On Borrowed Time

by Graeme Hall

  ‘Perhaps if someone was being framed and they knew they had no chance they might plead guilty to minimise the sentence?’ suggested Eric.

  ‘Possibly,’ continued Yannie, ‘or perhaps they may have been blackmailed with something worse? Or bribed with something that would make it worthwhile? Along with a promise of early release …’ Yannie’s voice tailed off as she realised what she had said.

  ‘Which is exactly what has happened,’ said Emma.

  ‘Which is exactly what has happened. But Emma, I don’t want to get your hopes up. Like Eric said, there’s every chance the witness was wrong anyway and it’s so little to go on. I almost wish I hadn’t mentioned Chan Wah Man at all. Even if you did find out that someone else was the driver, what are you going to do? Nobody’s going to be interested in reopening things at this stage.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Emma. ‘I know it sounds ridiculous, like something out of a movie, but I have to follow this as far as I can. I owe it to Peter.’

  Travelling back home, Emma was lost in her thoughts. It was just as well that the return back to Hong Kong Island was easier than the way out or she might have ended up anywhere, but it wasn’t until the final leg of her journey and she was on a bus heading along Queen’s Road East that she had an idea. She was surprised it had taken so long to come to her and that she hadn’t thought of it before. She was working for the next two weeks but after that she had nothing planned. Emma felt she was due a holiday, and she’d always liked Sydney.

  ***

  That night it took Emma some time to fall sleep, her mind repeatedly going over what Eric had told her, back and forth, round and round, but ultimately getting nowhere. When she did finally sleep, Emma had a dream that she’d often had before but hadn’t had for some time. In the dream she is seven, perhaps eight or nine, playing in an English country garden. There are roses, wisteria and a large magnolia bush. The sun is shining and it’s obviously summer; July or August perhaps. Peter is in the dream as well, lying on the grass reading a book. Standing centrally on the lawn is a trampoline, her pride and joy, something that she had pestered her parents to buy. In the dream Emma is bouncing as high as she can, aiming for the sun and turning this way and that as she rises and falls. She is alternately laughing and screaming as she gets higher and higher. But then she overdoes it, and as she lands her right ankle strikes the trampoline frame. She falls, crying out in pain. Peter rushes across the lawn and helps her down from the trampoline. She turns to thank him but he’s no longer there. Ignoring the pain in her ankle, she looks everywhere for her brother but can never find him.

  ***

  It was an evening of surprises.

  ‘You play the saxophone? How come you haven’t told me this before?’ Emma was taken aback when Sam told her that he was playing at the Fringe Club on Friday night. They were having dinner in a small Italian restaurant in SoHo when Sam came out with this revelation.

  ‘I played in various jazz bands at school and university but not much since then. I’ve been trying to pick it up again. Get back into the groove as it were – if you’ll forgive the pun. We’ve got a quartet together and done a few gigs playing in bars, but the Fringe Club is a step up for us. We’re only a supporting act, but still …’

  ‘How did you meet the others? I mean, corporate law and jazz? I’d have thought there wasn’t much overlap between them?’

  ‘You’d be surprised. Perhaps it’s our desperate attempt to do something creative, perhaps we’re just doing it to seem like normal people. The pianist is an Australian investment banker I met through work. He already had a trio with bass and drums but they were looking for a sax. So, can you come?’

  ‘Try stopping me. Do you mind if I bring some friends?’

  SoHo – South of Hollywood Road – was an up-and-coming area that was being gentrified, to the delight of some and the puzzlement of others. Almost as soon as the Mid-Levels escalator had been built, a multitude of restaurants and bars opened up in what used to be older walk-ups, all designed to tempt weary commuters on the way home from work. Every night the streets were busy with young professionals, expats and locals, couples and groups of friends, all enjoying the buzz. Meanwhile some of the older residents of the area were still wondering what had become of what was once a quiet traditional neighbourhood. Like most places along the street, the restaurant Sam and Emma had chosen was little more than a front room opening out onto the pavement; they watched as a lap sap woman pushed her cart piled high with flattened used cardboard boxes.

  Over coffee, it was Emma’s turn to surprise Sam.

