The Expat Diaries: Misfortune Cookie (Single in the City Book 2) (29 page)

And then this morning:

Hi, wondering if you got my text? Han, please, I’d love to talk. Is that at all possible? Any sign will do. :-)  

What if he still believes he’s made a huge mistake, and that he loves me? The fact remains that words are cheap. How will I ever know what he’s really feeling, and why? But am I really strong enough not to entertain the possibility of another chance? That’s the hope I’ve been clinging to all this time. It’s what my heart wants. But my head says it’s a self-betrayal to let him back in after standing up for what I deserve in a relationship. And what if I let him back in, and he changes his mind once he’s got me hooked? Head or heart. Heart or head. Head, head (shut up heart) … head. My fingers move before I can change my mind. Edit, select text… delete. And again. In dubious tribute to the late Amy Winehouse, I say, ‘No, no, no.’

I don’t know what I’d have done without Stacy. Every day she calls and texts while we’re at work. Every evening she makes herself available as my sounding-board-cum-entertainer. It’s getting better. The longer I can go without tears the more certain I am that I was right to stand up for myself. I was right to take control of my relationship. I can look back now and see that when ‘we’ decided we could see other people (did
we
really decide that? My memory plays tricks), I got angsty. As if some low-grade annoyance moved in, always there. I ignored it for the most part but it played on my mind, nevertheless. And now that angst is gone, poof, blown away by our final conversation. Equilibrium is returning, slowly. I can look ahead now and feel, if not joy, then at least not angst. The sadness is still there, and probably will be for a long time. But I’m more peaceful now, more
me
. I know the joy will come.

‘It fits,’ declares Mr. Chan, nodding in satisfaction as we stand in his sweltering workshop. Yes, it’s in small moments like this that normalcy returns. Even better, joy returns.

After the better part of a year, I’m wearing my handmade dress, grinning at my reflection. The deep blue shantung silk drapes perfectly, molding to my body in all the right places. It feels lovely. I feel lovely. ‘Thank you, Mr. Chan, it’s beautiful. They’re all beautiful.’

‘Good. Take off now. You sweaty.’ Mr. Chan must certainly think I have a glandular problem. Every time I arrive for our appointment I look like I’ve just finished a half marathon. I will never get used to wading through this 95°F humidity soup. But at least now I’ll get to sweat in handmade clothes.

‘Thanks again, Mr. Chan. I’m going to tell everyone about you!’

‘You are welcome,’ he says solemnly. ‘You fit nicely now,’ he says as he hands over my credit card receipt.

He’s right, I think, smiling as I hurry back to the office, I do indeed fit nicely now.

Josh is due back later this afternoon but Mrs. Reese trains her beady eye on me as I float back to my desk. She makes a show of consulting the old-fashioned gold watch she keeps pinned upside down on her jacket. I don’t care. Not even her disapproval can dent my mood today.
Winnie
, I instant message,
come over when you get a minute, I’ve got something to show you!

She’s at my desk in fifteen seconds, clearly as loath to work today as I am. ‘Show me!’

‘My clothes finally fit!’ I unfurl them from the gym bag. The silks whisper against each other, forming a rainbow of jewel tones across my desktop. ‘I’ve got two suits too, but look, they’ve got these great linings, and the pattern is subtle but makes them very funky, don’t you think? I’ll mainly wear the dresses to work, or out, though. I love them!’

‘They’re beautiful, Hannah, well done,’ she says, expertly eyeing their design. Winnie knows quality when she sees it. ‘It took a long time to get it right, but it was worth it, wasn’t it? Now you’ve got the patterns. You’ve got it sussed. We should go out tonight to celebrate.’

‘Absolutely, great idea. I’ll call Stacy and see if she can join us.’

‘Hannah,’ Mrs. Reese announces, suddenly appearing by my desk. I hate when she does that. ‘These gentlemen would like a word with you.’

‘I’ll talk to you later,’ Winnie says, frowning at the Chinese men standing patiently beside Mrs. Reese.

‘You may be more comfortable in Josh’s office,’ she says. ‘He’s not due back for another hour.’ With a smile she walks away.

‘Uh, hello, I’m Hannah Cumming. I’m sorry, did we have an appointment today? If you’ll come this way, we can use Josh’s office.’ I’m sure my diary was clear. I checked when I made Mr. Chan’s appointment. Plus, no client has ever had a meeting with me. That’s the kind of thing I’d remember.

