The Expat Diaries: Misfortune Cookie (Single in the City Book 2) (32 page)

‘What’s wrong, Hannah? What happened?’ Stacy shouted as she caught up.

‘Something bit me! Look.’ Raised red welts were beginning to streak across my shoulder and upper arm. ‘Jeez, it hurts. It really hurts!’

‘Jellyfish,’ said Brent, inspecting the angry marks. ‘You must have swum into one. Did you see anything?’

The mask. Of course. I’d just run up the beach in my snorkel and goggles. And fins. What a lovely sight – pale, bellowing, and waddling. The mask came off with a sucking sound. ‘No, I only saw fish. Maybe it was a fish bite?’

‘What, like a piranha?’ Stacy laughed. ‘This is Hong Kong, not the Amazon.’

‘It might have been just a few pieces of tentacles that broke off,’ Brent said. ‘That sometimes happens. Look, you can see that they’re not bites. Hopefully it’s not too poisonous, though.’

The welts were spreading across my chest. ‘Poisonous? I have to say you’re both awfully calm considering I might have just suffered a deadly jellyfish attack. God, it really hurts! It’s getting worse.’ It was as bad as the tetanus injection I’d had when I first moved. And that made me cry. Something was stinging inside my bikini top. ‘Will ice help?’

Stacy smirked. ‘I don’t think so. There’s only one thing I’ve heard of that stops the sting. Er, tuck yourself back in, please.’ She pointed to my bikini bottom, where a tuft of hair was making an appearance. Just to round off the look. ‘You know what you’ve got to do.’

I sighed. I’d thought the same thing but hoped there was a solution that didn’t involve urine. ‘Do I look like a contortionist? Besides, I can’t. I… I just went. So…’ I shrugged at her.

‘Sorry, Han, I was right there with you in the big blue toilet. Brent?’

‘Aw, God, you’re not serious. You want me to wee on Hannah?’

‘Brent, I’m not interested in a golden shower. Stacy and I have no pee. Do you?’

‘Yes, Han, unlike you two filthy girls, I don’t piss in the sea.’

‘Good. Then you can piss on our friend instead. Win-win. Go ahead. Here, I’ll shield you with the towel.’

‘Wait a minute,’ I said, nearly in tears from the pain. ‘Be civilized at least. Go do it in a cup.’

He huffed. ‘Why don’t you get Sam to do it?’

‘Brent, there’s not time and it really hurts. Should I go ask Mr. Chan over there to interrupt his family picnic to help out a stranger?’

His face softened as sympathy won out over his Britishness. ‘Bugger. Fine. I’ll be back in a minute. God, the things I do for my friends.’ He stomped off to the little beach restaurant.

I don’t know how long the stings would have lasted, but a few minutes after Brent’s medicine was applied they were manageable. The shine had come off the day, though, between the searing pain and demands made of Brent’s bladder. We were unusually subdued on the bus ride back home.

‘Han, are you okay?’ Stacy asked as we stared out the window at the sheer drop to the sea on one side and steeply forested mountain on the other.

‘Sure, I’m fine. Why?’

‘You’re awfully quiet for someone who’s just found out she’s going to be proposed to. Want to talk about it?’

That’s why she was my best friend. After twenty years together (minus the year I lived in London when she was still in the US), she sometimes knew what I was thinking even before I did. But thinking wasn’t enough. She was going to make me talk about it. I told her about the ninety-five per cent.

‘Han, if you’ve got any doubts at all, you need to think really carefully. You know I haven’t always thought Sam was the best boyfriend.’ That was an understatement. ‘But he does seem to have come good, and realized he was a dickhead. I don’t doubt that he loves you very much. He tells you that every day now. But you should look at your own feelings too. Don’t be blinded by the offer.’

‘I’m not blinded by the offer! Stace, I’ve wanted this since we were back in London. I wouldn’t have moved here, halfway around the world, to be with him if I wasn’t sure. You know all that.’

‘I also know that when you did move here, it wasn’t exactly the fairytale romance you’d imagined. Was it?’

No, it wasn’t what I’d imagined. What kind of sick Cupid would post your boyfriend to Vietnam the week you arrive in Hong Kong with all your worldly belongings? It did all work out in the end, though, now that we’re in the same city again. ‘We’ve come through all that,’ I murmured.