  ‘Sydney?’

  ‘Just for a week,’ she said. ‘It’s one of the good things about working as a temp – being able to go on holiday at short notice. Provided you’ve got the money, of course, and I’ve had some decent work recently.’

  Sam was surprised that she was planning a holiday so suddenly. It had come out of the blue, not something she had mentioned before. Perhaps it just went to show how different they were. Sam could never imagine going on holiday without weeks of careful research and planning: reading guidebooks, considering possible itineraries and places to stay, making travel arrangements, organising inoculations. Sometimes he was amazed he ever managed to go anywhere at all.

  A final surprise came at the end of the evening. Walking along the street before they went their separate ways home, Emma’s fingers searched for and then found Sam’s hand. He turned to face Emma, who was smiling at him. They stopped where they were, outside a laundry that was just closing up, and Emma leaned up towards Sam and kissed him. A kiss that was returned, Sam holding Emma with one arm while caressing her cheek. He could feel her slender body through the thin material of her dress. They stopped when they realised that they were getting in the way of everybody passing by. Emma was still smiling, Sam somewhat lost for words.

  ‘You okay?’ she asked. ‘You look a bit … I hope I didn’t presume …’

  ‘No … that was lovely … just a bit of a surprise …’

  ‘Well, I wasn’t sure if you were ever going to kiss me so I thought …’

  Sam took the rest of the sentence out of Emma’s mouth by kissing her again. He’d forgotten how a woman’s lips tasted.

  ***

  The Fringe Club was always popular. The consciously distressed interior – rough plaster, visible plumbing – hosted regular exhibitions, plays and music, while the cheap drinks made it particularly popular with students. Emma and Alice found a table while Liang-bao went to the bar to get the drinks. When Emma had told Alice about Sam, she had been quick to suggest a double-date. While she had Alice to herself, Emma quizzed her.

  ‘So, have you told your parents about Liang-bao yet?’ she asked.

  ‘Last week. They were getting suspicious of my late nights. I couldn’t keep telling them I was out with you. They were starting to think you were a bad influence.’

  ‘Very considerate of you. How did they take it?’

  ‘Not too well if I’m honest, but they’ve calmed down a bit now. They think it’s just a passing phase that won’t last.’

  ‘And will it? How serious are you two? Have you slept together yet?’ asked Emma.

  Alice was spared the embarrassment of having to answer by Liang-bao returning with the drinks.

  ‘White wine for you Emma,’ he said, passing her a glass, ‘and red for you,’ handing another to Alice. ‘So, when are you off to Sydney?’ he asked Emma.

  ‘Sunday night.’

  ‘Just a holiday?’

  ‘Yep. I’ve been there a few times now. It’s one of my favourite cities. The food, the wine, sunshine, beaches … The weather should still be good at this time of year, better than here at the moment, so what’s not to like?’

  The stars of the evening arrived in the bar. Sam spotted Emma and went over to her, leaving his bandmates to head for the stage.

  ‘You’ve got a good table,’ said Sam, giving Emma a kiss on the cheek. Alice caught Emma’s eye and raised an
eyebrow. Emma made the introductions before Sam left the three of them to go help his colleagues set up for the gig.

  ‘So,’ said Alice, ‘the mystery man you’ve been keeping from us.’

  ‘You’re not in a position to comment on keeping things quiet,’ said Emma. ‘Pots, kettles and the colour black, you know?’

  ‘Quite good looking I suppose. Nice eyes. But, I mean … a lawyer?’ said Alice teasingly.

  ‘A jazz-playing lawyer though, and anyway what’s wrong with lawyers? Don’t you want to become one?’

  ‘Fair point. Is he any good? His playing, I mean?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ admitted Emma. ‘We’ll find out soon.’

  The room was starting to fill. All the tables were taken and it was standing room only at the bar. A young crowd, predominantly local but with a sprinkling of expats. Emma spotted Kate at the bar and waved her over.

  ‘Are you on your own?’ Emma asked. ‘Why don’t you join us?’

