‘China won’t really clamp down,’ her mother scoffed, flapping a hand. Pressed for reasons, she said, ‘Why, because of the money! There’s too much here to mess with.’

Phoebe glanced at Jimmy. She knew what he thought; he would have said that was naive. But he demurred: ‘I’m new to Hong Kong. I’m not the type to go to protests. I’m more comfortable with spreadsheets.’

‘I’m with you there,’ said the older man with a companionable laugh.

Finishing with the shaker, Jimmy presented their cocktails. He’d made sidecars this time.

‘Go on, try it,’ urged Deborah.

Her linen-swaddled friend took an obliging sip. Jimmy’s face was suffused with warmth. His cheeks and forehead gleamed. Going outside, he joined the guests in smoking a cigarette on the balcony, dropping ash on the foliage below. Phoebe tried to think of a way to talk to him in private. She could hear the doctor deferring to him, the way some men did when talking to people who dealt with obscene amounts of money. ‘…but you would know all about that, in your line of work…’

She managed to corner Jimmy when he came in. ‘I need to talk to you. Alone.’

Of course her mother interrupted. Seeing them, she sang out, ‘One for you, Phoebe? A drink?’

‘No, thanks.’

‘Oh, go on. Don’t be a stick in the mud, sweets!’

So she met Jimmy later, on neutral ground, after Deborah and her friends had gone out to eat. The bar, a few streets away, had little to recommend it, and Jimmy looked around sceptically. They ordered drinks but did not touch them, mineral water with rings of lime.

‘You don’t want anything else?’ she asked.

‘Not here,’ he said with disdain. Phoebe figured he would normally go to the bars and clubs along Wyndham Street, with his colleagues. She knew of bankers who morphed into barflies, making the most of the island’s nightlife. Hedonists took things to the next level in Hong Kong. This thought strengthened her resolve. ‘You have to move out,’ she said.

‘I offered to leave, Phoebe,’ he protested. ‘Deb… your mum said no, not to be silly, I should stay. And it’s her place.’ He paused. ‘You don’t live there, remember.’

‘I visit. I’m here now.’ She didn’t care if she sounded selfish; she was determined to get her way. ‘You need to find your own place,’ she said. ‘Call a realtor. Go online.’

For goodness’ sake, she thought. She was asking him to leave her family home, not his.

Jimmy took a sip of mineral water and set the glass back down. As he did so his eyelid pulsed. It was an involuntary tic, a rare sign of emotion.

This was his tell, she realised. She’d seen it before, just once.