White Tiger

carrying stacked containers from the ships to the shore. The lights of Tsim Sha Tsui on the Kowloon side rippled on the water.
    The clouds had come down low enough to brush the tops of the tallest buildings and glowed in the lights. I remembered that I hadn’t seen a star for a very long time. The breeze across the harbour was fresh, but it was not so cold that I needed a jacket over my stupid glittery dress.
    Mr Chen held his elbow out. I took it. We went inside.
    Everybody stood around drinking champagne and eating finger food, chatting and laughing artificially. A few Chinese paparazzi clustered around a pop star wearing a ridiculous designer outfit, shouting questions. A gorgeous young movie starlet floated in and they dropped him to race to her.
    I wondered how Mr Chen tolerated it.
    A camera appeared in front of us and I was dazzled by the flash.
    ‘Mr John Chen Wu, yes?’ the journalist with the photographer said. He appeared to be in his late teens, and was pimply and poorly dressed in a tired T-shirt and a pair of worn-out jeans.
    ‘That’s right,’ Mr Chen said smoothly.
    The journalist moved closer to me. ‘And you are?’ ‘This is my friend, Miss Emma Donahoe,’ Mr Chen said.
    ‘How to spell?’
    Mr Chen spelt my name for him and he noted it down.
    ‘Nancina Wong just came in,’ Mr Chen said, and they disappeared.
    Mr Chen squeezed my arm. ‘Thanks.’ ‘What for?’
    ‘That was Next magazine.’
    ‘Oh.’ The news of his companion would be all over Hong Kong in no time flat. Some of the gossip magazines were so thick that the contents couldn’t be fitted into a single binding, and they were presented as two or even three thick magazines with a rubber band around them.
    I swore under my breath as Kitty Kwok raced towards us, arms and grin wide. She was like a shark about to strike. Her smile was razor-sharp.
    ‘Dear Emma,’ she said, giving me a huge tight hug. She pulled back to beam at me. ‘What a wonderful dress. You look fabulous. Such a change, who would have thought our little mousy Emma would be here? Please come back to the kindergarten, dear, we really need you. We couldn’t find anybody qualified to do your job for a long time, and eventually we had to hire a Filipina.’
    Mr Chen stiffened. I squeezed his arm. It was only an insult if you believed that Filipinas were good for maids and nothing else.
    ‘That’s wonderful,’ I said. ‘I’m sure there are plenty of competent women from the Philippines who could do a fabulous job.’
    ‘Oh, I wouldn’t know about that, dear,’ Kitty said. ‘The only Filipinas I know are maids .’
    She turned to Mr Chen, making sure that she had her back to me. ‘Dear John. Come with me and meet the gentlemen from the Mainland. Some of them are members of the Central Committee. They’d love to meet you. I was lucky to have them here; they’re very busy. Came all the way from Beijing.’ She held her arm out to him.
    Mr Chen glanced at me. I nodded and took my arm from his. It would be a dreadful loss of face all around if he didn’t meet the politicians.
    He smiled apologetically and took Kitty Kwok’s arm.
    She grinned triumphantly over her shoulder. ‘Try to stay out of trouble, dear Emma. There are a lot of wealthy, important men here, and you look so gorgeous.’ Her smile gained an even more vicious edge. ‘Our John must have paid a lot for that marvellous dress. I do hope he gets his money’s worth.’
    Mr Chen’s face darkened. I gave him another gentle shove on his arm and nodded.
    Kitty didn’t notice. She dragged him away to a group of Mainland officials loudly discussing politics in the centre of the room. They were delighted to see him, grinning and shaking his hand. He was gracious to all of them; chatting and sharing jokes, making them laugh. They offered him a large balloon glass of expensive cognac but he refused, taking a glass of mineral water from a passing tray instead.
    I sighed. Kitty’s reaction to seeing me was amusing; she was clearly threatened by me. I shook my head. She was the one who’d given Mr Chen my phone number in the first place. Didn’t she regret it now! I smiled with satisfaction.
    I felt a presence next to me and turned. It was a well-dressed, good-looking Chinese man of about thirty. He leaned on the wall and watched the people in the room. ‘Tedious, isn’t it?’
    ‘It’s not too bad.’
    He turned and held his hand out. ‘Simon Wong.’ I shook his hand. ‘Emma