Outside, the thwack of a tennis ball punctuated the low buzz and tinkle of conversation and cocktails. Claire’s group migrated toward a large tent pitched next to the courtyard.

“People come and play tennis? ” Claire asked.

“Yes, in this weather, can you believe it? ”

“I can’t believe they have a tennis court,” said Claire with wonder.

“And I can’t believe what you can’t believe,” Amelia said archly.

Claire blushed. “I’ve just never…”

“I know, darling,” Amelia said. “Just a village girl.” She winked to take the sting out of her comment.

“You know what Penelope Davies did the other day?” Marjorie interrupted. “She went to the temple at Wong Tai Sin with an interpreter, and got her fortune told. She said it was just remarkable how much this old woman knew! ”

“What fun,” Amelia said. “I’ll bring Wing and try it out too. Claire, we should go! ”

“Sounds fun,” Claire said.

“Did you hear about the child in Malaya who had the hiccups for three months?” Marjorie was asking Martin, who had joined them with drinks in hand. “The Briggs’ child. His father’s the head of the electric over there. His mother almost went mad. They tried a witch doctor but no results. They didn’t know whether to bring him back to England or just trust in fate.”

“Can you imagine having the hiccups for more than an hour?” Claire said. “I’d go mad! That poor child.”

Martin knelt down to play with a small boy who had wandered over.

“Hallo,” he said. “Who are you? ”

“Martin wants children,” Claire said, sotto voce, to Amelia. She often found herself confiding in Amelia despite herself. She had no one else to talk to.

“All men do, darling,” Amelia said. “You have to negotiate the number before you start popping them out or else the men will want to keep going. I got Angus down to two before we started.”

“Oh,” Claire said, startled. “That seems so… unromantic.”

“What do you think married life is? ” Amelia said. She cocked an eyebrow at Claire. Claire blushed and excused herself to go to the powder room.

When she returned, Amelia had drifted away and was talking to a tall man Claire had never seen before. She waved her over. He was a man of around forty with a crude cane that looked as if it had been whittled by a child out of pine. He had sharp, handsome features and a shock of black hair, run through with strands of gray, ungroomed.

“Have you met Will Truesdale? ” Amelia said.

“I haven’t,” she said, as she put out her hand.

“Pleased to meet you,” he said. His hand was dry and cool, almost as if it were made of paper.

“He’s been in Hong Kong for ages,” Amelia said. “An old-timer, like us.”

“Quite the experts, we are,” he said.

He suddenly looked alert.

“I like your scent,” he said. “Jasmine, is it? ”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Newly arrived? ”

“Yes, just a month.”

“Like it? ”

“I never imagined living in the Orient but here I am.”

“Oh, Claire, you should have had more imagination,” Amelia said, gesturing to a waiter for another drink.

Claire colored again. Amelia was in rare form today.

“I’m delighted to meet someone who’s not so jaded,” Will said. “All you women are so worldly it quite tires me out.”

Amelia had turned away to get her drink and hadn’t heard him. There was a pause, but Claire didn’t mind it.

“It’s Claire’s birthday,” Amelia told Will, turning back around. She smiled, brittle; red lipstick stained her front tooth. “She’s just a baby.”

“How nice,” he said. “We need more babies around these parts.”

He suddenly reached out his hand and slowly tucked a strand of hair behind Claire’s ear. A possessive gesture, as if he had known her for a long time.

“Excuse me,” he said. Amelia had not seen; she had been scanning the crowd.

“Excuse you for what? ” Amelia asked, turning back, distracted.

“Nothing,” they both said. Claire looked down at the floor. They were joined in their collusive denial; it suddenly seemed overwhelmingly intimate.

“What? ” Amelia said impatiently. “I can’t hear a damn thing above this din.”

“I’m twenty-eight today,” Claire said, not knowing why.

“I’m forty-three.” He nodded. “Very old.”

Claire couldn’t tell if he was joking.

“I remember the celebration we had for you at Stanley,” Amelia said. “What a fete.”

“Wasn’t it, though? ”

“You’re still with Melody and Victor? ” Amelia inquired of Will.

“Yes,” he said. “It suits me for now.”

“I’m sure it suits Victor just fine to have an Englishman chauffeuring him around,” she replied slyly.

“It seems to work for everyone involved,” Will said, not taking the bait.

Amelia leaned toward him confidentially. “I hear there’s been chatter about the Crown Collection and its disappearance during the war. Angus says it’s starting to come to a boil. People have noticed. Have you heard anything? ”

“I have,” he said.

“They want to ferret out the collaborators.”

“A bit late, don’t you think? ”

After a pause, when it became apparent that nothing more was forthcoming from Will, she spoke again. “I hope the Chens are treating you well? ”

“I cannot complain,” he said.

“A bit odd, isn’t it? You working over there.”

“Amelia,” he said. “You’re boring Claire.”

“Oh, no,” Claire protested. “I’m just…”

“Well, you’re boring me,” he said. “And life is too short to be bored. Claire, have you been to the different corners of our fair colony? Which is your favorite? ”

“Well, I have been exploring a bit. Sheung Wan is lovely-I do like the markets-and I’ve been over to Kowloon, Tsim Sha Tsui on the Star Ferry of course, and seen all the shops there. It’s very lively, isn’t it? ”

“See, Amelia,” Will said. “An Englishwoman who ventures outside of Central and the Peak. You would do well to learn from this newcomer.”

Amelia rolled her eyes. “She’ll grow tired of it soon enough. I’ve seen so many of these bright-eyed new arrivals, and they all end up having tea with me at the Helena May and complaining about their amahs.”

“Well, don’t let Amelia’s rosy attitude affect you too much, Claire,” Will said. “At any rate, it was a pleasure to meet you. Best of luck in Hong Kong.” He nodded to them politely and left. She felt the heat of his body as he passed by.

Claire felt bereft. He had assumed they would not meet again.

“Odd man? ” she said. It was more of a statement.

“You’ve no idea, dear,” Amelia said.

Claire peeked after him. He had floated over to the side of the tennis court, although he had some sort of limp, and was watching Peter Wickham and his son hit the ball at each other.

“He’s also very serious now,” Amelia said. “Can’t have a proper conversation with him. He was quite social before the war, you know, you saw him at all the parties, had the most glamorous girl in town, quite high up at Asiatic Petrol, but he never really recovered after the war. He’s a chauffeur now.” Her voice dropped. “For the Chens, actually. Do you know who they are? ”

“Amelia! ” Claire said. “I teach piano to their daughter! You helped me arrange it! ”

“Oh, dear. The memory goes first, they say. You’ve never run into him there? ”

“Never,” Claire said. “Although the Chens suggested he might give me a lift one time.”

“Poor Melody,” said Amelia. “She’s very fragile.” The word said delicately.

“Indeed,” Claire said, remembering the way Melody sipped her drink, quickly, urgently.

“The thing with Will is”-Amelia hesitated-“I’m quite certain he doesn’t need to work at all.”

“How do you mean? ” Claire asked.

“I just know certain things,” Amelia said mysteriously.

Claire didn’t ask. She wouldn’t give Amelia the satisfaction.