The Expat Diaries: Misfortune Cookie (Single in the City Book 2)

by Michele Gorman

  ‘Hannah, Josh wants to see you,’ Winnie says just as I drop into my office chair nearly an hour later. The first thought to pop into my head (oh, heady thought) is that Sam has come to surprise me again. My second, stomach-clenching thought is that I feel guilty about flirting with the Afghan hound last night. Nothing happened, not really, so I have no reason for my pangs. He and his friend were certainly entertaining company, and their dancing skills were beyond reproach. Which is why we were out till the wee hours dancing to a Chinese cover band. I gave him my number, as I threatened I would. There was no kissing, only a few poorly aimed, easily deflected lunges. He probably won’t call.

  So if I did nothing wrong, why do I feel guilty? Because there should be a statutory cooling-off period between flirting with a stranger and seeing your boyfriend. Still, I’m excited to see Sam!

  ‘Oh really, Winnie?’ I say, humoring her. ‘Whatever could Josh want? Just give me a few minutes to freshen up.’ Luckily I tipped most of the contents of my make-up drawer into my handbag this morning. On four hours of sleep, my face needs multiple attempts at repair.

  ‘Seriously, Han, he didn’t look pleased,’ warns Winnie. ‘I’d go in now if I were you.’

  Oh she’s a regular drama queen, she is. If I didn’t know better I’d say she was really worried for me. ‘Okay, okay, I’m going.’

  ‘Josh?’ I sing as I float through his door. ‘You wanted to see me?’

  Sam’s not there. Josh isn’t smiling.

  ‘Yes, Hannah, thanks. It’s about the proposals. Did you send them?’

  ‘Yep, a week ago Monday. Why?’

  ‘I just had a call from one of the shops asking why we didn’t put our offer in this round. Are you sure you sent them to everyone?’

  ‘Positive, Josh. I faxed them all on Monday. Just a minute, I’ve got all the paperwork. I’ll get it.’

  This is bad. This is very bad. We’re not the only ones pitching to the shops. Dozens of other exporters are in competition, all hoping that their clothes will be chosen for the next season. If they didn’t get our proposals that means… that means that we have no chance of selling anything this season. This is very bad. But I did fax the proposals. It took me an hour to get them all sent. I know I sent them, the day after Sam left.

  ‘Here, Josh, they’re all there. Twenty-seven proposals, twenty-seven shops that you wanted me to send them to.’ The sheaf of papers is quivering and it’s not because we’re having an earthquake.

  ‘Do you have the fax confirmations?’ Josh’s voice is calm, but his face is uncharacteristically still. Normally the wrinkles, bags and creases are as animated as an undulating jellyfish. This is very bad.

  ‘Fax confirmations? Uh, no. I don’t know what those are. I’m sorry.’

  ‘After the fax gets sent a page prints out that lists all the sent pages,’ he explains with incredible patience for a man who’s realizing his hiring decision may have been a very expensive mistake. ‘Maybe they’re still near the fax?’ He’s trying to help me. I can tell he’s not enjoying this conversation.

  ‘Right, I’ll just go check.’ It’s unladylike to run, and not altogether practical in my shoes, but time is of the essence if I’m to have any chance of halting Josh’s free-falling opinion of me. There are no papers by the fax machine. Of course there aren’t. Nazi Reese would have efficiently dispatched such a disorderly blight on her copy room. ‘Mrs. Reese? Do you happen to keep the fax confirmations? I’m looking for the ones from a week ago Monday, when I sent all the proposals out. You remember, right? I asked you how to use the fax machine?’

  ‘Yes, I remember,’ she says. She hardly moves her mouth when she speaks. Imagine a fish talking to you. She is rather aquatic today, in her blue suit, with a face like a grouper. ‘The fax confirmations are kept in the tray above the stationery supply for two weeks. You’ll find them there. Hannah, do try not to put them out of order.’

  All is not lost. I can prove I sent the faxes. The shop’s fax machine must have run out of paper or something. It’s not my fault, and not a disaster.

  There’s an enormous pile of pages in the tray. In date order, of course. Mrs. Reese would have it no other way. Let’s see, let’s see, Friday, Thursday… Tuesday, Monday, Friday… Thursday, Wednesday, Tuesday, and finally, Monday. They’re here. Disaster averted.

