Enga mellom fjella

Enter Mrs. W. W. Walker [72]

Hoan looked at the foreigner coming through the side alley door tall, stiff in a silly hat.

How did she walk in that outfit? With that long skirt dragging the dust, straps bound around the waist. How did she breathe?

"Mrs. W. W. Walker" she said as if she was certain Hoan could understand and thrust out her hand. Amused Hoan bowed slightly before this comic vision and touched her fingertips. She flinched when Mrs. W. W. Walker grabbed and squeezed. Hoan was shocked. It was a custom among the British overlords in Hong Kong to act this way among themselves but their dainty women? Never.

A young woman dressed in poor-man's black came in behind her. "You are Hoan. Milady is here to see you. I'm here to translate." The two guests exchanged words and then spoke to Hoan.

"We are looking to buy some tea."

"I am not a seller of tea."

"But you know who is and you know who has the best and you know how to find it when there isn't any."

"The shops have tea."

"Not the best."

Mrs. W. W. Walker was blunt... even in translation.

"What kind of tea are you looking for?"

"The kind that grows in the high mountains. The tea-of-the-mist."

Of course. She would have heard of that myth, but better to play along.

"You must speak to Li Vi of Li and Chen."

Hoan gave directions and saw them off. No time for tea. No niceties. She watched them march down the alley. How can she move so fast in that finery? Oh, Hoan had better, she just didn't show off. She was in her everyday top and trousers. She looked like any other merchant. Why did they ask for her? How did they find her?

She would find out sooner or later. She went across the alley and spoke to two young men. She intended to find out sooner.

© Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.72] (11.april.2021)
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