Ishii's story, Final Part

Ishii saw a woman standing beside Father. She took his arm and looked up. Ishii shrank back against the table, curled his arms over his head.

            `No, no, no!' he whispered fiercely. A blonde geijin with Father, kissing his cheek!

He squeezed his eyes shut and counted to ten, straight, pure arctic 1, blending with the perfection of verdant 0. When he opened his eyes again and peered down, she was still there.       

       What can I do? Who’ll help me?

He didn’t know anyone in London except Mrs Norris and Mr Takahashi. Mrs Norris didn’t like him, never spoke to him, unless she had an instruction from Father. Her words are like flour in the wind, he’d heard Father say. But Mr Takahashi was kind and wise. He’d explain everything and make it clear, just as he explained English grammar and fractions.

Ishii crawled out from under the table and stood up. He dodged past several people with trays of food. No one seemed to notice him. A suitcase knocked against his back, a trailing wheeler crushed his foot. He tripped over a walking stick.

         As he lay on the floor, he tried to remember where he was going. He raised his head and glanced at his scraped knees, blood still oozed thickly. He looked away,  conscious of movement just on the edge of his vision.
            A boy about his own age, also in shorts, an unpleasant, algal green, like the number eight, landed by his shoulder, both feet stomping together. The boy looked down and stuck out his tongue, more thoughtful than rude.
            `What are you doing?'
            `Running away from Fatty,' Ishii replied, pushing himself upright. He noted that he was about 5 cms taller. `Do you know where I can find a phone?'
            `I'll come with you,' the boy said. `I'm running away too.' He held out a hand with fantastically dirty nails and green fingertips. `That’s blood, from fighting the monster!’
         Ishii smiled. Were English boys all so brave? Just like Fred in The Beano.

         `Run!' he cried and they swooped and stumbled together across the floor, holding each other up as they skirted wheelers and indifferent adults.

            `Lift,' the little boy shouted and pointed to an alcove by the stairs. They stopped and giggled together, still holding hands. Ishii wished he still had The Beano to show his new friend.

            `Who are you running away from?'

            `Mum and Him.'

            `Who's Him?' Ishii asked, watching the boy frown. `The monster?’

            `Horrible. Worse than anything you can think of.'

            `Worse than Fatty? Does he smell too?'

           `Oh, yeah! Disgusting. Always drinking whisky and stuffing his face with mints, thinks then Mum won't notice.'

            `Christopher! Where the hell have you been? We've been searching all over. Just what do you think you're playing at, running off like that! Come back and finish your chips!'

            Christopher's hand tightened round Ishii's. Ishii looked up into the woman's sweaty face with its long, sharp nose. She jerked her head back, like a rooster, ready to peck at them.

            `I'm not coming back,' Christopher declared. `And you can’t make me! Ishii grinned in admiration. A stinging slap sent him reeling backwards, releasing Christopher's hand.

            `Leave my son alone, you little, slant-eyed bastard!' 

  Christopher's face crumpled, as if he, too, has been hit, but he said nothing more. `Come along! Daddy's waiting. He's going spare!' She clamped her hand over her son's neck and propelled him forwards; he struggled to turn towards Ishii.

`Not my dad,’ he muttered.

`You behave or else!'

Ishii watched white fingermarks appear on Christopher's thin leg as he moved away, hunching his shoulders. He didn't look back.

         Ishii covered his cheek with both hands to hide his shame. No one had ever slapped him in the face before. He pushed the button for the lift, which opened immediately. A man stepped in beside him and stabbed the button for the first floor.  When the doors opened again, Ishii could see three telephone booths in a cluster, like giant toadstools. He fingered the change in his pocket and approached the nearest booth.

          Unsure of the procedure, he stood on tiptoe and reread the instructions several times, mouthing the words to himself. He compared his coins with the ones in the picture. He stretched up to reach the receiver and realized he didn’t know Mr Takahashi's number. Panic rolled in, flattening his breath. He wanted to run again, but he had nowhere to go.