  ‘Thanks. Yes, just me. I had to come and give Sam support. It’s packed in here. I didn’t realise it was going to be so popular. It’s good to see you again though, it seems ages since you were working for us. I gather from Sam you’re off to Sydney next week? Lucky you. It must be great to be able to just drop things and go off like that.’

  Emma made more introductions. A scream of feedback told them the music would be starting soon and suddenly, without expecting it, Emma found herself somewhere else. No longer in Hong Kong in the Fringe Club watching Sam open with Sonny Rollins’ ‘St. Thomas’ but in the Student Union bar at Exeter. She was seventeen, no, not even that, only sixteen and probably shouldn’t have been there at all, but she was spending the weekend with Peter and he’d sneaked her in. They never told their parents, Peter would have been in big trouble had they found out. He was in his second year studying English, but music was his real passion and he played tenor sax in an R&B band. She remembered when he first took it up. She was only young at the time but she could still remember the strained wailing that used to come from his room, to the exasperation of the whole family. Thankfully he quickly got much better, he turned out to have a flair for the instrument, and that night at Exeter he would catch her eye between numbers and smile. She had felt so grown up. How long ago was it now? Emma did the calculation; thirteen, fourteen years? There were times it seemed much longer, but then other times when it felt like only yesterday.

  Back in the present day the music stopped and the Fringe Club was full of cheering and clapping. Emma reluctantly came out of her thoughts and memories and joined in the applause, though she realised that she hadn’t heard a note of the music.

  ***

  ‘Wow! That was terrific, Sam. Come and sit down.’ The set had finished and Kate created room for Sam to join them at the table. ‘I didn’t expect you to be that good.’

  ‘Thank you … I think …’ Sam was not quite sure if Kate was complimenting him or not. ‘There were a few dodgy moments but on the whole it went pretty well.’

  ‘Let me get you a drink. Beer?’

  ‘Please.’

  While Kate headed for the bar, Alice and Liang-bao added their own congratulations, but Emma was quiet and withdrawn.

  ‘What did you think?’ Sam asked her. ‘Emma?’ He wasn’t sure if she had even heard him.

  ‘Sorry? Oh, yes, very good.’ There was a blankness to Emma’s voice; Sam tried to hide his disappointment. Perhaps she was just trying to be polite, but it was as if she had hated the music. He hadn’t realised until now just how much he was hoping to impress her.

  ‘Emma, is there something wrong?’ Alice asked.

  ‘It’s the noise, and the heat in here, it’s so stuffy. Perhaps I’d better leave.’ Emma got up and gathered her things together in a rush.

  ‘Emma …?’ Sam couldn’t understand what was wrong and why she was so anxious to get away.

  ‘Sam, I’ll call you.’ Emma started to head for the door just as Kate returned with Sam’s beer.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Kate asked Sam, who was standing looking lost and confused. Kate then added a firm instruction: ‘Go after her.’ Sam took the advice and followed Emma, catching up with her at the entrance just as she emerged from the Fringe Club onto the street. It had started to rain.

  ‘Emma … wait.’ Not sure she could hear him, Sam reached out to her shoulder to get her attention. Emma stopped and turned, and he saw she was crying. ‘Emma, what is it? Tell me. Please.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Sam, I really am, but I can’t stay …’

  ‘Is it the noise in there? Why are you crying?’ Sam found a clean tissue in his pocket and passed it to Emma who dabbed her eyes, but the tears still came. ‘Please, Emma, tell me. Have I done something, said something? It can’t be just the noise or the heat. Not the way you’re crying. Please tell me what’s wrong. What can I do?’ Emma’s tears were starting to ease but her eyes were red. ‘Emma?’

  ‘I’m sorry …’ Emma spoke quietly and haltingly. Sam could only just hear her over the traffic. ‘I’ve messed up your big night … I didn’t mean to …’ She took his hands in hers. ‘I …’ The words dried up completely and Sam pulled her to him and held her tight. ‘I’m … I’m so alone,’ she said forlornly.

  ‘Alone?’ Sam had no idea what Emma was going on about. Whatever was wrong, her being alone was not what he expected. ‘You’ve got good friends like Alice. Family back home.’ Sam sensed Emma shudder at those words and he hesitated before plucking up the courage to add: ‘You’ve got me … at least, I hope you know that?’

