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‘I’ve just had a phone call from London,’ he said. ‘They’ve received a consignment of dresses from Yam Ling Kee with the wrong embroidery on. Why the hell no one checked them, I’ll never know. But I want you to get over there right away, tell them what’s happened, and insist that I have a new lot ready by this time next week. If not they lose my business.’

‘A week’s not long,’ said Debra, ‘don’t you think you’re pushing it a bit?’

‘You’re paid to do as I say,’ he snapped furiously. ‘My reputation is at stake here. Go now, take a taxi, or get someone to drive you. I think it might be best if you had a car of your own. Send Mr Fu in, I’ll ask him to see to it.’

This was the business side of Vane Oliver, demanding and expecting obedience to his wishes. Debra had no thought of defying him.

The company were all apologies for their mistake. It transpired they had used appliqué work instead of embroidery for the intricate details which were Vanoli’s trademark. In actual fact Debra felt sorry for them. There was so much work involved. Surely it would not have mattered on this one occasion?

But clearly Mr Oliver was a revered person and in no way did they wish to lose his custom. ‘We will do it,’ Mr Ho, the young Chinese manager, assured her. ‘No problem at all. Perhaps he will let us have the others back. We may be able to sell them elsewhere.’

‘Not with Vanoli’s label in,’ said Debra sharply. ‘He’d never forgive you.’

‘I understand,’ replied Mr Ho. ‘We will cut them out, naturally.’

‘Make sure you do,’ she said sternly, ‘if you value Mr Oliver’s business, because if that lot get on to the market with Vanoli’s label in there’ll be hell to pay, and I’m not joking.’

‘Do not worry, Miss Delaney,’ he said earnestly. ‘We will start work on the corrected garments straight away. Mr Oliver will not be disappointed.'

Rather pleased with herself for managing to sort out this, her first problem, Debra hurried back, only to discover that Mr Oliver had gone out, leaving a message to say that he would not be back that day.

Left with nothing else to do so far as her new job of troubleshooter was concerned, Debra made her way to the showrooms, intending to study Vane’s designs so that she would have a good idea of the sort of accessories he would need to go with them.

She had not been there long before Mai Mai came in from the design room next door, quite clearly with one purpose in mind - to find out exactly what Debra meant to Vane Oliver.

‘I was surprised,’ she said without preamble, ‘to discover that Mr Oliver had employed a new designer. Have you known him long?’

Debra studied the other woman for a few seconds. She was very beautiful, with that tiny trim figure of all Chinese women. Her black hair was brushed back from her face, fastened with a cluster of pearls which matched the ones round her neck. Her expressive fingers were red-tipped, echoing the colour of the dress that she wore.

‘I hardly know him at all,’ admitted Debra, and thought she saw a flicker of satisfaction cross Mai Mai’s face.

‘Why has he brought you here?’ continued the other woman. ‘I did not know he had any plans to employ a new designer.’

Debra smiled. ‘Actually I applied for a job in London. It was his idea, not mine, to bring me out here. I believe he sometimes has trouble with some of the factories, and as I speak Cantonese fluently he thought it would be a good idea if I made this my base, helping him out in that direction as well.’

‘Quite an important job.’ The words were said jealously, dark eyes flashing fire.

‘I wouldn’t say that,’ shrugged Debra. ‘But it certainly sounded exciting when he explained it to me. Have you ever been to England?’

Mai Mai smiled mysteriously. ‘Not yet.’

But you’re working on it, thought Debra. The designer was not all that clever in hiding her feelings. ‘It’s not so busy as here,’ she said. ‘I love it here, I’m glad to be back.’

Surprised, Mai Mai said, ‘You have been here before?’

‘Oh, yes,’ replied Debra. ‘I lived here as a child. My father was a doctor at the Queen Mary Hospital. That’s how I learned to speak your language.’

‘I thought that Mr Oliver seemed particularly friendly towards you.’ Mai Mai continued her third degree into their relationship.

‘I wouldn’t say that,’ shrugged Debra. ‘He treats me much the same as he would any other new employee. Of course, I suppose it makes a difference living with him, but I wouldn’t say we were close friends.’

If she had dropped a bomb Debra could not have caused more shock. Mai Mai’s eyes widened and then narrowed angrily. ‘You live with him? He did not tell me.’

