Chapter Three
With his small rucksack slung over one shoulder, Mitchell descended the concrete stairwell from his fifth-floor Kennedy Town walk-up after finishing his weekly household chores. Clothes and bedlinen hung in the tiny bathroom with the dehumidifier running on overdrive—otherwise, they would never dry in the cloying humidity. Everything would be ready for either ironing or folding away in the morning. With the quilt, pillowcases and bedsheet replaced and the bamboo flooring vacuumed and mopped, everything else had been dusted, polished, tidied away and made ready for the week ahead. Hardly a superhuman effort, with only three hundred and twenty square feet of living space. He’d even given the spare room a quick spring clean, tossing out old boxes and ensuring the space wouldn’t need much work for Zane’s arrival.
The thought evoked a sense of uneasiness. Mitchell had never had to bear responsibility for anyone other than himself—outside of work—in all his time in Hong Kong. Having Zane around would obviously change that.
“Mr Mitchell. How are you today?” came the cheerful voice of Mrs Lau from the open doorway of her flat on the first floor. Harold had confided that many residents in his block considered her a nosy neighbour, referring to her as something that sounded like ‘‘butt-paw’’ in Cantonese. Mitchell found her cheerful and neighbourly, always smiling and checking in to make sure he didn’t want for anything. She had even helped by translating for him the few times local workmen came in to complete renovations. His minor recompense had been in occasionally buying her Macau egg tarts from a little cake shop on Lyndhurst Terrace.
All communication with his landlady, Mrs Zhang, went through Mrs Lau. He assumed they must be friends or have been neighbours at some point. He had never seen the actual landlady in his six years living there, the original rental agreement having been signed in a local solicitors’ office, where the man had stated his landlady’s preference to have Mrs Lau act as their go-between. Mitchell, rightly or wrongly, assumed that Mrs Zhang preferred not to communicate in English. On the plus side, his rent had never once been raised. Many of his colleagues’ landlords pushed for rent increases every time their contracts were renewed. Then again, on his part, he had paid out of his pocket to renovate the apartment’s older features—obviously with Mrs Zhang’s permission. He had upgraded the things he’d considered essential, like modernising the kitchen and bathroom, and installing double-glazed windows throughout the apartment.
“Morning, Mrs Lau. All good, thank you. I'm heading out to lunch.”
Right then, the phone in Mitchell’s pocket pinged with a message. Rather than read the text, he ignored the phone.
“You don’t need to get that?”
“Probably my friend confirming.”
Even though nothing had been announced officially, Mitchell suspected that Kate, as the head of finance, already knew about the upcoming redundancies and wanted to use him as a sounding board. They always worked better outside the office, being able to talk freely without fear of being overheard or interrupted.
“And how is the bathroom now?” asked Mrs Lau. “I haven’t heard any more workmen upstairs with their banging and foul language. Are they finished?”
“Yes, thank goodness. And I’m sorry for any disturbance.”
“Oh heavens, that sound is the background music of Hong Kong. Always buildings work going on, no matter where you live. Are they all finished now?”
“They are. And it means I don’t have to use the gym shower before work. Can you please thank the landlady again for allowing me to complete the changes. They make all the difference.”
In his most recent project, Mitchell had paid to get the bathroom updated—a slimline boiler installed and the tiny old bathroom suite replaced by a walk-in shower, a modern toilet and a washbasin. Even with the limited space, the functionality and efficiency of the room had improved dramatically. Of course, when he eventually moved out, his landlady could charge more due to modernisation.
“And can you let her know that my nephew from England is coming to stay with me in a few weeks? For a whole month?”
“Ayah, she won’t care,” said Mrs Lau, then sighed. “But I will tell her if you insist. Should be nice for you to have company for a change.”
“We’ll see.”
“You don’t sound sure.”
He always found Mrs Lau easy to talk to, and explained that they hardly knew each other. She listened patiently and nodded her understanding as he told his tale, but then, as he finished, she held a finger up, indicating for him to wait.
“I have post for you. Wait here one moment.”
Mrs Lau had agreed to take in his mail, citing her mistrust of the security of the block’s ancient, wall-mounted mailbox.
