Free Crimson China by Betsy Tobin

as she is due to start there the following afternoon.
    “Get bus 31 from here,” says Fay. “You’d best go there now and find it, so you don’t get lost tomorrow.”
    “Yes, of course,” says Lili. She has never been to Notting Hill, but she has seen the film. She imagines it is full of charming bookshops and cafés. That evening, when she tells Jin about the school in Notting Hill, her friend looks at her askance.
    “Notting Mountain?” she says in Mandarin. “Full of rich people. I thought Fay gave up that school.”
    “Why?” asks Lili.
    Jin shakes her head dismissively. “Too much trouble.”
    “It sounds okay,” ventures Lili.
    “Spoilt kids. Rich parents. You’ll see. No one wants to teach there.”
    “Oh,” says Lili, dismayed.
    “But who knows?” says Jin. “Maybe you’ll find a rich husband.”
    “Is that what you want?”
    Jin shrugs. “There are worse things.”
    The next day, Lili arrives twenty minutes early at the school. She walks around the area for ten minutes, then returns to theschool’s entrance and presses the intercom. For a moment no one answers. Lili surveys the building: an imposing three-storey red-brick mansion, secured behind heavy black iron gates. At the top of the front stairs, a video camera points directly at her. The buzzer sounds and she pushes open the iron gate. At the door she is met by a carefully groomed woman with silver hair, who introduces herself as Mrs. Russell, the deputy head. The woman motions her to follow and they begin a winding journey down a series of twisted corridors. Lili hurries to keep up: from behind, the woman’s hair looks like a helmet. She wears a pale blue wool suit and cream-coloured tights, and as she walks her thighs brush against each other audibly. The school is decorated in bright colours and the walls are filled with artwork and posters for upcoming events. Behind the closed classroom doors, Lili can see children in yellow and green uniforms seated around small tables. Their faces are flushed with tiredness and they sprawl in their seats, like limp flowers.
    Mrs. Russell comes to an abrupt stop at the door of an empty classroom. “This is where you’ll be each week. I hope you have a good memory, because after today you’ll have to find your way here on your own.”
    “Yes,” says Lili. She looks for a number on the classroom door, but sees none.
    “I don’t know if they told you, but you’re the third teacher we’ve had. I told the language school that if you don’t work out, we’re going to cut the Mandarin Club and do karate instead.” She pauses and frowns. “Karate is Chinese, isn’t it?” She asks. Lili feels the colour rise in her cheeks. The woman gives a brisk shake of her head. “Anyway, as long as you understand the position.” She pauses again and scrutinises Lili. “You do speak English, don’t you?”
    “Yes,” says Lili. “I have advanced qualification in English,” she adds hastily.
    The older woman sighs. “The last teacher didn’t, I can tell you. You can’t handle these children if you can’t communicate with them, I promise you that. Now today you’ve only got four. Normally you’ll have seven, but two are ill and one is away. So that’s lucky for you. The youngest is only nine. We originally set a minimum age of ten, but her father is especially keen. You’ll see. It’s a complicated situation. I’m sure he’ll explain in due course. Any questions?” She stares expectantly at Lili.
    “No,” says Lili quickly.
    “Good. ’Cause I’ve got to run. The children will be here in a few minutes. Bring them down to the front entrance afterwards, and they’ll be collected by their parents or carers. Make sure they all go with someone they recognise.”
    “Yes, of course,” says Lili.
    She watches from the doorway as the silver-haired woman strides off down the hallway, the noise of her tights becoming more and more faint. Lili returns to the classroom and unpacks her teaching