White Tiger

nearly gave up.’
    ‘Thirty years ago? How old were you when you did it?’
    His face shifted until he seemed younger, in his mid-twenties. ‘I was about twenty-five when I studied there.’ He changed again, until he appeared in his mid-fifties. ‘I will be about fifty-five when I go back.’ He changed back to his mid-thirties.
    Dear Lord, it was real. I was working for a god!
    ‘My Lord, that was an unnecessary waste of your energy,’ Leo said, irritated.
    ‘What?’ I said, glancing from Leo to Mr Chen.
    Leo thrust his hand palm-up towards Mr Chen. ‘Throws his energy away all the time.’
    I turned my attention back to Mr Chen. ‘Please don’t waste your energy on small things.’
    ‘Oh come on,’ Mr Chen said. ‘You should have seen the look on your face.’ He smiled at me and his eyes wrinkled up. I felt a rush of affection for him, then pushed it away. Only around for a limited time, and not even human. No chance.
    ‘What was your PhD in?’ I said.
    ‘Comparative literature. I compared the stories surrounding the English King Arthur with the stories surrounding me. It was fascinating to draw the parallels—the stories become more embroidered and elaborate as time passes. My supervisor had never even heard of me, he hadn’t done much Chinese literature. He said I was very interesting.’
    I choked back the laugh. ‘I’d love to read it.’
    ‘It’s in my study somewhere.’
    ‘Oh geez, I’ll never see it then.’ I rounded on Leo before he could dig me in the ribs again and shoved him. ‘Cut it out!’
    Mr Chen chuckled. ‘You have family here in England, don’t you?’
    ‘Yes, a big sister. Moved to England with her husband about ten years ago. I haven’t seen her in ages.’
    ‘If you would like to take some time to visit her, you can,’ Mr Chen said. ‘No, thanks.’
    ‘You should see your family, Emma.’ ‘Maybe next time.’
    ‘Very well, but next time you will see them.’ I sighed. ‘Okay.’
    ‘What’s the matter—problems with your family?’ Leo said.
    ‘None of your business.’
    ‘Suit yourself.’ He looked away. ‘At least I know when not to ask questions.’
    ‘Bastard,’ I said under my breath. ‘I heard that,’ he said, a low rumble.
    Simone woke as we were passing Hyde Park in Kensington and watched the scenery with delight.
    The limousine stopped in a quiet leafy side street outside a white four-storey townhouse with towering ground-floor windows.
    A caricature of an English butler waited at the front door: mid-fifties, bow tie, the whole works. The driver opened the door for us and Simone ran to the butler and threw herself into his arms. She kissed him quickly, then pulled herself free and ran into the house.
    ‘Help the others with the bags, James,’ Mr Chen said, walking up the stairs to the entry.
    James came down the stairs to the boot of the car.
    Leo stopped in front of him. ‘I don’t need your help, Mr O’Brien.’
    ‘Orders, Mr Alexander,’ James snapped back.
    They stood and glared at each other. I decided to go inside the house without getting involved.
    I followed Mr Chen into the entry hall. Old-fashioned black and white tiles covered the floor, and the ceiling stretched away forever. Curved stairs led to the next floor up, with more stairs to higher levels. What appeared to be expensive European art hung on the walls.
    Simone was hugging and giggling with a grandmotherly English woman wearing a pale blue maid’s uniform.
    ‘I missed you, Charlie!’ Simone cried.
    ‘I missed you too, little Princess,’ Charlie said, lifting Simone and squeezing her. She lowered Simone to look at her properly. ‘You are growing so fast, you’re already a proper little lady.’
    ‘That’s what Aunty Kwan said.’ Simone screwed up her face. ‘I’m hungry .’
    Charlie smiled at me. She had a soft, round face with cheerful sparkling blue eyes. Her greying brown hair was tied in a loose bun.
    ‘Hi,’ I said. ‘I’m Emma, Simone’s nanny.’
    ‘Pleased to meet you.’ She smiled down at Simone. ‘Let’s go and find you something to eat.’ She patted my arm. ‘Would you like something, Emma?’
    ‘A cup of tea would be lovely, Charlie,’ I said.
    ‘Me too, Charlie, in the study,’ Mr Chen said from where he was checking some documents on a rosewood hall table.
    Leo and James came in with the bags, still glowering at each other.
    Mr Chen saw them. ‘Will you two let it go!’
    Leo and James dropped their heads,