“Here you are. Arrived this morning,” she said, handing over a small pile of envelopes and leaflets. He tossed the menus and other flyers into the hall trash can before ripping open the envelopes. Two contained utility bills, and one was his official receipt for the month’s rent. He made a mental note to apply for electronic bills for his utilities, but the landlady always preferred to send him a paper receipt. Inside, she had included a single card in bright red with the gold lettering of four Chinese characters. He lifted the cardboard out and handed the item to Mrs Lau.
“Would you mind translating?” he asked. “Maybe it’s a late Lunar New Year greeting card?”
“ Yat gui leung duk . No, this is an old proverb which means something like two benefits coming from one action. Mrs Zhang sent you this?”
“I guess so. Tucked in with the rental receipt,” said Mitchell. “Does it mean something good?”
“Certainly auspicious. Maybe this relates to your nephew flying to see you and being able to travel and enjoy Hong Kong while you finally get to know each other. Two benefits from one action.”
Mitchell smiled at the suggestion. His landlady didn’t know about his nephew visiting yet. Like most proverbs, the saying could be applied to almost any situation. Mrs Lau must have seen his hesitation.
“Or could be just a happy wish card,” she said.
“Well, thank her for me, will you? I’ll stick it on my fridge door with the others,” he said, placing the card with the bills into his jacket pocket. “To remind me to be thankful while he’s here. Have a lovely day, Mrs Lau.”
Situated at the northwest of the island, Kennedy Town housed the terminus for the trams that ran along the north of Hong Kong island, so he hopped on an almost-full one— Saturday trams, being a cheaper means of transport, tended to fill up quickly at the weekends—and found a vacant single seat upstairs.
As anticipated, when he checked his phone, Kate’s message told him she was running late and asked him to grab a table in Coffee Maestro on Peel Street. Running much earlier than planned, he texted back before settling in for the ride.
After so many years, he still loved sitting on the top deck, listening to the rumble of the old tramcar on the tracks and watching the world float unhurriedly past. Kennedy Town had plenty of decent coffee shops, but Mitchell liked to head into bustling Central, to the area around Soho, which in Hong Kong stood for the small lanes up the hill and South of Hollywood Road. He had come to love the café society scene on a weekend lunchtime, bistros spilling out onto the narrow streets that made up Soho. Following severe restrictions imposed on businesses during the containment of the virus, many of his old haunts had closed down. But in true Hong Kong resilience, new ones were already opening up.
Coffee Maestro had an area with casual seating, soft leather sofas around low coffee tables, and a more regimented dining section. Along the back wall stood a row of tables and, with the café beginning to fill, he sat in the space reserved by Kate with his back to the wall and an eye on the shop door.
Five minutes later, he nursed a large americano while frowning into his laptop. He had pulled up the latest confidential regional headcount spreadsheet and was trying to figure out what the reduction would look like. With many of the workforce employed by the bank for their working lives, his department would have their work cut out, calculating redundancy packages.
When he saw Kate enter the shop, he snapped his laptop shut and slipped the device away. Instead of the usual smart business suits he had become familiar with at work, she wore a delicate white summer dress with china-blue peacock and floral designs. Only her face showed signs of a stressful morning. Mitchell watched her chat briefly with the barista, who pointed to his table.
“Mitchell. Do not ever consider adopting.” She leant down and kissed him on each cheek. “Not. Ever.”
“Bad morning?”
“Beth got up in the early hours, as she does, to use the apartment block gym before anyone else had risen,” said Kate, placing her bag next to Mitchell and dropping into her seat. “And I don’t know about you, but I relish Saturday and Sunday mornings, the only time I can treat myself to a snooze. Well, it looks as though that little luxury is out of the window. Our little Angel, it transpires, is an early riser too, and demanded to be entertained. So while Maria—our live-in nanny—was preparing breakfast, the little madam decided to jump up and down on my bed until she fell against one of Beth’s matching bedside lamps of vintage porcelain, which promptly fell to the floor and smashed into a thousand pieces. Beth tried to laugh the matter off when she returned but I can tell when she’s pissed. After I managed to get Angel to eat breakfast, every time I tried to put a foot outside the door to come here she threw a tantrum. I almost called and cancelled.”
“Where was Beth while all this was happening?”
One of the waiters dropped off a double espresso and an oversized cup of what looked like a café latte. Kate downed the shot in one go before answering.
