‘You had no idea that he had someone else?’

She shook her head.

‘You want to know my secrets? Then I will tell you…I was unlucky in love.’ She smiled sadly. ‘I picked the wrong man.’

She got up and went to watch the bird feeding on the crumbs she had left on the bird table.

‘I was pretty. I was wealthy. I was educated. I had grown up with an idea of marrying well. When I was nineteen I got engaged to someone but he jilted me. He never loved me. He broke my heart. He took my father for a lot of money. There was a lot of shame also because I was pregnant. I lost the child. But it was still a huge disgrace and my parents sent me to Hong Kong to stay with a cousin out here to recover.’ She gave a quiet, cynical laugh. ‘They had no idea how the colonials lived out here or what kind of girl my cousin was. They thought she had a decent job out here; in reality, she hardly worked. She spent most of her time partying. She was racy for that time. She smoked, she drank. She was part of the “in set”. I experienced a new type of people and I was introduced to your father. He seemed so quiet and respectful. We courted. I had known him for two months when he proposed and I accepted. I hardly knew him. I certainly did not know what life I would have here. I did not belong to Eleanor’s party set. I was married to a Chinese. It was not right for either of us, not in those days of snobbery and racism; even in Hong Kong both sides kept their distance. It was an insult to be mixed race. I had no idea that my life would be so lonely. When you were born I was so happy, I didn’t care what anyone thought any more. But, so soon, it came to be time to send you to school and your father insisted you went to England.’ Molly sighed heavily. ‘But a part of me died. I felt as if I’d lost you forever. I wanted to go back with you, to England, but Deming wouldn’t allow it. My place was with my husband. My heart broke to let you go. My life was intolerable without you in it. Oh, he was kind enough to me but I was just a trophy wife to him. I had settled for respect, thinking it would become love but it never did. It must have been the same for him. That’s why he looked for love elsewhere, I suppose.’

‘What about you? Did you ever love anyone else?’

For a moment she turned back and looked fleetingly at him.

‘A friendship, nothing more.’

‘I am sorry, Mum. Really sorry. I can imagine how difficult it must have been. But the past is done with. We have all made decisions that we wish we’d reconsidered at the time, but Mum…Magda—’ Molly tutted with annoyance at the mention of her name. Mann persevered. ‘Magda didn’t want to ask for help, Mum. She did it because she had no choice. She has already lost a son last year in the tsunami.’

Molly turned sharply round to look at him and he could see she was shocked. She lowered her eyes as she listened to what he had to say. ‘She doesn’t want to lose another. And I don’t want to lose another brother.’

‘Half brother,’ she said, a wounded look in her eyes.

He smiled to himself. He could hear that she was relenting. Her voice had lost the panic, now only the sadness remained.

‘Yes, half brother,’ he said, kindly. ‘But unless there are any more likely to come out of the woodwork then this young boy is my only sibling and I want the chance to get to know him. Things are always better out in the open, Mum.’

She shot him a look that stung. ‘You’re mad if you think that, Johnny. Hong Kong is built on secret handshakes and unspoken deals. There are things you don’t ask about.’

‘Hong Kong may be based on secrecy, but we need to trust each other. I need to know things about my father that affect me. If they don’t, then by all means keep them secret, but something as important as him having other children, I need to know.’

‘I had no reason to tell you at the time. You were eighteen. You had suffered enough. My main concern was you. You had gone through a terrible ordeal.’ Her voice dropped off. She watched the bird pecking at the peanuts on the table. ‘That night when your father died I was out with Eleanor. I became a novelty to her in the end and this was one of those nights when she was showing me off. We played bridge. I lost. I got a call from the servants. The amah was crying down the phone. She only told me that some terrible accident had happened. I remember asking her: is Johnny all right? She didn’t answer me, she couldn’t. I didn’t wait for a taxi. I ran all the way from Eleanor’s, my heart thumping, my lungs burning. I dreaded finding you dead. When I saw you standing there I was so relieved. But, as I walked forward, I saw Deming lying in front of the house, his head split open. And I remember my legs gave way and I crawled towards him. I tried to scream but I couldn’t. I was frozen on my hands and knees, and then I was staring at his head, his skull was smashed, his brain bulging from a massive gap and his face gone. I remember looking at the blood seeping onto the driveway and I remember thinking: we’ll never get that out; it will stain.’

The bird flew away from the bird table.

Mann stood and went over to rest his hands on her bony shoulders.

The sun hadn’t reached that side of the building yet, soon it would come in so strong that she would need the blind down. Already the aircon was humming away. Mann knew she wasn’t looking at anything.

‘I’m sorry, Mum. It must have been terrible for you.’

She reached a hand back and covered Mann’s that rested on her shoulder.

‘I am sorry I did not tell you sooner. I am sorry that the other boy died in such terrible circumstances. I would not wish that on any mother. I never want to meet her—Magda—but…’ She turned back from the window. ‘Go and find your brother, Johnny.’

22

It was five by the time Mann alighted at Admiralty station. He bought himself a bun from the French bakery before emerging into the late afternoon sunshine. It was the perfect temperature: Hong Kong was enjoying its best season, low humidity and cloudless skies. But it didn’t matter what season it was, Hong Kong was his home; he was born there and he would die there—hopefully not any time soon.

Mann’s office in the OCTB was in Headquarters, Central Police Station, just a short walk from the station through Harcourt Gardens. Mann had worked in the department for the last year. He was trying not to blow it. It was the kind of job he had joined the police force for sixteen years before, straight out of school. After the death of his father he had had personal issues to resolve: he wanted to make a difference and he had a serious hatred of triads. They had long since lost sight of their lofty aims to serve the people—now they were drug runners and people traffickers like every other scumbag gangster the world over. But they were far from easy prey. They hid themselves within the business community like chameleons. They were more subtle than other mafia around the world. They had friends in high places and had nearly cost him his career and his life once or twice. But he had become an expert in their ways and now the police force needed him as much as he needed to work for it. His methods were unconventional and he trod on toes but Mann delivered. The OCTB needed him as much as he needed it—and it was what he lived for.

He turned into the entrance, through the electronic gates, and sprinted up the elevator and into a waiting empty lift. He stopped to show his warrant card before taking the elevator up to the twenty-third floor. There were four wings to each floor. The OCTB was spread over two floors. Mann’s office was in the West Wing, along the semi-circular corridor.

Mann passed interview rooms. They were having trouble with gangs in the Mong Kok area and they had hauled in twenty for questioning. Pam, the new female detective, was interrogating a suspect. Lucky bugger, thought Mann—it would be nice to be interrogated by a woman in a white, crisp cotton blouse and a tight pencil skirt. It was a pity she was busy—this would have been a perfect chance to introduce himself properly. He walked into his office and was met by the fantastic view of Hong Kong. Headquarters had been designed so that all the boring stuff took place in the central sections of the building—it was where suspects were held, identity parades carried out and the Incidents and Communications room was located—whilst all the offices had massive windows.