Opening scene from my new thriller, Act of Faith

Ishii sat quietly beside Father in the taxi, picking the scab on his knee. Feeling Father's eyes upon him, he quickly flattened his hand. Then he slipped it down his leg to tug at the top of his socks.

          Father turned his head to stare out of the window. Ishii studied the familiar profile, willing him to speak. We've both got the same pointy ears, he thought, except Father's don't stick out like mine. And his hair has bits of white in it, like a drawing coloured in too quickly.

          Ishii returned to his scab, while Father reached inside his jacket for a cigarette. Ishii heard the click of the lighter and a little angry hiss. He liked to watch the dragon smoke spiralling from Father's nostrils, but waited till the new lighter had been put away. The day before, when he’d thought Father was asleep, he’d held it warm and smooth in his hand, catching his own golden reflection.

          But Father hadn’t been asleep. He’d told Ishii it was dangerous to play with fire. Made him to stand quite still and look directly ahead. Watching Father's long fingers tighten over the lighter, Ishii wanted to squeeze his eyes tight shut, feel the comfort of the wall against his back.

         His hair crackled and fizzed, the edge of his ear stung like the wasp that had crawled up his sleeve last summer. The burning smell made him cough.

`Understand?' Father had said.

`Oy! You can’t smoke in here!’ The taxi driver rapped angrily on the glass. Father took a final drag and opened the window.

          `We're nearly at the airport. Say goodbye to England now.' Father didn’t look at him. He was staring at the back of the taxi driver’s head.

          The waxen skin covering Father's jaw moved silently in and out, like the belly of a lizard breathing. Ishii pressed his nose against the cold glass. The sky was grey, the trees were scarecrows, all the houses looked the same. He thought of the pictures of Kyoto that Okasan- Mother- had showed him, the cherry blossoms of her home town, and then New York and the Empire State building, even bigger than King Kong.

          Why did Father say she wasn't coming back, ever ever? Ishii wondered.

`One day, Little Bird,' she’d whispered, creeping into his bedroom early in the morning on his last, his seventh birthday. `As soon as I’m stronger, when the time is right, we’ll fly away. In America we'll be free. This is our secret, Little Bird, just yours and mine. But never tell anyone else or something bad might happen.'

Did something bad happen, is that why she went away? Because of their secret? Or the blue piece of paper?

            He felt again her long hair sweeping over him as she bent to kiss him goodnight. Her perfume lingered in the room and stopped the shadows moving. When she went, Father told Mrs Norris to clear out the cupboards. Ishii asked if he could keep Okasan's scarf with the horseshoes on it, but Mrs Norris said Father wouldn't allow it. When Mrs Norris wasn't looking, Ishii found Okasan's perfume in one of the boxes, `Joy' written on the label. He poured some of it onto his teddy. Now, when he closed his eyes at night, he pretended to be tucked up beside her in New York.

            Father paid the taxi driver and carried the suitcases into the terminal. Ishii had to run to keep up with him and the bag with his teddy inside hurt his shoulder. Father crouched down and grasped him by both arms. Ishii could feel each separate finger pressing into his muscles. He stretched his eyes wide, so he wouldn’t cry.

            `Listen carefully, Ishii.'

            `Yes, Father.'

            `I have to check in over there, have our bags weighed. Go up those stairs, see, where it says Departures?’ He jerked his head. `Near the top of the stairs there's a shop. Choose yourself a comic. Wait for me outside the shop. I won't be long.'

           `Yes, Father,' Ishii replied, closing his fingers over the £2 coin. But he didn't want a comic. He wanted the pictures Okasan painted for him, where she was queen and conquered the blue-scaled dragon. There was a little throne for him too and a crown with blood-red, sparkling jewels. Father had found the pictures after Okasan went. He tore them up and put them in the kitchen bin. Ishii tried to take them out again, but Mrs Norris had emptied the teapot over them and the colours had run.

           Ishii climbed the stairs and found the shop. He examined the row of comics and magazines on the bottom shelf to use up time, but of course he would choose his favourite, The Beano, with Billy Whizz, Fred and The  Bash Street Kids.

           He put the change in his pocket and stood outside the bookshop, counted up to two hundred, colours blossoming distinctly inside his head: jolly, golden three and elegant fallen leaf seven are his favourites. Should he start reading the comic? No, he’d save it for the plane.

He decided to go downstairs again, walking really slowly, see whether he can surprise Father, save him a few minutes. Father was always complaining about wasting time.

        As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he saw the edge of Father's tartan jacket near the front of the third check-in queue. His head was turned towards a geijin with a red face and a shaved head, with a little bit of fuzz on top, like Fatty in the Beano.

         I'd better go back upstairs again, Ishii decided. Children must never interrupt adults. He looked at his digital watch. He wanted one like Father had now, very heavy with thick, curved glass.

           Five minutes passed. Ishii walked up and down, twenty steps each way. When I reach the bookstand again, Father will appear.

          `Hello there, mate. Waiting for Daddy?'

  Fatty was standing beside him. Ishii looked up and up. The man had eyes like red cherries sunk into icing. Ishii clutched the strap of his bag, the plastic dug into his palm.

           `Who are you?' he asked and his own voice seemed to come from some far-away, high place.

           `Friend of your Daddy's.'  Father doesn't have any geijin friends. `Something's come up, he's gone to make a call.'