by Di Morrissey
‘I’ll wait outside while you conduct your business,’ said Sandy. But Jean-Claude propelled her forward.
‘No, please, I’d like you to observe and give me feedback on these characters,’ he said. ‘They want me to encourage overseas companies to invest with them in a deal for a large shrimp farm and processing plant here. The shrimp will be frozen and exported.’
‘That sounds an expensive investment.’
‘It’s been the product of choice for a high return. While small operators have gone bust, these guys see farming on a bigger scale will overcome the problems that family farms run into.’
‘You mean they’ll be able to pour expensive chemicals and antibiotics in to treat any disease?’ said Sandy.
‘Their plan is to make money,’ said Jean-Claude. ‘And they think I can help them make this project happen so they’re being very nice to me. This is why I thought they might be inclined to make a donation to your orphanage.’
Sandy nodded. ‘Let me be the judge.’
Jean-Claude gave her a quick nudge as they went into the reception area, which smelled of fresh paint. ‘Money for a worthy cause does good, no matter where it comes from.’
By the time the meeting was over, Sandy was not inclined to want to be in debt to the men Jean-Claude had introduced her to. He had spoken of her work with HOPE and, while they had nodded their heads politely, Sandy could tell philanthropy was not on their agenda. They were among the new breed of Vietnamese businessmen out to make a killing no matter what they left in their wake.
As they walked outside, Jean-Claude said calmly, ‘You’re not impressed.’
‘I don’t know enough about their plans, but it was obvious to me that on several key points – environmental issues, displacement of family rice farms, the deal they’re offering workers – they’re inevitably slanted in the factory’s favour. What’s in it for you?’ she asked.
‘Personally? Nothing. It’s just part of my job to be supportive of these enterprises and try to guide them towards doing things more equitably and sustainably. My family’s business is seafood, but times have changed and some new businesses want quick money with no responsibility. My job is to try to strike a balance.’
‘And if they don’t, then no funds from your people?’
‘Like I said, we try to find a balance between getting new industries started and making a profit, as well as being accountable.’
‘Capitalism rules, okay?’
‘We might have to think of somewhere else for your donation to the orphanage.’ He changed the subject. ‘Are you hungry?’
They rode along a quiet path between some trees and jungle that threatened to choke several small huts and a narrow strip of waterway that looked too boggy and wet to get close to. A simple wooden canoe skimmed past poled by a bare-chested man in shorts and conical hat. Soon they came to the river, where a dozen small colourful boats were moored at a landing bedecked with flags. Jean-Claude was immediately accosted by boat owners but he silenced them when he said in Vietnamese that he was looking for a friend.
A man standing on the narrow stern of a boat tied in close to the bank waved and called to Jean-Claude. Taking Sandy by the hand, he helped her into the boat where she sat on a small wooden seat in the bow.
‘You can sit in the little cabin out of the sun,’ said Jean-Claude.
‘I can see more from here,’ said Sandy.
As they pushed off from the bank Jean-Claude pulled out two conical hats, handed one to Sandy and put the other on his head. ‘Let’s be tourists. This is a pretty river.’
‘You know this area well?’
‘I’ve been here for holidays a few times. My grandfather owned a house downriver. It’s now a restaurant.’
‘A bit out of the way, isn’t it? Or just a local place?’
He grinned. ‘The people who come like it to be out of the way. Gentlemen with lady friends.’
‘Oh, so am I one of your lady friends you bring here?’ asked Sandy lightly.
He looked serious. ‘I’ve never brought anyone special here before. Because it’s so tucked away, the restaurant escaped the notice of the tourist industry for a long time. My mother used to live here as a very little girl and I like to think of her life here, carefree and privileged. But of course many Vietnamese were exploited so that the French could live in such comfort.’
They sat watching the river narrow and then they turned off the main channel into a quieter stretch of water. There were a few huts on stilts at the water’s edge, a fish trap set between poles, some boats pulled into the bank and a fairly substantial wooden jetty. As they got closer Jean-Claude pointed to a beautiful old house. Tall French doors opened onto a stone terrace and Sandy could make out tables under shady umbrellas.
