Hwang Sok-yong - Princess Bari

“How’s Wednesday?” she asked. “If she likes you, she’ll probably want to see you at least three times a week. I myself wouldn’t mind having one of your massages every day if I could.”

“As long as our boss allows me to, I don’t mind.”

“What’s your name?”

I told her, and she told me her own. She also asked whether or not I had any family, which neighbourhood I lived in, and how old I was. I answered all of her questions.

Then she said: “This is the most important question … Do you have a boyfriend?”

Later I thought it strange that Ali was the first person to come to mind when she asked me that; but all I said was: “I don’t even have any female friends, other than my roommate Luna, let alone a boyfriend.”

“Good! Well, except for that brat Luna.”

*

Auntie Sarah and Uncle Tan reached an agreement: I was allowed to leave the salon every Wednesday. Auntie Sarah drove me there herself the first day. As the only places I’d been were Piccadilly Circus near Chinatown and Elephant and Castle, I had no idea where she was taking me. It turned out to be a dazzling white three-storey mansion near Holland Park in Kensington. The garden was so lush with trees that from the outside only a few windows were visible. Next to the front door was a set of stairs that led down to the basement. Auntie Sarah took me downstairs first, past a kitchen, laundry room and maids’ quarters, then back up to the ground floor where we crossed a large reception hall, and up further to the second floor. There, in the second-floor living room, I met Lady Emily for the first time. She was a fifty-something woman with a dreamy look in her eyes, as if she’d just awoken from a nap. I knew nothing about the rich, the bluebloods of this country, but what I did catch on to right away was the fact that, aside from Lady Emily herself, every person in that house existed to serve a master or mistress. (I never did catch so much as a glimpse of the master of the house.) Lady Emily wore a white dress and sat at a table talking on the phone while Auntie Sarah and I stood in the doorway and waited a long time for her to finish. Finally she set the receiver down and stared at us.

“Madam, the masseuse has arrived,” Auntie Sarah said politely.

Lady Emily shuffled through some mail and receipts that were sitting on the table and asked absent-mindedly: “You say she’s Chinese?”

“Yes, madam.”

“Well, you’ve really talked her up. Let’s see how good she is.”

“I’ll prepare the things.”

We went into the bedroom. Next to a chaise longue , Auntie Sarah set out some towels and a basin for the footbath, and prepared the herbal oils. She whispered to me: “This is your job next time.”

Lady Emily entered and lay down at an angle on the chaise . I placed her feet in the warm water and slowly massaged her calf muscles. Then I dried her feet with a towel, warmed some herbal oil between my hands and gently massaged her feet. I began with long strokes from heel to toe, kneading the entire sole of the foot. Then I closed my eyes and opened my mind to her.

A dark, cloud-like something was wrapped around her. I saw her leaving a villa in the middle of a huge forest with her husband. It was not in England. The scene changed, and I saw a small Southeast Asian woman standing next to her husband. Lady Emily’s face was smudged with tears as she argued with him. Everything looked like an out-of-focus photograph; only Lady Emily’s face stood out clearly. What was that dark cloud? Another image began to take shape. Black women and children lay slumped in front of a clay house.

“Girl, what are you doing?”

I opened my eyes. Lady Emily was looking down at me pointedly.

“I was just concerned about your health,” I stammered.

“You’re doing some kind of spell, aren’t you? I could feel it at once.”

I didn’t know how to tell her about my special abilities, but I sensed she might share the same gift. I pretended not to understand her question.

“All I did was close my eyes and try to sense whether you’re ill or not.”

“There’s more to it, isn’t there?” Lady Emily asked, her head cocked to one side. “Let me guess. You’re some kind of shaman?”

I decided to come clean.

“I don’t really know myself. I just know that I can tell things about people from touching their feet.”

“You said you’re Chinese. What religion are you?”

“I don’t follow any religion, madam.”

“Very well. Have you figured out what’s wrong with me?”

I examined her feet as I rubbed them. A red aura appeared over the cushiony flesh at the base of her first two toes. Her ankle also glowed dark red.

“You might have a weak heart, and I think your knees bother you.”

Lady Emily studied my face, intrigued.

“You saw my past too, didn’t you?”

I had no choice but to tell her what I saw.

“There were trees all the way to the horizon, and you were leaving a large stone house with rows of pillars.”

“That’s right! That was Johannesburg! How did you know?”

“A small woman was standing next to the master of the house. I think that’s why you two were arguing.”

Lady Emily clasped her hands in front of her chest in shock. She took several long breaths. Her eyes were turning red. It took her a while to calm her breathing. Then she dropped her hands.

“It’s a good thing you’re not Thai,” she said.

I decided not to mention the dark cloud yet, or the piled-up bodies of black women and children. Lady Emily lay back on the chaise and gestured.

“You may massage me now.”

I began by applying pressure with my thumbs and stroking with the flat of my hands, progressing from the bottoms of her feet to the tops, then to the toes, heels and finally her calves. I massaged every acupressure point I knew. At some point she fell asleep. I ended the session by wrapping her feet in another warm towel, then massaging cream into her legs and feet. As I always did with clients, I crept out of the room to avoid waking her. Auntie Sarah was reading a magazine in the living room. She stood up when she saw me.

“Done?”

“Yes, madam. Lady Emily is asleep.”

“That’s good. I guess it’s my turn now.”

We went down to the maids’ quarters in the basement. Auntie Sarah was in charge of the maids, which put her on nearly equal footing with the butler, an Indian man. She sat down on a sofa with her legs outstretched while one of the maids brought a towel and a basin filled with warm water. In the middle of the massage, a voice came over the intercom saying that Lady Emily was looking for her. Auntie Sarah quickly dried her feet and went upstairs. She came back shortly, her face aglow.

“She was really happy with you,” she said. “She wants you to come back tomorrow.”

Auntie Sarah told me she would drive me back, but added: “Here is the address. Can you find your way back here on your own tomorrow? All you have to do is ring the bell at the door we used earlier.”

On the way to Elephant and Castle, she said: “By the way, Lady Emily says you have an unusual talent?”

I had to repeat the brief conversation I’d had with Lady Emily.

“That’s extraordinary!” She shook her head. “I can’t believe you saw the Johannesburg estate. Her family lived in South Africa for generations.”

When I also told her about the small Southeast Asian woman, and how agitated Lady Emily had become, Auntie Sarah’s voice turned angry.

“You said something stupid after all! That Thai bitch is the reason her husband is living in Brighton and not here. How embarrassing for her.”

She mumbled to herself for a bit, then whipped her head around to look at me; something had just occurred to her.