“Olga, you really scared me. You haven’t changed.” I was glad to see her, though time seemed to be running in all directions. If I was three years older, Olga was both in her early twenties and late thirties. A procession of faces had been let into the bones of her face, layers of paint and experience through which gleamed a pair of pointed and hungry eyes. I guessed that she spent her days fighting off American sailors in the backs of the Nanking Road pedicabs. Her silk suit was torn around the armpit, exposing a large bruise under her shoulder blade, and a smear of lipstick marked the strap of her brassiere. As she looked me up and down I knew that she had already dismissed my own experiences of the war.

“So … such a smart suit. Mr. Sangster said you had a good time in Lunghua. I guess you miss it.”

“Well … a little. I’ll take you there, Olga.”

“No, thanks. I heard enough about those camps. All those dances and concerts. Here it’s been real hell, I can tell you. The things my mother had to do, James. We didn’t have the Japanese looking after us.” She sighed headily, swayed by the memory. She was sober, but I guessed that for the past three years she had been slightly drunk.

“Do you work here, Olga? Are you the owner?”

“One day. Bars, hotels, singsong parlours, everywhere. Believe me, James, these American boys have more money than Madame Chiang…”

“I hope they give you plenty, Olga.”

“What? Well, we won the war, didn’t we? Tell me, James, is your father still rich?”

“He definitely isn’t.” The thought of money had rekindled her waning interest in me. “He’s been in Soochow camp all through the war.”

“He can still be rich. Take it from me, you can find money anywhere. Just look hard enough and give a big pull.”

She wiped the lipstick from her teeth, appraising me anew. Already I felt aroused by Olga, as confused as ever by her changes of temper. In every sense she was more wayward and exciting than the women in Lunghua. Before the war, when I undressed, she had glanced at my naked body with the offhand curiosity of a zookeeper being shown a rare but uninteresting mammal. I took for granted now that no male body would rouse even a flicker of interest. Yet her eyes were sizing me up as if she were about to place a large physical burden on my shoulders.

“I can see that you’re still a dreamer, James. I’m thinking about your father. He can make a good investment right now, while the Americans are here. There’s a small restaurant in the Avenue Joffre, only six tables…”