In the Shade of the Blossom Tree

by Joanna Rees

  Who’d have thought it? she considered, an amused smile on her face. Who’d have thought that Lois Chan, the little girl who’d grown up in San Francisco watching Sesame Street, would be walking along the very streets her grandmother used to talk about?

  And not just as a tourist either. She had a purpose. In the midst of all this noise and colour, her mind whirled. In just two days’ time she’d be meeting Roberto Enzo to discuss her future. Lois had a weekend stretching out before her to wonder exactly what his intention was. He’d hinted at a special task. But what? That’s what she wanted to know. And where? Because Jai Shijai’s talk of Shangri-La still weighed heavy on her mind. She was itching to know if that was where her future really lay.

  Since the poker game at Jai Shijai’s island, Roberto had been preoccupied with a whole series of clandestine business meetings both in the States and here in Hong Kong. Lois had only spoken to him on the phone and he’d dodged her conversation-openers about the future of the business.

  But here she was now. Why else would he have insisted on meeting her out here in Hong Kong, the commercial gateway between East and West? He must have decided to take her into his confidence at last. Excitement and apprehension tingled over what the weekend might bring, as she continued to weave her way through the stalls.

  She found herself distracted once more by the trinkets on show. She stopped at a jewellery stand, where a pretty pair of silver earrings had caught her eye. Under the watchful gaze of the stall owner, she picked them up and studied them. They’d be perfect for Cara. They were pretty and sparkling, just like her.

  Lois bought them. She didn’t even bother to haggle, even though she knew it would have horrified her mother and grandmother.

  But Lois didn’t care. She wanted them quickly, because she’d had an idea. Impulsively, she pulled out her phone and asked the store owner to hold them up, which the woman did with a shy smile.

  Lois took a photo with her phone and attached a message: I wish you were here. Keep an eye on the post. I’m sending these back for you. Love Mom.

  Since their trip to San Francisco, Lois felt that the ice had finally been broken between them. Cara had started talking to her. Hesitantly at first, but each week she’d shared a little more, until Lois realized that she’d fallen into an unfamiliar role as Cara’s confidante. It was as delightful as it was hard. Because her instinct was to immediately muscle in on the classroom politics Cara told her about, or to give stern warnings about the flaky best friend, or to rail against Mary-Sue’s strict rules. But instead Lois had learned to listen. And at this rate the two of them might become – God, Lois could barely contain her excitement, even at the thought of it – something close to friends.

  And it had been Cara herself who’d put Lois’s mind at rest about this trip to Hong Kong. She’d spent so long tying herself up in knots about how Cara would feel about her being abroad, but her daughter was surprisingly pragmatic, telling Lois how many of her friends’ parents had to travel for work. It was no big deal. Not so long as they got to text and phone. It was her job, Cara pointed out to Lois. She had no choice. There was no point in feeling guilty, certainly not on Cara’s behalf. Lois had felt humbled and amazed at how wise her child had become.

  Now, with the earrings safely tucked away in her pocket, she felt satisfied that Cara would know she was thinking of her.

  Realizing that she was hungry, Lois made a beeline for one of the busiest stalls, ducking under the awning, into a hiss of wok steam and chattering diners and loud pop music blaring from the strung-up radio. She ordered shrimp noodles and squeezed on to the stool at the last remaining plastic table. The man sitting next to her had two live cockerels in a cage by his feet and they fluttered noisily. He nodded and smiled at her with a toothless grin.

  Soon, she had a plate of steaming noodles in front of her, which smelt delicious. She took the paper napkin and spread it out over her lap as she snapped apart her chopsticks. But just as she was about to taste her first mouthful, she felt the buzz of her cell phone in her pocket. She checked the screen but didn’t recognize the number. She smiled. It must be Cara. Her own phone must have run out of credit, so she’d borrowed a friend’s.

  But it was a man’s voice which came on the line and said, ‘Hello, Lois.’

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘It’s Aidan. Aidan Bailey.’

  Unexpectedly, Lois felt blood rushing to her cheeks as she remembered the kiss at the top of the pagoda. ‘Aidan,’ she said, smiling. ‘My God. How are you?’

