Single Girl Abroad: Untameable Rogue

‘The week is still young,’ said Jake dryly. ‘I recommend distance and denial, but since when has anyone ever listened to me? As for Po here, we’ve yet to decide if his staying on is an arrangement that will suit us. Come back tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow’s not good for me,’ said Madeline with a careless shrug. ‘It’s a distance and denial thing.’

‘Don’t mind me,’ said Luke. If Madeline could pull back from the earth-shattering kiss they’d just shared and put the carnage that had followed behind her, then so could he. ‘I won’t be around. Things to do.’

‘So that’s settled, then?’ Jacob’s gaze cut to Maddy. ‘Come by around midday and we’ll feed you.’

For some obscure reason that Luke really didn’t want to think about, tomorrow’s happy-family scenario didn’t sit well with him. He didn’t look at Madeline and he sure as hell didn’t look at Jake as he shouldered roughly past him and stepped out into the corridor. It wasn’t until Luke hit the street that he realised he had company. Po skipped alongside him, keeping up but only just. Minding his distance, but only so much. Luke stopped. So did Po, hanging back. Not afraid of him—at least Luke hoped he wasn’t—just cautious in the way of all half-wild things.

‘Did Jake get you to follow me?’

Po shot Luke a wary glance. ‘No.’

‘Then why are you here?’

‘I wanted out too. Needed to walk. Go get some stuff.’

‘What kind of stuff?’

‘My stuff.’ ‘Stolen?’

Po just looked at him.

Time to rephrase. ‘Stuff that’ll get you jailed if you’re caught with it?’

‘No. Some clothes, some Sing.’ Sing being Singapore dollars. ‘I won’t bring anything else.’

Luke really didn’t want to know what else the kid had that he wouldn’t be bringing. ‘Where do you have to go?’

‘Bugis Street.’

In years gone by, Old Bugis Street had been the traditional home of every vice known to man and then some. Redevelopment had sanitised the area but, like rats in a city sewer, you could never silence sin. ‘Maddy said you worked Orchid Road.’

‘Yeah, but I live on Bugis Street.’

Live. Not lived. Luke didn’t like the present-tense inference. ‘You know, kid? Po? If you’re even half serious about making a fresh start, going back to Bugis Street won’t help.’

Po just looked at him. Dark eyes in a pinched face and a body that was decades too small for the soul that resided within.

Luke didn’t want to get involved—he was only in Singapore for the week. But, ‘You need some company?’ was what he said.

‘Do you?’ said the boy, and fell into step beside him.

A couple of blocks went by in silence. Po clearly didn’t see the need for conversation. ‘How did you meet Madeline?’ Luke finally asked the kid.

‘She looked rich,’ said Po. ‘Her handbag was Prada and her shoes were Chanel—the real deal. So I marked her.’

‘You stole from her?’

‘Tried to,’ said Po. ‘But she knew all the moves. It was like she could see inside me. She asked me if I was hungry. When I said yes, she took me to a street stall and she knew the owner. She gave him five hundred Sing and told him to feed me for a month. He did.’

‘Did you stop picking pockets after that?’

‘I stopped trying to pick her pocket after that,’ said Po piously. ‘She’d come to the street stall every Monday. I used to sit with her sometimes.’

‘And after your month of free meals was up?’

‘It was never up. Grandfather Cheung said she’d paid for another month and that I could hang around in the shop overnight so long as I helped him get the shopfront ready for business the next morning. He has three grandsons but they don’t move fast. I do.’

‘Sounds like a sweet deal,’ said Luke. For a homeless child thief. ‘What went sour?’

‘Old man Cheung got sick and sold the shop. A couple of weeks later a street boss offered me a job I didn’t want to take. Maddy said it was time for me to move on and that she knew of a place.’

‘You trusted her?’

‘She said there was this sensei who took students and he was like this warrior monk or something. She said we could walk there and that I could leave any time.’

A monk, eh? Luke shook his head. Maybe there were some similarities between Jake’s dedication to martial arts and the celestial path a spiritual man might walk, but Jake a monk? Hardly. ‘So Jake takes you in on Madeline’s say-so, gives you food and a room and you steal his wallet? Where’s the sense in that?’

‘I wasn’t going to steal anything from his wallet. I just wanted to know what was in it.’

‘Why?’

‘So I could find out more about the sensei.’

‘How?’

‘From his cards and his receipts. From driver’s licence and the picture he keeps behind it.’

‘Jake keeps a picture behind his driver’s licence?’

‘Of a woman,’ said Po. ‘Could be Singlish. Chinese hair, western eyes.’

‘Ji,’ said Luke curtly. ‘Jake’s ex.’

‘Ex what?’

‘Wife.’

‘Monks have wives?’ said Po.

‘No.’ Jake didn’t deserve the responsibility that went with having a curious child thrust upon him, thought Luke grimly. He really didn’t.

It took them twenty minutes to get to where Po wanted to go, a set of garbage bins in an alleyway beside an all-night noodle bar. There was a drainage grate set into the wall behind the bins, big enough for a hand and elbow, but not a boy. Hell of a moneybox.

‘Can you keep watch?’ asked Po as he slipped behind the bins.

Curiosity over what might lie behind the grate warred with Luke’s need to protect the boy and his doings from the eyes of others. Every kid had a cupboard, he tried to reassure himself. This was Po’s. No need to know what else was in it apart from clothes and the money the boy wanted to retrieve. Trust was a two-way street and had to start somewhere, right?