Hong Kong Heat Read online

  “That’s good. As you can see there’s something for everyone.” His left eyelid closed so briefly that she wasn’t sure he had winked.

  Debra bit her lip to hold back the laugh she so wanted to give.

  Braam lowered his voice. “I’ll text you later.” He opened the door and held it ajar.

  “That’s fine, I’ll remember.”

  It was hard to walk sedately to the lift. Only the fact that she was mindful of the chance of other people appearing kept her feet firmly on the ground and her back straight. Skipping and showing her bits wouldn’t be a good idea.

  Before she had a chance to press the button to call the lift, the doors opened and several people got out. One or two of them looked at her in astonishment. Well, okay, she wasn’t dressed appropriately for the gym—well not in the conventional way—but who was to say she hadn’t been using the laundry?

  Debra got into the lift and pressed her floor button before anyone said anything. Her tummy rumbled and she pressed her hand over it. She was starving. There was something about an early morning workout that had that effect on her. So, breakfast first and in the restaurant for a change. All she had in her room was yoghurt and fruit and she needed more than that. Then she had a day to plan. Unless? She checked her phone. There was a notation against her texts.

  Working until six on my own work. Hope you have a good day, see you later? P.s. that skirt needs to be preserved for posterity. That’s posterity, not posterior.

  She did laugh out loud at that and startled the three people waiting to get in as she got out.

  Chapter Nine

  Debra had a passion for lists. Her children howled and told her she was anal. Debra agreed with them amiably. So what? She liked to know what she had to do, what she wanted to do and also what she’d done.

  The Hong Kong list was long and even though she’d managed to cross some things off and come to the conclusion some weren’t important, there were still a fair few ‘must dos’ left. Once she ate what people would call a hearty breakfast and she called too much but enjoyed every mouthful, Debra went back to her room to decide on her plan for the day.

  In the end it was no contest. She wanted to go to see the largest outdoor sitting Budda in the world, but wanted to be able to take her time.

  She mentally calculated how long she realistically had before Braam might be free. Not long enough to go to Lantau by ferry, catch the bus to the Monastery, take her time in exploring and enjoy the meal she knew she could get there. Especially as she intended to come back down the hill by cable car before taking the MTR back to the hotel. There was an outside chance Braam might get finished earlier and she wanted to be handy. Not in the hotel exactly, but close enough to be around for whatever time he suggested. It was so against everything she’d ever done that the thought made her drop her pencil and list onto the floor.

  Sap. Deb acknowledged that she, Debra Scotburn, was in way over her head and couldn’t care less.

  So, Sai Kung it was. Although the fishing village probably took nearly as long to get to, Debra had read enough to know she wouldn’t spend as long looking around there as she would at the Monastery.

  Twenty minutes later, having noted down her route, Debra was out in the hot air and on her way to the MTR station.

  Lena and Kevan would be impressed with her use of public transport once they’d got over their ‘oh good grief, is it safe’? worries. Role reversal but very reassuring—at times. Other times it made her want to scream. However, as Lena told her, now you know what it’s like, Mum.

  The worst of the queues to go through the ticket machines had died down and Debra was soon sitting on the train, reading her eBook and more than half in love with a hot sexy hero, who was a devil in more ways than one. By the time she got off the train and stood outside ready to catch the mini bus to her destination, she almost wished she could have stopped on the train and finished the story.

  When her phone beeped, she was glad she hadn’t. The text was from Braam. Debra felt like a silly teenager in the throes of her first romance. Don had made her heart beat faster, but this was so different. Not like a kid’s crush, but deeper, harder and a lot more scary. At her age, disappointment would hit worse and last longer.

  Now why had she thought of that?

  Gah, deep and dark and doom and gloom. At this rate you’ll have him married with a wife and six kids he’s keeping secret. Get over it already. With that little pep talk given to herself, she looked at the text.

