فصل 03

Chapter three

The first week

Ikuko carried the suitcase into her room, feeling much better. Now she could have a shower and change her clothes. But first she must ring Hiroshi. She got her mobile phone out of her handbag and dialed his number.

‘So what’s Birmingham like?’ he asked, sounding very far away. He’d never understood why she’d wanted to study in Birmingham and not somewhere more famous like Oxford or Cambridge. But she hadn’t wanted to stay in a tourist centre, even if it was beautiful. She’d wanted to see how English people really lived.

But now she wasn’t so sure. She walked over to the window of her small bedroom and looked out. There was a narrow road with cars parked along it, and a few trees with no leaves left on them. Everything looked cold and dark in the early morning light.

‘Well,’ she said, ‘it’s sort of grey.’

An hour later, Ikuko found the dining room of the hostel. She walked in shyly. There was a smell of fried food and a sound of quiet talking. She looked around and saw that, although there were some people in groups, quite a few people were sitting alone. ‘Maybe I’m not the only person who’s just arrived,’ she thought.

A large woman came over and said, ‘Are you new here, dear? Do you want a cooked breakfast?’

Ikuko looked confused. What was a cooked breakfast? But the woman became impatient. ‘Bacon and eggs?’ she said loudly.

‘Yes… yes, please,’ Ikuko replied.

As she sat alone eating, Ikuko wondered if any of the students in the room were English. She could see a group of Japanese students - a boy with bright yellow hair and earrings, and two girls dressed in tight fashionable clothes. Nearer to her was a group of girls talking in English and another language. Everyone looked very young.

‘Will I have anything in common with these people?’ she thought. ‘Maybe I should just get a flight back to Japan.’

She took a deep breath. She’d got her suitcase. Things weren’t so bad. Time to go to her English class. She finished her breakfast and walked out of the room.

Ten minutes later she walked out into the street. She took out the map she’d been given with directions to the language centre and started to walk. She was supposed to get a bus, but where was the bus stop? She tried to work it out from her map.

Then someone spoke to her in Japanese. ‘Are you going to the language centre?’

She turned round. It was the Japanese boy with yellow hair. He was with two other students, a dark-haired girl and a taller boy.

‘Yes… yes,’ she said to the Japanese boy. ‘On the 65 bus?’

‘That’s right.’ Then he continued in English, ‘Come with us. We’re all going, too.’

And sitting in the pub that evening with a glass of warm beer in front of her which took her all evening to finish, Ikuko realised she already had friends. Sitting opposite her was the Japanese boy with yellow hair. His name was Toshi. ‘Everyone calls me crazy Toshi,’ he said, laughing. He’d been in England for a long time and seemed to know everyone. Next to him was Pietro from Italy. And sitting next to Ikuko was Lucretia, the dark-haired girl who had been with Toshi that morning. She was from South America. From a town called Recife, in Brazil. Lucretia had shown her where it was on the map in the classroom.

Ikuko liked Lucretia’s warm smile, her green eyes and her confident English. She talked so quickly that Ikuko could hardly follow.

‘Oh, yes,’ said Lucretia, as they sat talking in the pub. ‘But my writing! No good at all! I have to improve.’

‘How long have you been here?’ asked Ikuko.

‘Three months. I need to pass my IELTS exam, then I can do Business Studies at the University.’

Later, they all walked back to the hostel together through the dark streets.

‘Who wants some good Italian coffee?’ asked Pietro. But suddenly all Ikuko wanted was to be on her own. She said good night to them and went to her room. But before she went to sleep she got out her diary.

10 January 2000

What a long day… so many things happened. My suitcase arrived. I went to my first English class and made some friends from different countries. It’s very hard speaking in English all day. Everyone’s friendly, but they’re all a bit younger than me. I like Lucretia, she’s very lively, and kind, too. We went to the pub. It was hard to understand people, it was so noisy.

Everyone seemed to be having a good time, though. But it’s not quite what I expected. What did I expect, really? I don’t know.

As she sat in the coffee bar waiting for Lucretia on Friday afternoon, Ikuko couldn’t believe that she’d only been in England for five days. It seemed much longer. She already felt at home in the hostel and was getting to know the tree-lined streets of her little corner of Birmingham.

She wandered over to the notice board on the wall of the coffee bar. Among the notices for discos and films there was one which caught her attention.

