The Rice Paper Diaries Read Online Free PDF Page B

their way through the crowds of people: men pushing small trolleys loaded with pallets, old women stooped over bamboo baskets, and children careering around in - between them.
    ‘Bonham Road. Just round the corner.’
    Elsa felt uncomfortable. She could sense the Chinese looking at her, noting her presence. Although she was wearing flat shoes, she still felt too tall. She was glad when they turned off the main road and walked up a steep hill away from the crowds.
    ‘This is it,’ said Lam, turning into a shop with red - and - gold paper lanterns hanging outside.
    A man and woman were sitting on the floor of the dim interior, sewing. Their hands moved up and down in time with each other, as if they were conducting an unseen orchestra. They were working on a dress made of embroidered silk: he was attending to the hem, while she was sewing white piping into the high collar. As they moved along the garment, they looked up at each other, each making sure that the other wasn’t moving too quickly, or about to tug the material without warning.
    As Elsa got used to the light, the shapes of their lined faces became clearer. The old woman looked like Wang, although she seemed old to be his mother. Elsa sat down straightaway, to avoid the awkwardness of them putting their work aside and getting to their feet, but they looked at her in surprise, and moved away, as if she had sat too close to them.
    ‘Very pleased to meet you both,’ she said.
    They looked back at her.
    Lam sat next to Elsa, crossing her legs with an ease Elsa couldn’t find. She said something to the old couple in what must be Cantonese, or Mandarin maybe. Tommy would know. They smiled at Elsa then.
    ‘They don’t speak English,’ Lam said to her. ‘They’ve been ten years in Hong Kong but they still prefer our language.’
    Elsa didn’t know what she had expected – somewhere larger, with a counter that you could sit at, maybe. In Bristol House Nannon’s counter doubled up as a table. If she had time she made a cup of tea for her customers, saying, ‘Now then, let’s have a nice chat.’ Before ten minutes had gone by the customer would have forgotten the alterations they came in with and would be poring over patterns for a dressy wrap and thinking about how often they would wear it and how much it would cost. They would have an image of themselves in their mind’s eye that would please them for once, and Nannon would know exactly how to capture that image, breaking off from the usual chit - chat to point out the wrap’s sequin ties, tapping a fingernail on the folded - out page. ‘See, that’s the detail that makes it, in my opinion. That would stand out lovely under the lights, anywhere. Not too dressy, though, is it? Classy, I’d call it.’
    Lam talked again swiftly to the man and woman, a little sharply, it seemed to Elsa, and they got up on their feet, rubbing their stiff joints as they did so, and the old woman gestured for Elsa to follow her behind a curtain to a recessed area at the back of the shop. She measured Elsa with quick fingers, the tape measure hardly touching her, even through her clothes. She talked loudly to Lam through the curtain. Elsa looked at her as she spoke, but her face was blank, waiting for Lam’s reply.
    ‘She’s asking what kind of style you want,’ said Lam. ‘Would you like to call back with some pictures, a catalogue maybe?’
    ‘Tell her that I trust her to make me a nice frock. Any style, any colour.’
    Elsa came out from behind the curtain. People going past the shop looked twice when they saw her standing there. She was starting to feel as if she was taking up too much room, and she took a step out onto the street, almost bumping into a woman going past, a baby strapped tightly to her back, its black pigtail swaying up and down as she walked. Nothing could happen to them if you kept them close like that, she thought.
    ‘She says she will choose pink, a deep pink, to go with your dark hair. It will be