  ‘Here you go.’ I hand the pile to Josh. ‘They’re all there, all twenty-seven.’

  He stares at the pile, slowly paging through it. ‘Hannah? These are blank.’

  ‘No they’re not. There’s the information right at the top. See? Phone number, date, time, number of pages. It’s all right there.’

  ‘I mean they are blank. You’ve sent blank pages to these numbers.’

  ‘How do you know that?’ I can’t have sent blank pages. Who would do that? I sent the proposals. The entire pile of proposals. They’re right there.

  ‘Because this is a printout of the first page of your fax, here below the status box. It’s blank.’ He looks sorry for me rather than mad. Though of course he’s mad. I’ve just scuppered his business for next year.

  ‘I don’t know how I… It’s not, I can’t– I faxed them, Josh, I promise I did. I asked Mrs. Reese how to use the fax machine. She said to be sure to dial eight first, and the country code and number, and to wait till the fax did that long beep to make sure it went through. I did all that. I swear I did.’ I don’t want to cry but my tear ducts have other plans. Proof positive that waterproof mascara isn’t just for swimming.

  He sighs. ‘Hannah, did you fax the pages upside down?’

  No, I couldn’t have. ‘I… I asked Mrs. Reese how to do it,’ I say in a voice choked off by rising panic. ‘I don’t think I fed them in upside down.’ But the evidence is right there in Josh’s hands, isn’t it? I admit I was distracted by the whole Sam thing. Even though we are not broken up, I hadn’t slept well on Sunday after he left. Is it possible that I fed more than 100 pages into a fax machine the wrong way up? Of course it is. Technology and I have never been firm friends. ‘I guess it’s possible. Well, yes, I must have done it. Otherwise you’d see the first page of the proposal on there. Josh, I am so sorry.’ I will not tell him about Sam. My personal life is not his problem. ‘I don’t know what else to say. I’m just, sorry. Is there any way I can salvage this?’

  He runs his hand through his hair, making it stand up even taller than usual. ‘I don’t know. If we know that none of the proposals went out then I guess we should split the list and call each shop, explain the situation and see if we can submit them now. It’s probably not too late for all of them.’ His face is animated again. It’s not friendly, but at least that weird stillness has gone. Still, it’s probably not the time to ask him to get me that work permit.

  ‘Okay. Josh, again, I am so, so, so, so, so sorry. I’ll do anything to make it up to you. I’m really not a screw-up, I promise I’m not–’

  He holds up his hand. ‘Hannah, it’s a mistake, that’s all. It might be costly, but we don’t know that yet. Let’s see how many of these shops we can still send the proposal to. Okay?’

  ‘Thanks, Josh.’

  The man trusts me and what do I do? I prove myself incapable of using a fax machine.

  ‘What happened?’ Winnie wants to know when I slump back to my desk.

  ‘Oh no, I’m an idiot. I faxed blank proposals to the shops. All of the orders, upside down. I can’t believe I did that!’

  ‘Oh. That’s bad.’

  ‘Thanks, Winnie.’

  ‘I mean I’m really sorry for you. What are you going to do?’

  ‘We’re calling all the shops to see if it’s not too late to submit the proposals. I’ve got to call all of these now.’

  ‘Well here, give me some. I’ll call too. Hang on. Let me pick the ones that I’m friendly with. I’ve had relationships with some of these for years.’

  ‘Really? Thanks. I’d better start calling.’

  My stomach is churning as I dial the first numbe
r. Talk about penance. At least Winnie and Josh can blame a moron’s failure to operate office equipment. I am that moron. ‘Hello?’ I croak. ‘May I please speak to Mrs. Dermott?’

  ‘This is she.’

  ‘Oh, hi, this is Hannah Cumming, from Silk Road Exports. In Hong Kong.’

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Hello. Uh, I’m calling because there’s been an error. You didn’t receive our proposal. It was my error, really. I faxed the pages upside down.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘And I hope it’s not too late to send them through today?’

  ‘I’m afraid it is Miss– Cumming? We’ve already chosen the lines for next season. I’m terribly sorry.’

