Page 61 of Don't Point at the Moon

“I wondered if you’d ask. They’re taking us to a local dim sum restaurant.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“I owe Harold an apology. I wasn’t in a good headspace when I arrived. But my friends have taken me for chow I would never normally have touched and I guess dim sum grows on you. I’ve even joined them for a seafood dinner, a place called Chilli Crab Under The Bridge to feast on something they call hairy crab. Sounds gross, doesn’t it, but they’re delicious served with chunks of deep-fried garlic. Emily even made me a breakfast of rice congee, which looks like rice pudding but is savoury rather than sweet—”

“I know what congee is, Zane. I’m just surprised you do.”

“Are you kidding? Emily likens it to chicken noodle soup, something simple to eat if you’re feeling under the weather. She made mine with shredded chicken, spring onions, ginger, soy sauce and added this local chilli sauce. We even had these fat noodle-covered doughnut sticks to dunk in. She’s promised to make me some when we’re back in England.”

“Are you sure you want to go home?”

Mitchell had meant the comment as a joke, but Zane’s face became serious.

“I’m definitely coming back, Mitchell. I can see why you like living here.”

“There are pros and cons to living anywhere in the world. Believe it or not there are things I miss about the UK. And life can be significantly different in Hong Kong when you have to work for a living. But I’m glad you’ve come to appreciate why your uncle stays. Maybe your mother will back off a bit now I have you on my side.”

* * * *

Mrs Lau’s doorway stood open as Mitchell descended the stairs in his biking leathers, which meant she would be hovering inside. He called out a greeting and she appeared, smiling asever. They chatted briefly about Mitchell’s life and his nephew before she handed him a single letter.

“Nothing much today. Just another receipt from Mrs Zhang.”

Mitchell carefully unpeeled the envelope in front of her and stared at the inclusion of a red card with gold lettering. Two rows of four characters. Without a word, she took the card from him and shook her head.

“How to explain this? I will translate each word for you. ‘Timber already become boat; raw rice boiled into cooked rice.’ I think it means that when some things are done, they can’t go back to what they were originally. Does that have any meaning for you?”

“Maybe. I suppose we would say something like what’s done is done. There’s no going back. Not sure how that relates to me, but I’ll keep you posted.”

He pulled up outside the Sino-Anglo International School, where the tall aluminium gates appeared to be locked. Until he noticed a side gate left open. As he locked up his bike on the road, his phone rang in his jacket pocket. He assumed the call was from Zane even though the display read Unknown Caller. Maybe he was using somebody else’s phone.

“Mitchell Baxter,” he answered.

“Mitchell, don’t hang up,” came a female voice he recognised vaguely. “It’s Gemma Chu from JM Recruitment Consultants.”

A wave of anger rose in Mitchell. He’d endured weeks of dealing with work problems. Could he not just have one uninterrupted weekend to himself?

“How did you get this number?” he asked sharply.

“Look, don’t be mad. I know it’s the weekend and I’m sure the last thing you want is to discuss work. Your organisation is the talk of the town right now. But I wanted to speak to you personally. And privately. Can you give me five minutes? And actually, you gave me this number. When you were looking for acryptocurrency specialist while you were visiting your Singapore office back in January.”

Gemma Chu. They’d had four or five coffee morning meetings over the years, talking about filling critical positions. Professionally, she had climbed the ladder of the recruitment specialist agency with frightening speed, until she had become one of the partners. He admired her efficiency and used her regularly because she asked insightful questions about each role and listened, sending only suitable candidates for interview and keeping in constant touch throughout the process.

“Sorry, Gemma. You’re right, my life of late has been a disaster movie. But just so we’re not wasting each other’s time, we’re not recruiting anyone right now.”

“No,” said Gemma, laughing. “But we are. That’s why I’m calling. We have a brand new position for a full-time senior recruitment manager coming up, someone who has in-depth knowledge of the banking sector. Would be a bonus if this person also had human resources experience and could turn their hand to training on general office topics. Can you manage a breakfast meeting before work on Monday? With me and our head partner. Say seven-thirty?”

“Wait,” said Mitchell, confused. “You want me to interview—”

“Not interview, Mitchell. Our consultancy knows everything there is to know about you. This is for a fireside chat and to see if what we’re offering could entice you to join us.”

“I—yes, I can meet with you both.”

“Do you know Coffee Maestro on Montague Street?”

Mitchell laughed. “I know it well. See you there. Seven-thirty Monday morning.”

After Gemma signed off, Mitchell stared at his display. Harold’s words came back to him about the world moving on and how Mitchell had marketable skills. Until that point, an inertia had overtaken him as though he was standing unmovingin the darkness. But now the sun peeked over the horizon. He might not like what they offered, but the chat would be a first step to get him moving forward.

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