Half the World Away

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Tom suggests we try Lori’s neighbour, Mrs Tang, again. I almost wimp out, still smarting from Mr Du’s reluctance to talk and the fact the guards escorted us off the premises, but remind myself that this is for Lori, that we have to try everything we can.

As we drive along the length of the block beside her apartment, I can see that the shops all specialize in particular goods. One sells plumbing items, taps and pipes, another soft furnishings, one timber, one Chinese medicine, pet supplies, and window blinds. In front of some shops the proprietor and family are perched on stools, eating noodles and other snacks.

A teenage boy answers the door. Anthony explains who we are and asks if Mrs Tang is at home.

The boy replies and Anthony tells us, ‘This is her son, Martin.’

Martin nods to us, smiling. ‘Nǐ hǎo.’

‘Mrs Tang is at work in Nanchong,’ Anthony says.

They talk some more, and Anthony says, ‘She travels there every Sunday afternoon. She works Monday to Thursday, then comes home late Thursday night.’

‘Lori did some conversation classes with Martin,’ I say to Anthony, ‘so he’ll know her. Can you explain why we’re here? And ask him about the photo project.’

The boy looks concerned, then dismayed as Anthony talks. Martin talks quickly back to him.

‘She was a very good teacher, a good neighbour,’ Anthony says. ‘He wishes you well. His mother will want to see you on Friday. His mother was interested in the project but she was shy.’

‘Lori hasn’t photographed her yet?’ I say.

Martin says not.

I pass a leaflet over.

‘Thank you,’ he says in English, ‘thank you very much. Bye-bye.’

We bring the table, the umbrella and the leaflets we left at Lori’s flat down in the lift and set up our stall. I’m not sure whether it is the after-effect of Mr Du’s reaction but today the passers-by seem more wary, less keen to stop and look, avoiding eye contact and altering their route a little so they don’t pass so close to us.

A group of monks, tall and bulky-framed, with shaved heads, all dressed in ochre robes, pause and talk to Anthony. They look at the leaflet, but none of them recognizes Lori.

I call Bradley to let him know we have the press conference on Thursday and won’t be leafleting. Rosemary was on the rota for Thursday, too, but she’s helping tomorrow so I can tell her then.

Then, as we’re packing up, a young woman stops. ‘Hello? Nǐ hǎo.’ She is lovely-looking, a heart-shaped face, dark eyes and hair, flawless skin. She points to Lori’s photograph. ‘I know her, on bus.’ She waves towards the ring road.

My pulse jumps. I call to Tom, who’s carrying the umbrella away and he comes back.

‘When did you last see her?’ I say. ‘The last time?’

‘Last time?’ she says.

I glance at Anthony and he translates.

She thinks, looking down. ‘Three week, or four week? Sorry. Bad remember.’

The hope fades away.

‘Did you talk? Talk to her?’ I say, still wanting to gain something useful.

‘Little. “Hello, and, how are you?” ’

She offers the leaflet back.

‘Please, keep it,’ I say. ‘If you remember anything,’ I point to the phone numbers, ‘you can phone.’

She nods, tucks the leaflet into her bag and says goodbye.

I imagine them together, Lori and this young woman, recognizing each other, trying to talk in fractured sentences with lots of sign language. Lori on her way to Mr Du’s or the bar, thinking up ideas for her next blog.

Where are you? A weariness settles on me. This is so hard.

We are on the bus, almost at our stop, when my phone rings. Peter Dunne.

‘Mrs Maddox, I have just taken a call from Superintendent Yin.’

Oh, God. My heart kicks. ‘Lori?’

‘No, I’m afraid not. He was ringing after receiving an official complaint from Mr Du.’ His tone is steely. ‘Your actions earlier today were ill-conceived and potentially counterproductive.’

My cheeks burn. Tom watches me.

‘We simply wanted to find out if Mr Du had any information about Lori’s project.’

‘Those enquiries will be made by the PSB. I appreciate how difficult the situation must be for you both but this sort of interference is unacceptable. There are protocols in place. I thought I had been clear in that regard when we first met.’

‘And we made it clear we wanted to be kept informed,’ I say, ‘but we’re not being, are we?’

Tom gestures to me that he wants the phone. I shake my head. ‘Have the police tried to talk to Mr Du again?’ I can do steely, too, and people are staring, turning to look. Let them.

‘Superintendent Yin is the officer in charge of the investigation into Lori’s disappearance. He has the authority to run the investigation however he sees fit. You must accept that. Undermining his jurisdiction by contacting and harassing potential witnesses is less than helpful. The same would hold true if we were in the UK. I have promised Superintendent Yin that I will make sure you understand this and that there will not be any further interference.’

Rage sets my jaw tight, boils in my belly. ‘We are trying to find our daughter,’ I say.

‘We all want the same outcome, Mrs Maddox, but trespassing on the purview of the PSB will only alienate the authorities and risk jeopardizing your cause. I trust I can have your reassurance that there will be no repeat of such conduct. Believe me, Mrs Maddox, you do not want to be regarded as an obstacle to the work of the PSB. Our best hope rests with them.’

‘I understand,’ I say. ‘Goodbye.’ I ring off. ‘Arrogant prick.’

My eyes sting.

We get off the bus and I repeat all I can remember to Tom who effs and blinds and throws his arms about in response.

‘Why did Mr Du have to complain?’ I say. ‘Surely he must understand how desperate we are.’ I take a breath. ‘Perhaps it’ll be easier once we’ve had the press conference. It almost feels like it’s being hushed up, you know, her going missing.’