Photography club.

Next meeting: Saturday 15 January at 2pm. Room 261.

Pictures of people - Bernard Chiluba

All welcome.

She thought of her camera lying unused on the desk in her room. She used to belong to a photography club in Junior High school. It would be nice to learn a little bit more about photography - and to take some pictures to show Hiroshi. Saturday afternoon. That was tomorrow. She wrote down the place and time.

Just then Lucretia came up behind her. ‘Oh, photography. That’s supposed to be a good club. But Saturdays are for shopping. Don’t you want to go into town instead?’

‘Thanks, but I don’t like shopping much,’ replied Ikuko.

‘No?’ said Lucretia, looking surprised. ‘Funny, I love shopping. OK, well call round to my room about five o’clock. I’ll show you what I’ve bought.’

At two o’clock the next day Ikuko shyly opened the door of room 261. It was a small room full of people talking to one another. She didn’t know anyone there, but a young man with curly brown hair and glasses came over to her.

‘Hi. Welcome. Have you come to join the club?’

‘Yes… I think so,’ said Ikuko.

‘Great. I’m Mike. I’m the one who started the club. And you’re…?’

‘Ikuko. What do you do in the club?’

‘Well, it’s really just a chance to get together and help one another,’ Mike explained. ‘We’ve got a darkroom, so you can develop your pictures here if you want…’

‘Develop?’ Ikuko didn’t understand.

‘Yes, instead of taking the film to a photo shop, you can learn to do it yourself - just black and white though, not colour. And we go out together, taking pictures. Usually just in Birmingham, but sometimes we go to the country.’

He spoke quickly, but Ikuko managed to understand. She was pleased. Except for her teachers, she hadn’t really spoken to many English people.

‘Have you done much photography in… Japan, is it?’ asked Mike.

‘Just a little. But I’d like to learn a bit more,’ Ikuko replied.

‘Well, today Bernard’s going to show us some of the pictures he’s taken of people in Birmingham. Bernard Chiluba, over there.’ Mike pointed at a tall man standing with his back to them - black hair, very short and curly, and a red jacket. Where had she seen that jacket before?

Hearing his name, the man turned round and came up to them. His skin was very dark brown, almost black, smooth and shining. He seemed a little older than the other students.

‘Bernard, this is Ikuko,’ said Mike.

Bernard smiled, a wide smile, his teeth very white in his dark face. Ikuko noticed that his smile was crooked, a little wider on one side than the other. He held out his hand and she shook it, still looking at him.

‘Hello, Ikuko.’

His hand held hers powerfully. His voice was deep and she liked the soft slow way he said her name. He continued talking: ‘But I think we’re neighbours. Are you Ikuko with the blue suitcase?’

And then Ikuko remembered the red jacket she’d seen disappearing down the corridor on the first morning.

She let go of his hand, feeling suddenly shy. ‘Oh… thank you… yes, it was my suitcase. How… how did you know it was mine?’

‘I was just leaving the hostel when it arrived from the airport. It was early in the morning. The receptionist was busy - so I said I’d take it up for her.’

‘Oh, thank you… that was very kind.’ She noticed how clearly he spoke. Not too fast like all the other people she’d met, not hurrying on before she had time to reply.

‘So you’re from Japan?’ he asked.

‘Yes… and you?’

‘I’m from Zambia. In Africa.’

Around them people were starting to sit down. ‘Right, excuse us, Ikuko,’ said Mike, and he went up to the front and introduced Bernard’s talk. Ikuko listened to Bernard’s deep voice explaining the pictures. She had never seen any like them before. He had taken them all in Birmingham, but the people in them seemed to come from every corner of the world: Jamaica, Pakistan, China. Ikuko wondered if she could ever learn to make silent faces come alive like that.

At the end of the meeting she went up to Bernard. ‘Thank you. They’re wonderful pictures.’

Bernard smiled at her. ‘Thanks. It’s something I really enjoy doing.’ He looked at her a little uncertainly. ‘We’re just going for coffee. Would you like to come?’

Ikuko looked at her watch. It was half past four. She remembered that she was meeting Lucretia back at the hostel. ‘No… I’m sorry, I can’t. I have to meet someone.’

‘Oh, OK,’ he said and turned away.