Part Three of Ishii

Here is the next instalment of Ishii's story:

Ishii opened his eyes. Just a bad dream, Father had said, although he never saw Okasan again. Mrs Norris said the same and ignored his screams in the night. He was awake now, though, and here she was, Okasan, at Heathrow, walking towards the footbridge. I knew she wouldn't leave without me. I never told anyone our secret.    

`Okasan!'

Bright spots splash in front of his eyes. His legs wouldn’t move, the concrete floor sprang up and hit him on the shoulder. When he lifted his head, she was gone.

         `Okasan!' he cried again and began to crawl towards the footbridge. A young couple walked towards him, struggling with their trolley. They were laughing, hugging one another and didn’t appear to see the small boy in grey shorts moving, crab-wise, in their direction.

          When Ishii reached the footbridge, his head had cleared enough for him to be able to stand up. He walked slowly, knees bleeding, positioned himself behind a woman with a baby. The baby stared at him over her shoulder, puckered up his face, turned puce in the silent, open-mouthed prelude to a scream. If I had Okasan to hold me, I'd never cry again, Ishii thought.

            A cluster of crew-cut giants in black tracksuits were coming up behind. Ishii reached forward hesitantly to touch the woman's skirt. Was Fatty hiding among them, ready to leap out? The woman turned towards Ishii and smiled, jiggling her baby, who stopped crying with a little sigh.

            Ishii gave her skirt a final reassuring tug and began to run again.

          Where will I find Okasan? He sucked in stabbing breaths, moved through the automatic doors. Did she go to check in?

He leapt down the stairs and scurried up and down between the counters, but  so many people swarmed around him and he was too short.  I'll never find her, he thought, and looked at his watch again. Seventy minutes to the flight. Elegant, fallen leaf 7, Okasan’s favourite colour for shoes, feathering into verdant 0. Maybe that’s a sign.

He saw a man in a dark blue uniform ahead. The man paused for a moment, pulled back his braided cuff to look at his watch. Concentrating on the man's black, polished shoes, Ishii moved as close as he dared, tilted his head to address him:

          `Please, Sir. Could you tell me which queue it is for the flight to New York?'

           `Do you know which airline, laddie?' the man asked, his voice as warm as golden three.

            `No, Sir, but the plane leaves in sixty-seven minutes.'

            `Right. Good. We'll just take a look at that screen over there and that should tell us. Are you lost, then, laddie? Are you looking for your mummy?'

    Will he help me find Okasan?

            `Yes, Sir.'

            `Now don't you worry, you poor, wee soul. Goodness, what have you done to your knees? You have been in the wars! If you come along with me, we'll get a nice lady to fix them up for you. And then we'll ask another nice lady to speak to everyone over the tannoy, so your mummy'll know exactly where you are.'

   And Fatty too. Instantly, his feet began to move again.

            He heard a shout behind him and ducked round the corner behind a trolley stacked with suitcases. When he stood up again, the man had disappeared. A red coat moving away from him up the stairs caught the edge of his vision: Okasan.    

   He pushed his way between the people blocking his path. A woman elbowed him in the face, a man swore at him, but he was right behind her now, just a few more steps.

            `Wait, wait!' he called in Japanese.

            `Okasan!' He lunged forward and caught the back of her coat. She turned round. A coarse geijin face with hard, blue eyes. A wicked witch with big teeth all ready to grind him up.                       

       `Leave me alone, I'm in a hurry!' She thrust away his hand. He staggered and fell, saw that her shoes were shiny black, like two giant beetles, like hump-bellied five.

When he tried to stand up, his legs felt like candyfloss. His knees were too sore to crawl any more, so he slid along the floor on his bottom. He found a corner by an abandoned trolley, out of everyone's way, and hunkered down, pressing his back against the wall.

I should find Father. If I ask his forgiveness for being unworthy maybe he’ll protect me from Fatty. 

Ishii crossed the hall and climbed the stairs. He saw a restaurant with cheery red and white umbrellas over the tables. When the waitress wasn't looking, Ishii slid under an empty table next to the glass balustrade. Now he could look straight down at the people on the floor below.

            Maybe Father is waiting for me outside the bookshop. 

          He looked at his watch. Only fifty minutes till the flight.

If I don't find Father, will he go without me?

Ishii noticed Fatty standing directly below, holding his bag with his teddy inside. He was talking to another geijin, a small man with greasy hair, a thin strip of butter-coloured beard down the middle of his chin, like a caterpillar. He had a big mark on his neck that looked like a tattoo. Ishii wanted to read the man’s neck. A dagger would make him dangerous or a skull, like pirates had. Maybe it’s a heart, he told himself, but could feel a little trickle of sweat under his nose.

Ishii noticed that his suitcase was at the man’s feet. Why has he got that?  Father said it had to be weighed. Was it too heavy?          He saw Father walking towards the men, waving his arms, his face red, like when he drank whisky, forehead crumpled. Ishii remembered the last time he’d seen Father with this terrible face. The image rose up like a ghost.

No! I must fix my mind on this present moment. He examined his father's hands and the way he stood, as he spoke to the men.

He will not listen to me. He will punish me, because I didn't wait for him. He will leave me with Fatty.