“On a call with a client.”
“She does know adoption is supposed to be a shared responsibility, doesn’t she? Everything’s not going to rest on your shoulders, is it?”
“Of course she does. But her job isn’t like ours, Mitch. There are times when she has to be full-on, day and night, front and centre. I respect that. It’s why they pay her good money. She’s taking Angel to the clinic this morning so we can have our catch-up.”
“Fair enough,” said Mitchell. “Let’s talk business and get that out of the way first, but you should know I’ve been sworn to secrecy by Pauline.”
“We’ve all been sworn to secrecy. The handful that know. But we’re going to have to talk at some point. May as well be sooner than later.”
Kate knew the same as Mitchell but had a better grip on the redundancy packages on offer. Just as Mitchell had suspected, Charteris was offering nothing more than statutory amounts.
“They’ll leave a skeleton staff behind,” said Kate. “And find much smaller premises, but over eighty-five per cent of jobs will go. With your knowledge of the local market, they would be insane to let you go. But I’ve had a headhunter lining up interviews for me—”
“Already?”
“No point hanging around, is there? No doubt we’ll be expected to handle the redundancy interviews.”
“Not alone. You’ll have someone from HR sitting in with you.”
“No disrespect, Mitch, but that doesn’t give me much comfort. Honestly, I would rather not be around to handle any of it. Hey, one of the banks I’m interviewing with is a relatively new outfit with their Asian operation headquartered here. They’re also advertising for a Head of HR position. Do you want me to send you details?”
Even after three weeks, Mitchell hadn’t fully processed the changes, not in his head. Ellie constantly teased him about his misplaced loyalty to the bank. And he had automatically assumed the restructuring would entail him staying put. Did he really have the enthusiasm or the energy to begin all over again learning the ways of a new company?
“No harm looking is there?” said Kate, digging out her phone. “I’ll send you the details anyway. Delete them if you’re not interested. Once I’m home, I’m bound to get swept up in one domestic dilemma or another.”
While Kate fiddled with her phone, Mitchell’s gaze scanned the room, and he shrank on spotting Tommy entering the café. Fortunately, the place had filled up, and Mitchell’s table was hidden at the back. Tommy had a pretty, petite young woman with him, curly copper hair parted down the middle and reaching the shoulders of her white flannel shirt. For some reason, he liked her instantly. She had an openness and a sense of fun that shone from her smiling eyes. Tommy followed behind her, a good foot taller, his eyes scouring the spaces around them, probably looking for somewhere to sit. Mitchell noticed several women and some men turn to look at him. Fair enough, too. He was, without a doubt, a good-looking man, even if he was an asshole. Probably curious at what had grabbed Mitchell’s attention, Kate twisted around in her seat, then sprang up with a squeal and waved them over.
Mitchell closed his eyes briefly with dismay before opening them and trying to centre himself. The last thing he wanted was another mouthful of abuse from Tommy.
“Shelly. Tommy. Yoo-hoo. Over here.”
In true Kate style, she hugged and cheek-kissed hellos with both of them while Mitchell remained seated, flatlining a grin and holding a palm in salute. For once, Mitchell felt grateful that Kate had only managed to get seats on the row of smaller tables, with people already installed on either side. Otherwise, he felt sure, she would have invited them to join.
“Shelly and Tommy are teacher friends of mine. They’re both at the SIA School on the way to the Peak. Shelly teaches science and Tommy teaches—”
“Physical education,” said Tommy, avoiding Mitchell’s gaze.
“Do you two know each other?” asked Shelly eventually, in all innocence, pointing a finger between Mitchell and Tommy.
“A little,” said Tommy, who looked as embarrassed as Mitchell felt.
“Not really,” said Mitchell at the same time.
“They have a mutual acquaintance. Harold Choi,” said Kate, who looked quizzically at Mitchell and must have tuned in to his mood. “He’s one of those people who tends to know everyone but keeps them in different silos. Although I’m surprised these two didn’t bump into each other at our party. They both came along when we introduced Angel to the world.”