‘Why should he?’ asked Debra, and then realised it was not the sort of question she ought to have posed. If Mai Mai were his girl-friend it could cause all sorts of unpleasantness.

‘There is no reason why he should,’ said Mai Mai, carefully controlling her anger, ‘except that he does normally discuss things with me.’

Debra tried to placate her. ‘It was all arranged very quickly. I don’t suppose he had time. Besides, it’s only temporary until we find somewhere else.’

‘This girl, this other girl you had with you yesterday, who is she?’ demanded the Cantonese woman imperiously.

Debra did not see that it was any business of hers, but rather than cause any further unpleasantness she answered coolly, ‘She is my friend.’

‘Why is she here?’ snapped Mai Mai. ‘Is she going to work for Vane too?’

‘No,’ said Debra, and saw no reason to elucidate further. Let Mai Mai think what she liked. Suddenly she did not like the other woman.

‘I suppose,’ said Mai Mai, abruptly changing the subject, ‘that you and I will be working fairly closely together. Do you want to see some of the designs I am working on at the moment?’

There was no smile on her face and Debra guessed it was the nearest she would get to being civil. She nodded.
‘Mm koi.
Mr Oliver left without giving me instructions. Perhaps I could work out a few ideas and surprise him.’

Judging by the expression on Mai Mai’s face she did not think that a good suggestion, but then Debra hadn’t supposed she would. Mai Mai would see it only as a way of gaining further favour with the man she was clearly half in love with herself.

Debra was entranced with the new designs. Vane had departed from his usual exotic embroideries, using instead thousands of tiny pleats—pleated skirts, sleeves, waistbands and cuffs, pleated collars, all using beautiful materials, silks and taffetas, chiffon and georgette, fine cottons.

Her mind worked overtime picturing the various accessories that could be worn with such entrancing, delicate garments. Strappy sandals in colours to match, belts so light and exquisite that they would look like part of the dress, doing nothing to detract from their ethereal beauty.

She thanked Mai Mai for letting her see the sketches and hurried back to her office, pinning a sheet of paper to the drawing board that had been provided for her use, quickly sketching a few ideas before she lost her initial impressions.

It came as a surprise when Fu Ju Wen entered to say it was five o’clock and everyone was going home.

‘I had no idea,’ she said. ‘I was so busy, time’s simply fled.’

‘Would you like a lift?’ he enquired in his courtly manner.

She smiled and shook her head. ‘I’ll walk, it’s quicker. There’s so much traffic it’s unbelievable. The poor rickshaws don’t stand a chance these days!’

He looked sad for a moment. ‘Soon there will be none. They’re issuing no more licences. It is a pity, a great pity.’

‘An unfortunate part of progress,’ agreed Debra, tidying her desk and gathering up her bag.

He walked with her to the main door. She was apparently the last to leave. ‘I trust you’ve enjoyed your first day here,’ he said as he locked up.

‘Immensely,’ smiled Debra. ‘I wonder where Mr Oliver went.’

Mr Fu shrugged. ‘He comes and goes. We get quite used to him disappearing without a word. How do you like living in his villa? It is a very beautiful place, don’t you think?’

‘Very,’ agreed Debra, pressing the button for the lift, ‘but I don’t intent staying there. Liz and I want somewhere of our own. I don’t suppose you could help us find an apartment?’

He looked doubtful. ‘Rooms are scarce, snapped up almost before they become available. Mr Oliver’s villa is big—plenty of room—why do you want to move? You will be happy there, I know.’ He clearly thought her mad for wanting to live anywhere else.

‘I feel we’re imposing,’ said Debra. ‘Besides, I’m sure Mr Oliver himself won’t want to put us up for too long. It must surely affect his private life.’

A smile lurked in the old man’s eyes, as though some secret thought amused him. But he was a true diplomat and said, ‘Mr Oliver would never turn out a pretty woman.’

Not if she was co-operative, thought Debra. Fu Ju Wen evidently did not know what sort of a relationship she and Vane Oliver held.

Out on the street they parted ways.

‘Tsoi kin,'
said Mr Fu.

‘Goodbye,’ repeated Debra. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

It took but a few minutes to walk through the still busy streets to the Peak Tram Terminal. As she sat in the cable car being slowly borne upwards in what was reputed to be the steepest funicular railway in the world, absently watching the land drop away below, Debra wondered what Liz had been doing with herself all day.

