Fiction: Group 2
“ Don’t worry!” whispered Oscar, who I came to realise was such a kind and polite boy with impeccable
manners.
By the end of that week I was well enough to go home. We invited Oscar and his family to a Sunday lunch
at my house. I was in my Sunday best and as soon as his family arrived, we sat down to eat. My mother had
prepared roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. She wanted to welcome them to our home and lives. I could
see Oscar’s eyes darting around the table in search for chopsticks but he expertly picked up the fork and
jabbed the beef with it as if it were a spear. From that day onwards, we visited each other every week and
our friendship blossomed. He was loyal and trustworthy. He was also very outgoing and adventurous.
Together got into a lot of mischief in Hong Kong and later in England where we both went to University.
My mother, who had spent her entire life eating cucumber sandwiches and playing bridge with her English
friends, transformed into the Mahjong Queen of Hong Kong and took up Chinese calligraphy with a
passion. Not that she was a xenophobe before but she had never embraced an Asian life. We all changed
from my experience.
I am now a 75-year-old man. Oscar and I are still best friends and I am godfather to his five children. This
is my story of a friendship that began in the Pearl River Delta, a true melting pot where Oscar’s east met my
west. Our friendship was my pot of gold.