  Hard at work, but with a grin on my face. About to have a video conference but wanted to say have a great day. Don’t eat too much, we’ll go out for dinner?

  Debra got the gooey ‘in so deep’ sensation she had about Braam—when she stopped worrying.

  Will do. See you later.

  * * * *

  Later, though, she wished someone was with her. It was a strange sensation. Usually she had no problems about being alone. In a lot of ways she preferred it. Selfish it might be, but Debra generally reveled in not having to consider anyone else when she made her plans.

  She got off the bus and studied her map. Village was probably a misnomer—there was a lot of it and plenty was high density housing. However, she turned toward the water’s edge and stopped dead, before she grinned in happiness. All along the seafront wall, little fishing boats were tied up, with people of all sizes and ages gutting their fish before they sold them.

  Debra grabbed her camera and took a series of photos and hoped she’d gotten the progress from inquiry to purchase. Had Braam been here and done that? She shook her head at her stupidity. He lived in Hong Kong. He must have.

  Maybe he’d do it with her? One day…

  Hell, no more. Don’t hatch your eggs and stuff. Wait and see.

  People were hanging over the railings and shouting down their orders. Then the wrapped parcels were held up on poles in baskets and the money returned the same way. Every so often someone clambered up an iron ladder attached to the stone wall and shouted their wares. Well, Debra thought that was what was going on. In reality, she had no idea. They could be calling everyone tight fisted sods for all she knew. The sight was noisy, busy and colorful and she loved it. Her camera was used so much, it was a wonder it wasn’t red hot. She would have to ask Braam what the protocol was here with regards to bartering and buying the day’s catch.

  One couple made her slow her steps and pause. Arm in arm, they were gesticulating at something in a boat moored below them and obviously had great bartering skills. The man pointed to something and shook his head. The woman gave a war cry and rolled her eyes.

  “Go for it, Jack, show them how much you remember.” She had an Australian twang and the sun-kissed skin of someone used to the tropical sun who took care not to burn. She looked up from the water and saw Debra nearby.

  “Men—have to be macho and never admit they can’t remember what they’ve learned. Ohh, woo hoo.” She turned back to the man next to her who held a plastic bag high in the air. “He’ll love you for that. Hell, I love you for it. Spot on.” She kissed the man on the cheek and smiled at Debra as they walked off hand in hand away from the busy boats and restaurants.

  Debra watched them go in a wistful mood. How nice that would have been if it were her and Braam. She’d bet he’d have been able to barter much more successfully.

  Ah well, maybe one day. She pushed away the irritating thought that insisted on intruding into everything she enjoyed. The ‘you’re leaving soon, what then?’ one. She wasn’t going to think about that yet.

  It’s a holiday romance. A flirt-a-thon. Why didn’t she believe that? Because I don’t want to. I want it to be more.

  The sun was hitting the sea and making the water sparkle. Without her sunglasses it would be too bright to see. She ambled in the opposite direction from the couple she’d envied. She’d find somewhere for a coffee and check out where to get a snack for later. And damn it she knew she’d check her texts and emails.

  A few hundred yards on, th
e boats and fish sellers petered out and opposite the sea wall, restaurants lined the promenade. Several had tiers of tanks filled with swimming flapping fish all ready to be sacrificed for dinner. Gum-booted women jumped with effortless agility amongst them and pulled out the chosen fish to be cooked in their restaurant.

  Waitrons smiled and entreated Debra to go into their restaurant, to try the day’s special or perhaps sit and have a drink. With a smile, she declined them all. She wanted to wander through the tiny streets of the old village first. Otherwise she suspected she’d sit, people watch as she usually did and have to leave without seeing all she intended to. She passed a plaque, which had interesting tidbits about the old village then turned into a narrow lane. It was quiet, with most of the tarmac shaded by the houses that lined it on both sides. Halfway along, a couple of cafés vied with other. She chose the one on the left simply because an old man sitting at a table, eating dumplings and drinking tea out of an exquisite china lidded mug smiled at her. There were a few tables outside the narrow café front and one of those had the inevitable Mah Jong set ready for anyone who wanted to play.

