Monsoon (26 page)

‘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.

‘No. He's a bit dour: he got nicknamed Ho, Ho, Ho one Christmas as a joke. We don't think anyone has seen him smile.'

Sandy and Anna ordered spicy noodles and introduced Carlo to Kim and several of the expat regulars. After the hurried meal they were just about to go to the kitchen when Sandy was tapped on the shoulder by the American gallery dealer Charlie Ralston.

‘Charlie! How good to see you. You're back from the hills. What've you been up to?' said Sandy, giving him a quick hug.

‘The usual. Actually it was quite an interesting trip. Miss Huong knows every artisan in every village, it seems. We found some wonderful pieces. Including a few treasures.'

‘I'll have to come and have a look. Always dangerous going into your place,' she said. ‘Anna, you remember my friend Charles?'

‘Please, it's Charlie.'

‘Charlie, this is my partner, Carlo Franchetti.'

Carlo shook hands as two other friends joined them and they squashed around the table.

‘We'll have to excuse ourselves, we're getting a crash course in keeping Barney's afloat,' said Sandy. ‘Just while he and Lai are away.'

‘Great. I heard there was a bit of a problem in Canada, great of you guys to step in,' said Charlie.

The girls went to the kitchen and Anna glanced back to see Carlo looking a bit glum as the conversation at the table hummed along about people and places he didn't know.

Sandy noticed it too and wondered how long it would take before Carlo managed to make himself the centre of attention.

Ho, the chef, was a wizened little man who looked, to Anna, as if he'd been smoked. His skin was tough, brown and stretched tightly over his body. She imagined sticking a fork him and hearing him pop and juices run out like an overcooked sausage. Barney introduced them and Ho nodded and mumbled a greeting, his mouth showing gaps between yellow teeth.

‘He understands some English. More than he lets on, I think,' said Barney. ‘These are the kind ladies who are going to help out while we go away to Canada,' he said to Ho.

Ho nodded again to Sandy and Anna. ‘Me cook. You work.'

‘There's the menu. No new dishes,' said Barney. ‘Ho, no make trouble. Miss Sandy, Miss Anna be Mr Barney and Mrs Lai. Ho boss of the kitchen, okay?'

Ho nodded yet again but his miserable demeanour didn't change. Barney ran through the basics of the kitchen system, the food ordering, how the roster for the two waiters and waitress worked.

Lai appeared and thanked the girls. She led them out to the rear courtyard, which was her domain. ‘I have one girl run this business here. Travel and tourist information,' she explained. ‘You don't need to know about that. I show you how to look after money, and here are keys.'

‘Front door ones?' asked Sandy.

‘No, this one for grog cupboard; this one for trouble men,' said Lai.

Sandy and Anna exchanged a glance as she opened a cupboard that held the liquor supply and a locked black tin box.

‘What's in there?'

Lai put a finger to her lips. ‘I explain later. We keep separate some cash from the restaurant. If we need to pay trouble men, we use this.'

‘Trouble men?' asked Anna, giving Sandy a look.

Barney appeared behind them. ‘She means standover men. Occasionally we get an eager-beaver new copper or other local trying to stake his bit of territory. It's cheaper to pay 'em off with little regular bribes. When they get too greedy and try to up the ante, I call in a few favours from people up the line. Don't worry about it. While we're away we've organised protection.'

‘What kind of protection?' asked Sandy, feeling uncomfortable about this, though she knew well enough that some local officials were neither too proud nor too rich to organise ‘business security protection' scams.

Lai interrupted. ‘We are very grateful to you. Do not give any credit. Do not buy food from anyone other than our regular suppliers. And do not let Ho be boss. Here is menu list.'

Sandy glanced at Anna. ‘No new dishes? Ho cooks all these things?'

‘Don't let him try anything new. Lai always supervises the menu,' said Barney.

‘Right,' said Anna. ‘I was hoping to try my hand at cooking a couple of dishes. Will Ho teach me some of these?'

Lai waved a hand, fanning herself in an agitated manner. ‘Ah, no. Ho doesn't let anyone else to cook.'

‘He's seeing this as an opportunity to prove he's capable of being number-one chef. Ho wants to run his own restaurant and has grand ideas, so keep an eye on him,' said Barney.

Sandy was seeing the chef as a bit of a liability. ‘Well, at least he's used to preparing meals for any number of people. What about my end of the business?'

‘Come with me.' Barney led them to the little office under the stairs where he kept the books and ran the financial side of the business. By the time they had listened to Barney's instructions, made notes on bookkeeping, wages, ordering and a few tips on special customers, an hour had passed.

Sandy and Anna returned to the main cafe to find, as Sandy had expected, Carlo holding forth, telling a story about some exploit where he'd made a killing on a deal, hinting at putting one over on an Italian ‘mob'. Sandy knew he was using the Australian vernacular but she realised those listening assumed he meant some mafioso group in Italy. Carlo was prone to exaggeration.

‘I have a few schemes I might float while I'm here,' he said airily, and turned to Charlie. ‘Say, what're the treasures you've found out in the sticks? I buy and sell stuff; maybe I could unload something in Australia for you.'

‘It's not quite as simple as that,' said Charlie politely. ‘My clientele ask me to find special objects for them. We prepare pieces as a museum would. Or people come in looking for something that has a particular provenance. Rare pieces.' He paused and added, ‘There's a lot of paperwork involved in exporting artworks. But we consider that we are promoting the cultures of all the peoples of Vietnam.'

