Ralph logged onto the hotel computer. There was a message from his half-brother about the weather. Storms in En-gland. Ralph’s garage door had come off and Barry was worried about the house, especially the roof. Should he get builders round to look at the roof just in case? Did Ralph know when he would be back?
When I’m ready, Barry, and not before. When I have found her.
If he couldn’t have a Japanese one, he’d simply have to try another country. He couldn’t go home unmarried or without, at the very least, a fiancee.
He scrolled through his inbox to find the message sent a couple of weeks before by a Chinese woman named Li Hua. He’d spotted her on the Internet and they wrote to each other a few times before Ralph thought of coming to Japan. She seemed friendly and pleasant so he had asked her for a photograph. It arrived about three weeks later and Ralph was afraid to open it. He did, after a couple of cans of beer, and his fears were confirmed. She had said she was thirty-two (which was already older than he wanted) but she looked about forty-five. Her face was round and ordinary, slightly mannish. He put the photo back into the envelope and didn’t look at it again. He tried to imagine her into something better, something prettier. Some-thing, he saw with hindsight, a bit like the elevator girl. And then he almost convinced himself that she would do.
But a week or so later he saw a man in the pub with a beautiful Asian woman at his side. The man introduced her to his friends as Yoko. Ralph, listening in from his stool at the bar, realized he hadn’t once thought of Japan. He found the agency in Tokyo and forgot about Li Hua. Now he needed her. He couldn’t afford to be away from home much longer and he didn’t have time to start again from scratch. With Li Hua, half the work was already done.
Dear Miss Li Hua
It was lovely to hear from you again! I would be extremely delighted to meet you very soon. I will arrive in Shanghai on Wednesday by ferry because the planes are all booked up. I can assure you I am serious and I won’t waste your time. I am definitely thinking of love and marriage, not just something superficial, although I am very happy to go entirely at your pace. I hope you are looking forward to meeting me too.
Yours sincerely
Ralph Turnpike (BA)
In his room he read again a bit of the Chinese section of Eastern Blossoms.
For the traditional Chinese woman, loyalty and devotion are central to her life. The most important thing for her is the family. Nowadays, many Chinese women work, but don’t let this worry you! It is the same almost everywhere and anyway they will not try to outshine their husbands because they are loyal and respectful. She will support you and not question your decisions. You may show your respect for her in the home by allowing her to take charge of trivial matters such as keeping the cupboards stocked and ordering the milk. There is no need to over-assert yourself and we do not condone domestic violence. The Asian ladies like men who are firm while being polite and gentle.
She sounded lovely, whoever she was. Ralph took his pills, washing them down with beer from the minibar. He shouldn’t, but once in a while it was good. It helped him imagine things, helped him relax so he could pretend things about his life. He shut his eyes and remembered the most beautiful and most destructive woman in his life.
Apple. Sitting in the bath, shiny white foam up to her neck and in meringue blobs on her sticking-out legs. He watches from the door-way. He has come in from the shop so his clothes smell of cardboard and money. He goes to the bedroom, changes into lighter, looser clothes. Then she is beside him on the silky carpet, slipping a blue dress over her head, brushing her hair. It rises with static then falls, spreading over her shoulders like black oil. By the front door she pulls on sandals, with the buckles already fastened. Her ankles wobble as she balances to pull the straps over her heels. He asks where she is going. She doesn’t answer, closes the door softly as she leaves. He doesn’t know how to stop her, what he will do next. He is shaking and his legs fill with a strange warmth, as if he is wetting himself. In the bathroom again, he is watching her in the bubbles.
And the scene repeated and repeated. He imagined the hotel bed was a magic carpet and he soared away from Japan, over all the countries in Asia—where he saw the most beautiful women in the world, ready to be plucked—and toward his very own house and garden in England. His castle and his kingdom.