‘It’s gorgeous,’ exclaimed Sandy. ‘How did your family feel about leaving such a lovely place?’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t believe my family left under the best of circumstances. They walked out and the house was sold for a song and sat empty for a long time. A clever entrepreneur lives in it and runs the restaurant. Ironically, it’s now known for its excellent French cuisine.’
Sandy was intrigued and rather touched by Jean-Claude’s bringing her here. He made no reference to his connection with the house and listened politely as the elderly waiter gave a potted history of the place, which had once belonged to a former French colonial bureaucrat.
Jean-Claude ordered in French and passed Sandy a glass of fine French wine. ‘The wines are still good here. Not all French wines in the country are the best. They might be old but haven’t been stored properly. On the whole you’re better off ordering Australian wines.’
‘I’ve discovered that. But they’re pricey compared to home. And on HOPE’s salary I didn’t often bother.’
They touched glasses and Jean-Claude talked more about his family and his connection with Vietnam. He refilled them as the appetiser was served and asked Sandy, ‘What about you? Tell me about your childhood.’
Sandy waved his question aside. ‘Nothing much to tell. Not very interesting, I’m afraid.’
‘Your friend Anna, you seem close. You’re old friends, yes?’
‘Our fathers are good mates. Anna was born in Australia, but our dads are very different.’
‘I am very close to my papa. My mother is . . . difficult,’ said Jean-Claude. ‘Are you close to your father?’
Sandy hesitated. Jean-Claude’s green eyes were soft and he seemed so interested, so . . . caring. Or was she reading more in his expression than he intended? Perhaps it was the second glass of wine combined with Jean-Claude’s gentle probing that caused her to talk quite openly and honestly about her feelings.
‘It hasn’t been easy, ever since I was little. From as early as I can remember, Mum has been saying to my brother and me, “Don’t upset your father. He’s in one of his moods.”’
‘How bad were they?’
‘He was always short tempered. And you never knew what would set him off. I can remember being at the beach or at family picnics and all of a sudden he’d just get up, stomp off, leaving me crying, wondering what I’d done wrong.’
Jean-Claude reached over and covered her hand with his. ‘It had nothing to do with you.’
‘I know that now.’
‘Have you ever talked to him about this?’
Sandy shook her head. ‘I think my mother tried and warned us off trying. Of course there were good times too,’ she added hastily. ‘Once I teamed up with a gang of girls from school and was invited to a party. Dad drove me and stayed there to have a chat and a beer with some of the other dads and he seemed just like them. It was such a happy day – I’ve never forgotten it.’
‘How does your brother get on with him?’
‘He’s younger than me and finally immersed himself in sports Dad had no interest in.’ She sighed, and sipped her wine. ‘I think our relationship became one of caution, a civil veneer. I was made very aware of “appropriate behavio
ur” and spent all my time avoiding upsetting him.’
‘And so you chose a job that would take you far away from your home,’ said Jean-Claude.
‘I didn’t plan it that way; it just seemed to be how things worked out,’ said Sandy.
‘Sometimes we do things without knowing why but in retrospect they seem planned. Because it is the right thing to do.’ He leaned back as their main course was put before them. ‘Have you ever spent time alone with your father? A holiday? A trip?’
Sandy shook her head. ‘Family holidays were hard enough.’ She suddenly felt close to tears. The conversation had brought back old hurts.
Jean-Claude sensed her struggling to regain her composure. ‘Try your duck; it’s highly recommended.’ He began talking about other places he’d been to in South-East Asia, places she hoped to see one day. He was interesting and amusing company and the time passed quickly.
At the end of the meal Sandy smiled at Jean-Claude. ‘Thank you.’ But she was thanking him for letting her unburden herself as much as for lunch.
When they arrived back at the orphanage the sun was setting. Anna welcomed them with the news that the hire car company was sending another car the following morning so they could drive to Danang to catch their flight to Hanoi.
