towards a cluster of red-roofed villas, school satchels slung across their shoulders. It was an ad for the Shanghai Commercial Bank, a depiction of the new Chinese dream. Yet another, beneath a portrait of Deng Xiaoping, proclaimed, DEVELOPMENT IS TRUTH.
Geller laughed. ‘The Chinese authorities still haven’t got over their need to sloganise. It’s just the messages that are different, and a little more confused. Mind if I smoke?’
Margaret shrugged. ‘It’s your cab. And your life.’
He lit up, then rolled down the window a little to blow out the smoke. ‘I was at a racetrack down in Canton recently. Horse-racing’s really catching on again in China. You’ve never seen anything like it. The car park was filled with expensive imported cars, punters were queuing up to place bets at computerised betting windows. Wealthy businessmen were crowded into private rooms in the stand, cheering on horses with names like “Millionaire” and “GetRichQuick”. But, anyway, right above them all, draped from the roof, was a giant red banner proclaiming, “Resolutely Implement the Central Government’s Order on Forbidding Gambling”.’ He laughed uproariously.
In spite of her mood, Margaret’s face cracked in a smile. Although she would have been loath to admit it, there was something quite likeable about this wry and slightly tousled reporter who smelled faintly of alcohol.
‘See what I mean about confused?’ he said. They passed another billboard, a photograph of the Great Wall with the slogan, LOVE OUR SHANGHAI, LOVE OUR COUNTRY. ‘Of course, Shanghai and Beijing hate each other’s guts,’ Geller said. ‘Beijing’s got all the power, and Shanghai’s got all the money, and each one envies the other. But for me, Shanghai wins hands down. It’s quite a place. You been here before, Miss Campbell?’
Margaret shook her head. ‘No.’
‘The Whore of the Orient.’
‘I beg your pardon.’
‘Some people called it the Paris of the East, but I like the Whore of the Orient. I think it probably characterises best what it was like here between the wars. You know the place was virtually run by the British and the Americans? And the French. Oh, and the Japs.’
‘No, I didn’t.’ Margaret was curious for the first time. She really knew nothing about Shanghai. ‘How did that happen?’
‘Oh, the Chinese were forced to grant various trading concessions to foreign powers in cities up and down the coast after the Opium Wars,’ he said. ‘But Shanghai’s where it really took off. The place became the commercial gateway to China.’ He drew on his cigarette and focused somewhere away in the middle distance. ‘We got together with the Brits to create what they called the International Settlement. The Frogs, as always, did their own thing in the French Concession. The “foreign devils” ran everything here. Police, sanitation, building regulations. They were completely self-governing, dominated by the most powerful business interests. The Chinese got squeezed into the slums of the old town and never got a look in. It’s hardly any wonder this is where the Chinese Communist Party started up.’ He sat back with a kind of dreamy smile on his face and took another long pull on his cigarette. ‘Shanghai was the most cosmopolitan city in the world. There were people here drawn from across the widest spectrum of East and West, from Nazi spies and Filipino band leaders to Arab gendarmes and Indian princesses.’ He turned and grinned at her, ‘I’d have loved to have been around in those days. The place was teeming with gangsters and adventurers. A twentieth-century Sodom and Gomorrah.’ He put on an English accent. ‘Spiced up by Lea and Perrin’s sauce and played out to the accompaniment of Gilbert and Sullivan.’
‘Not very Chinese,’ Margaret said.
‘Not at all,’ Geller conceded. ‘But then large parts of Shanghai aren’t. You’ll see for yourself in time. Even the hotel you’re staying in is
Geller laughed. ‘The Chinese authorities still haven’t got over their need to sloganise. It’s just the messages that are different, and a little more confused. Mind if I smoke?’
Margaret shrugged. ‘It’s your cab. And your life.’
He lit up, then rolled down the window a little to blow out the smoke. ‘I was at a racetrack down in Canton recently. Horse-racing’s really catching on again in China. You’ve never seen anything like it. The car park was filled with expensive imported cars, punters were queuing up to place bets at computerised betting windows. Wealthy businessmen were crowded into private rooms in the stand, cheering on horses with names like “Millionaire” and “GetRichQuick”. But, anyway, right above them all, draped from the roof, was a giant red banner proclaiming, “Resolutely Implement the Central Government’s Order on Forbidding Gambling”.’ He laughed uproariously.
In spite of her mood, Margaret’s face cracked in a smile. Although she would have been loath to admit it, there was something quite likeable about this wry and slightly tousled reporter who smelled faintly of alcohol.
‘See what I mean about confused?’ he said. They passed another billboard, a photograph of the Great Wall with the slogan, LOVE OUR SHANGHAI, LOVE OUR COUNTRY. ‘Of course, Shanghai and Beijing hate each other’s guts,’ Geller said. ‘Beijing’s got all the power, and Shanghai’s got all the money, and each one envies the other. But for me, Shanghai wins hands down. It’s quite a place. You been here before, Miss Campbell?’
Margaret shook her head. ‘No.’
‘The Whore of the Orient.’
‘I beg your pardon.’
‘Some people called it the Paris of the East, but I like the Whore of the Orient. I think it probably characterises best what it was like here between the wars. You know the place was virtually run by the British and the Americans? And the French. Oh, and the Japs.’
‘No, I didn’t.’ Margaret was curious for the first time. She really knew nothing about Shanghai. ‘How did that happen?’
‘Oh, the Chinese were forced to grant various trading concessions to foreign powers in cities up and down the coast after the Opium Wars,’ he said. ‘But Shanghai’s where it really took off. The place became the commercial gateway to China.’ He drew on his cigarette and focused somewhere away in the middle distance. ‘We got together with the Brits to create what they called the International Settlement. The Frogs, as always, did their own thing in the French Concession. The “foreign devils” ran everything here. Police, sanitation, building regulations. They were completely self-governing, dominated by the most powerful business interests. The Chinese got squeezed into the slums of the old town and never got a look in. It’s hardly any wonder this is where the Chinese Communist Party started up.’ He sat back with a kind of dreamy smile on his face and took another long pull on his cigarette. ‘Shanghai was the most cosmopolitan city in the world. There were people here drawn from across the widest spectrum of East and West, from Nazi spies and Filipino band leaders to Arab gendarmes and Indian princesses.’ He turned and grinned at her, ‘I’d have loved to have been around in those days. The place was teeming with gangsters and adventurers. A twentieth-century Sodom and Gomorrah.’ He put on an English accent. ‘Spiced up by Lea and Perrin’s sauce and played out to the accompaniment of Gilbert and Sullivan.’
‘Not very Chinese,’ Margaret said.
‘Not at all,’ Geller conceded. ‘But then large parts of Shanghai aren’t. You’ll see for yourself in time. Even the hotel you’re staying in is
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