Read Mrs. Pollifax on the China Station for Free Online

there’d be no cocktail parties or men, but she said, ‘What’s a trip without cocktail parties and men?’ ”
    “What indeed,” said Mrs. Pollifax, fascinated.
    “So I reminded her men are what I don’t need, having been married often enough, but Suzie—”
    “Often enough?” echoed Mrs. Pollifax, regarding her with some awe.
    Iris nodded. “At sixteen to a cowboy—that was Mike—and then to Stanley, who turned out to be a crook, and then to Orris.
He
struck oil, which is when he decided he was too good for me. He was nice, though, he gave me a really fair shake when he left, and I may be dumb about clothes but not about money. That’s when I decided I’d had enough, though, and it was time to change my life.”
    “Yes,” said Mrs. Pollifax, and waited.
    “I mean,” Iris went on eagerly, “we let men define who we are, right? That’s Women’s Lib. I went to some of the meetings at college and I could see how it had been with me. For Mike I ate beans and franks all the time and was a cocktail waitress. For Stanley I learned how to keep my mouth shut about his shady deals—‘button up,’ he was always growling. For Orris I lived in a trailer on the oil fields and was a go-go dancer until he struck it rich. And you know what?” she added, leaning forward and shoving back her mane of hair, “I did it all to please
them
, not me.”
    “I see exactly what you mean,” said Mrs. Pollifax, admiring the passion of Iris’ discoveries.
    “Except now I’ve let Suzie influence me,” she said, glancing ruefully down at the huge polka dots and stiff white collar. “What do I do? Will there be clothes in Canton, do you think?”
    “Chinese clothes.”
    Iris scowled. “I’m too big, I’m nearly six feet tall.”
    “Didn’t you bring anything to—well, relax in?”
    “I stuck in a pair of old jeans at the last minute—something old and something blue,” she said wryly. “In case I had a chance to ride horseback or something. And a denim shirt.”
    “Wear them,” Mrs. Pollifax told her firmly.
    Iris looked startled. “But Jenny’s in that pretty little skirt and blouse, and look at you in—”
    Mrs. Pollifax shook her head. “Wear them.”
    Iris sighed. “Gosh, the money I spent on all this stuff, enough to keep Vogue Boutique in business a whole year, I swear.”
    “You’ll look splendid in jeans,” said Mrs. Pollifax, paying this no attention. “Be yourself.”
    Iris considered this and sighed again. “There it is again,the hardest thing of all, don’t you think? Being yourself? But if I should blossom out in my jeans tomorrow would you stick near me?”
    “For the initial impact, yes, but after that you’re on your own.”
    Iris grinned. “You’re really nice. I thought when I first saw you, oh boy
she’ll
be the one to cold-shoulder me—I mean, when I first saw you, before I spoke to you. And here I end up telling you the story of my life.”
    “Stanley,” said Mrs. Pollifax, “would have told you to ‘button up’?”
    Iris laughed her joyous laugh. “You sure listened if you remember
that
. Oh-oh, here comes Mr. Forbes again. He’s certainly no talker, he just keeps studying that Chinese dictionary of his.”
    “Yes, but I took his seat and I’ll let him have it back now,” Mrs. Pollifax told her. “I’ll see you later, Iris.”
    As the others streamed back into the car the train lurched and then began to move, and Mr. Li appeared carrying a carton of box lunches for them. A moment later the railway station and the border were behind them, and Mrs. Pollifax thought,
We’re now in Mainland China. It begins at last
.

T hey dined late that afternoon in the Guangzhou Restaurant, just off the train and in another world. Their number had been increased by one, the local Guangzhou, or Canton guide who explained that the hotel was so far out of town that they must have their Chinese banquet now. The man’s name was Tung, and Mrs. Pollifax began to understand now that