The Woman who Went to Bed for a Year

58

Ho’s parents, Mr and Mrs Lin, were walking along a dusty narrow pavement beside an eight-lane highway.

They were not speaking. The noise of the traffic was too loud.

Two years ago, there had been no highway. This had been a neighbourhood of one-storey houses, shops and workshops, alleys and mysterious pathways, where people made their living in full view of their neighbours. There had been no privacy. If a neighbour coughed, it was heard by many people, and festivals were celebrated communally.

They turned off and walked past a new tower block and a car dealership where shiny new vehicles were for sale. They came to a forecourt where electric scooters were arranged in lines according to colour. Mr Lin had always wanted a scooter. He ran his hand over the handlebars and seat of one in his favourite colour – aquamarine.

As they walked on, Mrs Lin said, ‘Look at the old bicycles.’

Inside a mesh fence topped with security lights were hundreds of them.

They laughed together, and Mrs Lin said, ‘Who would even think about stealing old bicycles?’

They turned a corner and were on their old street. The rubble had still not been cleared.

They passed the place where they had lived for nineteen years, where Ho had played safely in the traffic-free alleys. Only five of the original houses were still inhabited. One of them belonged to the moneylender, Mr Qu. There were rumours that Mr Qu had contacts within the Beijing Tourist Board, and that he had bribed the bulldozer driver to stop at his house. Mr Qu was afraid of the professional moneylenders who were muscling in on his trade.

Mr Lin called softly at the open door. ‘Are you there, Mr Qu? It is Mr Lin, your old neighbour.’

Mr Qu came to the door and greeted them. ‘Ha!’ he said. ‘How do you like living in the sky, with the birds?’

The Lins were proud people.

‘It is good,’ said Mrs Lin, ‘better than living on the ground, with the dogs.’

Mr Qu laughed politely.

Mr Lin had never liked the moneylender. He believed that the interest Mr Qu extracted from his customers was outrageous. But he had visited many banks and had been refused a loan at each of them. He had protested that he would get a second job, and work through the night, helping to build the new Beijing. But he was so frail, and the flesh around his head was so shrunken that he looked as though, at any moment, he would be called to join his ancestors. No bank employee expected him to live long enough to pay off his debt.

Mr Qu asked, ‘How is Ho in England?’

Mrs Lin said, ‘He is very well. Ahead in his studies and top marks in his exams.’

‘Is this a social or a business call?’ said Mr Qu.

‘Business,’ said Mr Lin.

Mr Qu ushered them into the little house and invited them to sit down. He gestured to Mr Lin to carry on speaking.

Mr Lin said, ‘We have an unexpected expense. Family. A flood in the countryside.’

‘Most unfortunate,’ murmured Mr Qu. ‘Exactly how much are these expenses?’

Mrs Lin said, ‘To replace a floor, mattresses, a cooking stove, clothing for eight people, a television. There is more…’

Mr Lin said, ‘Better make it fifteen thousand US dollars.’

Mr Qu laughed merrily and said, ‘A significant sum! And do you have collateral?’

Mr Lin was prepared. ‘Ho himself. He will be a qualified doctor in six more years. From an English university. He will pay you back.’

Mr Qu nodded. ‘But for now, he is only a first-year medical student… so many drop out, disgrace their parents.’

Mrs Lin said, fiercely, ‘Not Ho. He knows the sacrifices we have made.’

Mr Qu said, ‘To reflect the length of time before I make a return… an interest rate of thirty per cent.’

Mr Lin said, ‘You can have a share in Ho’s salary for ten years. It will be taken from his bank account, and deposited into yours.’ He hoped to appeal to Mr Qu’s gambling instinct.

Mr Qu shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. What is the most valuable thing you have in your life, Mr Lin?’

Mr Lin looked to the side and said, ‘My wife, she is precious to me.’

When they were walking back, Mrs Lin sat down halfway home on what used to be her doorstep.

Her face was flushed, and she said to her husband, ‘The shame, the shame of it.’

Mr Lin pulled the international money order from his pocket and said, ‘It was only a business transaction.’

She said, ‘But he has humiliated us.’

‘How?’

‘He did not ask us to take tea with him.’