Dust On Mountain: Collected Stories
“You will know what I mean.
When I was living and working in London I knew a Vietnamese girl called Phuong. She studied at the Polytechnic. During the summer vacations she joined a group of students—some of them English, most of them French, German, Indian and African—picking raspberries for a few pounds a week and drinking in some real English country air. Late one summer, on her return from a farm, she introduced me to Ulla, a sixteen-year-old Danish girl who had come over to England for a sim...ilar holiday.
‘Please look after Ulla for a few days,’ said Phuong. ‘She doesn’t know anyone in London.’ ‘But I want to look after you,’ I protested. I had been infatuated with Phuong for some time, but though she was rather fond of me, she did not reciprocate my advances and it was possible that she had conceived of Ulla as a device to get rid of me for a little while.
‘This is Ulla,’ said Phuong, thrusting a blonde child into my arms. ‘Bye and don’t get up to any mischief!’ Phuong disappeared, and I was left alone with Ulla at the entrance to the Charing Cross underground station.MoreLess
When I was living and working in London I knew a Vietnamese girl called Phuong. She studied at the Polytechnic. During the summer vacations she joined a group of students—some of them English, most of them French, German, Indian and African—picking raspberries for a few pounds a week and drinking in some real English country air. Late one summer, on her return from a farm, she introduced me to Ulla, a sixteen-year-old Danish girl who had come over to England for a sim...ilar holiday.
‘Please look after Ulla for a few days,’ said Phuong. ‘She doesn’t know anyone in London.’ ‘But I want to look after you,’ I protested. I had been infatuated with Phuong for some time, but though she was rather fond of me, she did not reciprocate my advances and it was possible that she had conceived of Ulla as a device to get rid of me for a little while.
‘This is Ulla,’ said Phuong, thrusting a blonde child into my arms. ‘Bye and don’t get up to any mischief!’ Phuong disappeared, and I was left alone with Ulla at the entrance to the Charing Cross underground station.MoreLess
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Guest 5 years ago
it was amazing! thoroughly enjoyed it....must read for anyone who would like some light hearted short storiesWrite Review:
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