The Last Sunrise (2006) by Robert Ryan

Author:Robert Ryan [Ryan, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781480477636
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2014-02-25T21:09:00+00:00

Eighteen

BOND STREET’S REAL NAME was Shuncheng Jie, and it was a dusty strip of shophouses with pull-down fronts, onto which the articles for sale were spread. Sometimes it was trussed chickens, at other times it was ancient bicycle inner-tubes, mostly perished, followed by bunches of dried herbs, fly-infested animal parts, or racks of bizarre-shaped fungi. The proprietors of most stalls had yet to learn the art of the hard-sell; they simply stared at the two women who examined their goods, indifferent to whether they purchased or not.

The air was gritty with the ash from cooking fires, and the smell of effluent arose from the trickles of water that criss-crossed the street like a pungent capillary bed. Laura stepped carefully between them. Elsa seemed to have a built-in radar: despite strolling back and forth, mooching at each shop, her white tennis shoes remained unsullied. Laura’s footwear, however, was soggy after five minutes.

Chickens pecked in the dust before them, and raggedy children stood and stared with baleful eyes and chanted: ‘Tang?’

Laura looked quizzically at Elsa. ‘Candy,’ she explained. ‘But don’t give it, at least not till you are ready to hightail it home. You’ll get mobbed.’

Elsa dropped other nuggets of advice every few yards as they picked their way down the street. ‘Watch the water melon,’ she said. ‘It’s sold by catty, by weight. So some farmers inject them with water from the paddy fields. Suck on that and you’ll get to know your local latrine real well.’

She indicated a bubbling pot of broth: ‘And I’d go easy on the soups and stews till you know your way around. First time a whole frog floats to the surface is a test of nerve. But you know, with the canals and the lake, turtles and frogs and fish heads end up in lots of things. So if an unknown soup is offered, just say sui bien. It’s a polite decline.’

Laura found what she was looking for on a particularly sparse counter, which mostly consisted of rusted machine parts. She snatched it up, removed the lid and rotated the base, watching with glee as almost an inch of bright red slid out. ‘Elsa! Look.’

From across the street, Elsa tutted at her, narrowing her eyes. ‘Price just went up, darlin’. Put it down. You look too keen. Come here.’ She clicked her fingers and Laura placed the lipstick back among the gaskets and wandered across to where Elsa was taking an inordinate interest in a couple of sad strips of pork belly.

‘Sorry. It’s Rimmel lipstick. Pretty much unused, by the look of it.’

After watching the public letter-writers at work and examining the display at a lantern shop, a well-stocked and colourful emporium for once, Elsa finally said: ‘OK, let’s take a look at this Rimmel.’

They crossed over to the pile of metal and, after handling several spark plugs as if she really did have a use for them, Elsa picked up the lipstick.

‘How did a Rimmel lipstick get out here?’ asked Laura.

‘Salvage, maybe from cargo dumped over the mountains, or loot from an abandoned missionary station.

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