  I know for a fact that she’s not terribly sorry. English people say this when they mean they don’t want to do something. ‘Well then–’

  ‘Thank you for calling. Goodb–’

  ‘Wait! Mrs. Dermott, please, isn’t there any way you could even let me fax them through, just to have a look? The thing is, this was a huge mistake. I spent weeks putting the proposal together, and then messed up the fax. All the faxes actually. I’ve just started, and my boss is great but this is a humongous cock-up. Couldn’t you at least have a look? If there’s nothing in there that you’d like to stock then at least you’ve seen the best we have to offer. I know you’ve bought strongly off our recommendations in the past. Really, I think you’ll want to at least have a look. Please?’ I’m just barely resisting the urge to add ‘pretty please with sugar on top’.

  ‘I understand,’ she says, with a little more warmth. ‘Fax them through and I’ll have a look.’

  ‘Oh thank you, thank you, Mrs. Dermott, you’re a lifesaver. And I’m sorry I screwed up. Next time I promise you’ll get the proposal right side up.’

  ‘I hope so, Miss Cumming. Goodbye.’

  That woman just won herself a spot on my Christmas card list for life. I’ve got a second chance at least. That’s something. On to the next groveling phone call…

  My head is about to explode when Winnie sets a coffee on my desk two hours later. ‘Here, I figured you’d need this. I’ve finished my calls. Only one said no because she already placed her orders. Here are the rest. You can fax them the proposals… Are you okay?’

  ‘I think I might be having a stroke. It feels like my head’s about to lift off my shoulders.’

  She makes the perfect oh-poor-lamb face. ‘How’d your calls go?’

  ‘Good. Two said no. The rest are letting me resend the proposals. And all of Josh’s said yes. He doesn’t seem too mad.’

  ‘No, I’m sure he’s not angry. He’s one of the nicest bosses in the world. Don’t be too hard on yourself, Hannah, it really could have happened to anyone. You should have seen some of your predecessors… I’ll help you refax them if you want. We’ve got another machine near my desk. We’ll finish faster that way. Then I will take you out for drinks. You need it.’

  Do I ever.

  Our arrival at Winnie’s favorite bar reminds me again that outside of work we usually live in completely different worlds. Lan Kwai Fong is many things, but it’s not Chinese. Here, though, I’m the only Westerner. It’s an odd sensation to be so obviously different, but it’s not uncomfortable. I’m clearly just a curiosity rather than an unwelcome guest.

  ‘Winnie, was it strange when you first went to London to study?’ Having London in common has made our friendship very easy, especially since she thinks of it as her home away from home too.

  ‘What do you mean?’ She waves hello to a group of women near the bar.

  ‘Well, here everyone is Chinese. Was it weird moving somewhere where you’re the minority?’

  ‘I can ask you the same question. Do you find it weird living here?’

  ‘I notice it, so yes, I guess so. Funny, isn’t it? You never question things when you’re the majority. I think everyone should have to live where they’re a minority for a while. It’d make people more tolerant.’

  She snorts. ‘You overestimate us. Being singled out as a minority doesn’t make us more tolerant. It makes us surer that those singling us out are ignorant. Hannah, you’re an idealist. Most people don’t change their point of view just because they walk in someone else’s shoes. You’re sweet to think they do though.’ She smiles warmly.

  Winnie is always telling me I’m sweet, or cute or naïve. To her I’m a first-class bumpkin, but she doesn’t hold that against me. As someone who speaks half a dozen languages and has lived all over the world, she has to cut us mere mortals some slack. ‘Well, it seems I’ve avoided being fired,’ I say. ‘Which is good. There’s no guarantee that we’ll get the orders but at least most of the shops agreed to look at the proposals. I still can’t believe I did that. I am such an idiot.’

  ‘Hmm. I’ve been thinking about that.’

  ‘That I’m an idiot? Thanks very much.’

  She laughs. ‘No. Although it wasn’t very clever. I was thinking – are you sure you faxed the pages upside down?’

  ‘Well, yes. You saw the printouts. I didn’t fax blank pages, so I must have fed them in the wrong way.’

  ‘What would you say if I told you this happened before? When Sandra worked here, she faxed a bunch of orders to the factories upside down.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘You asked Mrs. Reese how to use the fax, didn’t you? Because Sandra said she did too, but by that time everybody assumed she was clutching at straws because she’d screwed up so much already. In fact, this happened around the same time that she was caught stealing.’

  ‘Stealing?!’ With an act like that to follow, it’s no wonder Josh was so understanding. At least my mix-up didn’t involve the police.