‘Paperwork, that's a pain, isn't it?' said Carlo. ‘In my import–export business I tend to look for ways to cut some corners.'

‘If you're considering doing business here, you might want to visit your trade commissioner to acquaint yourself with the way business is done in Vietnam,' said Charlie.

‘Good advice, buddy,' said one of the expats. ‘Find out the guidelines and then do research into how and when they can be bent.'

‘Know who you're dealing with, that's the trick,' added another. ‘Who can be trusted and how far they can be trusted. Takes a while.'

‘Carlo is only here on a short visit to see Anna. I doubt he'll be doing any business. Right, Carlo?' Sandy gave a tight smile.

Then Anna spoke up, recognising the annoyance behind her friend's smile. ‘Please excuse us. We had a busy evening and we start work tomorrow. I hope you'll all keep dropping by to give us moral support,' she said to the group.

There was a chorus of agreement, and a round of goodbyes. Sandy and Anna farewelled Barney and his wife, wishing them a safe trip and hoping that all would turn out well with their daughter in Canada.

‘Don't you worry about a thing, Barney,' Sandy assured him. ‘We'll be here from opening to shutting up shop and will keep a close eye on everything.'

‘It'll be fun and a great experience,' added Anna.

Barney and Lai exchanged a look. ‘It's hard work. And you have the number of Lai's uncle if there are any problems.'

‘There won't be. Go, and don't worry,' said Sandy firmly. ‘I'm sure you'll get everything sorted out.'

Sandy, Anna and Carlo walked home talking about the cafe and how they'd juggle their time.

Carlo was quiet and Anna asked, ‘Are you tired from the flight? You don't have to hang around the cafe from morning till midnight.'

‘You girls have no idea what you've let yourselves in for. It's a good thing I'm here.'

‘We'll manage, thanks, Carlo,' said Sandy quickly.

He gave a short laugh. ‘Listen, as soon as Anna told me what you were doing I hopped on a plane. What makes you think you can run a bar? It's a crazy idea. It's not just dishing up noodles. Have you been there when that joint closes down? I bet it's a different scene from your little social supper of this evening.'

‘I haven't stayed past eleven,' admitted Anna. ‘Have you, Sandy?'

Sandy stepped off the footpath into the whirl of after-dinner traffic and Anna confidently followed. ‘Yes, I have. It's not the sort of place you seem to think it is, Carlo.' She turned to admonish him but Carlo was still standing on the footpath behind them, a sea of bikes, scooters and cyclos between them.

‘Shit! Don't these bastards ever stop?'

Anna laughed. ‘Just walk slowly, don't hesitate. They'll go round you.'

Muttering under his breath, Carlo weaved his way across the road to join them. ‘Idiots. How many people are killed on these roads every day?'

‘Actually quite a lot,' said Sandy matter-of-factly. ‘About a 747's worth each week across the country.' She strode ahead.

Anna took his hand. ‘Don't mind Sandy. Sweetie, I know you're trying to help us, but just go slowly, okay?'

‘You'll be glad I'm around, mark my words,' said Carlo. ‘You two are babes in the wood.' He squeezed her hand. ‘Speaking of babes, you're looking hot. And I'm feeling horny. You've been away too long.'

‘We should go somewhere romantic before you leave. Halong Bay maybe,' said Anna. ‘I just hope you can entertain yourself while we're running Barney's.'

‘Don't you worry about me. I have a few plans,' said Carlo.

They shut the laneway gate and walked through the dark courtyard.

‘I bet that nosy old bag is watching – what's her name? Mrs Minh? How can you stand this communal living?' asked Carlo.

‘They're our friends. We look out for each other and they've been very helpful. It's how it is here,' said Sandy shortly.

Carlo leaned over and whispered in Anna's ear. ‘She must have PMT. Miserable bitch.'

‘Shut up, Carlo,' whispered Anna as Sandy went up the stairs ahead of them. ‘Don't try to run everything. You've just arrived.'

‘You haven't seen anything yet, caro. This country is ripe. Just opening up. I can smell opportunities.'

Anna didn't answer. Carlo wouldn't be in Vietnam long enough to embark on a business project. But she was worried what he'd do with himself while she and Sandy were at Barney's. Why couldn't he have contacted her before impulsively jumping on a plane, she thought. But, as she knew, no one could tell Carlo what to do.

As arranged, Tom turned up at The Strangled Cow bar a few kilometres out of Vung Tau. The sun was setting, turning the clipped wet lawns a shining emerald. He followed the noise and laughter to the poolside bar, where there were strings of coloured lights around a thatched roof supported by wooden poles over a long bar.

Most people were clustered around the bar, but some couples stood apart on the lawns in intense conversation. It was a scene he recalled from years ago – large western men, beers in hands, leaning close to dainty, pretty Vietnamese girls. But instead of the ao-dai or, in his day, the daring mini skirt, these girls were wearing cut-off jeans and skimpy tops. A couple of kids raced past and he saw they were an attractive mix of Caucasian and Vietnamese. The girls behind the bar had the same bright lipstick and sharp look he remembered well. Behind their fast smiles and repartee was a machine calculating every cent a customer was worth and what they might extract from them in the course of the evening. He heard the click of billiard balls and glanced at the pool table where some kids were playing. In the old days he'd been one of many to lose heavily in games with the bar girls.