Free The Spare Room by Kathryn Lomer Page A

tipped it to his lips. Who needs language? I thought.
    Eleven? he said.
    I nodded.
    It’s a date, Stolly said.
    At the bar of the nightclub upstairs, I told Stolly about the daydream I’d had about being a chef.
    Pretty crazy, isn’t it? I said.
    What’s crazy? Haven’t you heard of Tetsuya Wakuda? He’s probably the best-known chef in Australia, mate. One of the top ones, anyway. Inventive. Creative. Loves Australian produce but does interesting Japanese things with it. You must have read about him. He owns his own restaurant.
    I shook my head, but Stolly’s words were running around in my mind making me as light-headed as the beer.
    Stolly was still talking: He created himself, that’s what he did. That’s what we all have to do, you know.
    Right, I said. And then I had a thought. You know, Stolly, if I’m going to create myself I should get home and do some study.
    This time of night? You’ve got to be joking. Relax, Akira. Anyway, everyone knows that a bar is the second-best place to study a foreign language.
    Second-best place is bar? I said.
    Stolly nodded and put two fingers up to the barman for more beers. I nodded too, although I wasn’t sure what he meant. I looked away to the dance floor for a moment and suddenly saw Angie. She was dressed in a slinky, glittery dress. I’d never seen her out like this before. She was dancing with a man who looked a lot older than she was. She wasn’t even old enough to be there legally. She looked my way, but if she saw me she didn’t bat an eyelid. I wondered if she was drunk. She looked sort of floppy, but possibly it was her way of dancing.
    Friend of yours? Stolly asked. He’d noticed me staring.
    She is my sister, I said.
    Stolly said nothing. I looked around at him. He was watching Angie with great interest. I looked back at her. She was very attractive. Beautiful. We both stood there watching her dance.
    * *
    Later, after too many beers, I remembered what Stolly had said about a bar being the second-best place to learn English.
    Stolly? I said. What is best place to learn English?
    What? Stolly’s mind was on other things by now.
    You said bar is second-best …
    Bed, he said. In bed.
    I looked at him. In bed?
    Stolly looked at me intently. Yes, he said. In bed.
    The penny dropped. Oh, I said.
    Stolly winked. That’s right, he said.
    I felt confused then. Somehow what Stolly had said and Angie being there became all rolled up into one and I had a fantasy of lying in bed with Angie who was patiently teaching me English. I looked for her on the dance floor but couldn’t see her.
    Come on, said Stolly, pulling me towards the floor.
    I can’t dance, I said.
    Come on. I’ll teach you. Trust me.
    Stolly was a good dancer. Is a good dancer. I’ll bet he’s still spending his nights drinking and dancing and trying to impress women. That night he showed me how to relax and go with the music. The beer must have helped. I stopped feeling self-conscious and began to enjoy myself. All the same, I was glad Angie wasn’t still there to see my first efforts. As I swayed to the music and watched Stolly moving in on a couple of young women, I started a letter in my head to my parents.
    Dear Mother and Father, How are you both? I am well. You will be happy my English is improving step by step. I work hard in class and at night I study hard. I am also learning many things about Australian culture.

12
    One weekend towards the end of that summer, Alex took me to their shack. ‘Shack’ is what Australians call their holiday house. Many Australians have a shack, which seems extraordinary to us, doesn’t it, Satoshi? I mean, imagine people in Japan having a second house. I know some rich people do have another house. Some own a second house in another country, a cheaper country like Thailand. And Japanese companies own such houses for their employees to go to. Not their ordinary employees