Page 13 of Don't Point at the Moon

“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.”

Chapter Four

Eight o’clock on any given Sunday morning was a foreign concept to Tommy.

Petticoat Lane nightlife in Central had resumed pre-pandemic closing times. After lockdown restrictions that lasted longer than most countries, Tommy savoured every breath of freedom. He had stayed until almost four before climbing into the back of a red taxi and heading home to bed. Alone. But at least he’d had the foresight to set two alarms across the bedroom to go off at seven-fifteen and seven-thirty.

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