Free Crimson China by Betsy Tobin Page B

in five minutes.
    “The hour’s up,” he says, rising halfway to his feet. “My mum’ll be waiting outside.”
    “Oh,” says Lili uncertainly. “Yes, of course.”
    At once the other children stand up and begin to stuff their things into their satchels. Lili leads them out of the classroom, but once in the corridor she pauses, unsure of her bearings.
    “It’s this way,” says one of the blonde girls, striding ahead down the corridor.
    When they reach the main door, a couple of parents are waiting just outside. The two blonde girls skip to the sideof a well-dressed woman in her forties who nods quickly to Lili.
    “I’m taking both of them,” she says efficiently, turning away.
    The boy walks over to a short young woman with badly dyed red hair and wearing low-slung combat trousers. Lili sees a tiny silver stud in her nostril.
    “I thought Mum was coming,” he says with a trace of accusation.
    “Do I look like your mum?” says the young woman in a thick accent.
    The boy shrugs and walks down the steps. The young woman raises her eyebrows at Lili and turns to follow him. Lili wonders where she is from: Poland perhaps? Or Hungary? London is bursting with Eastern Europeans, according to Jin. She also insists that white immigrants are first in line for all the best casual jobs. But watching the young woman follow the sullen boy down the street, Lili does not envy her.
    She turns back to the Chinese girl and smiles.
    “My dad’s late,” says the girl apologetically.
    “No problem.”
    “He’s always late.” The girl pulls an exasperated face.
    “That’s okay.” They stand there for a moment, eyeing each other, and Lili realises with dismay that she has forgotten to ask the children their names.
    “What is your name?”
    “May,” replies the girl. Lili smiles.
    “That’s a lovely Chinese name.”
    “It’s the name of a month. In spring.”
    “You are right. It is that too. But in Mandarin, it means beautiful .”
    “Yeah, I know.” May kicks at the ground with her shoe. Lili glances up the street. There is no sign of the child’s father.
    “My mother named me after her favourite time of year,” says May after a moment. “But then she died,” she adds.
    “Oh,” says Lili. “I’m sorry.”
    “It’s okay. She wasn’t my real mother. My real mother was Chinese.”
    “What happened to her?”
    “Which one?”
    “Your Chinese mother,” says Lili.
    May shrugs. “I don’t know. They found me in an alley.”
    “Oh,” says Lili, silenced momentarily by the girl’s bluntness.
    “You’re from China too, aren’t you?”
    “Yes.”
    “What’s it like there?”
    “It is very different to here.”
    “Different how?”
    “Well. The people there are all Chinese.”
    “But I’m Chinese.”
    May is staring at her. Lili falters. She owes the child a better answer, but she is completely at a loss. Where would she begin?
    “How old are you?” she asks instead.
    “I’ll be ten in a few months. But I’m the smallest in my class,” May says, as if it is an oversight on her part.
    “It’s okay to be small,” Lili says. “Maybe better than being big.”
    May studies her with a frown, weighing up the truth of her words.
    “I’m sorry! So sorry!”
    Lili turns to see a tall, red-haired man rushing along the pavement, calling to them. He climbs the steps two at a time, coming to an abrupt halt in front of her.
    “The traffic was murder,” he exclaims.
    “You’re late,” says May accusingly.
    “Sorry, darling,” he exhales, reaching out and laying a hand on her head.
    “The other kids went home ages ago.”
    He flashes her a brief frown, then turns to Lili.
    “Are you the new Mandarin teacher?”
    “Who else would she be?” says May quietly.
    “Yes. I am Lili.”
    “Hello. Adrian. May’s father.” He thrusts out his hand and Lili takes it. His fingers are long and slender. Lili sees a tiny tuft of strawberry hair peeking out of the triangle of his shirt.
    “She is a