As we settle ourselves at the little round table in the office, both men take out business cards, formally presenting them to me. Dizzily I read them. Immigration Department. ‘Miss Cumming, we are here to discuss your working in Hong Kong,’ Man One says pleasantly.

I’m not fooled by his smile. ‘Of course,’ I say, trying to keep the panic from my voice. ‘How can I help you?’ I wonder if they’ll let me get my things on the way to the airport. I remember the story my Aussie housemates told back in London, about their friend who got caught without a visa. It didn’t sound like Immigration wasted any time getting him on a flight back to South Africa. I might not even be able to tell Stacy what happened. She’ll think I’ve been kidnapped.

‘We will also want to talk to Mr. Josh Bolton,’ Man Two explains. ‘We are interested to know about your work situation. You are employed by Mr. Bolton?’

It’s a trick question. Saying yes gets me deported and Josh probably fined or even thrown in jail. Saying no is an outright lie, and given that we’re here, at my place of employment, it’s one I’m unlikely to get away with.

‘I’m so sorry, how rude of me. May I get you some tea?’ I stand up, startling them. They both smile their acquiescence.

On shaking legs I make my way to Winnie’s desk. ‘Winnie,’ I whisper. ‘They’re from Immigration. What am I going to do? I’ve stalled them, said I’d make tea.’ I could make a run for it but in these shoes I wouldn’t get very far. Foiled by footwear.

‘What do you mean, what are you going to do? Hannah, don’t you have a work permit to be here?’

‘Winnie, now is not the time to judge me. No, I don’t. Josh hired me without one. I’m going to be deported, aren’t I?’

‘Let me think. Take your time with the tea. Good thinking, by the way. Chinese are too polite to refuse tea. I’ll call Josh right now and get him back here.’ Her eyes are wide as she shakes her head. ‘Oh Hannah, this is terrible. But stay calm and stall them. Josh will know what to do.’ She doesn’t look too sure.

Stay calm and stall, she says. Easier said than done. Oh god, oh god, oh god, I’m going to be deported! That might even involve being arrested. Am I about to do time in a Chinese prison? My mind flashes to
Midnight Express
, which my sister made me watch years ago. It was dire, and that was just a film. I don’t even know a lawyer, or whether I get to make a phone call. Should I call Stacy? I can’t. I left my phone at my desk. Which they can plainly see from Josh’s office. I don’t even know her number by heart. I don’t know anyone’s number, come to think of it. I make a terribly inept fugitive. My hands shake as I boil the kettle and find matching teacups. They’ll be wondering where I’ve gone now. Taking a raggedy deep breath, I steel myself for the performance of a lifetime.

‘Here we go,’ I say smoothly as I set the tray before my inquisitors. ‘I quite like it strong, I hope that’s okay.’

‘Thank you, Ms. Cumming,’ Man One says. ‘Now, would you mind–’

‘Sugar?’

‘No, thank you. If you’d just–’

‘Sugar for you, sir?’ I smile at Man Two, who nods. ‘One or two?’

‘Just one. Ms.–’

‘Milk for you both? Would you prefer full-fat? I can just go get–’

‘No thank you, really, this is fine. Thank you. Ms. Cumming, we’ve been alerted that there may be some, irregularity, in your work situation. At the Immigration Department we take all such notices seriously, and we’re here today to resolve these questions. So could you please tell us: does Mr. Bolton currently employ you?’

‘Well yes, he does. Clearly.’

‘And when did your employment begin?’

‘Oh goodness, I don’t have that date to hand.’

‘Approximately. Please.’

‘Well, it’s not very clear you see. I’m sorry, I probably sound obstructive, it’s just that the date of my actual employment, if by employment you mean paid work, isn’t very clear.’ I wonder how many ways I can repeat this sentence before they start shouting. ‘I’d better explain. You see, I came from London, where I was employed. Not by Josh, Mr. Bolton, though. I didn’t know him in London, although his family is from the UK. Well, of course there are lots of British families here. His grandfather started the business. But you probably know that already. Josh was born and raised here but he went to school in the UK. That was in Cambridge, before I was there. In London, I mean. Do you need those dates?’ They shake their heads.

‘Because I remember those clearly. I arrived on January 2
^nd
, I flew overnight on New Year’s Day. Not the best idea given my hangover. Anyway, as I mentioned, I was employed in London, though not in fashion. I worked as an events planner, so it was completely unrelated.’ Probably best not to mention that I wasn’t on Immigration’s books there either. ‘It was all right but I’ve always believed that fashion was my natural calling. And there were some issues at the end with my job in London, well, I needn’t bore you with those. Unless you’re interested?’

