Page 38 of Don't Point at the Moon

“Start a new one. The five things on your original list were to take a red taxi, ride a ferry across the harbour, take the Central Mid-Levels escalator and visit the Jumbo Floating Restaurant—which, as I told, has already floated away. The only thing left is to take in the views from the Peak Lookout, which is simple enough to do on your own. And I hope you, along with the rest of the tourist population of Hong Kong, enjoy yourself.”

“Not worth the effort?”

“I didn’t say that. On a clear day you can get spectacular views and shots of the territory. Just be warned that there are endless tourist shops up there, and that you have to pay to get access to the best views on the terrace.”

He was interrupted by a member of the waiting staff who approached the table, balancing a tray stacked with food.

“Full American breakfast, apricot Danish and a large wild berry shake,” came her amused voice. Zane held his hand in the air.

“Hope you’ve got an appetite?” she said, putting food down before him.

“Watch me.”

Mitchell grinned. He remembered his college days when he could eat to his heart’s content, day or night, without worrying about putting on a pound.

“I also have an order of a wholemeal bagel and a pot of English breakfast tea.”

“And that, I’m afraid, will be me.”

The woman smiled and gave Mitchell a sympathetic look while placing the items. Once she had gone, they ate in companionable silence for a while.

“I thought we might take a ferry to Lantau Island today. We can visit the Big Buddha and nearby monastery,” said Mitchell. “After that, we’ll take the glass-bottomed cable car down from there to Tung Chung and catch the tube train home. How does that sound?”

“Cool.”

Mitchell had begun to recognise the sincerity of Zane’s enthusiasm by the depth or lack of emotion he used to utter that single, monosyllabic word. The visit to Lantau was met with lukewarm to middling excitement.

“And if I let you choose dinner tonight, what type of food would you pick? What’s your favourite?”

“Out of anything?”

“Anything. But please. Not Five Guys two nights running.”

Zane snorted. “Ribeye steak—”

“Mitchell!” rose a voice from across the café.

“Hold that thought,” said Mitchell.

He had recognised Kate’s voice instantly. He looked around, bewildered, at the other tables until Zane pointed over his shoulder. Kate stood at the counter, balancing a cardboard cup of coffee and a bottle of something orange. Her cheeks glowed red either from the warm morning or her efforts to control Angel, who pulled at her hand. At least Kate seemed pleased tosee him. When he stood up and waved them over, Angel turned in their direction and appeared to calm.

“What are you doing slumming it in this part of town?” asked Mitchell after giving Kate a peck on the cheek, waving a hand at Angel and taking his seat. “Do you want to join us?”

“Can’t, I’m afraid. Tons to do this morning,” said Kate, tilting her head to Angel. “Beth asked me to drop some papers off. One of her clients lives out this way.”

“Is Beth working again?”

Kate smiled with resignation. “Isn’t she always?”

“This is Kate,” said Mitchell to Zane, who nodded a welcome. “We work together. And this is Angel, her—”

Mitchell looked to Kate for help. How was he supposed to introduce their new addition? Kate snorted at Mitchell before taking up.

“We’re not using specifics for the time being,” she explained before addressing Zane directly. “Angel’s living with us right now while she decides whether she wants to stay permanently. She thinks of me as her auntie.”

“Auntie Kate,” said Angel, playing with the paper straw in her drink and not paying attention.

“And this is my nephew, Zane,” said Mitchell. “He arrived yesterday from England.”

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