  ‘Fine. Well, hungry, actually. And I was just wondering whether you wanted to join me for something more exciting than those shrimp noodles?’

  How the hell?

  Lois lowered her phone and swivelled round. Aidan was standing in the alley next to the food stall. He shrugged as she looked at him and smiled.

  And that’s when it happened. She felt as if she’d just tipped over the top of a roller-coaster. Like a love-struck teenager, she felt her palms sweating and her heart thumping.

  It was impossible. But he was here. Aidan Bailey was here.

  And he was . . . Christ, she’d forgotten . . . he was gorgeous.

  His smile. She’d forgotten how infectious it was. How his eyes seemed to beckon her to forget everything.

  Don’t be crazy, she told herself. You’re just surprised, that’s all.

  And yet she was grinning like a cat. And she couldn’t take her eyes away from his.

  He was wearing khaki trousers and a T-shirt and trendy short-sleeved shirt. He folded up his phone and dropped it into his top pocket, before shooting her a grin with a theatrical bow.

  Pull yourself together, she told herself, placing her chopsticks on her plate. She dabbed her mouth with her napkin, unable to hide how happy she felt to see his face.

  Unfinished business. That was the phrase that sprang to mind. Or should that be unfinished pleasure? Because they had crossed a line, hadn’t they? When they’d kissed?

  Feeling her knees shaking, she walked towards him. They met, squeezed in together by people. He kissed her quickly on the cheek and put his arm around her shoulder, to stop her getting knocked by a man with two buckets hanging from a yoke across his shoulders. His touch felt warm and reassuring. She stared at his chest, thinking how nice it would be to be enfolded in a hug. She’d forgotten how good he smelt.

  She smiled back at him, thinking how tanned and healthy he looked. And altogether too clean for the marketplace. Amongst all the Asian faces he looked extraordinary, with his golden skin and blond hair.

  ‘Hey,’ she said. ‘Well, this is a nice surprise.’

  She put her head on one side, confused. Even though she knew Aidan spent a lot of time here in the Far East, this was way too much of a coincidence. Even supposing Aidan was in Hong Kong anyway and had fancied a stroll around the night market, this was still one of the most crowded places she’d ever been.

  Did he really expect her to think he’d simply wandered past and had somehow managed to pluck her face out of the crowd?

  Again she tried not to laugh. Because, crazily, the word destiny had just popped up in her mind again.

  But this was nothing to do with destiny, she told herself straight away. More like technology. The Dark Arts. Black Ops. Call it what you want, the fact remained: Aidan Bailey must have used some gizmo to track her phone over the GPS network.

  Impressive, Lois thought. Illegal. Cool . . . but flattering, too. Or maybe stalker-ish? The jury was still out on that one.

  ‘So how are they?’ he asked.

  ‘What?’

  ‘The noodles,’ he said, nodding behind her to her plate. She’d been so wrapped up in the shock of seeing him, she’d entirely forgotten her food.

  She smiled. ‘Oh, those? They’re good. In fact, I’ve been craving them all day. Why don’t you join me?’

  Aidan walked with her over to the small plastic table, grabbed a spare stool and chopsticks from a table nearby and sat opposite.

 
‘Help yourself,’ she said. ‘There’s far too much here for me anyway.’

  Lois continued digging into the noodles.

  ‘Go ahead,’ she said, amused that she was suddenly sharing her dinner with him. But she was interested to see how he’d react. The guy was a multi-millionaire. Would he really enjoy slumming it with the locals, like she did? But somehow she knew he would. Somehow Aidan seemed to fit in anywhere.

  ‘I take it back. These are great,’ he said, as he savoured his first mouthful. ‘But I’m putting extra chilli sauce on my side.’

  Lois laughed, amused that they’d slipped into such easy familiarity. As if they ate together every day. ‘You can’t beat street food in my opinion. I’d rather eat here than some stuffy restaurant.’

  Aidan looked at his watch. ‘Maybe I should cancel my booking at Lung King Heen, then.’

