Page 11 of Don't Point at the Moon

“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 delicatewhite 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.”

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