  ‘Yeah, that’s when she got fired. She took the petty cash from the office.’

  ‘You really think Mrs. Reese sabotaged her, and me? Why would she do that? I haven’t done anything to her.’ Maybe I haven’t always followed her tidying diktats, but that’s hardly a reason to ruin someone’s career.

  ‘I have a theory,’ says Winnie. ‘She’s old guard, one of the Hong Kong hands. They’re the gweilos whose families have been here for generations. I know she hates that the company started selling counterfeits, and that we stock cheaper lines now. She’s never been shy about making her views known to everyone. She doesn’t think Josh has honored his father’s wishes, even though it was the old man who originally made the change to knock-offs. She was absolutely devoted to him. In fact… everyone also knows that old Mr. Bolton had an affair with her for years, decades.’

  ‘You’re kidding! I mean, I never knew the man but I can’t imagine anyone having an affair with her. She’s vile. And if it is true, why would Josh employ her? He must hate her.’

  ‘Oh no, quite the opposite. She looked after his dad in the nineties, after his mum died. Though they never married. She was still legally married. Everyone knew about the affair, including her husband and Josh’s mum. It sounds like they accepted the situation. Mrs. Reese was sort of the other wife. I’m sure that’s why she still works with us. She sees herself as the overseer of Mr. Bolton’s business, and his avenging angel.’

  ‘So she doesn’t dislike me per se?’

  ‘Oh no, I’m sure she dislikes you.’ She shrugs. ‘Sorry. She probably wants Josh to rely on her, not you. Maybe she’s like the ghost that chases each set of new owners out of the house so she can live there like she’s always done, without interference. Just watch yourself. She can be sneaky.’

  ‘Thanks. I’ll be sure to say no if she asks me to carry any unmarked packages across the border next week.’ Josh is taking me to mainland China with him.

  ‘You’re going to love that trip! I went a few times. You’ll eat so well.’ She gets the faraway look she always does when contemplating food. Winnie loves to eat. She says it’s because of her culture. Chinese greet each other with the question: Have you eaten yet?

  ‘I’m really excited. It’ll be my first time in proper China.’
r />   ‘As opposed to improper China?’

  ‘You know what I mean. Mainland China. I know Hong Kong is technically China too.’

  ‘That’s okay, we’re different from proper Chinese,’ she says, smirking.

  ‘So you keep telling me. I just wish the trip wasn’t next week. I was supposed to be with Sam in Ho Chi Minh for my birthday but I won’t get back here till Saturday night. I can’t exactly ask Josh to reschedule everyone, can I?’

  ‘That’s terrible luck! And no, after today, it’s probably best to be as accommodating as possible.’

  Her comment brings me back down to earth with a bump. Although the result wasn’t catastrophic, it was still a major screw-up. So next Friday I go to China.

  Chapter 11.

  Mrs. Reese hasn’t asked me to carry anything across the border but I’m still nervous. Unsmiling officials always make me nervous, and Chinese immigration officers are at the top of the unsmiling pecking order. So here I am, clutching a sheaf of papers and my passport, waiting to convince the man at the podium to let me cross the border. I make it sound like I’m standing at a dusty roadside with chicken-laden trucks and refugees. Actually we’re in the airport, in a perfectly orderly line of other businesspeople and tourists. It’s not exactly Baghdad. Still, my lunch is threatening an appearance.

  The man gestures me forward. He stares at my passport, then my papers. He barks something to the fellow at the next podium. The next thing I know Josh is beside me. ‘Don’t worry, Hannah, just a little confusion.’ He turns to the officer. ‘We’re guests of Mr. Chow at Fujian Apparel. See? Here.’ His voice is uncharacteristically gruff. ‘Miss Cumming is my employee. See? It’s right here. She’s been invited too. See? It’s right here.’ He keeps stabbing at the papers for emphasis.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I ask Josh.

  ‘You’re American,’ he says. ‘Oh, it’s nothing personal. The rules on visas change all the time. Different nationalities go in and out of favor. You are, unfortunately, out at the moment. Don’t worry, we’ll get it sorted.’ He continues arguing with the officer, quietly now, while I wait to see whether I’ll have to sleep in the airport until our return flight. But after a fraught ten minutes the officer stamps my passport. They’re letting me loose in China!