A sense of guilt came over her as she realised that this was the first time she had given the other girl a thought. She had been so tied up in her work that everything else had passed from her mind.

Now she could not wait to get back. Poor Liz must be bored stiff!

A premonition which had lurked at the back of her mind ever since she discovered Vane’s absence came flooding to the surface when she eventually arrived at the villa and Lin Dai informed her that both Mr Oliver and Miss Freeman were out.

‘He came back about lunchtime,’ said the young housekeeper, ‘and they went out together.’

‘You have no idea where?’ asked Debra sharply, apprehension stabbing.

Lin Dai shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Delaney, but he did say they would be back for dinner. Are you going to wait, or would you like me to get you something to eat now?’

‘I’ll wait,’ said Debra tersely.

In her room she slowly stripped off her clothes and stood beneath the shower, her face serious. Liz was young and inexperienced, Vane Oliver had no right taking her out like this.

It suddenly became all the more imperative to find a place of their own. If this sort of thing was going to happen the sooner they were away the better.

Angrily she towelled herself dry and pulled on a pastel pink cotton dress, sleeveless and low-necked, following the rounded curves of her breasts before falling in soft gathers.

She had not heard them come back, but when she made her way into the drawing room they were there. Liz sitting with a glass of sherry in her hand, Vane was standing near the window, ostensibly looking out across the gardens, but Debra had the feeling he knew everything that was going on inside the room.

A deduction that proved correct when he turned. She had made no sound on entering, only some sixth sense could have told him that she was there.

‘A glass of sherry before dinner?’ he enquired blandly, insolent eyes sweeping over her so that she grew warm with embarrassment.

She shook her head. ‘No, thanks, I don't drink, neither does Liz,’ looking disapprovingly at the younger girl.

Liz’s eyes were overbright. ‘One won’t hurt,’ she said defiantly.

To a person unaccustomed to drink one could do a great deal of harm, thought Debra bitterly. ‘Mind you keep it to one, then,’ she snapped, ‘and why didn’t you tell me you were going out with Mr Oliver this afternoon?’

Before Liz could answer Vane said, ‘Because she didn’t know.’ He was busy refilling his glass from a whisky decanter that stood on a lacquered table. ‘I thought it would be a nice surprise. Why, are you jealous?’

Debra’s eyes flashed. ‘Jealousy doesn’t enter into it. You know why I disapprove, Mr Oliver, and I should like your promise that it won’t happen again.’

‘Debra!’ protested Liz heatedly. ‘We had a wonderful time. He took me to the Botanic Gardens. We went in the aviary and there was this toucan who seemed to take a fancy to me. You should have seen him clinging to the wire-netting and nibbling my finger. He didn’t hurt, he was ever so friendly.’

But Debra had no interest in what Liz had to say, she was more concerned with the fact that they had been out together. Vane Oliver had no right to encourage the younger girl, especially after what she had told him about her having a crush on him. He was making matters worse.

She sat down heavily beside Liz on a sofa upholstered in a fabric featuring Oriental designs in pink, blue and beige. The pink matched the silk-covered walls which depicted scenes from Chinese folklore. The huge square of fringed carpet was mainly in beige and pink and the heavy silk curtains in the same blue as the upholstery.

It was a restful room, or would have been without Vane Oliver’s presence. At the moment Debra felt it highly volatile—any minute the whole lot would go up in smoke.

'I'm waiting for your promise,’ she said, looking directly at Vane, ignoring Liz’s outburst.

‘Then you’ll have to wait a long time,’ he said calmly, narrowed eyes coldly hostile. ‘No one dictates to me.’

Meaning that if he wanted to take Liz out he would, regardless of what she, Debra, said or did. A cold fury filled her and she bounced out of the room, intending to have a word with Liz herself as soon as she got her on her own.

Outside she almost bumped into Lin Dai who had arrived to announce that dinner was ready. In the mood she was in Debra felt she could not face eating; only the thought that she would be throwing her friend and Vane Oliver together again made her join them in the dining room.

As she ate her way through the many courses that make up a Chinese meal Debra found herself being left out of the conversation, which did nothing to improve her temper. By the time they had finished and taken their coffee back into the drawing room she was ready to explode.