‘Not without a lot of pain. Maybe that’s why you have doubts. And you shouldn’t do something just because it was what you wanted a year ago. Not after what happened. Things changed, and you only got back together a few months ago. Think about it. Once he talks to your parents it’ll be too late to turn back. Do you really want to answer his question in front of your whole family?’ She took my hand. ‘What if the answer is no?’

It wouldn’t be no. These were just jitters. Normal pre-proposal jitters that everybody had. I was sure of it. Ninety-five per cent.

But the fact
was
, once my parents were involved it would no longer just be about the two of us. My mother had caterers on speed dial. She’d notify half the family within minutes of talking to Sam. I did not want my wedding planning to start before I’d even been asked. Sam and I should get at least a few hours of our own time to revel in being engaged before everyone found out. Stacy was right. I definitely didn’t want to be home when he popped the question. He had to do it before we left. Operation Proposal was about to begin.

♫
On the
Second
day of Christmas my fortune gave to me…

two second thoughts

and a ticket home to see my family  
♪

Work arrived on Monday with more than the usual chaos. Our offices, at the untrendy end of Nathan Road, three flights up dingy stairs, generally looked like a cross between a sweat shop and a dressing-up closet. That’s because it was a cross between a sweat shop and a dressing-up closet.

Keeping the high streets of Europe stocked with knock-off fashion necessitated a certain amount of clutter. We sold to the buyers based on the samples sent from suppliers over the Chinese border. Those samples teetered on every desk and in every corner. Half-crushed cardboard boxes littered the floor, filled with last season’s must-haves, now this season’s must-get-rid-ofs. But nobody had. Nobody ever did. And we had important visitors arriving on Friday. Visitors who needed impressing.

‘Hannah. Josh would like to see you,’ Mrs. Reese said as I arrived at my desk.

I smiled my biggest, most phony smile. ‘Thank you, Mrs. Reese.’ The old battle-ax had some nerve. If I’d done what she did, and been caught, there’s no way I’d come back to work. Josh was an unbelievably forgiving boss. His management style hadn’t rubbed off on me.

I knocked on Josh’s door frame, an unnecessary formality. He’d only closed the door once in the nearly-year I’d been there. That was when he’d hauled Mrs. Reese in to explain exactly why she’d tried to get me deported. I’d have loved to be a fly on the wall, to hear her squirm. She did squirm when she realized that by reporting me to the Immigration Department she’d risked the future of the company she loved. Because if Josh hadn’t produced a work visa – which was as surprising to me when he did as it was to the immigration officers – he’d have been in big trouble for illegally employing me. Which just showed that Mrs. Reese was devious, but not great at considering consequences. In my book that made her dangerous, and I’d never have let her come back to work. But her lifetime of loyalty to the company and the family went a long way with Josh.

‘Nice weekend?’ he asked, leaning back in his chair and smiling. ‘How are the stings? Stacy said they were pretty bad.’

When Josh and Stacy first got together I wasn’t sure about having my personal life and work life overlap. But after nearly six months the only drawback I found was that calling in sick required much better acting. And from Stacy’s point of view, there were no drawbacks at all. She was a smitten kitten. ‘Better. Fine, thanks. I don’t know if I’ll rush back into the water, though.’

‘Well, not at this time of year. It’s freezing!’

‘You only say that because you were born here. Normal people don’t think it’s that cold.’ Josh, despite his frightfully English accent, was a Hong Konger to the core. His grandfather came out in the forties to make his fortune, and started the export business as Brits were just beginning to fall in love with the fashions of the Orient. Josh’s father continued to build, and then Josh. The blood, sweat and tears of three generations of Boltons created the company. That’s what made the big meeting on Friday all the more distressing. ‘We’ve got a lot to do before Friday, so let me know what help you need, okay?’ I said. ‘I’ve just got to call a few more buyers this week about the flammability issue, so I can help any way you’d like.’

I wasn’t looking forward to those calls. All because an It girl caught fire in one of our supplier’s dresses. She wasn’t even hurt – the dress just disintegrated when she dropped her cigarette on it. If she didn’t want those paparazzi snaps all over the internet, then she should have been wearing underpants.

‘I think we’re in good shape.’ He ran a hand through his sticky-uppy curls, perfecting the nutty professor look that Stacy thought was so gorgeous. I never saw the attraction, which was a good thing, given that he was my boss, and my best friend’s boyfriend.

I stared at him. ‘You can’t be serious. Josh, it looks like a bomb site out there.’

