‘You use it for work?’ Tom says.
‘Yeah – it’s an hour by bus, half that on the scooter. No-brainer.’
‘Isn’t it dangerous?’ I say. ‘The traffic?’
‘You get used to it,’ Shona says. ‘I’ve not seen many accidents – people aren’t going that fast, really.’
‘Are all the scooters electric?’ Tom says.
‘You can get petrol ones but you don’t need a licence for the electric ones so most people use them,’ Bradley says.
‘Will you report it stolen?’ I say to Shona.
She shakes her head. ‘No point.’
The waitress brings over a large metal bowl with a lid and places it in the hole. She stoops between Bradley and Rosemary and lights the gas.
The dish is not immediately appealing, a milky grey liquid, reminiscent of washing-up water, with chunks of tomato, bamboo shoots, shredded cabbage, something cream-coloured that I can’t identify, and brown meat floating in it. Next comes a large bowl of sticky rice, which Bradley doles out. There is a plate of spice, red chilli and dark green coriander. Shona points her chopsticks at it. ‘If you like it really hot, add some of that too.’
Following their lead, Tom and I pick up food from the hotpot, fishing out what we’d like to add to our rice. My first taste is savoury, salty, a rich stock with a sizzling punch that numbs my lips and catches at the back of my throat. I cough and drink some beer. The steam rises from the pot, my nose runs and sweat breaks across my scalp and face. The tissues are handy for blowing noses but also to wipe my mouth and fingers when things get messy and my attempts to use the chopsticks fail. The cream-coloured food is tofu, unlike any I’ve had before: silky, with a delicate taste almost like shellfish. The brown meat turns out to be pork, streaked with fat. I lean back from the table and fan my face.
Rosemary smiles. ‘We say to eat hot food is good in Sichuan because it is so damp here. This is very good for your health.’
Tom laughs. ‘You’re bright red, Jo.’
‘I’m not the only one.’ I snag a sliver of tofu and eat it. The chilli catches again in my throat and I cough.
‘These…’ Tom points to a burr at the edge of his rice ‘… these are the peppers?’
‘That’s right,’ Bradley says. ‘Sichuan pepper. It numbs the tongue. You feel that?’ He reaches for a tissue, wipes his moustache and chin.
‘It was Lori who found this place,’ Shona says.
Conversation stops.
‘Where can she be?’ Rosemary says, her eyes pained.
My chest is tight.
No one answers but then Shona says, ‘She loves finding new things, exploring.’