  Encouraged by the look of satisfaction of the old man as he sipped his drink, Debra ordered China tea rather than coffee. It was hot and this far back from the sea, the breeze had almost disappeared. The warm air was moved around by a large fan, which whirled from her to the old man and back again. Debra was glad of it, even if it didn’t bring much coolth.

  The tea was brought to her in a glass pot and she watched as the young waiter poured it into her cup with as much formality as if it was a full tea ceremony. He set the pot on the table, handed her a magazine and went to chat to his other customer.

  Debra glanced at the magazine, turned it the other way up and looked again. Why when he’d spoken to her in English did he hand her a magazine in Chinese?

  “Sorry.”

  The magazine was whisked from her fingers and another one dropped on the table next to her. That was better. It was a ‘What’s on in Hong Kong’? booklet. Debra took a sip of tea, gasped and waved her hand in front of her mouth. It was still too hot to drink. She checked the pages dedicated to that week, to see if there was anything that would interest her. Without looking toward the mug, Debra fumbled for it. As her hands closed around it, the waiter appeared, took it from her along with the teapot and disappeared inside. Across from her the old man moved with a speed that made her blink. For someone his age, he was incredibly agile. He had his plate of dumplings and his mug of tea in his hands as he followed the waiter into the café. A few seconds later the man reappeared and sat down at the table that had the Mah Jong set on it. The waiter came out of the café door like a jack-in-the-box, sat opposite him and rearranged the set to look as if they were mid game.

  Debra sat opened mouth. What on earth? The waiter winked.

  “Two minutes, ma’am. Please read.” He looked pointedly at the booklet.

  Intrigued and wondering what she’d gotten herself into, Debra did as he had asked.

  A minute or so later—a minute that felt like ten—a couple wandered down the lane, stared at the three of them intently and said something to the waiter. He replied in short staccato bursts. The male of the couple seemed inclined to argue, but the woman took his arm and urged him away.

  He turned to Debra. “You sit here to read?”

  Behind him the waiter’s eyes opened wide. A plea?

  “It’s very pleasant and I was hot. I needed a seat outside.”

  “And then she will come inside to have a drink,” the waiter added.

  Even though she was still bewildered, Debra thought it politic to agree.

  “As he says,” she said. “I’m looking forward to it.” The expression of gratitude that the waiter flashed in her direction made her think she’d given the correct response. To whom and why she hoped she’d find out.

  The visitor grunted and followed his colleague down the street and around the corner. As soon as they had disappeared, the waiter jumped up and went inside, appearing a few seconds later with a fresh pot of tea and a clean mug for Debra. She looked up at him and he smiled.

  “Police. They’re trying to stop people eating and drinking in the street in this old area. We say this is our land but…?” He shrugged. “There is, how do you say, an early warning system. They won’t be back for at least an hour, so enjoy.” He gave a quaint half bow and went back to where the old man was now eating his dumplings, even down to the one left mid bite, and placidly drinking tea. You would never have guessed that a few minutes before they had sat like actors in a very bad play.

  Debra declined more tea, paid her bill and set off back toward the seafront and the restaurants. The whole episode had amused her. Did Braam know about…?

  Enough. Give over now.

  One restaurant had caught her eye. It advertised bite sized bliss. Although the description made her snigger, the idea of Chinese tapas sounded good. If there was anything nicer than being able to try lots of dishes, Debra hadn’t found it. She bypassed a couple of other restaurants and smiled her ‘no thanks’ at the waitrons until she found the one she had noted. It was busy, but there was one table for two set next to the water and she made her way toward it. A smiling waitress picked up the unwanted place setting.

