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mother’s and held my hand out for Simone. ‘Come on, guys, let’s go find something to eat.’
    We went to a noodle bar not far from Roland’s building. It was a typical small Hong Kong restaurant, about five metres wide, with a glassed-in area at the front where the noodles were prepared and a small kitchen at the back for the rest of the dishes. It was nearly full; usual lunchtime crowd, mostly people sitting in the booths at the side, but some larger groups at the round tables in the middle.
    A waiter guided us to a large round table that seated six, its plain green laminate top worn through with use. A few menus and cards with daily specials were jammed into a plastic stand next to the bottles of soy and chilli sauce and the big steel chopstick holder.
    The walls on both sides were covered with cracked and tarnished mirrors, an attempt to make the restaurant appear larger. Large sheets of cardboard with specials were stuck to the mirrors, the dishes written vertically in black marker with the prices underneath. The floor was well-worn green mosaic tiles, slippery with oil; the walls were matching pale green bathroom tiles. The ceiling was black with grease and a huge, ancient air conditioner throbbed painfully in the centre.
    The owner of the restaurant greeted Roland in Cantonese, and plonked glasses of black tea in front of each of us.
    ‘Are you sure this place is healthy? It’s awfully…’ My mother searched for the right word.
    ‘Don’t worry, you can’t get sick while you’re with him,’ I said, gesturing towards John. ‘Besides, being old and tatty doesn’t mean anything. The food is still good.’
    ‘Old and tatty?’ John said, eyeing me with amusement.
    ‘Exactly,’ I said. ‘But still good.’
    Roland was speechless.
    ‘Can I have some beef brisket ho fan ?’ Simone said.
    ‘Do you want tendon in it?’ I said.
    ‘Tendon?’ my mother said.
    ‘Yes, please,’ Simone said. ‘Tendon’s good.’
    ‘Tendon?’ my mother said. ‘Like, gristle tendon?’
    ‘When it’s been boiled for a few hours it turns to jelly,’ I said. ‘It’s actually very good. You should try some.’
    ‘Could you choose something suitable for us, Emma?’ my father said. ‘You know what we like. Something…something normal .’
    ‘Beef stir fry ho fan ,’ John said. ‘ Gwang chau ngau ho .’
    ‘Good idea,’ I said. ‘Vegetarian for us?’
    ‘Of course. Roland?’
    ‘Fishing boat congee,’ Roland said. He pulled out the video camera and turned it on with a musical ping. ‘I have to see this again.’
    ‘Don’t show it to anybody, please, Roland,’ I said.
    He nodded as he flipped open the LCD screen to view the video. The sound of us talking came through the speakers on the camera as he played it back. Then he went completely rigid and his mouth dropped open. ‘ Wah! ’
    I bent around to see, then quickly put my hand over the screen to hide it from the people at the next table. ‘Turn it off! For God’s sake, Roland, turn it off!’ I grabbed the camera and pressed the button to turn off the playback. ‘ Really don’t let anybody see that!’
    Roland stared at John with his mouth still open.
    I placed the camera on the table.
    ‘Was it me?’ John said.
    I nodded silently.
    ‘What?’ my father said.
    ‘It was him,’ I said. ‘Really him. What he really looks like. I thought you were taping us , Roland.’
    ‘You should show your parents,’ John said. ‘I think they should see.’
    I leaned over the table to speak softly to him. ‘Yeah, let’s just rub it in for the poor people that their daughter is engaged to a goddamn animal .’
    ‘Shen,’ John said.
    ‘I want to see. Can I see?’ Simone said. ‘I want to see, Daddy.’
    I looked around. Nobody else in the restaurant had noticed, and if Simone was next to me I could hide the screen. Roland picked up the camera and handed it back to me. ‘Show her.’
    ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Just don’t say anything too loud, okay?’