The complicated gears on the metal gate outside the front door clashed, then the lock on the door rattled. Simone leapt to her feet and dashed through the living room. ‘Daddy!’
Mr Chen came in. Simone’s father was in his mid-forties, and tall for a Chinese, at more than six feet. He wore an old-fashioned Chinese cotton jacket and pants, all in black, and moved with restrained power that hinted at hard muscle. He had very long hair, well past his waist, and as usual it had come out from its tie and fallen over his shoulder. He ignored it as he kicked off his shoes.
When he saw Simone, he bent and held a hand out to her. She raced to him with her arms up and he hoisted her easily with one hand, and with the other snapped the sword he’d been carrying into its clips on the wall.
Simone threw her little arms around his neck and kissed him loudly on the cheek. He smiled at her, his dark eyes sparkling, then saw me over her shoulder and nodded, more serious. ‘Miss Donahoe.’
I rose and nodded back to him; I was always careful to treat Chinese employers with respect. Employer. He was the only one left now.
‘And what have you been doing?’ he asked Simone.
‘Ngoh tong Emma–’ Simone began.
‘English, Simone,’ he said with mock ire.
Simone giggled and started again. ‘Me and Emma are playing Lego. We’re having fun.’
‘Good.’ He lowered her carefully. ‘Go and play with Miss Donahoe.’ He turned to the door in the hallway behind him. ‘Monica!’
Monica, the Filipina domestic helper, opened the kitchen door part-way and poked her head out. She saw Mr Chen, threw the door open, and came into the hallway, wiping her hands on a towel. She was short, round and middle-aged, with a kind face. ‘Sorry, sir, didn’t know you were home.’ She saw the Lego strewn on the living room carpet. ‘Sorry about the mess, sir, I’ll clean it up.’
‘Don’t worry about that,’ he said. ‘Make me some noodles while I take a shower. Ho fan, soup, choy sum. Not too much, I may go out again later.’ He stopped and a look of concentration passed across his face. ‘Why is Leo downstairs?’
‘He’s washing the car,’ Monica said. ‘It was very dirty, sir.’
‘Call him on his mobile and tell him to come back up right now,’ Mr Chen said.
Monica disappeared into the kitchen.
Mr Chen turned back to me. ‘How long do you think you can stay, Miss Donahoe?’
‘As long as you like, Mr Chen,’ I said. ‘I resigned from the kindergarten this afternoon, so I don’t need to be in early tomorrow.’
‘You’ve found a new job? You’ll be leaving us?’ he said, concerned.
‘Don’t go, Emma!’ Simone cried.
‘I won’t go, I was just tired of working for Kitty Kwok. I’ll find something else, but don’t worry, I won’t leave you.’
‘Good,’ Simone said, and returned to the Lego.
‘So how long will you need me?’ I said.
He smiled gently. ‘About fifteen years. How about coming here full-time?’ He raised his hand. ‘Wait, don’t answer, let me shower and change first, and then we can talk about it.’ He strode down the hall towards his room.
‘You can stay forever?’ Simone said, wide-eyed with delight.
‘I don’t know, Simone,’ I said. ‘I’ll need to think about it.’
Her little face screwed up with hope. ‘Please say yes.’
The gate and the front door opened and Leo, Mr Chen’s driver, came in. He was a black American, nearly six and a half feet tall and a wall of muscle. He had a spectacularly ugly face, the centrepiece of which was an artistically broken nose, but he had a kind smile and adored Simone.
‘Hi, Leo,’ Simone said.
‘Hi, Simone, Emma.’ Leo kicked off his shoes at the front door then poked his nose into the living room. ‘Where is he?’
‘Having a shower,’ I said.
He nodded.
Simone jumped up from her Lego. ‘Guess what, Leo?’
His small brown eyes sparkled at her. ‘What?’
‘Emma’s going to stay forever.’
Leo glanced sharply at me. ‘Is that right?’
‘No, no,’ I said. ‘He just asked me to go full-time. But I have to think about it.’
Leo came into the living room and towered over us. He crossed his massive arms over his chest. ‘Actually, Emma, it would be a good idea if you came full-time. You’re the best teacher Simone’s ever had.’
‘Thanks, Leo, that means a lot to me.’ I glanced down at Simone’s hope-filled face. ‘I’ll think about it.’
Mr Chen came down the hallway barefoot, towelling his damp hair. He always wore incredibly scruffy clothes at home, and this evening was no exception. His black T-shirt was faded and frayed, and his black cotton pants had a large shredded hole in one knee.
He had unusually dark eyes, nearly black, and the sculpted face of a Southern Chinese, with prominent cheekbones and a strong chin. He pulled the towel from his hair and threw it over one shoulder, then ran one hand through his long hair, tossed it back, and smiled into my eyes.
Suddenly Singapore didn’t seem so good.
Then Mr Chen saw Leo and scowled. ‘You. In here. Now.’ He turned and went into the dining room across the hall without looking back.
Leo bowed his bald head and skulked into the dining room after Mr Chen.
‘Leo’s in big trouble,’ Simone confided to me. ‘My dad’s going to yell at him a lot.’
‘Why? He just washed the car. That’s what a driver does.’
‘He’s not supposed to leave us alone,’ Simone said, deadly serious. ‘We could get hurt.’
‘Hurt? Who by?’
She leaned closer and whispered, ‘Bad people.’
Good god, Leo wasn’t a driver; he was a bodyguard. Kidnapping didn’t happen often, but it did happen; all children of rich families in Hong Kong were targets. Of course Leo was a bodyguard, it was obvious. No wonder Mr Chen was so upset about him leaving us in the apartment alone.
Simone’s eyes were wide. ‘That’s why Daddy carries his sword everywhere. Bad people.’
‘Sword?’ I said.
She pointed towards the sword on its clips next to the front door.
I jerked back with shock. What was he doing running around with a sword in his hand? And why the hell hadn’t I paid the sword any attention before? I had been working part-time there for six months, and I hadn’t thought to question why my employer needed to carry around a sword.
‘Why does he need a sword, Simone?’ I said. ‘Does he work with the movie studios? Or teach martial arts?’
‘Arts.’ Simone shrugged. ‘Stuff. Daddy’s stuff.’
I suddenly realised that I had no idea how Mr Chen made his money, and he was obviously extremely wealthy. He could be involved in organised crime. He didn’t seem like that sort of person to me, but I had to wonder.
‘What kind of stuff does Daddy do?’
Before Simone could answer, the dining room door opened and