Half the World Away - страница 49

The bus pulls in and I can see down a broad road below, lined with skyscrapers, gleaming in the light, choked by traffic. The horizon melts into the haze.

Two young women board. Both wear make-up, orange lipstick and black eyeliner, and gauzy dresses with pleated skirts, one in peach, the other in lemon. On their feet are the most elaborate shoes, tall wedges, jewelled and appliquéd. One pair has buckles around the ankle, the other a zip at the heel. Not the sort of thing you could run in.

Chengdu very safe city.

I look at my own simple leather sandals, blue T-bars, and notice that Dawn wears flip-flops, with diamanté along the straps. I think of Lori’s Docs, her trainers under the bed. She took her sandals so she couldn’t have gone trekking or anywhere cold.

‘This is us,’ Dawn says, just before the recorded announcement, and we pass the two girls standing in the aisle.

Our travel discs go into a slot on the barrier at the bottom of the escalator and then we descend the steps to the street. A few people are waiting on scooters, perhaps collecting friends from the bus.

On the corner, a stall like a tall wheelbarrow has a tray of water full of peeled pineapples on sticks. The man there is diligently coring each one, leaving diamond-shaped holes in the fruit.

Don’t drink the water.

It’s a ten-minute walk from the bus to the bar. Dawn takes us into the foyer of one of the towers and in the lift up to the twenty-second floor.

‘We call it the Ducks,’ Dawn says. ‘You know – like with bingo calling? Twenty-two – two little ducks. The woman who owns it, she’s from London. She married a Chinese fella.’

When we exit the lift, the view from the walkway is astounding. All the towers here are bronze-coloured; they dazzle and shimmer. It’s close to sunset and the cloud has thinned so a wash of pink brushes the scene. I grip the edge of the wall; it’s chest height for safety, but still I dare not look down.

We hear the bar before we see it, music cranked up loud, a gravelly voice. It takes me a moment to recognize it as Paolo Nutini’s.

There are four tables out front with a striped canopy over. A group sits at one of them, four young men. Dawn waves hello to them but doesn’t stop to talk and we go inside. The room is lit with rope lights and red Chinese lanterns, and furnished with bamboo chairs, stools and tables. The walls are plastered with posters for concerts and festivals. At the far end, there’s a table-football game. The place is empty, apart from the young woman behind the bar. She’s tapping at her phone but stops when she sees us.

‘Nǐ hǎo,’ Dawn says. ‘These are Lori’s parents. This is Alice.’

Alice nods quickly, then looks down. ‘I’m very sorry,’ she says.

‘Thanks,’ I say. There’s a pause that lasts too long.

‘Would you like drinks?’ Alice says.

We buy beers, fetching them from the fridges along the wall. Tom explains that we’re meeting Lori’s friends and want to talk to them. Could Alice turn the music down when everyone arrives?

‘Of course, no problem,’ she says.

We sit outside, at the biggest table. The beer is cold, the bottles sweat. Paolo Nutini gives way to Lana Del Ray. While Tom explains to Dawn how we want to organize the meeting, I catch snippets of conversation from the foursome nearby. Talk of travellers’ tales, visa nightmares, accounts of adventures in Vietnam and Korea. A mix of accents, Home Counties, Geordie, Spanish, Australian. Some are loud, others mostly listen. I catch the smell of weed. They could be kids in any bar, anywhere on the planet, meeting up for drinks and company. Young, apparently confident, hopeful. Like Lori, thrusting themselves into unfamiliar situations, away from all the support they’ve relied on till now.

A Chinese couple arrive and Dawn fusses about. I can see she’s awkward, anxious, as she introduces us to Oliver and Rosemary. Rosemary has waist-length black hair and wears a strapless blue maxi dress. She has butterflies tattooed on her shoulders.

‘Rosemary?’ I query her name.

‘We all choose English names,’ she explains, with a warm smile. ‘It is easier for everyone. How are you?’ Her smile drops and Rosemary looks concerned, a little fearful even, small frown lines puckering her forehead.