Free World of Suzie Wong : A Novel (9781101572399) by Richard Mason Page A

that they were not entering for the purpose of soliciting, and that the Nam Kok was not a brothel. The bar manager insisted on meticulous observance of the rule, and would shoo out any girl who tried to slip in unnoticed without a man. My frequent presence had thus become very useful to the girls. In the mornings they would peer through the glass door to see if I was in the bar, and then tap on the glass to attract my attention, and I would go out and escort them inside—sometimes half a dozen at once. It saved them the long dreary wait for the first sailor to appear.
    Minnie suddenly recognized me approaching.
    â€œOh, Robert! Please will you take me in!” It was like a kitten’s plaintive mew.
    â€œAll right, Minnie.”
    The moment I came within reach she entwined herself round my arm and snuggled against me, sighing, “Oh, Robert, you are sweet,” infinitely grateful and relieved because loneliness had been ended, human contact restored. I pushed open the door and we went inside. The bar was crowded and very noisy and there were several near-drunks. Minnie spotted a familiar face, squeezed against me gratefully, kissed the tips of two fingers, transferred the kiss to the tip of my nose, giggled, and made off.
    I saw Gwenny sitting with some Americans. I sat down at the emptiest table, occupied by only one matelot who was slumped forward with his face buried in his arms. I caught the waiter as he passed and said, “Small San Mig.”
    The sailor lifted his bleary face.
    â€œFred?” he said. He tried to focus his eyes.
    â€œSorry,” I said.
    â€œWhere’s Fred? Where’s my mate?”
    â€œI don’t know, I’ve only just come.”
    â€œFred’s my mate. We’re like brothers, we are, Fred and me.” An American sailor knocked against the table. “Fred?”
    The American went on. The matelot grunted and his eyes began to close again inexorably. He dropped his face back onto his arms. Just then I noticed the girl I had seen getting into the lift. She was sitting with an American sailor on the bench seat of an alcove table, making teasingly amorous play with him. She entwined his arm and took his hand, pretending to read his palm. She looked less like Mee-ling now. It was true that there was a similarity in the round smooth face and the black ellipses of the eyes—she was probably also a northerner. But it was absurd of me to have made the mistake.
    A girl was squeezing behind my chair. It was Fifi, the comedienne.
    â€œHey,
Chow-fan,
you’re too fat,” she grinned at me.
Chow-fan
meant fried rice. It was her nickname for me because I practically lived on it.
    â€œFifi, who’s that girl over there?” I asked her, indicating the girl I had mistaken for Mee-ling.
    â€œThat girl? Suzie.”
    â€œOh, it’s
Suzie!
”
    â€œSure, she’s just come back. Her regular boy friend went off this morning. Why, you like her?”
    â€œNo, I just wondered.”
    â€œIf you want a girl friend, you take me,” she grinned.
    â€œYou’d make me laugh too much, Fifi.”
    â€œWell, what else you go to bed for? Not that same dirty business like everybody else?”
    â€œGet off with you.”
    So it was Suzie. Gwenny’s girl friend. In fact Gwenny’s heroine—because twice when there had been long spells with no ships, and business had been in the doldrums, she had helped Gwenny out financially: she was one of the girls most in demand, and made two or three times as much money as Gwenny herself. Gwenny adored her and had never stopped singing her praises to me. She had been longing for Suzie’s return so that she could introduce us: she had been away over a fortnight, devoting herself to a boy friend whose ship was undergoing repairs.
    Just then Gwenny came over to join me. She sat down next to the matelot slumped over the table; he was groaning now but she did not notice. She was too