Page 58 of Don't Point at the Moon

“Beautiful.”

As soon as Harold and William snorted, Tommy understood why.

“Do me a favour,” said Mitchell, grinning. “Don’t use that expression in front of her. In Cantonese, the word peng means cheap.”

“It does not!” said Zane, his expression one of mortification.

“Actually, your uncle’s right,” said Harold. “Although in context, you wouldn’t normally use the word in connection with a person.”

Tommy stuck around with Mitchell, Harold and William. Interestingly, he found Harold’s company and conversation enjoyable even though he chose not to join. They had picked a nice spot shaded from the fierce sun, and Tommy nodded off for a few moments until he was woken by shrieks of laughter and cold droplets of water on his forearm. When he turned, Alec appeared before them like a bronze statue. Just as Shelly had said, the body paint had washed off his skin, and he stood in just his Speedo, a towel draped around his shoulders.

“What’s all the excitement coming from the front of the boat?” asked Mitchell.

“They’re playing silly-buggers,” said Alec. “The way kids do. Singling out one of the group, pouncing on them and throwing them into the sea.”

Mitchell looked up, and Tommy understood instantly.

“Is Zane with them?”

“I think he was the next victim.”

Before Mitchell could say anything, Tommy was on his feet and running to the front of the junk. Only distantly did he hear Mitchell’s panicked words to Alec.

“Zane can’t swim!”

Tommy rushed forward and grabbed an armful of brightly coloured swimming noodles lying on a bench. Pushing through the group of youngsters standing at the prow, he jumped into the sea. Children’s safety had been drilled into him at school for physical activities, and apart from being a first aider, he had been trained over the years to think quickly in emergencies.

From the amount of thrashing about, Zane had hit the water only seconds ago and remained on the surface. Emily swam nearby but appeared frightened, clearly not a strong enough swimmer to help. Those on deck had only begun to realise what had happened, and a few loud splashes followed Tommy into the water. Fortunately, other recreational flotation devices lay scattered around in the water. Tommy thrust a giant rubber ring at Zane and shouted for him to grab hold, grasping firmly as Zane clamped his arms onto the device. Although shock and fear filled his eyes, he stopped struggling and his panic began to subside.

“Are you okay?” called Tommy. He noticed Emily had swum over and trod water next to Zane while placing a hand on his shoulder. The poor kid looked more embarrassed than anything.

“I’m—I’m cool.”

“It’s okay, everyone,” Tommy shouted to the watchers as he swam the ring and Zane towards the junk steps. In Hong Kong they had a saying about saving face, and Tommy decided to tell a white lie to explain away what had happened. “Zane’s fine. He suffers from leg cramps. Best he stays out of the water for the rest of the trip.”

“Thanks, man,” muttered Zane.

When Tommy looked up, he saw Mitchell craning over the railings. His face had gone deathly pale, and, in truth, he looked more terrified than Zane.

Chapter Fifteen

On any other Saturday morning, Mitchell would have been up and about, making breakfast, doing housework or planning his day. Today he languished in bed, blinking at the ceiling fan, mulling over the string of dismal recent events. His days had deteriorated progressively from bad to worse. On rare occasions, a laboured week at work without much happening could feel like a month. Even though the last few weeks had flashed past in minutes, each retrenchment meeting had felt like a personal failure.

At unscheduled times during the days before the official announcement, members of staff from various departments had come to ask him if rumours about layoffs were true, and each time he’d had to lie and reassure them. As for recruiters, he’d finally refused to take their calls, sick of having to deflect questions. When all bank staff finally had the news confirmed in a town hall meeting, many faces had turned his way with contempt.

The following day, with ruthless efficiency, redundancies had begun.

Only last week an excited Kate had hauled him out for a coffee and shown him an email she’d received with the generous offer of a comparative role in a rival bank. Her interview had been successful. Charteris had even agreed to let her go earlier than her notice period. On the surface, he’d tried his best to look happy for her, but deep down he felt only a sense of sadness and loss.

With Pauline back in the office, he’d sat with his head bowed in the meeting where his colleague, Helen, had been told she would be the first casualty. For somebody usually quick to temper, she had taken the news with stoicism. While Pauline stepped out to attend another meeting, he had gone in to see Helen as she’d packed up the few personal items from her office drawers.

“I’m so sorry, Helen,” he had said from the doorway.

“Don’t be.” She’d looked in remarkably good spirits. He’d wondered if she’d already known. “I’m honestly relieved. I kind of thought I’d be one of the casualties, just not the first.”

“What will you do?”

“Head back home for a while. Take some time out. Rethink my life. Maybe look for a job there. Don’t suppose you fancy working in Sydney, do you? We make a good team.”

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