Chapter Five
I drove back to Seoul seething with anger. The loss of my wallet, which had contained two hundred thousand won in notes, had been the last straw. Kwon Oh-young, of course, had been full of sympathy and had accepted a cheque in settlement of my hotel bill and cashed another for my travelling expenses: having regard to the state of my finances at the time, he was taking a bigger chance than he realised. Shin had been instantly informed, had taken full particulars, and assured me that he would investigate the matter at once. It would plainly take priority over out-of-date dog licences, cattle straying on the high road, and minor parking offences; they would all be contemptuously brushed aside until Mr Moon’s wallet was recovered. As a result of this theft every Sinjang-ri inhabitant would become a suspected criminal.
In more serious mood I considered my own unenviable position. I had been had for a sucker all along the line. I was out of business and pretty nearly broke. In the words of a popular song, I was bewitched, bothered and bewildered.
As I took the main road to Muan I considered my tangible assets: one was the Hyundai Starex SVX which purred so contentedly under my hand towards Gwangju – that should fetch at least three million won and would be the first thing to go. My comfortable riverside apartment would give place to a bedsitter in Guro. I would have to draw in my horns until they were invisible. Alternatively, I could emulate Park Song-yong and find a tame sucker for myself.
It was in this unpromising humour that, five hundred miles and many drinks later, I reached Seoul.
I lost no time in becoming solvent again and sold the Starex people carrier for three million four hundred thousand won. The dealer had offered me three million, but I stuck out for four hundred thousand. Eventually we agreed to split the difference after thirty minutes of pointless and high pressure chatter. I then took a taxi to my flat.
Mrs Gim, my daily woman, was busy with her chores. She was a plump and motherly person who served me with an almost maternal devotion. I suspected that she thought it high time that I found myself a wife and settled down – sometimes I even thought so myself.
I noticed that the living-room was spotlessly clean and that Mrs Gim had got in some fresh flowers. She paused in a determined onslaught with a duster on the mantelpiece and said: ‘Good evening, Mr Moon. Welcome home’.
‘Hello, Mrs Gim’, I said. ‘You’re a bit late, aren’t you?’
‘I thought I’d pop in with a few flowers, sir’, she said. ‘They do help to brighten the place up a bit’.
I looked round the room. ‘Well, you certainly seem to have done that’, I conceded. ‘How did you know I was coming back today?’
‘I was here this morning when Miss Kim Joo-young telephoned’, explained Mrs Gim. ‘She said she’d had a text from you’.
I nodded automatically and picked up a pile of post, most of which seemed to be unsolicited advertising. ‘It’s very kind of you to make so much effort, Mrs Gim’, I murmured.
Always a garrulous woman, she seemed determined to hang about.
‘I’ve made you some green tea’, she continued. ‘I think you should be all right now, sir’. ‘I’m sure I’ll be fine’, I replied. ‘Have there been any messages for me?’
‘Yes’, she said, screwing-up her forehead as she struggled to recall them. ‘A Mr Na Sang-wha telephoned three times. The last call was only half an hour before you came in’.
‘Na Sang-wha?’ I queried. ‘Hmm, it’s not a name I know. You’re sure you got the name right?’
‘Hmm!’ Mrs Gim raised her eyebrows. ‘Mr Moon’, she said testily, ‘have you ever known me to get a name wrong?’
‘Never’, I replied honestly. ‘So, did he say who he is and what he wanted? I hope he isn’t trying to sell me something’
‘No; he just said he’d phone back later’.
I was just about to say what I’d like to do if he did call again when the doorbell rang. ‘I bet that’s Miss Kim Joo-young’, Mrs Gim predicted. ‘She said she’d probably drop by on her way to the theatre’.
Kim Joo-young came into the room and Mrs Gim made a discreet withdrawal. Joo-young looked tired and worried; she was pale and there were dark circles under her expressive eyes. Even her black hair lacked its customary lustre. She said in an oddly flat and expressionless voice: ‘Well, Han-sang – how are you?’
‘I’m all right’, I said. ‘Would you like a drink?’
She took off her coat and threw it carelessly on to a chair. Then she held out her hands to the fire. ‘I’d better not before the show’, she decided.
I moved towards the drinks table. ‘Mind if I do?’
I poured a soju. Joo-young watched me for a moment, without speaking. Then she said dejectedly: ‘So he didn’t turn up’.
‘No’, I said.
She sighed. ‘I’m sorry, Han-sang’.
I drank some soju. ‘There’s nothing for you to be sorry about’, I told her.
She gestured impatiently. ‘But I feel responsible for the whole thing. Every won you had was in that wretched firm’.
I shrugged. ‘That’s a slight exaggeration. Anyway, just because you’re engaged to a man it doesn’t make you responsible for all his actions’.
She shook her head decisively. ‘Darling, I’m serious. How much did you lose? Seven hundred million? Eight?’
