My Favourite Wife [antikvár]

one Bill must have fallen asleep for a moment. He was jolted awake by the limo hitting a pothole and suddenly there was Shanghai. The towers of Pudong split the night. He rubbed his eyes, and turned to look at his wife and daughter in the back seat. Holly, their four-year-old, was sleeping with her head in her mother's lap, blonde curls tumbling across her face, dressed like some sort of Disney princess. He wasn't sure which one. 'She can't be comfortable in that,' he said, keeping his voice down. Holly had been awake, or sleeping fitfully, for most of the flight. Becca, his wife, carefully removed the child's tiara. 'She's fine,' she said. 'Foreigners are very jealous they see this,' said the driver, whose name was Tiger. He indicated the Pudong skyline. 'Fifteen year ago - all swampland.' Tiger was young, barely in his twenties, wearing a half-hearted sort of uniform with three gold stripes on his cuff. The young man bobbed his head with emphatic pride. 'New, boss - all new.' Bill nodded politely. But it wasn't the newness of Shanghai 3