Chapter 27 Chapter Twenty Six

Finally, after a long wait, after years of training and drifting, I was twenty-one years old, uprooted, and came to London.People flocked to London from all over the world, fleeing their homes on rickety boats, hiding under trains or inside trucks.Not to Europe, not to England, but to London, because in London, no matter who you are, no matter what you are like, you can find someone like you, or lose yourself.As soon as people arrive at Heathrow, their IDs are shredded so they cannot be deported.If I knew how to do it, I would do it too.I wanted to be reborn in London, naked and anonymous, so that I could give myself a new name, create a new identity.But I just got off at Euston station and started all over again.

On a cold Friday evening before New Years Eve in a few days, I'm sitting in a pub in King's Cross Canal Harbor, enjoying my third lager and starting to feel a little tipsy.Then I saw my partner Duncan walking towards me with a girl I hadn't seen before.I knew right away that she was the kind of girl who would make me falter and be speechless.Tall, with long legs and slender arms, she defied the cold and still wore brightly colored T-shirts and shorts.She had a bronzed complexion, with freckles from the sun and the sun.His dark curly hair was tied back.She has very eye-catching eyes. I didn't hear what Don Ken said clearly, but her eyes were shining with a smile.She held a bottle of beer in one hand, and a messenger bag and a bicycle helmet in the other.They go to the table.

This is Estelle.Belle.Duncan said.He looks at her.He's the guy I just mentioned to you. Hi, said Estelle.Duncan said you were looking for a place to live. Estelle was very different from the girls I'd known before.She doesn't flirt or flatter anyone.She is not timid, beating around the bush, or eager to please.She doesn't care if I like her or not.I don't mean she is cold, quite the opposite.She just knows who she is and isn't trying to pretend to be someone else.She has no dark sides and no tricks.I could see that she wouldn't pretend to have heard a band that didn't exist, or laugh at a joke when she didn't understand it, or coyly try to get everything she wanted.I knew what she was long before she sat down across from me, her chin in her hands, and gazed at me with her dark, clear eyes.I watched her go to the bar to order drinks for everyone, ignoring the men who were ogling her.I watched her come back cautiously with two glasses of wine; a friend at the cigarette machine called her name, and she turned and grinned and said something to him.Although her cycling suit is short and tight, her posture is still flexible and elegant.To me, her silhouette seemed more defined than anyone else in the bar, as if she was lit from behind, or she was the central focus of the photo, with other characters marginalized and slightly blurred.

Cheers, she said, taking a sip of her beer, wiping the froth off her upper lip, are you looking for a place to stay? Yes, I reluctantly took the call, the place I am staying at will not be rented anymore.I have to move out as soon as possible. Is there a house in Hackney that is convenient for you in Hackney?It's a really nice house, maybe a little run down, but with a big garden attached.There are currently six people living here and we are looking for a seventh tenant. Are you the owner? She looked up and laughed.I saw her white teeth and the pink inside of her mouth.Do I look like a landowner with seven bedrooms?Don't be ridiculous, I'm just a bicycle courier.A bicycle and a few changes of laundry are all my possessions.The owner's name was Miles.He has a full-time job, but don't worry.He is awesome.It should be praised.

I tried to squeeze out a mature question to ask her.What is the rent? Fifty pounds a week.Not much money.However, we will split the cost of maintenance and repairs, bills, etc. of the house equally.Even renovation costs are no exception.It's completely a gentleman's appointment.can you accept it? Great, I said, and what about mealtime?Will you have dinner together? Not the army.We don't have any rules there, maybe there should be more house rules.But so far it's been fine and fun.Most of the time.Interested? Yes, of course. Of course you have to meet with each resident.But first, can I ask you a few questions?

What is it like?Feeling jittery and parched, I pretend to sip a beer and try to look relaxed.I can't drink any more, I must remain vigilant, vigilant and fearful. What line of work are you in? I've only been in London not long ago.by odd jobs At this moment, her cell phone rang.She took the phone out of her pocket and lifted the cover.Hi Miles. She looked at me and smiled.I think I've found a tenant.Yes, I was with him on the edge of the Rising Sun is the right canal. Generally speaking, I think he is okay.She gave me another look.You're okay, right? Yes, I said, I guess so.

Is it reliable? What do you mean? She laughed a few times and continued talking on the phone.Why don't you come and meet him in person?She raised her eyebrows inquiringly at me, and I nodded immediately.See you in ten minutes then.She paused, frowning and listening.That's great.Just bring her.break off. She closed the phone and turned to face me.alright.The big boss is coming.Hope you don't mind. No problem, I said, anyone else want to come along? lute.She is also one of the residents.The three of us, Pipa and Miles, are the founding fathers.Others come and go, but we are always there.

So wait for an interview? We are not exaggerating that much. But she was wrong.She didn't understand how small and scary someone like her could be. As soon as these two people walked in the door, I knew it must be them.The man was tall and thin, with a neatly trimmed beard, more stubble than a beard, and a bald head that shone brightly in the light.He wore a dark suit of soft material that looked expensive, with a coat over it, and a light briefcase in his hand.His handshake was strong, but his eyes only lingered on me for a second before they turned to Estelle.He kissed her cheek, and his face softened.I make a mental note: he adores her.This is beyond words.However, what is certain is that she has no reverie about him.

That woman Pipa didn't even bother to shake my hand.Just smiling at me with fingertips touching my arms, eyes stretched wide, mouth with evenly applied pink lipstick.I can smell her perfume.I have a keen sense of smell and never forget it.I always remember the smell of grass on my mother.Lute was as tall as Astrid, maybe even taller, and slimmer and more beautiful, fragile as china.She wore a cream suit and high heels.A head of long hair is coiled on top of her head, and she will touch it lightly every now and then to make sure that the bun is not wandering around.She looked so demure and dignified, but unexpectedly the first sentence she spoke was: You must have a broken head.