‘Nothing like that’. I put my drink down on the table and moved a little closer to her. ‘Joo- young, there’s no point in going over this again. I’ve really got no one to blame but myself, you know. When Song-yong started going off on these trips of his and neglecting the business I should have had it out with him’.
‘But you did have it out with him!’ she said vehemently. ‘For God’s sake don’t come the injured martyr with me. You had a showdown with him and all you got was a lot of smooth talk’. Her voice assumed a bitter note. ‘No one knows that smooth line of Song-yong’s better than I do. Look at that letter he wrote you’.
‘Which one d’you mean, Joo-young?’
‘You know damned well which one’, she said heatedly. ‘The one that said Meet me in Sinjang- ri – all our troubles are over. If you ask me, they’re just beginning. I knew perfectly well he wouldn’t turn up, and even if he had he’d have produced some crazy scheme to make you forget the money you’d already lost’. She turned back to the fire again and tapped one foot impatiently on the carpet.
‘You seem to forget’, I said mildly, ‘that the firm was doing very well until –’
She wheeled round to face me again. ‘Until Song-yong messed the whole thing up – like he always does. The pair of you make me tired, with your old pals act and ‘we must stick together’ routine. Park Song-yong’s had you for a sucker and you damned well know it’.
‘Poor Joo-young’, I said inadequately.
She gave me a mirthless little laugh. ‘Poor Joo-young, nothing! Poor Han-sang!’
‘You know’, I said in the same mild voice, ‘you’ve been far more upset about this than I have’. Joo-young made a move. ‘I suppose I have. But – well, you haven’t discovered your fiancé is just a ‘con’ man’.
‘You’re still engaged to him?’
‘Yes, God help me, I still am. Kim Joo-young makes a fool of herself over a penniless, no- good, useless layabout like Park Song-yong’. She laughed bitterly. ‘My publicist would have kittens if he knew about this’.
I looked at her for a moment. Then, without speaking, I poured a large soju into a glass and passed it over. ‘I think you’d better have that drink after all’, I said.
Joo-young seemed to relax a little and took the glass. She said listlessly: ‘I think you’re right’. ‘I suppose you haven’t heard from him?’ I said.
‘Not a word – not even a postcard. But he’ll turn up. I know Song-yong – it’s all happened before. One of these days’, she added darkly, ‘its going to happen once too often. Have you got a cigarette?’
I pointed to the box on the table. ‘Help yourself’.
She lit a cigarette and smoked in silence for a moment. Presently she said: ‘Han-sang, what are you going to do now? Have you thought of starting up again on your own?’
I shrugged rather helplessly. ‘I don’t know. I’m not sure yet’.
‘Well, if you do, I might –’ she hesitated and then went on: ‘Well, I wouldn’t mind putting up some of the money. After all, I’ve done pretty well lately, and I know it would be a good investment’.
I held up a hand. ‘No, Joo-young. We don’t do it like that’. ‘Why not? What d’you mean?’
‘You know perfectly well what I mean. I’m not letting you repay Park Song-yong’s debts – not under any pretext’. I rested my hand on her shoulder for a moment. ‘Don’t think I don’t appreciate the offer, but I’m not thinking of starting up anything on my own. I’ve learned my lesson – ’
‘Learned it the hard way’, interposed Joo-young sadly.
‘Well, never mind about that. I’m not sunk yet. I may even go abroad’. ‘You shouldn’t have much difficulty getting a job’, she said.
I was relieved when the telephone interrupted the conversation.
The voice on the other end was crisp and cultured. ‘Mr Moon Han-sang?’
‘Yes’, I said.
‘Good evening to you’, continued the voice. ‘My name’s Na Sang-wha. Sorry if I’ve disturbed you’.
‘You haven’t. What can I do for you?’
The pleasant voice said: ‘I hope you won’t think it’s an impertinence on my part, Mr Moon, but I heard about your company going into liquidation, and I wondered if you’d make any particular plans for the future’.
I pricked up my ears at that. ‘Well, no’, I admitted. ‘I did have some vague idea about going abroad’.
‘I see. Well, if you should happen to change your mind perhaps you’d care to get in touch with me. I could use a man with your qualifications’.
Somewhat taken aback, I said: ‘Thank you very much. Perhaps you'd tell me the name of your firm and give me your telephone number’.
There was a brief pause. Presently the voice said: ‘I think it might be better if you called in to see me here. I’d be delighted to meet you. Would tomorrow afternoon be convenient?’
‘Certainly. Shall we say three o’clock?’
‘That suits me’.
‘The address 40 Sejong-daero’.
‘I’ll be there’, I promised. ‘Thank you, Mr Na’.
‘Thank you, Mr Moon. Three o’clock tomorrow, then …’
Joo-young looked at me expectantly as I replaced the receiver. ‘Good news?’ she asked.
‘There’s no such thing’, I told her.