            An elderly man stepped away from the adjacent booth.

            `Do you need some help there, Sonny?'

            `Please, Sir, what should I do if I don't know the number?'

            `What's the name of the person you want to speak to?'

    Ishii told the man that his tutor was called Mr Takahashi and lived on Cranmore Road in Finchley. The man pressed a couple of his own coins into the slot, dialled a number, spoke into the receiver, then wrote in his notebook with a gold pen.  He tore out the sheet of paper and handed it to Ishii. 

            `Here you are, this is Mr Takahashi's number. Anything more I can do for you?'

            Ishii hesitated. The man had kind blue eyes that softened whenever he looked at him. They made Ishii feel as safe as the swimming pool, when he wore his water wings. Or was he pretending, like Okasan warned? Pretending to be a friend? He was a geijin. Even if he did tell him everything, he'd never believe it. He'd take him straight to Fatty, because Fatty was a geijin too.

            `No, no thank you, Sir, I'll be all right now.'

            `You're not on your own, are you?'

            `No, Sir, my father's upstairs, waiting for me.' Ishii didn’t dare to look at the man, in case he drowned in those kind blue eyes.

            `Goodbye, then. Have a good trip.'

            Ishii sniffed and wiped his face on his sleeve. He pushed his coins into the phone, but his fingers slipped on the buttons.

            `Takahashi here.'

            `Takahashi-san.'

     A fresh flow of tears caught in his throat.

            `Where are you, Child? Where is your father?'

            `Help me, please, Sir, Fatty will find me.'

             `What’s this nonsense, Child, where are you?'

            `At the airport, Sir. Please, I'm scared.' His ears burned.

            `Where is your father?'

     He thinks I'm stupid.

            `Father is with them too. Please help me.'

            `Child, you must stop these wild fantasies. There's no reason to be afraid. Your father is only doing what's best. It's for your sake he's decided to move to New York. He wants you both to start a new life together, just the two of you. Go back and find him right now, he'll be worried about you. Hurry, Child, or you'll miss your flight.'    

Ishii took a deep, wobbly breath.

 `No, Sir, you don't understand. Fatty is bad. He's going to take me away.' Ishii was speaking faster and faster, afraid his money would run out. Mr Takahashi's tone was firm. The same tone he used, when Ishii made a mistake with his sums.

          `Stop this foolishness at once, Ishii, and do as I say. Your dear mother would have been ashamed.'
          Ishii clutched the receiver tighter and raised his voice.
          `But Okasan wants to come to New York too! I won't go without her. Please, I want to be with Okasan now!'
            `Child,' and now at last Mr Takahashi's voice was gentle. `Your mother can't come with you to New York- or anywhere. She's no longer with us.'
            `I don't understand. Why did she go away and leave me?'
            `She didn't want to go, Ishii. She loved you very much. She's in a good place now, a better place. When you're older, you'll understand. Just remember to be worthy of her, the trust she placed in you. Be brave for her sake. Now off you go, back to your father. And, please, send me a postcard from New York. Let me know you’ve arrived safely.'
            `Yes, Sir, I promise.'
            I will be brave. `A big, strong prince,' she said.  `When you're grown up and I'm not with you any more.' She will be proud of me. He closed his eyes and felt her beside him, her perfume kissed his neck.
            `Found you at last, you little blighter!’ Fatty leant over and took the receiver. `Your father's not a happy man. Don't want to upset his plans now, do we? Who were you talking to?’
            `A man,’ Ishii replied. `At, at…’ He stared at the telephone instructions. `Directory Enquiries. I asked if he knew my mother’s phone number. I’m looking for her. And my father, where is he? We're going to miss the plane.'
            `Had to postpone his flight, so… you’ll leave tomorrow. Gone to an important meeting- I’m to take you for the night. Bring you back first thing. He sent you a message: Okasan always trusted you to be a good boy and do like  you’re told.’