Free The Son by Marc Santailler

mind telling you. As a matter of fact I wasn’t. But that didn’t make it a happier marriage. Maybe I would have if I’d met the right person.’
    She considered that.
    â€˜Or the wrong one,’ she said.

    Afterwards we caught a ferry back to Circular Quay, the jet-cat this time, taking half the time. I retrieved my car and drove them up to my flat in Mosman, an old three-bedroom apartment with a view over Balmoral beach. We pottered about for the rest of the afternoon, drinking soft drinks and eating the cake I’d baked that morning. Hao wandered around, examining the various mementos I’d brought back from abroad.
    â€˜You’ll recognise these,’ I said, leading her to four wooden panels hanging on a wall, inlaid with mother-of-pearl in classical Chinese designs, birds and flowers, and polished rather than lacquered in the modern manner.
    â€˜The Four Seasons,’ she said, running her fingers along the wood. ‘They’re beautiful.’
    â€˜Almost the only thing I brought back from Saigon. I bought them soon after I arrived. I was so worked up when we left I could hardly be bothered packing. But these I wasn’t going to leave behind.’
    â€˜You’re lucky. My parents had a beautiful collection of old furniture. But we sold most of it afterwards, to buy food and medicine for my father, and when we left we changed the rest for gold or dollars. That was more practical. But even that we lost on the way.’
    We stood out on the balcony, against the railing, while Eric and Hong lay on the floor inside, listening to Beatles records. His manner wasn’t unfriendly, but he kept avoiding me, as if afraid I might harass him with more questions.
    â€˜Have you decided yet when you’re going back?’ I asked.
    â€˜Not yet. I keep putting it off. But I’ll have to do something soon. I can’t stay with the cousins forever. And I have to get back to work.’
    â€˜You could stay here.’
    There, it was said, the idea that had been growing in my head for the past several days. She didn’t say anything, looked down at her hands, then across to where Eric and Hong were sprawled on the carpet. It looked as if they’d been kissing.
    â€˜I mean it,’ I persisted. ‘You’ve seen the flat. There’s more than enough room, you’d have your own room, your own bathroom, I wouldn’t get in the way. I could even get you a car if you wanted.’
    She shook her head.
    â€˜I can’t, Paul.’
    â€˜Why? Are you afraid I’ll make a pass at you? I’m very attracted to you, Hao, that must be pretty obvious by now, but I’ll keep my distance, I promise. No strings attached.’ Even as I spoke I knew I’d find that promise hard to keep. ‘And if you’re worried about what the cousins will think, to hell with them! You’re old enough to lead your own life, you don’t owe anyone anything, except maybe Eric, and he’ll understand. Look, think about it. Just so you can stay a while longer, and we can see this thing through with Eric. Please?’
    She looked at me then, as if thinking it over. She shook her head again.
    â€˜It wouldn’t work.’
    I wanted to argue further, but I could see it was no use, and I let it drop. After a moment she stood up and went inside.
    A few minutes later I drove them back, Eric and Hong first, to Central Station, then back to Marrickville to take Hao home. The strain between us was almost palpable. Bloody hell! I kept telling myself. Why hadn’t I kept quiet, and let nature take its course? But sometimes you have to push nature along, if you want to get anywhere. When we got there she walked ahead of me to the front door. Her thanks were as formal as her handshake.
    â€˜I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. But can’t you just think about it?’
    She shook her head again and went inside before I could make an even