What are you talking about? That's why he wants to live in our lunatic asylum. Leave her alone.Estelle said. I bought drinks for them, thinking that the money should be spent in the right place; I stood in front of the bar and peeked back at them, only to see three people sitting around the dining table, leaning against each other, and burst into laughter.Are they talking about me?Are you kidding me? They ask me questions.I smiled and nodded, saying what they wanted to hear.Yes, I am easygoing.Yes, I have friends in London.Yes, I can pay the rent monthly.OK, it's okay to help with the cleaning.No, I have no plans to move in the next few months.

Do you like to eat curry?Pipa suddenly asked me. like.Love it.I said differently.The curry was too oily and too salty. Let's get takeaway back to Maitland Road, she said, and then you can meet the other flatmates.how about? Did I pass the interview? She had to talk it over with me and Estelle first.Miles said harshly. Sorry.Pipa winked at me while talking. Then should I avoid it first and let you discuss it? No need.said Estelle; she got up and put on her leather jacket.You three go first.I ride a bicycle and meet you at home. We step out of the bar and into the night.I watched Astrid stand in the street and unlock her bicycle.She buckled up her safety helmet, hung her messenger bag over her shoulder, and straddled the frame beam with one slender leg.Her breath fogged against the night sky.Everything about her is liquid and streamlined.I later found out that Miles was watching her too. The three of us took a taxi.Miles ordered takeout in the car and was dropped off a few blocks from home to pick it up, and we walked home with two paper shopping bags that radiated the heat of the food and two bottles of wine I insisted on buying at a store we stopped by. .Having never been to this part of London, I looked around trying to get a feel for it.We are on an arterial highway that runs through the city, with heavy traffic and traffic lights everywhere.I could tell right away it was a run-down area, and one that I wanted to get away from when I came to London.The shops were old and quaint, and a few were boarded up; we were surrounded by high-rise blocks.I noticed many black people around me.But the branch streets of this road look vulgar and rich, behind rows of iron gates and small yards are quaint mansions. It's almost there.Pipa said. We turned onto a long tree-lined street, then turned another corner, and saw a group of teenagers kicking a ball between pools of streetlights and parked cars.A tall building cuts off the horizon ahead.On the left is the entrance to a messy park. Here we are! The house must have been magnificent when it was first built.It was three stories high, with a door in the middle of the house, bay windows on either side, a small garden in front, and a wide staircase leading to the door.But I could tell right away that it was in need of a serious refurbishment.The first thing to do is to fill the brick joints with mortar.The slate tiles on the roof were about to fall off.Cracked window frames and peeling paint.Years of disrepair have eroded building materials, and the house seems terminally ill.I took a look at the dilapidated house and said in a polite tone: This place is great. It's a mess, don't mind it.Miles said as he opened the door. Here we are!Pipa shouted, bring food back! Estelle came downstairs.She has changed into a light green T-shirt and jeans.She was barefoot, and I noticed orange nail polish on her toes and a silver chain on her left ankle.I arrived earlier than you, she said, everyone is here.I told them about you. Yes, I said, yes. Are you nervous? At one point, I said, I want to live here.This puts me at a disadvantage. That should be the correct answer; at least I think so.She looked at me gratefully and once put her hand on my shoulder.Welcome to Tiger's Den. We went downstairs in one file.I heard the boy's voice, and suddenly realized that I didn't ask about other residents.But it's too late to ask now, because we're standing in this spacious and untidy semi-basement, with three men sitting around a long table, Estelle introducing me, Pipa handing out chipped and mismatched dinner plates, and finally a handful Cutlery is placed in the center of the tabletop. Everyone, said Estelle, and there was silence.All eyes were on me.First impressions matter, I know. Hi, I said and raised my hand. This, she said, was David. I know first impressions matter.I smiled at each of them, looked each of them in the eye.Take mental notes. First of all, as Estelle was talking, she faced a skinny guy with freckles, he looked a lot like the little turnip-headed little guy in our middle school who was always looking for trouble, this is Dalio. Hi Dalio, I said, nice to meet you. Yeah?His pupils dilated and he spoke incoherently.I guess he was in a trance after taking drugs. What?Oh, yes.At least if you promise to let me stay, I'll be glad I will.There were bursts of laughter at the dining table, and my self-confidence increased. And this Astrid pointed to a slightly older man with a soldier's hair. The thin gray T-shirt looked too tight on his sturdy body.This is Mike. He mumbled something.I can't hear you either. Last but not least I faced the third man and held out my hand with a big smile on my face.I knew right away that I didn't like this guy, not at all.I didn't like his long dark hair, high cheekbones, and bubble eyes with enigmatic dark eyes.I don't like his pan-annish good looks, or his dreamy look, as if he has a way of seeing things that I can't.I don't like the way Estelle is staring at him now; she glows suddenly, as if she's releasing heat.I also don't like the way he looked back at Estelle, the exchange of eyebrows between the two, as if an electric current was passing through the air. We shook hands. I am Owen.He said. Hello Owen. I took a seat between Estelle and Dalio, uncorked the two bottles of wine, and poured a glass for everyone in the room.Pipa lit three stubby white candles.I listen, nod, and laugh at the right moment.I am humble, prudent, and timely in expressing gratitude.When Dalio's prawn strayed into his trachea and coughed, I patted him on the back.I help Estelle clean out the foil containers.I said when summer came I could deal with the hornets' nests under the eaves.It turned out to be that simple.I become one of them.