  Lois had been in Hong Kong for barely twenty-four hours, but she’d picked up enough to know that Lung King Heen at the Four Seasons Hotel was the only Michelin three-star restaurant in Hong Kong, as well as the first and only Michelin three-star Chinese restaurant in the world.

  She blushed. Was Aidan joking? He might as well be, because she’d already claimed that she preferred noodles like this to a stuffy restaurant, so she’d just have to front it out.

  To her relief, Aidan swiftly moved the conversation on. She soon found out that he’d just returned from a stint in the Middle East. She didn’t push for details, but she could tell from the way he spoke that the last few weeks had been hard and he didn’t want to talk about them.

  ‘And what about you, Lois?’ he asked, gazing intently at her. His eyes sparkled. ‘What are you doing here in Hong Kong?’

  Lois shrugged. That was a question she longed to find out the answer to herself. She told him how she was going to meet Roberto, but she didn’t yet know why.

  ‘I’m sure it will all become clear,’ Aidan said, as if he knew something that she didn’t. But that was impossible, she told herself, beating the thought away.

  ‘Do you fancy going for a drink? I know a great bar near here,’ he said, as they finished up the last of the noodles.

  His offer was so genuine and Lois was enjoying his company so much and was still itching to know how he’d engineered their meeting that – forgetting her pledge to go directly back to the hotel to sleep – she agreed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  In his office at Peace River Lodge, Dr Max Savage – or Max, as Savvy now knew him – scribbled on the form in front of him. Then he laid his glasses on top of it and swivelled his chair to face her.

  After the two months they’d spent getting to know one another, Savvy could read his expressions pretty well and she saw now a bittersweet mixture of sorrow and affection. How high must she have been to fall for his ruse of being an air steward? Savvy thought incredulously.

  The thought of Max as a flight attendant was ludicrous. He was far too old and far too unconventional. He had a deep tan and thinning blond hair. Today, he wore one of his customarily loud jungle-print shirts and jeans with his sandals.

  ‘So, that’s it,’ he said.

  Surrounding him on the walls were lots of photographs and letters from ex-inmates – or patients, as Savvy had finally come to acknowledge them to be – of Peace River and they flapped in the breeze thrown down from the overhead fan, like a distant round of applause.

  ‘You really mean it? I’m good to go?’ Savvy asked, squeezing her hands between her knees. She couldn’t believe he was telling her this. With such certainty. How did he know she was well enough to leave?

  Sure, she’d made a start on coming to terms with why she’d got so messed up to begin with. Survivor guilt over her mother and sister – along with a whole load of therapy-speak labels, which basically added up to a bad case of low self-esteem and responsibility avoidance, she’d been told. But, as far as she was concerned, she was way too wobbly to go back to the real world.

  She still sometimes woke up screaming or weeping after yet another nightmare about Elodie falling. Or woke up, her heart pounding, having dreamed she’d started doing coke all over again.

  Control. Sure, she had it now. But it could just as easily slip through her hands like sand. All she knew for certain was that she sure as hell didn’t want her old life back. She dreaded it. Feared it.

  And now that she was being told she could go home, she realized how much she desperately wanted to stay.

  Was it money? Was Dr Savage making her leave because of that?

  ‘You know, if it’s a question of finance, I can always find a way to pay for myself and—’

  Max held up his hand to stop her. ‘Savvy, you wouldn’t be the first and you certainly won’t be the last person who wants to stay on here. But this isn’t a holiday camp. The best thing for you is to get back to your life. Sooner rather than later. From what I’ve seen and what we’ve talked through, you’ve got all the tools you need to cope.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Listen.’ His normally jovial face had turned serious. ‘Talking about one’s emotions in a safe, nurturing environment like this is very comforting. Deliberately so. But it’s not real. And if you become too dependent on the kind of connections you have with certain people here, then, in my opinion, you are in danger of transferring your addictive behaviour.’

  Savvy blushed. Did he mean Red? Was he implying that she’d somehow crossed a patient–carer boundary? Just because they got on so well together?

