Free New Welsh Short Stories by Author: QuarkXPress Page A

furthest reach of their upstretched arms and fingers. Then higher still and higher again until she is floating far overhead. Then finally, although the other girls shade their eyes and search the sky they can no longer see her. She’s gone.

RISING-FALLING
    Joe Dunthorne
    Her name was Zhang Lì but, for the ease of English speakers, she called herself Elizabeth. In one profile picture she played the grand piano in front of floor - to - ceiling windows overlooking the Huangpu river. When we chatted online, she was always modest about her looks.
    â€“ Women do not have body like mine in England?
    â€“ No. If only…
    â€“ In China we are slim but full - chested.
    â€“ You’re beautiful.
    â€“ : - )) So sweet.
    It may be clear to you from just this short exchange that I was not communicating with a real woman. If I had this thought, I decided to ignore it. You may say I was duped but I chose to be naive. In science, there are two types of people. Those who see a beautiful, rich woman offering to fly a sixty - eight - year - old square - headed particle physics professor halfway round the world to make love and assume the woman does not exist. And those – I among them – who see in the same equation an outside probability that could make the dream real.
    When my office was still lit at 3 am, any passing students of mine may have presumed their tutor was busy exploring the limits of the observable universe. This wasn’t far from the truth – Elizabeth and I chatted until dawn. She lived alone, working as a coordinator for a shipping corporation. She was twenty - seven, which was not so young. I told her about my work, that it was my job to make a fool of Einstein. I have met Nobel prizewinners and can confirm they are often quite boring. She was never dull, even in a language not her own. I have rarely felt such delight as when reading the words Elizabeth is typing .
    She paid for my flight and hotel to prove her seriousness, she said, though I needed no reassurance. I turned on my out - of - office. On the plane, I practised conversational Mandarin, sitting in a row by myself. Learning a language is one of the most effective ways to keep the brain healthy. Passengers frowned at me from the toilet queue. I tried to shape the words in my mouth. ‘Wo - ah she - e wan.’ I like . I learned about the four intonations that widen each word’s possible meaning – rising, falling, neutral and falling - rising.
    I landed in Pudong airport, the roof of which was shaped like a wave. This is an important shape for scientists. In astrophysics, a wave is just that – a signal travelling through time – the reaches of the universe saying hello. My name was at arrivals: PROF DAVID MILLEN, written on cardboard. The driver shook my hand and took my bag. He had gorgeous soft skin under his eyes. I practised my Mandarin thank you . Falling then neutral. He said nothing, put my bag in the boot.
    It was an expensive hotel. The lobby was tall, tiled and golden, with dragons on pedestals, opal carvings in glass cases, framed maps on the walls. In one corner there was a grand piano similar to the one Elizabeth owned. The hotel also had a view onto the Huangpu river and I was glad because that meant she was not far away. At reception, they told me the minibar and wifi had all been covered. I was to relax. In my room, I checked my email and found a message: So sorry! Work emergency! I cannot see you till tomorrow. I will make it up, my angel. XXX Perhaps that should have worried me, but I considered it good fortune that I would have chance to sleep and be my best for our first meeting.
    From my bedroom window, I watched the cityscape, the tops of lit skyscrapers steaming like the scalps of rugby players under floodlights. From my office on campus, I had often watched the university team practise. The world was as small or large as the reach of my imagination. As my eyes adjusted to the view, I