The staircase was shiny mahogany, the décor opulently colonial and a picture postcard cliché of the world’s most famous harbour. As I tiptoed up the stairs to my very first expat party at the Royal Yacht Club, nerves pulsed through me. The club’s elegant chart room was full of equally opulent women, but their conversation made me want to turn tail and flee.‘I’ve told him time and time again,’ I overheard a tall, willowy blonde saying, ‘I simply can’t cope with only two maids. Three children, three maids, the maths is simple.’It was the first of many similar comments I overheard that night - my first social gathering after moving to Hong Kong with my husband for his job.
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