‘Strawberry mother love Blue Sky market. She always go with other children to see the car of yakuza boss. It the only car you ever see in Tokyo in those days and Blue Sky a place like heaven to her. She buy clothes and bread and zanpan stew.’ Strawberry paused and looked at me sideways. ‘Grey-san know what zanpan stew is?’
‘No.’
‘Leftover stew. Made from what the GI Joe don’t eat. From GI Joe kitchen. There not many meat in zanpan. If yakuza put extra meat into zanpan they can ask more money. It all about ca-ching ca-ching.’ She mimed cash going into a till. ‘Ca-ching ca-ching! So the yakuza go inland, to Gumma and Kanagawa, and steal meat from farmers…’ She raised her eyes to me. Suddenly she looked very small and young, sitting there with her hands folded penitently on the table.
‘What?’ I said. ‘What is it?’
‘ Zanpan.’ Her voice lowered to a whisper. Her car-enamel-red lipstick winked and glistened. ‘That’s what I want to tell Grey-san. Strawberry mother find something strange in zanpan from Brightness over Shinjuku market.’
‘Strange?’ The word came out in a whisper.
‘Grey-san know who running Brightness over Shinjuku? The Fuyuki gang.’
‘And what did your mother find in the stew?’
‘Fat that taste bad. Not normal. And bones.’ Her voice was almost inaudible now. She was sitting forward, her eyes gleaming at me. ‘Long bones. Too long for pig, too thin for cow.’ I thought I saw something like sadness in her eyes, as if she was seeing images she was ashamed of. Behind her, out of the window, Marilyn swung to and fro, flitting in front of the video screen that glowed on the opposite building.
‘What sort of animal would have bones like that?’ I said.
She narrowed her eyes and gave me a tight, sarcastic smile. ‘In Blue Sky market you can buy anything. You can buy oshaka.’
Oshaka. I knew the word from somewhere. Oshaka…
Strawberry was about to speak when the crystal lift chimed its arrival and, just as if we’d been demon-conjuring, we turned to see one of the aluminium doors standing open, and hovering in the lobby, in her awkward, hunched way, her head averted slightly so that the glossy hair covered it, the unmistakable figure of the Nurse. She was dressed in a fawn-coloured raincoat and matching leather gloves, and she was clearly waiting for someone to come to her.
Moved by an almost physical force, Strawberry shot to her feet, colouring shockingly under her makeup. ‘ Dame! ’ she hissed. ‘Did you know she was coming?’
‘No.’ I didn’t take my eyes off the Nurse, but leaned across the desk to Strawberry, whispering urgently. ‘What did you mean oshaka? What’s oshaka?’
‘Ssh.’ She gave a shudder and shifted around inside her coat as if ice had been poured down her back. ‘Don’t talk so loudly. Shut up now. It’s not safe.’
Fuyuki had sent the Nurse to choose girls for another party at his apartment. The news got round the club in no time. I sat at the gilded desk, my head pounding, watching the Nurse speaking softly to Mama Strawberry, who stood with her head bowed, her face dark and bitter as she jotted down the names. At one point the Nurse pointed into the club and muttered something. Strawberry’s little gold pen halted, poised in mid-air above the notepad. Her eyes drifted towards me and, for a moment, it seemed she would say something. Then she must have changed her mind, because she bit her lip and wrote another name on the list.
‘You’re chosen,’ Jason said, sliding up to the desk. It wasn’t closing time, but he had undone his bow-tie and there was a cigarette between his fingers. He was looking thoughtfully at the Nurse. ‘Another party. And it couldn’t be better for us.’ When I didn’t respond he murmured, ‘Look at the heels she’s wearing. Do you know what I’m saying?’ His eyes were on her feet and legs, taking in her tight skirt. ‘She’s giving me serious ideas, weirdo. Something you’re really going to love.’
He slipped away from the table and caught up with the Nurse at the crystal lift as she was waiting to leave. He stood close to her, his face near hers. She was unusually still while she listened to him. I stared at her long gloved hands.
‘You think he going to put his hand in Ogawa’s skirt?’ Mama Strawberry said, sidling up to me, her eyes on Jason, her mouth close to my ear. I could smell the tequila on her breath. ‘You make a bet with me, Grey. You bet when he put his hand in Miss Ogawa’s skirt what he gonna find. Eh?’ She clutched drunkenly at my arm for balance. ‘Eh? You ask Strawberry, Jason gonna find a chin chin in her panties. You ask Strawberry – Ogawa look like a man.’
‘Strawberry. What was the meat in the zanpan?’
She tightened her hold on my arm. ‘Don’t forget,’ she hissed. ‘It’s all rumours. You don’t repeat.’
40
Nanking, 20 December 1937
First we delivered the dumplings to Shujin, then the three of us left the alley. We went through the early-morning streets, keeping a vigilant eye on all the barricaded doors. Nanking, I thought, you are a ghost town. Where are your citizens? Cowering in silence, tucked away inside the shuttered houses? Hiding in animal pens and under floors? The snow fell silently on us, settling on our caps and jackets, floating softly down to flake and lie yellow over the old goat dung in the gutters. We didn’t see another soul.
‘Look at this.’ Within ten minutes we had reached a side road that led to Zhongyang Road. The boy held out his hand and indicated a row of blackened houses. They must have been burned recently because smoke still rose from them. ‘This is him. The yanwangye. This is what he does when he’s searching.’
Liu and I exchanged a look. ‘Searching?’
‘For women. That’s his habit.’
We opened our mouths to speak, but he silenced us with a finger to his lips. ‘Not now.’
He crept off then, leading us further down the street, eventually stopping outside a factory’s industrial double doors, its galvanized tin roof higher than two houses. I’ve walked past that building a hundred times and never troubled before to wonder what it was. We gathered around, stamping our feet and slapping our hands together to bring the blood back, casting wary glances up the street.
The boy held his finger to his lips again. ‘This is where he lives,’ he whispered. ‘This is his home.’ He pushed the door open a crack. In the cold building beyond I could make out a few shadowy things, the edge of a piece of machinery, damp concrete walls, a conveyor-belt. A pile of old-fashioned reed baskets was stacked against the facing wall.
‘What is this?’ Liu whispered, and I could tell from his voice that, like me, he did not want to step through the door. The texture of the air coming from the factory reminded me of one of the slaughterhouses on the outskirts of the city. ‘What have you brought us here for?’
‘You wanted to know why the woman was screaming.’
We hesitated, looking at the door.
‘Don’t worry.’ The boy saw our expressions and bent his head towards ours. ‘It’s safe. He’s not here now.’
He pushed the door open a little further. A frightful screeching noise echoed through the cavernous building, then the boy slipped through the crack and was gone. Liu and I looked at each other. My eyes were watering with fear: irrational, I told myself, because there is no such thing as the devil. Nevertheless it took me a long time to work up the courage to push open the door and step inside. Liu followed and we stood for a moment, our eyes getting used to the light.