‘Well, they’re not coming to do a health inspection. They want to buy the company. We work here. This is what working for a fashion exporter looks like.’ He smirked. ‘I can see you’re not going to accept my answer. Fine. Do what you want. Smarten it up. There’s money in petty cash and if you need more, let me know. You can take my credit card.’

‘Can Winnie help me?’

‘Of course. We both know she would even if I said no.’ He shook his head. ‘Sometimes I get the feeling I’m not the one running this company.’

‘Well, the most important thing is to have the illusion of control. Thanks, Josh, I’ll just straighten the place up a bit. Cosmetics only, nothing structural, I promise.’

Revitalized by the idea of doing my very own 60-Minute Makeover, I went straight to Winnie’s desk. ‘You get to help me transform the office!’

She didn’t look as pleased as I felt. ‘You mean clean, don’t you?’

‘Well, cleaning is part of the transformation, yes. Come on, it’ll be fun.’

‘And by fun you mean hard, hot, sweaty work. You have an odd idea of fun.’ She sighed. ‘I’m not getting my dress dirty.’

‘You don’t have to. We’ve got the boiler suits from last season. You can wear one of those. If you don’t want to clean, then I’ll get some of the other women to help. You can call round and find a cheap storage place, and someone who’ll take a bunch of stuff over. You don’t even have to wear the suit.’ Winnie wasn’t the kind of woman to lower her sartorial standards. As my first (and only) Chinese friend in Hong Kong, she’d given me a local’s perspective. A perspective that involved cutting-edge fashion and impeccable grooming.

I planned to be similarly groomed at lunchtime. Operation Proposal was going into action. Nothing said make-me-your-wife like a bikini wax. My first. I was excited and not a little terrified.

‘You owe me a drink,’ Winnie said, already googling for storage options. ‘After work?’

‘Sorry, I can’t, I’m meeting Sam. Tomorrow?’

‘Sure. I won’t stand in the way of a budding romance. Or a second crop, in your case.’ She smiled. ‘Come on. I’ll help you get the ladies organized. You know they won’t listen to you.’

Winnie was right. My budding romance with Sam was replanted after the little break we took. Though to be perfectly accurate, it wasn’t so much a break as a break-up, caused by a break.

It was his fault, but I wasn’t dwelling on that. The important thing was that he realized it was his fault. He also realized that I was the love of his life. Though this happened more than a year after I realized it, it was better late than never. Since it hit him, he’d been a new man, one who told me, and showed me, exactly how much I meant to him. Despite the angst of the previous months, it was totally worth it. Stacy was right. Sam had come good. And it wasn’t like her to give him any benefit of the doubt.

I hurried from the office with only the briefest stop for makeup repairs, and met Sam at the Metro station. Giddiness overcame me when I spotted him, as it did whenever we met. He was the best-looking, sexiest, weak-at-the-knees-making man on the planet. ‘Hello sweets!’ I kissed him, then kissed him again for good measure when he swept me up in a bear clench. As I hugged him my fingers found the soft curls at the base of his neck, as they always did. There in his arms the uncertainty (panic) I felt yesterday seemed so stupid. I loved this man.

We walked together to Tsim Sha Tsui, the harbor front that looked out over Hong Kong Island. It was set to be a gorgeous sunset. The sight took my breath away. Stacy might get to work in Central, just a ten-minute escalator ride from our apartment, but I got to see the sunset every night after work from the tip of Kowloon.

I nestled into Sam’s chest as he stood behind me, his tanned arms folded over mine. ‘It’s beautiful,’ I said.

‘You’re beautiful,’ he murmured, turning me to him. ‘You really are the most beautiful woman, inside and out.’ He grinned at the objection on the tip of my tongue. ‘I know you hate your hair, but I love it. Sure, it’s a bit mad, but it’s so alive.’ He curled a strand around his finger, staring at it. ‘You shouldn’t want to tame it, to be like everyone else. It’s part of what makes you you. You’re unique. And I love you, Hannah Jane Cumming.’

‘I love you too, Samuel Ulysses Parker.’ I sighed. ‘I still get butterflies every time you say that, you know.’

‘Good butterflies or bad butterflies?’

‘Good ones, of course!’

‘I’m glad to hear that. Then I’ll say it more often.’

‘You say it every day now.’

‘That’s because I feel it every day.’ He sighed. ‘I’ve been so happy these past few months. It makes me… it makes me grateful that we were able to put everything behind us and start again.’