Jean-Claude kissed Sandy on the cheek. ‘Drive with care. I will send you a message. Perhaps we can meet again soon.’ He mounted the muddy bike and, blowing kisses to the little girls giggling by the doorway, drove out of sight.
8
AS KIM WHIPPED THROUGH the early evening traffic on the highway from Noi Bai Airport and through Hanoi’s outer suburbs Sandy sighed. ‘Thanks for meeting us, Kim. It’s great to be back in the arms of the grand old dame again. I do love Hanoi.’
‘Looks good to me, too. I’m a bit over rice paddies,’ agreed Anna.
‘So when do you start running Barney’s?’ asked Kim.
‘After we get the crash course. How about we go there tonight to eat? Then we’ll be behind the counter.’
‘And in the kitchen. I hope the chef who works with Lai won’t mind my trying my hand at a few dishes,’ said Anna.
‘I’d say the skill is going to be in the way we’ll have to serve up a lot of different dishes with limited space. I’m always amazed at how those women whip up meals out of a basket and a brazier on the street,’ said Sandy. ‘I’ll be dealing with front of house. I hope the staff and regular customers will be understanding while Lai and Barney are away.’
Kim glanced at Sandy. ‘You’ve done a lot of things since you’ve been here. Did you ever imagine you’d be managing a cafe?’
Sandy laughed. ‘Well, after HOPE I’ve learned to be flexible, roll with the punches. Anyway, this is not a career move. Just helping out a friend.’
‘We’ll all drop over for a meal,’ answered Kim. ‘Even wash up if you’re stuck.’
‘Thanks. No freebies – even for friends. Well, coffee maybe,’ answered Sandy. ‘Spread the word.’
‘Will do. I’ll catch you guys later for dinner.’
He dropped them in front of the laneway leading to the courtyard of Sandy’s apartment, and as they came to their building Sandy glanced up at the front window.
‘Did you leave a light on, Anna? I thought we checked everything was off. The electricity is so ropey I don’t like leaving anything on.’
‘No. I’m sure everything was off.’
Across the courtyard Mrs Minh, who was the unofficial caretaker of their small building, was emptying a bucket of soapy water onto her precious potted plant and she gave them a big smile and funny little wave.
‘What’s that mean, do you suppose?’ said Anna.
‘She’s pleased to see us back. They’re always so interested in our comings and goings she was probably bored without us around.’
They lugged their bags up the twisting steps, past the floor where the Tran family’s altar was set up in an alcove by the front doorway of their apartment. Rows of shoes and many sticks of burning incense and candles were a sign that all the family was visiting. But as they got to the door, Sandy stopped, the key poised as she was about to put it in the lock.
‘The TV is on. And the lights. Do you think Mrs Minh came in and made it look like someone is at home?’
‘Bit of cheek without asking us. And running up the power bill,’ answered Anna. ‘Do you think we should knock?’
‘Why? It’s my place. If it was a thief they wouldn’t have the lights and TV on.’
‘It is the right flat, isn’t it?’ Anna suddenly asked, looking around the darkened hallway illuminated by a hanging light bulb. The building was such a higgledy-piggledy jigsaw of little apartments, stairs, landings and levels it was easy to get confused.
Sandy turned the key as softly as she could and flung open the door. Anna peered over her shoulder. It was Anna who reacted first.
‘Whaat! What’re you doing here?’ she shrieked.
‘How did you get in?’ demanded Sandy, striding into the main room.
Carlo took his feet off the coffee table in front of the TV and gave a broad grin. ‘Ah, the ol’ Italian charm works just as well in the exotic east, it seems. Hiya, sweetheart. Aren’t you pleased to see me?’ He stood up, holding out his arms.
Anna ran to him as Sandy brought in their luggage and closed the door. ‘This is a surprise, Carlo.’
He squeezed Anna’s buttocks. ‘A good one, I hope.’
Anna had felt rattled with the unexpected shock of seeing Carlo, then pleasure, then a faint annoyance at his not telling her. ‘So who let you in?’
