Sidney grimaces. ‘No. I checked that too. It never says anywhere that they were made in Japan; just to highest standards of Japanese craftsmanship and all that guff.’
‘Have you talked to Ishowi about this?’
‘I’m getting him up here. Why should he be lording it in Hoverton while we’re sweating our guts out in this bleeding dump?’
‘I thought you reckoned the north was a good idea, Sid?’ Sidney turns on me savagely. ‘Well, I was wrong, wasn’t I? Does that make you feel any better? They’re just the same lot of miserable, moaning gits as you get down in London only you can’t understand what they’re saying. Except for the coloured ones. They speak proper.’
The sound of a gong punctuates Sidney’s outburst.
‘There goes the supper gong,’ I say. ‘Do you fancy anything?’
‘I never know whether it’s the supper gong or the temple gong in this place,’ moans Sid. ‘What is it? Curry on toast again, with stewed guavas to follow, I suppose. That woman can’t even make a decent cup of tea. Diabolical it is. You’d think she’d know how to do that, wouldn’t you? Bleeding stuff was probably growing in her back yard.’
When Sid gets in this kind of mood it is difficult to reason with him, but I think the situation serious enough to continue trying.
‘You’ve actually paid Ishowi the money, have you, Sid?’
‘I’ve paid him some. The rest becomes due when the full consignment arrives at Hoverton.’
‘When does that happen?’
Sid picks up a letter and waves it at me. ‘It’s happened. I got this from Ishowi today. “Honoured to inform you that nineteen thousand Nuggets arrived today, colour Yangtse-yellow”.’
‘That’s in China, isn’t it?’
‘I wish I was. Blimey! Nineteen thousand of the bastards. What are we going to do?’
“Are you covered against fire?’
‘Timmy! Really! I don’t know where you get these ideas from.’
‘My relations mainly. Have you got a better idea?’
‘I’ve only had one idea – and that’s a thousand to one outsider. I know a big bullshitter who used to be at Funfrall Enterprises with me. He’s got his own import-export business now. If I go to him and suggest a merger, he’ll reckon I’m in trouble and, being the kind of sod he is, he might just try and buy me out for peanuts. I’ll lose on the deal, of course, but I paid so little in the first place I can’t go down too much.’
Knowing Sidney, I am not so certain that I agree with his last statement but I don’t say anything.
‘What about the girls?’
‘I’ll give him the option of taking them over. They’re a good publicity gimmick!’
‘And what about Ishowi?’
‘He can go and start training to become a Kamikazi pilot any time he likes.’
So next day Sid pushes off to see his old business associate and I make a half-hearted attempt at unloading a few more Nuggets. I don’t get very far because I bump into this bird who is having trouble starting her car. I don’t know much about engines but I get stuck into it and find that there is something wrong with the differential. By the time I have fixed it I am covered in grease and the bird offers me the use of the bathroom. Well, one thing leads to another, and by the end of the afternoon it is a question of vive le differential and the car is still in the garage.
I decide to pack it in after that, the Nugget selling I mean, and I get back to Mrs. Bandanaike and the smell of curry that leaves footprints, just in time to be greeted by an enthusaistic Sidney.
‘I did it! I did it!’ he exults. ‘Brother but it was close though. The bleeding product worked so well he nearly agreed to my terms for a merger and was prepared to put up some promotional money. He couldn’t believe that I would ever sell out of such a good deal.’ Sidney hugs himself delightedly.
‘But you managed to pull it off, Sidney?’
‘Yeah, but it took a bit of doing. I had to persuade him that I was a bit gulliver – stupid, you know.’
‘Gullible? Yes, Sid. You were able to do that all right, were you?’
‘Eventually, Timmo. I had to box pretty clever though. Not let on too much.’
‘No, Sid.’
‘Not appear too sharp for the way I was trying to present myself. Know what I mean?’
‘Yes, Sid.’
Eventually he has finished congratulating himself and he tells me that Ernest Truscott, that’s the name of the mug, wants us to introduce the Nugget to his sales force at a meeting they are having shortly. Truscott is very impressed by what he has heard about the Daughters of the Cherry Blossom and wants them there as well. Also, Ishowi in his Samurai clobber.
We have a few celebratory drinks out of a bottle of nerve tonic Sid keeps especially for such occasions and decide that it would be a good idea to go round to the hotel and tell the girls about the new deal.
‘They’re nice girls,’ says Sid reflectively as we make our way to the Grand, ‘but they have been a bit disappointing saleswise. Didn’t have the tenacity I was expecting.’
‘I think you miscalculated there, Sidney,’ I say wisely. ‘They’re not pushy like English birds, are they? They’re taught to serve.’
‘I suppose you’re right. Maybe I should have given them more supervision. If only we’d have had a few bob for advertising they could have been very useful.’
We go into the foyer of the Grand and Sid marches up to reception.
‘Are any of the Japanese ladies back?’ he says. The girl looks slightly surprised.
‘The masseuses, you mean? They’re all up in the sauna now, I think.’
‘How many Japanese have you got staying here?’ asks Sid.
‘Just the twelve,’ says the girl. ‘They’re the only ones we’ve ever had.’
‘Where is the sauna?’
‘Top floor. You’ll see the queue.’
She is not kidding. We can hardly push our way out of the lift for the crowd blocking up the corridor. As we are pressed back against the wall Spring Fragrance goes past leading a pink-faced businessman who is sweating like a suet pudding. His collar stud has popped open and he is carrying his jacket over his arm.
‘Clum this way,’ says my little friend. ‘After lie down and deep massage you will feel differelent in all resplects.’
‘O-o-h,’ says the man ecstatically, ‘o-o-o-o-h!’ Immediately the crowd redoubles its efforts to get near the sauna and Sid and I have a fight on our hands to make any headway at all.
‘Two-timing little sluts!’ hisses Sid. ‘So this is what they’ve been up to. I could never understand why they were distributing all those leaflets.’
He shoulders protesting customers out of the way and forces his way through the half-open door to the sauna. Happy Spirit is waiting inside with outstretched hands.
‘Two plounds pleese,’ she says.
‘Now, wait a minute –’
‘Two plounds or I blake your arm—Ah, Mr. No-get. It is you. Only one plound please.’
I am looking past Sidney and when the door into the hot chamber opens it is like looking at a white seal colony. Fat, melting bodies are huddled together whilst nubile