.’
‘For how long?’
‘One night.’
‘Would that be standard or executive?’
‘Standard.’
‘Smoking or non?’
Li sighed. ‘Non.’
The girl tapped at a computer keyboard below the level of the counter. Then she slipped a registration form across it. ‘Fill that in, please. And I’ll need a credit card.’
Li gave his father a pen to fill in the form. ‘How much is it?’ He said.
She cocked an eyebrow, as if surprised that he would ask. ‘Eighty-one dollars, US.’
‘We’ll pay when he checks out.’
‘I’ll still need your card now. It won’t be charged to your account until departure.’
Li took out his wallet and passed her his credit card. She took it from him and disappeared to the far end of the counter to swipe it through the machine. ‘Eighty-one dollars?’ the old man whispered in awe. ‘That’s crazy.’ It was more than he would have earned in a month while he was still teaching at the university.
‘It’s the nearest hotel to the station,’ Li said. ‘Even if I can’t pick you up tomorrow, you’ll be able to get there on your own.’
‘And if you haven’t got Xiao Ling back …?’
‘She’ll be fine, Dad. You’ll only need one night here.’
The receptionist walked back along the length of the desk and snapped Li’s card on to the counter in front of him. ‘No good,’ she said smugly, taking clear pleasure in her knock-back.
Li scowled. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘The transaction has been rejected by your credit card company.’
‘That’s ridiculous! Try it again.’
‘I tried it twice, sir. I’m sorry.’ But she wasn’t.
Li’s father stood, pen poised above the registration card. He had not yet got as far as signing it. Li said, ‘Can I use a phone?’
The receptionist shrugged and lifted a telephone on to the counter. Li dialled the number on the back of the card, and when he finally got through to an operator demanded to know why they would not process the transaction.
‘Your card has been cancelled,’ the operator told him.
‘Cancelled?’ Li was incredulous. He looked up to find the receptionist watching him. ‘That’s not possible. Who authorised the cancellation?’
‘I’m sorry, I am not at liberty to give out that information. Thank you for your enquiry.’ And the operator hung up.
Li stood smouldering, angry and humiliated. If they had somehow been able to cancel his credit card, there was a good chance that his bank account had also been frozen. Which meant he would not be able to access any cash, except for the few hundred yuan he carried in his wallet. The receptionist was unable to keep the smirk from her face. Li took the registration card from his father and tore it in half. ‘We’ve changed our minds,’ he said. And he took his father’s arm and led him back across the marble firmament towards the doors.