The Trophy Taker. Lee Weeks

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       11

      In the skies over Hong Kong, on a packed plane from Heathrow, Georgina Johnson prepared to touch down. She was tired. It had been a long journey and she hadn’t slept at all on the plane. She looked around. People were returning to their seats to get ready for landing. One woman, sitting across the aisle to Georgina, had been doing her make-up for the last hour. All but two of the passengers were Chinese. Georgina had never seen so many Chinese people before. Sometimes, as a child, out shopping with her mother in their hometown of Newton Abbot, a medium-sized market town in Devon, she had seen small family groups of Chinese. There were never more than two noisy children at a time, happily chasing their parents’ heels or pulling on their arms. The family only had eyes for one another – protected in their Chinese capsule. As if the rest of the world were a dream that they could choose to step in or out of, but in which everyone else was trapped. Every morning Georgina’s mother, Feng Ying, walked the three miles from their home on the outskirts, into the town centre to the produce market next to the multi-storey car park. There she haggled and badgered the stallholders for the best vegetables, the cheapest meat. Then, content with her dealings, she allowed herself a social call – a brief visit to the Golden Dragon, the town’s only Chinese restaurant. It was situated above the multi-storey and looked down over the market. The Golden Dragon was owned by the Ho family, a family of Hong Kongese who had come over with just enough money to open a take-away, which, within a few years, expanded to a restaurant. For Feng Ying, the Golden Dragon provided an oasis in the pasty-white town of expanding new-builds where she had lived since the day her husband Adam Johnson had brought her to Britain. Where she’d lived alone, since the day her husband had not come home. He had left for no apparent reason. From that day she’d set about making do without him. She lived on the small savings that her husband had put into an account for her and she crocheted decorative pieces of linen, bedspreads and tablecloths for the upmarket handicraft shop in town. At times, when they needed her, when they had a large function which required her artistic eye at decorating and table setting, she helped in the Golden Dragon. But Feng Ying’s main job was to bring her infant daughter up as best she could. She was a foreigner in a country she barely knew but she found strength through her child. Every day she bundled her pink, washed and pampered baby into the pram and manoeuvred it into the outside world. She faced all life’s obstacles for this child and forged a bond between mother and daughter that was dependence and love entwined. Now Feng Ying was dead and Georgina must make it alone – something she had never imagined in her twenty-two years that she would have to do.

      After clearing passport control Georgina collected her case and made her way through the new airport, a massive high-ceilinged hangar on Lantau Island. Pulling her heavy case behind her, she looked anxiously along the line of names written on cardboard held up by eager-looking drivers. Most were written in Chinese. It took her a few minutes before she saw hers. Georgina written in red felt pen on brown card and held up by a leathery-faced old man. He greeted her in Chinglish, smiling and nodding profusely as he picked up her case. Georgina tried to СКАЧАТЬ