He thought he would wait until he got home to open the letter. Or perhaps he would hand it to his wife and see the pleasure on her face. They both missed their child. It had been a difficult decision to send Ho to England, but they did not want him to be a factory worker like themselves. They wanted Ho to be a plastic surgeon and make a great deal of money. Young Chinese women across the world were growing ashamed of their oval eyes and small breasts.
Mr Lin stopped at a stall to buy a live chicken. He selected one that would provide meat for several days, paid for it and then carried it upside down to the vegetable and fruit market, where he bought a gift pack of holy apples as a present for his wife. The apples cost five times as much as ordinary apples, but Mr Lin liked his wife very much indeed. She hardly ever quarrelled with him, her hair was still black and her face had few lines. The only time she was sad was when she spoke about the daughter they could never have.
He reached the playground, which lay at the foot of the tower block where he and his wife lived on the twenty-seventh floor. He looked up and located their window He hoped the lift was still working.
When he arrived home, panting and breathless, his wife rose from her chair and came to greet him.
He said, ‘See who is writing to us,’ and handed her Ho’s letter.
She smiled with delight and touched the colourful red, green and gold nativity stamp as though it were a precious artefact. ‘It is the birth of their Jesus,’ she said.
The chicken squawked and struggled to be free. Mr Ho took it into the tiny kitchen and threw it into the sink. Then he and his wife sat down together, facing each other at the small table. Mrs Ho lay the letter down between them.
Mr Ho took the holy apples out of the plastic bag and placed them next to Ho’s letter.
His wife smiled with delight.
He said, ‘They are for you.’
She cried, ‘But I have not bought you anything!’
‘No need, you gave me Ho. You open the letter.’
She opened it slowly and carefully, and scanned the first few lines. Then she paused and her face became stone. She pushed it across the table and said, ‘You must be strong, husband.’
Mr Lin gave several cries as he read through the document. When he came to the end, he said, ‘I have never liked the Poppy flower. It is vulgar and it spreads its seeds too easily.’
The chicken squawked.
Mr Lin got up, took a sharp knife and a wooden block, and quickly severed the chicken’s neck. He threw it back into the sink and watched the bright blood gush down the plughole.
37
On New Year’s Eve a stranger, a woman, called at the door and asked to speak to Eva.
Titania, whose turn it was to answer the door, asked, ‘Who may I say is calling?’
The woman said, ‘I live at the end of Redwood Road. I’d rather not give my name.
Titania invited the woman to wait in the hall while she went upstairs.
When Eva saw her, she said, ‘You’re wearing the awful apron Brian bought me for Christmas. What else have you commandeered?’
Titania laughed and said, ‘Only your husband.’
Eva observed, ‘That drab olive green suits you, though. You should wear more of it.’ Then she said, ‘Fetch her up.’
When Titania had gone downstairs, Eva combed her hair with her fingers and straightened the pillows.
The woman was in youthful middle age and had made the decision to let her hair grow au naturel. It was grey and wiry. She was wearing a grey tracksuit and grey Hi-Tec trainers. She looked like a pencil scribble on a white page.
Eva invited her to sit on the soup chair.
The woman announced, in well-spoken tones, ‘My name is Bella Harper. I walk past your window at least four times a day.’
Eva said, ‘Yes, I’ve seen you taking your kids to school.’
Bella pulled a handful of tissues out of her tracksuit pocket.
Eva braced herself for what was to come. She had developed a revulsion for tears. People cried too easily these days.
Bella said, ‘I need some advice about the best and kindest way to leave my husband. This Christmas has been torture. We’ve all been tormented by him. I feel as though my exposed nerves have been agitated by a cold wind. I’m not sure that I can cope with any more.’
Eva asked, ‘Why have you come to me?’
‘You’re always here. Sometimes I walk around the area in the small hours, and I often see you at the window, smoking.’
‘I’m a fool,’ said Eva. ‘You don’t want to take advice from me.’
‘I’ve got to share my story with somebody who I don’t know and doesn’t know me.’
Eva stifled a yawn and tried to look interested. In her experience, nothing good came from giving advice.
Bella twisted a tissue around her fingers.
Eva prompted, ‘OK, once upon a time… would that help?’
Bella said, ‘Yes, once upon a time there was a boy and a girl who lived in the same village. When they were both fifteen, they became engaged. Both of their families were very happy. One day, the boy lost his temper because the girl could not keep up with him when he went running. He shouted at the girl and frightened her. Then, just before the wedding, the boy and girl were in his car. She pulled the cigarette lighter from the dashboard, and accidentally dropped it on the carpet. The boy punched her on the right side of her face. Then he pulled her round to face him and punched her on the left. She lost two teeth and went to an emergency dentist. It took six weeks for the bruises to fade. But the wedding went ahead. It wasn’t long before the boy was hitting the girl whenever he lost his temper. Afterwards, he would beg me to forgive him. I should have left him before the children were born.’
Eva asked, ‘How many children?’
‘Two boys,’ replied Bella. ‘I became so frightened of him that I couldn’t relax when he was in the house. When he came home from work, the boys would go to their rooms and close the door.’ Bella was wringing her hands. ‘That’s the end of the story.’
Eva said, ‘You want to know what to do? How many strong men do you know?’
Bella said, ‘Oh no, I don’t condone violence.’
Eva repeated, ‘How many strong men do you know?’
Bella counted in her head. ‘Seven.’
‘You must phone these men, and ask them to come to your rescue. You’ll know when it’s time.’
Bella nodded.
What’s your husband’s name?’
‘Kenneth Harper.’
‘And for how much longer are you going to live with Kenneth Harper?’
Bella lowered her eyes and said, ‘I want to start the New Year without him.’ She looked at her watch and said, in a panic, ‘No! He’s in the pub, but he’s coming home for dinner at nine. It’s eight now and I haven’t peeled a potato! I’ll have to go. He won’t like it if his dinner’s late.’
Eva shouted over Bella’s panic, ‘Where are your children?’
‘At my mother’s,’ said Bella, who had jumped up and was pacing from the bed to the door.
‘Gather some men together, phone them now. Tell them to meet here.’
‘I don’t approve of vigilantism,’ said Bella.
‘It isn’t vigilantism, it’s your family and friends protecting you and your children. Imagine living in the house without him. Go on, close your eyes and imagine.’
Bella closed her eyes for so long that Eva thought she might be asleep.
Then Bella took out her phone and started to speed-dial.
When Brian came back from the off-licence with six bottles of cava, a slab of Carling Black Label, a box of rosé and two giant bags of mixed crisps for seeing in the New Year, he was astonished to find a group of men sitting on the stairs and leaning against the walls in the hallway.