Cath Staincliffe: Half the World Away

‘Be strange not seeing her at Christmas,’ I say.

Tom grunts.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Nothing fixed yet,’ he says. ‘Got a couple of offers.’

Of course he has. He’s never short of friends, or invitations. I don’t know if he’s seeing anyone new – Lori used to keep me up to date and the last I heard, in July, he’d broken up with his latest girlfriend. I don’t know if Tom will ever settle down. He has lived with a few women since we were together but never for very long. I don’t know whether that’s something he hankers after or not. We’re just not that close any more.

We Skype Lori on Christmas Day. Isaac is exhausted – he’s been up since four, desperate for his big presents. I sent him back to bed but he didn’t sleep. We’ve had our ritual opening and the boys clutch their gifts to show Lori. Finn has a mini-scooter and Isaac another Lego kit, City Coast Guard Patrol.

‘Hi, guys.’ She waves. She looks relaxed: she has a turquoise vest on and cargos, her hair is shorter – the pink has gone – and she’s sitting on a single bed. I can see the metal bars of the headboard.

The lag between speaking and hearing adds to the chaos of four people trying to talk to one.

Lori makes a fuss of the boys, responding with appropriate excitement to their presents. Isaac wants to list all of his, including the trinkets in his stocking, but Finn keeps butting in. Eventually Isaac loses it, shouts and shoves his brother off his chair.

Nick pulls the boys aside for a talking-to and I get a chance to concentrate.

‘What did you do today?’ I ask her.

‘A meal, then cocktails.’ It is seven o’clock in Hong Kong. ‘We’re going out to a bar in a bit – there’s a party.’

‘It’s going well?’

‘Brilliant. See the room?’ She swoops her laptop up and swerves it round. Green-painted walls, piles of her clothes, her backpack, a lamp and a mirror. Her face again.

‘Is Dawn staying there?’

‘Yeah, next door. She’s sleeping. Heavy night.’ Lori laughs.

Isaac yelling afresh at Finn makes further conversation impossible. I twist round. ‘Isaac, do you want to talk to Lori or do you want to go to bed?’

‘Talk to Lori.’

‘Right. Two minutes.’ I swing him up and plonk him on the chair directly in front of the webcam. ‘And then Finn two minutes,’ I say. Finn nods.

Isaac goes through his list, then Lori tells him about the aeroplane she’s been on, the snakes she’s seen and the flying squirrels.

‘Time’s up,’ I say.

Isaac and Finn swap over and Finn shows her his scooter, then asks Lori when she’ll be home.

‘A few weeks,’ she says.

‘I miss you,’ he says.

‘I miss you, too, but it won’t be long. Have you got any new certificates?’

‘Yes!’ He flies out of the room.

Nick sits down. ‘Missing anything apart from us?’

‘My bed,’ she says. ‘They’re all like concrete here.’

‘We like the blog,’ Nick says.

‘It’s fun.’

‘And the photos,’ he says. ‘Lovely stuff.’

‘Here!’ Finn is holding his latest swimming badge. He waves it at Lori.

‘Awesome,’ she says. ‘You’re a champion, Finn.’

A howl goes up from Isaac who, down on the floor, has managed to clout his head on one of the chair corners. Lori pulls a face, ‘So, I’d better go.’ She smiles, a dimple on each cheek.

I pick up Isaac so his face is against my shoulder and rub the back of his head with my hand. It comforts him but it also muffles the crying.

‘Anyone special on the scene?’ I say, before we get to goodbyes.

Lori grins. ‘Maybe.’

‘Dawn?’ I say.

‘Maybe. It’s-’ Then she’s tongue-tied.

‘Jo,’ Nick chides me, ‘leave her be.’

‘Only asking.’

‘Digging.’

‘I’m going now,’ Lori says. ‘Happy Christmas.’ She waves both arms and Finn copies her. Isaac digs deeper into my neck.

‘Bye-bye, Isaac,’ she calls. He glances back to the laptop, shakes his hand.

‘Happy new year,’ Nick says.

‘Love you,’ I say. ‘Have fun.’

‘Will do. Love you too.’

She waves again, blows kisses and cuts the connection.

‘You going to have a nap?’ I murmur in Isaac’s ear. He shakes his head.

‘OK.’ I swap a glance with Nick. ‘Milkshakes and Kung Fu Panda, then.’

‘Whooo!’ Finn dances, his approximation of martial-art shapes.

‘I want to play Angry Birds,’ Isaac says.

‘You can do that after the movie or you can do it on my phone now.’

‘I don’t want to do it on your phone,’ he whimpers.

‘That’s fine. After the movie.’ I brace myself for more crying or a full-on tantrum but he gives a sigh of resignation.

The day stretches ahead. I work out we have another seven hours until they’ll be in bed. Another three till the turkey will be done.

‘Lori had cocktails,’ I say to Nick, as I line up the DVD player.

‘Cocktails.’ He catches on immediately. ‘Now there’s an idea. Not sure what we’ve got, spirit wise.’

‘Surprise me,’ I say.

Lori in the Ori-ent

China

Posted on 20 January 2014 by Lori

First impressions. It is big. It is incredibly busy. Everyone is Chinese – does that sound daft? It’s just there are very, very few non-Chinese faces in the crowds. I can’t understand anything. At all. It is really, really noisy. Like everything is turned up to eleven.

Everyone stares at me. It’s like living in one of those embarrassing dreams where you’re onstage and have no clothes on, except you’re awake and it’s happening even though you’re dressed. People laugh at me too.

Thailand and Vietnam felt new and totally different from home but China – it’s like another planet, not just another country.

And I am the alien.

The most important thing I have learned is how to say ‘No – don’t want it’. Loud and proud. ‘ Bú yào .’ Because everyone is hustling and you can’t walk along the pavement without getting hassled to buy stuff.

In these first photos you can see the view from my room. There are three ring roads in Chengdu and this is the middle one. The tower blocks around are enormous, over thirty storeys high, and at street level there are shops and bars and street stalls. I love the old architecture, the teahouses along the river, the beautiful pagodas and bridges. There are lots of parks but there’s also loads of building work everywhere (more tower blocks). The pictures of the park make it look old and peaceful. Maybe I’ll add a soundtrack sometime so you can hear how loud it all is. It’s a bit overwhelming but my travel mate Dawn says to go with the flow. So that’s what I’m doing. Lxxx

The new year doesn’t bring all those things we hope for – health, wealth and happiness. Things start to unravel at the end of January. Nick is standing in the kitchen, his face several shades paler than usual, his eyes darker, inky, angry.

‘They say there’s no need to panic,’ he says, ‘but everyone’s tarting up their CVs and rediscovering LinkedIn. Fuck, Jo.’ He refills his whisky glass.

‘They’ll keep some people on,’ I say, ‘surely, even if the merger goes ahead. The project will still need finishing.’

‘I don’t know. Andy’s not giving anyone straight answers.’ Andy is his boss, the project manager. ‘He probably doesn’t know himself,’ he adds, still anxious to be fair, even though he might be getting shafted. ‘It’s an awful time to be looking for jobs.’

‘It might not come to that. We’ll manage,’ I say.

‘How? On what you earn? On bloody benefits?’