The Son Read Online Free Page B

more after David.’
    I pushed my last memory of David away.
    â€˜How did your husband die, Mrs Tran?’
    â€˜He had leukemia.’
    â€˜And your sister? I know this is painful, but I need to know that, before I see Eric.’
    â€˜I understand. I told you, we – we ran into a storm. She was swept overboard. Eric was down with me in the hold. She was seasick, she’d gone up on deck …’ She looked at me, her eyes pleading. ‘Please, Mr Quinn, don’t mention that when you see him. He had nightmares for a long time afterwards.’
    â€˜I won’t.’
    We finished our tea and stood up. I switched off the lights, locked up and walked with her to the lifts.
    â€˜Are you going back to Marrickville? I can drive you if you like.’
    â€˜Thank you, but I can take the train. I’ve kept you long enough from your family.’
    â€˜I live alone. It’s no problem.’
    Her eyes were luminous in the half-light, that scent of jasmine giving warmth to the sterile corridor. I smiled at her.
    â€˜You don’t mind if I pretend that we knew each other in Saigon, when I talk to Eric?’
    â€˜Of course not.’
    She looked at me.
    â€˜My sister was right, Mr Quinn. You are a kind man.’
    â€˜Your sister didn’t know me very well, Mrs Tran. May I call you Hao?’
    â€˜Of course. I meant to ask–’
    â€˜And I’m Paul.’
    Downstairs on the footpath I renewed my offer, but again she declined, and I didn’t insist. We shook hands again. This time she didn’t withdraw her hand so quickly.
    â€˜I’ll call you when I’ve seen Eric.’
    I watched as she walked off towards the station, looking lonely and beautiful, and very courageous.

CHAPTER FOUR
    The Dai Nam in Cabramatta was a large barn of a place, all tiled floor and formica-topped tables, but you don’t judge an Asian restaurant by its décor. It was after two, but most of the tables were still taken up with locals, which suggested the food must be good.
    Two waiters were at work, a girl and Eric. By chance it was Eric who came to my table near the door. He was shorter than I expected, but well built, with broad shoulders and a slim waist, and just as handsome with that high round forehead, a slightly uptilted nose and a strong jawline. He wore his hair long, as Hao had said, tied at the back in a small ponytail, and a ring in his ear, but he was neatly dressed in T-shirt and jeans. He walked with a purposeful air and seemed to know what he was doing.
    â€˜What would you like?’ he asked briskly, but politely. There was a dark quality to his eye, an inner wariness, like a colt.
    â€˜What would you recommend?’ I said. ‘I only want something light.’
    â€˜You could try the chả giò , they’re very popular, or chạo tôm , they’re made with grilled prawn paste wrapped round sugar cane sticks, they’re also very good.’ He had a deep melodious voice, with a touch of Yorkshire perhaps, in which a few Australian vowels were beginning to creep.
    I chose the chả giò , the small crisp spring rolls which you eat, hot from the deep fry, wrapped in a lettuce leaf with a sprig of Vietnamese mint and dipped in nứớc mắm , the Vietnamese fish sauce.
    â€˜Better make that a double order, with a pot of green tea.’
    Eric had pronounced the Vietnamese words correctly, in the southern accent, and I took care to do the same. He shot me a quick glance and went back to the kitchen, still with his serious expression. Only when he passed the girl did he smile briefly, and I looked at her. She was Eurasian too, though in her case the Vietnamese was more marked, and pretty in a waif-like way, with large dark eyes in a pale sallow face, and she smiled back at him. In the background an older Vietnamese man came out from time to time to stand at the counter, short and stocky, with the kind of dissipated,