‘I got here yesterday. Your description of this place and the address made it easy to find and I talked the old duck downstairs into letting me in. I showed her photos of us and got the taxi driver to translate.’ He released her and spread his arms, ‘Hey, give me some credit, babe. So, Sandy, pleasant little hole in the wall you have here.’
‘Thanks, Carlo. It might have been nice if you’d told me, asked me, if you could stay here. As you see, there’s not much space.’
‘Don’t get shirty, Sandy. If it’s a pain for you then Anna and I will find a hotel.’
‘How long are you staying, Carlo?’ broke in Anna, ‘Maybe we could have a few days in a hotel . . .’
‘Honey, if you can take leave for a couple of weeks, or however long you plan on hanging around here, so can I,’ he said with a smile. ‘You girls’ll thank me.’
‘What about your work?’ asked Anna.
‘Carlo, what will you do with yourself? I think you’ll be bored: this place isn’t your scene,’ said Sandy evenly, trying not to show the displeasure and annoyance she felt. ‘Anna and I do actually have to work quite long hours at the cafe. We promised Barney to look after his place for him.’
‘That’s why I’m here. What do you two girls know about running a bar?’
‘What do you?’ countered Sandy.
‘More than you think, I reckon. C’mon, it’s a guy thing. I bet I’ve spent a lot more time in bars and bistros than you have,’ he said, pleased with himself.
‘I won’t argue with that,’ said Sandy, putting the kettle on to boil for coffee. Strong coffee.
‘Carlo, there’s a big difference between Barney’s and the Italian espresso bars you hang out in,’ said Anna. She sat beside him. ‘Sandy and I’ll be working long hours; we won’t have much time together. You should’ve asked me, waited till I was free.’
‘I’ll hang out. You were raving about the sights. So I’ll be a tourist. Might even do a bit of business.’
Sandy took her bag into her bedroom. ‘It’s not that easy, Carlo. This is a communist country and they are very big on red tape.’ She started pulling her dirty clothes out of her bag, wondering whether Carlo had really missed Anna, or had simply come to check up on her. She glanced at the dried mud on her clothes from her tumble in the rice paddy to avoid Jean-Claude’s motorbike and found herself smiling.
Anna came to the doorway. ‘Sands, I’m sorry if
he’s going to be a problem,’ she said softly. ‘We can share my bed in the alcove.’ She gestured towards the tiny space that served as the guest ‘bedroom’.
‘Well, if you’re sure.’ Sandy was not going to offer her bigger bed and be pushed out of her space by Carlo. His presence dominating the little flat was bad enough. ‘It’s a pity he didn’t let you know. I’m sure you’ll both want to sightsee a bit, but we did promise Barney . . .’
‘Oh, I’m not trying to get out of it. I’m looking forward to it. Carlo will just have to do his own thing for a bit. We’ll work something out,’ said Anna unconvincingly.
‘There’s no way I want Carlo trying to move in on Barney’s. He has no idea about this country,’ said Sandy firmly.
‘Well, let’s take him with us to dinner tonight so he understands what we’re committed to doing,’ said Anna.
The cafe was buzzing. A lot of the local clientele were there to see Barney and Lai off, and tourists, seeing the crowd and laughter, chose to wander in rather than patronise other places they’d passed.
Anna introduced Carlo to Barney, who threw Sandy a questioning look.
‘Carlo just dropped in to Vietnam unexpectedly. It won’t interrupt our plans,’ she said quickly.
Barney raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, Anna, he is your boyfriend, and he’s come a long way. Are you sure about this? Won’t you want to spend some time with him? Maybe I could find someone else to help Sandy. A bit late notice, though,’ he began.
‘Absolutely not. We promised to run this place for you and we will. I’m looking forward to it,’ said Anna, steering Carlo to a table.
‘Then have a bite to eat and come and get the run of the kitchen and meet Ho,’ said Barney.
‘Ho is the chef? No relation to Uncle Ho?’ joked Anna. She’d been fascinated at the almost beatification of communist leader Ho Chi Minh who was regarded as a benign, wise old leader, the father of the nation.