  “Water and the Bliss special please.” Debra knew exactly what she wanted. A clear head and some tasty snacks. Then she was going to walk back along the promenade and around the headland to look at the beach recommended in her guidebook. She might not have time to sit and enjoy its charms, but she wasn’t going to miss it. A sandy beach was one thing she hadn’t walked on for a while. Maybe she’d put some sand into a plastic bag as a memento.

  Now that is silly. Maybe she’d be better off taking a selfie.

  Before that, though, she had her lunch—albeit a late one—to enjoy. Within minutes the first dishes arrived. With each one, the waitress told her in Cantonese and English what it was. It reminded her of Braam and his attempts to teach her the basics. She dragged her mind back from Braam and what he might be doing and turned her attention to the food.

  Every morsel was delicious and Debra had to remind herself over and over she was going out for dinner. Otherwise she suspected she could have sat and nibbled for hours. Eventually she put her chopsticks down. She had fumbled through the meal with them and wished she had her child’s plastic Chopstick fastener to help out. But she wasn’t going to accept failure and ask for a knife and fork.

  She paid her remarkably modest bill and hunted down the communal loo, before she walked back past the few boats that hadn’t managed to sell out of their fruits from the sea. It had amused her that several times, boats had drawn up near the restaurants to offload fresh supplies to the chefs. The sight of a man in white gumboots and a tall white hat, that he flapped in the air, arguing over the guard rails to someone you couldn’t see, before hauling up a bag that moved, was one she’d never forget.

  Her guidebook had waxed lyrical about the islands not far from the shore and especially about the one that had a golf course. As Debra walked away from the town, she reached the feet jetty for that island and stood open mouthed before she burst out laughing. The rules of golf and how to argue your way out of a bad shot were hilarious. She took a picture to send to her son. As a reasonably good golfer, he’d appreciate it.

  The weather was made for dawdling, but Debra was conscious that time was passing. She didn’t want to get caught up in the rush hour and she still held out the hope that Braam might be free earlier rather than later. Although when she reached the beach she wished she could linger.

  It was idyllic, although certainly not private. Definitely no chance to get up to anything remotely personal. However, the few canoes, several dragon boats and a couple of rowing boats bobbed gently on the soft swell and created a beautiful picture. Maybe if Braam had a day off before she left she’d ask him to come back here with her.

  With a sigh, Debra turned and retraced her steps toward the town and the bus
station.

  It was typical that she saw the bus depart as she approached the bus stance. A quick check of the timetable showed there wasn’t another one due for several minutes. She stood behind a few other people who hadn’t made it in time, took out her phone and checked if she had any messages. The screen was blank and she hadn’t. Should she text Braam?

  No acting needy. He said he was going to be busy. Instead she sent a ‘having a great time’ text to her children. The green minibus turned up before her resolve broke and she sent a message to Braam. She was not needy.

  In the short time she’d waited, a queue had formed behind her and as soon as the driver opened his door they all moved forward. Debra got on, scanned her Oyster card and grabbed a seat. In theory, no one should stand, but in practice it didn’t always work. However, just in case, she wasn’t going to be the one who was turfed off.

  The minibus set off with a lurch and a judder and the driver drove out of the bus station like he had an inspector on his tail. Maybe he had, but if so there was no chance the bus would be caught. It weaved in and out of the numerous bicycles that straggled over the road and over took cars and lorries with a blare of the horn.

  The woman next to Debra gave a gasp and her lips moved, even though she uttered no words. If she was praying Debra hoped she’d be included in the plea for a safe journey. By the time the bus drew up outside the MTR station, with a jolt that had most people sliding to the edge of their seats, Debra felt sick. She was thankful they had arrived there on one piece. Everyone said the Italians were fast drivers. This guy could give them a run for their money.

  The woman next to her harangued the driver as they got off. He shrugged and once the last person who wanted to leave had left the vehicle he set off in exactly the same way they’d arrived. Too fast and with a squeal of brakes.