They shake their heads again. ‘Ms. Cumming, if we could just–’

‘Right, stick to the relevant facts, of course. Where was I? Oh right, my job in London.’ Man Two stifles a sigh. ‘So I was an events planner, and before that I worked in PR, but as I said I had this dream of working in fashion. I can’t think now why I didn’t pursue that earlier, like, when I was in London.’ I shrug. ‘Circumstances often stop one, I guess. Besides, it’s sort of a pipe dream, isn’t it? Lots of people would love to do it, and that’s what makes it so hard to get into. Well, then I decided to visit here. And Hong Kong is a fashion capital. Any place that produces Vivienne Tam has to be cutting edge, right? Ha ha, you don’t look like you know who Vivienne Tam is... East meets West? No? Well, anyway she’s an icon in the fashion world… Where was I? Oh right, a job in fashion. Well you know, my mother said I didn’t stand a chance, what with no background in the industry, and not even a related degree. But I was just looking for a chance to learn something about the industry, so I persevered, and I did my homework. Of course nobody, anywhere in the world, would hire me without experience. So I got in touch with some of the exporters and offered to help out on an, uh, informal basis, just to learn the ropes. I figured it wouldn’t cost them anything and I’d get to learn about the business and, well, it seemed like a good idea.’ I’m really warming to my theme now. ‘Naturally, most of the exporters ignored me. I guess they get that kind of offer all the time. There must be thousands of people trying to break into the business, so I understand completely. More tea? Oh dear, it’s too stewed now, I’m so sorry. Won’t be a moment, I’ll make a fresh pot.’

I jump up, snatching the tray against their gentle objections. Winnie meets me in the kitchen. ‘How’s it going?’ she asks, flipping on the kettle as I dig around for fresh teabags.

‘Ugh, I can’t tell. I’m not letting them get a word in but I don’t know, Winnie, it feels like a lost cause. I mean, I do work here. No matter how long I talk they’re not going to forget why they’ve come.’

‘No, no, no, Hannah, you must stay positive. Josh will be here soon and he says to just keep talking. He says he knows you can do that. And then he laughed… Hannah, you know who’s behind this, don’t you?’

‘I have no doubt whatsoever,’ I say grimly.

The Immigration officers look more determined when I return nearly a quarter of an hour later with fresh tea. That’s not good. They must know that I’m stalling. ‘By the way,’ I tell them conversationally as I pour. ‘Josh, Mr. Bolton, will be here soon. In fact, perhaps I should just get an extra cup in case–’

‘Ms. Cumming, please. Will you please answer our question? Are you employed by Mr. Bolton?’

‘Oh, of course. I mean, of course I’ll answer your question. I
was
answering it, actually, before you interrupted just now. As I was saying, I emailed several companies and only Josh got back to me. He was very sweet right from the start. We had a chat on the phone first and he completely understood my conundrum. Chicken-and-egg, you know… can’t get work without experience, can’t get experience without working. He suggested I might like to come to the office to see how they operate and ask any questions I might have. So I did. It was fascinating. I mean, here I was, inside a fashion company! Josh answered all my questions and we talked about the market, you know, how the problems in Europe are affecting his business. Is the recession affecting your business? No, I suppose it wouldn’t. It’s not too bad here either, because we– Josh has such good relationships with his clients. Then he… he invited me back… and here I am. Time has just flown, it’s–’

There’s a commotion in the foyer and my heart leaps as I see Josh striding past Mrs. Reese towards the office. ‘Hello, I’m Josh Bolton.’ He smiles, extending his hand as if visits from Immigration are an everyday occurrence. ‘Hi Hannah, everything okay while I was out?’ Solemnly he takes the men’s business cards, examining each one, before extending his own. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were coming or I’d have cut my meeting short.’ He’s opening and shutting drawers, stuffing papers from his briefcase into them. ‘Now, how may I help you gentlemen?’

Man One clears his throat. ‘We’re here about Ms. Cumming’s work status. We understand that she is in your employ, but we don’t seem to have any record of a valid work permit. I’m sure you can clear up the confusion.’

‘Oh. Oh, of course. Really? No record? Are you sure?’

‘Quite sure, sir. So if you could confirm Ms. Cumming’s employment status…’