  ‘I know, Sam, I know, but it’s not the same.’ The tears had started to come again, along with the continuing rain that was soaking them both as they stood there.

  ‘Not the same as what?’

  ‘I just miss him so much …’

  ‘Miss who?’

  ‘I’ve got to go.’ Emma broke away from Sam and hurried down the street. Sam stood there for a moment, confused and hurt, until he realised that Kate was standing beside him.

  ‘You okay?’ she asked.

  ‘I just don’t understand. What happened?’

  ‘Come on.’ Kate hooked her arm around his. ‘Let’s go back inside. We’re both getting wet and your bandmates are looking for you.’

  Chapter 12

  Spring proper was still some time away, but Shanghai had broken the back of winter and there were now quite distinct signs of the coming change of season, and after grey cloud, rain and fog, the blue skies and sunshine caught everyone by surprise. The mornings were still cool but cherry blossom was starting to appear in the parks; the afternoons, if the sun was shining, could even give the impression of being warm.

  It was such an afternoon that found Susan sitting on a bench in the rose garden outside the computer science department. If not quite T-shirt weather, Susan was able to get away with a blouse and a light sweater draped over her shoulders. A pair of sunglasses sat perched on her head for style rather than function. She had arrived a full hour before the time she had agreed to meet Kwok-wah, having discovered previously that the bench was very conveniently positioned for watching the entrance to the department. Susan prided herself on her ability to observe unobtrusively. Her instructors had taught her well. It wasn’t always about hiding, sometimes it was quite the opposite and you were better being in plain sight. Today she was pretending to read a textbook, taking in the odd paragraph or two and turning the pages now and then, while throwing the occasional glance towards the entrance. To anyone else it looked as if she was intent on her study of reinforcing girders, but she saw everyone who entered or left the building, all the comings and goings.

  Mainly they were teachers and students – she recognised some of them – and miscellaneous university staff. There were cleaners, technicians; the occasional delivery man. She paid them all little attention, noting them only in her subconscious as being of no interest, but when her eye was caught by the sight of a man in military dress leaving the building Susan was immediately alert.
She made a mental note of the uniform. High-ranking PLA certainly. There was plenty of braid on the epaulettes and quite a number of medal ribbons, but she couldn’t see enough detail to go beyond that. It must have been the guy Kwok-wah had told her about and she considered following him before deciding against it. He was unlikely to be here alone and she might be spotted. In any case, it was almost time to meet Kwok-wah.

  He was a worry. She had been trained to avoid emotional attachments, to focus on the job in hand, to be cold and dispassionate at all times. She thought this was something that was easy to say in a classroom at Langley, but not always so easy to keep to in the field. Susan was aware that she was becoming genuinely fond of Kwok-wah. She found his innocence and naivety endearing compared with the cynical world she inhabited. She knew there was no danger of actually falling in love with him, even if they’d met in more normal circumstances he wasn’t really her type, and she had a job to do, but she was determined to do her best to make sure no harm came to him. She hoped he wasn’t falling in love with her. That would be a nuisance.

  Kwok-wah left the building soon after the PLA guy and she waved him over. When he reached the bench where she was sitting, Susan stood up and kissed him on the cheek. Kwok-wah blushed.

  ‘I’ve just seen a guy in uniform leave your department. Was that Professor Ye’s military friend?’

  ‘I expect so. Certainly he’s had a visitor all day.’

  ‘Smart uniform, that’s for sure.’

  ‘Where do you want to go?’ asked Kwok-wah.

  ‘It’s a nice afternoon still. It should be fine for a while yet, at least until the sun starts to go down. Let’s take a walk by the lake. Do you think he’s doing something for the army? Professor Ye, that is.’

  ‘I don’t know for sure, but it does look like it.’

  ‘Would that bother you?’ Susan asked. ‘I mean – would you think less of him if he was working for the military?’

  ‘Should it?’ Kwok-wah looked puzzled.

  ‘Well …’ Susan hesitated. She didn’t know how far to push Kwok-wah. ‘It’s just after Tiananmen some people might feel uncomfortable about it.’