  Because Red had been amazing. It had been Red more than anyone – more even than Dr Savage with his qualifications and years of experience – who’d helped her through. She felt a debt of gratitude to him that she could hardly describe.

  But was she confusing this emotion – this gratitude – for something more? Was that what Max was saying?

  Of course it was possible. But what if she wasn’t confusing anything? What if her feelings for Red were nothing to do with her therapy, or this place? What if they were real?

  This connection . . . this bond . . . this feeling that they fitted together . . . and yes, incredible physical attraction – well, that all certainly felt real to Savvy. Real enough that she hadn’t dared admit it to Red.

  She’d pictured them together, as if they were in a movie. In the desert somewhere. In a beaten-up combi van covered in stickers. Taking it slow. Living the dream. Yes, she’d fantasized about all those places she’d never seen – all those places Red had told her she must see – well, he could take her to them. India, South America . . . and his beloved Scotland.

  ‘I’ve been in contact with your friend . . .’ Dr Savage continued, interrupting her thoughts. He picked up his glasses again and looked at some notes. ‘Paige Logan. She’s arranged a flight to Miami. It leaves in three hours and you’re to be on it. Paige says she’ll meet you in the usual place as soon as you arrive.’

  Today?

  Savvy was reeling at the terrifying solidity and suddeness of the arrangement.

  Wasn’t there some kind of leaving process to go through? It felt like a horrible ejection. One she’d had no time to prepare for.

  And Paige? Even the thought of Paige made things feel even more precarious. First there’d be Paige. Then Vegas . . . her father . . . Luc Devereaux . . .

  Paige was from her old life. Things were different now. She was different now.

  But it wasn’t her old life.

  This second realization hit her just as hard as the first. It was her actual life. The life she had to face. The life in which she had so many apologies to make and bridges to build.

  And a score to settle.

  ‘You’ll be fine,’ Max said, with a reassuring smile. ‘You’re a survivor, Savvy. You might have had a few knocks, but you’re much stronger than you know. I saw that in you from the beginning. You’re different to most people I see. People who are actually broken. You were never broken, just wounded. It’s time to start marching again.’

  Savvy nodded, looking at her hands. She
felt tears pricking her eyes.

  ‘It’s time to pack up and say your goodbyes.’

  That was Peace River Lodge, she thought, as she stood up and hugged Max. Tough love. She should never have expected anything more.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Lois had envisaged an upmarket cocktail bar, but the place Aidan took her to was like an old pub, with scruffy wooden tables and a scuffed floor, and cigarette cards for decorations. There were pool tables at the back and an old jukebox lit up and playing fifties rock ’n’ roll. The place had a cheerful happy-go-lucky atmosphere and Lois immediately liked it.

  The barman greeted Aidan like a long-lost friend. It wasn’t long before their drinks were followed by whisky chasers. Soon all Lois’s resolve to leave and go back to the hotel to sleep was forgotten.

  But the best part was that Aidan was so easy to talk to and the more whisky she drank, the easier it became. Before long, she found herself telling him about her trip to San Francisco with Cara and her family situation. And as the evening wore on, she found herself telling him other stuff too. About her life at the Enzo Vegas.

  ‘I still don’t understand how a nice cop like you ended up in such a nasty industry.’

  Lois laughed. ‘It’s not all nasty. But it does need people like me to balance it out.’

  Aidan still didn’t look convinced. ‘You’ve never been tempted to gamble yourself?’

  Lois took a sip of her drink and sighed. ‘No. Never. My father was a gambling addict. It wrecked his life. My mother’s . . . our family’s life . . .’ She trailed off, amazed that she’d told him something so personal.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Aidan said. ‘But I still don’t understand. I’d have thought that going through an experience like that would’ve put you off casinos for life?’

  ‘You and my mother both. But I don’t see it like that. I think this industry needs policing properly. It makes me feel good to know that on my watch there’s no intimidation, humiliation, or the kind of hounding from loan sharks that finished my dad. I keep it safe and fair for the little guy. I show the punters the door when their credit runs out, even comp them a car to the airport. I have the power to stop their adrenalin ride long before they sell their homes and the shirts from their own backs.’