His father frowned at the doubt. Without an audience, Lu rarely smiled.

‘Surely that’s been even more carefully organised?’

It was a reminder, not a question.

‘Yes,’ said John hurriedly. ‘Of course.’

‘Then we’ve nothing to worry about.’

‘I hope not.’

‘So do I,’ said Lu. ‘I hope that very much…’

John’s nervousness increased at the tone of his father’s voice.

‘You mustn’t forget,’ continued Lu, ‘that the whole thing is being done for you.’

‘I won’t forget,’ said the son. Or be allowed to, he knew.

Jenny Lin Lee had become quiet as the car moved up the winding roads through Hong Kong Heights, actually passing the Lu mansion, and she had realised their destination. By the time Robert Nelson parked outside the Repulse Bay Hotel, she was sitting upright in the passenger seat, staring directly ahead.

‘Not here.’

‘Why not?’

‘You know why not.’

‘Everyone comes here on Sunday.’

‘Exactly.’

‘So why shouldn’t we?’

‘Chinese whores aren’t welcome, that’s why.’

Nelson gripped the wheel, not looking at her.

‘You know I don’t like that word.’

‘Because it’s the correct one.’

‘Not any more.’

‘They don’t know that,’ she said, moving her head towards the open, bougainvillaea-hedged verandah and the restaurant beyond.

‘Who gives a damn what they know?’

‘I do.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I don’t want to shame you in their eyes.’

He reached across for her hand, but she kept it rigidly against her knee. She was shaking, he realised.

‘I love you, Jenny,’ he said. ‘I know what you were and it doesn’t offend me. Doesn’t even interest me. Any more than what they think interests me.’

She gestured towards the hotel again, an angry movement. He wasn’t a very good liar, she decided.