“Oh, Kate. I am so sorry we couldn’t make it,” Shelly said earnestly. Mitchell sighed inwardly at the perfect diversion. “My hubby had this work thing—”
As the girls chatted, Mitchell caught Tommy’s eye. Tommy tried for a lopsided grin, which seemed odd after the unpleasant things he’d said the night they’d last met. The gesture confused Mitchell, who did not return the smile. Instead—even though the action made him feel petty—he picked up his phone from the table and began checking messages. Eventually, he heard Tommy’s voice interrupt the girls’ chatter.
“Shall I grab us a table before they’re all taken?”
“Can’t we squeeze you in here?” asked Kate, looking down at the table.
“Kate, we’ve got work to do,” said Mitchell, glaring at her.
“No problem. Tommy, can you get us a table?” said Shelly. “And order me a large, extra-hot, triple-shot soy cappuccino with extra soy foam on the side and two Sweet’N Lows. But make sure they put the sweeteners in first.”
Mitchell peered up and almost snorted at Tommy’s baffled expression.
“When you get served,” added Kate, smiling sympathetically at Tommy, “point her out in the crowd and tell the barista that Shelly wants her usual.”
“I’m on it.”
Mitchell relaxed after Tommy moved away, and the girls chatted together. To pass the time, he opened his laptop and continued scanning the rows of numbers on his screen. Perhaps the café had not been such a good plan after all, the loud buzz of conversations distracting his concentration. Eventually, he lowered the lid and sipped his coffee.
“Okay, Mr Baxter,” said Kate, sitting down again. “What was that all about?”
“What was—”
“Don’t even. I know you too well. Your face dropped off a cliff when you saw Tommy. What happened? You left the party not long after him the other week. Did he finally try for a jump and hump?”
“No!” said Mitchell. After a quick glance across the café, he retold his attempt to help, which had prompted Tommy’s after-party tirade. When he’d finished, Kate sat unspeaking, an infuriating habit of hers when she had something controversial to say.
“Come on,” he said, picking up his coffee mug. “You clearly have an opinion. Do you think I was in the wrong?”
“No,” she said hesitantly. “Not necessarily. I mean, if it were happening to me, I'm sure I would have appreciated the intervention.”
“But?”
“Why do you have to be such a bloody Boy Scout all the time?” she said, putting down her mug and gently shaking her head. “Tommy is more than capable of looking after himself. Look, I know you well enough by now to know you meant well, but you have got to stop trying to nanny the world.”
“Nanny? I thought you of all people would understand—”
“And I do. But you must know how you come across to other adults, especially men?”
Kate’s response irritated him. He didn’t mind being challenged on work matters, but had never considered needing to ask for permission when it came to doing the right thing. Maybe he would think twice in future.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” she continued.
“Oh no, you don’t,” said Mitchell, thumping his mug down and leaning back in his chair. “I’ve fallen for that before. Tell me what this is about first. Then I’ll tell you what I’m doing with my Sunday.”
Kate chuckled and matched his pose.
“I need your help. As you know, we’ve taken on a four-year-old typhoon with mild ADHD, so that alone is going to be a challenge with both of us working full-time.” Mitchell knew the story behind Angel’s mother, a single parent born locally with no living relatives or knowledge of the father, but a woman determined to give Angel a rich and happy life. She had died tragically in a road accident a week after Angel’s second birthday.
“Part of the fostering arrangement is that we take her back to the centre every other Sunday for at least the first three months, for the sake of continuity, which would usually be fine. But this Sunday Beth has to head into work all day because of an urgent deal she’s working on, and I agreed to help organise and participate in a charity event down in Shek O. On any other day we’d have asked her nanny, Maria, to take Angel, but Sunday is her day off and I'm loathe to ask her to change her plans. I just wondered if you would mind stepping in for me? For the charity event, I mean? It’s nothing taxing, more of an early morning meet-and-greet. Getting participants to sign in and explaining what they need to do.”
“For a moment I thought you were going to ask me to babysit. And I’m not sure I’m ready for that kind of responsibility just yet. But yeah, I’ll help with the charity event, which sounds like my kind of thing. How early are we talking?”
“Eight-thirty until around midday. But you’d need to be there half an hour earlier to help get things set up. I’ll message you the details. Are you sure you don’t mind?”
Kate had no idea what lifeline she had just thrown him. With no other plans that weekend, he would probably have gone into the office to continue scoping out the bare bones of the retrenchment plan.
“Absolutely fine.”