Rich People Problems (27 page)

Madame usually has a bowl of congee in the morning, sometimes with a fresh raw egg cracked into the steaming-hot congee, sometimes with just a few
ikan bilis
. Today she asked for Hokkien
ma mee
, which was a highly unusual request for breakfast. The noodles Ah Ching prepares for her are done in a very specific way, using a hand-pulled flat yellow noodle, which she likes stir-fried in a thick oyster sauce gravy with a dash of brandy. For lunch, madame just wanted me to bring her some fresh star fruits and guavas from her trees. She asked for the whole fruit—she didn't want them sliced or anything, and sat up in her bed, staring at her fruits and holding them in her hands but not eating anything. That's the moment I realized that something was terribly wrong.

I saw Mummy after breakfast. For the first time in as long as I can remember, she wanted to know how I spent my days in Sydney. I told her about how I drive down to my favorite café in Rose Bay every morning for my flat white, and then there are always errands to run, something in the house that needs fixing, or I'll have lunch in the city at one of my clubs or play a round of tennis with a friend. In the late afternoons I like to sit at the end of my dock and do a spot of fishing…that's when the fish are always biting. For dinner I often eat whatever I've caught. Mickey our chef will always do something terrific with the fish—grilled and served over risotto, made into a tartare, or steamed Chinese-style with rice or noodles. Sometimes I'll just go down to the local and have a pub dinner. (Mummy shook her head in a mixture of sadness and disbelief—the thought of me sitting in a pub eating a burger by myself like a common laborer is too much for her to fathom.) But I love eating very simply when Eleanor isn't around. If she's in town, Eleanor keeps Mickey very busy cooking twelve to fourteen courses for her dinners. Then Mummy said something rather surprising. She asked me if I had forgiven Eleanor. I was a bit shocked for a moment; in all these years, Mummy had never brought it up. I told her that I had forgiven my wife a very long time ago. Mummy seemed happy about this. She looked at me for a long time and said, “You are just like your father after all.” I told her I was going to meet up with a few of my ACS old boys for drinks at the Men's Bar in the Cricket Club, but I would be back before our dinner guests arrived. As I left her bedroom, there was a part of me that sensed she didn't want me to leave. I wondered for a moment if I should cancel the meet-up and stay by her bedside, but then I thought, Philip, you're being ridiculous. You'll be back in two hours.

At around 4:30 p.m., I went upstairs to give Su Yi a final update on tonight's menu for the party. When I went into the bedroom, Catherine was sitting by her bedside and I noticed that someone had opened all the windows and curtains. Su Yi usually prefers the curtains drawn in the afternoons, to protect her antique furniture from the setting sun, so I began to close them. “Leave them,” Catherine said. I looked over at her and began to ask why, and that's when I realized that Su Yi was gone. You could just see that her spirit had left her body. I was so shocked, I panicked at first and asked, “Where are the doctors? Why didn't the alarms go off?” “They did. The doctors came in and I sent them all away,” Catherine said in an unnaturally calm voice. “I wanted to be alone with my mother one last time.”

I had been entertaining Debra Aronson, the publisher of Poseidon Books, at home in my wine cellar when the call came. You see, I collect contemporary Chinese art, and Poseidon has been trying to woo me into doing a coffee-table book on my collection. When my associate Dr. Chia called with the urgent news from Tyersall Park, I immediately said, “Do
not
resuscitate.” I knew it would be hopeless. There's been so much scarring to her heart, it would be pointless to try and revive her. It's her time to go. None of this came as a surprise to me. In fact, after looking at her stats the previous morning during that fabulous crepe breakfast, I was surprised that she was even able to get out of bed. Her heart rate, her blood pressure, her ejection fraction—everything was off the charts. But you know, I've seen this happen time and again. In the day or two before a patient passes, they can experience a sudden spurt of energy. The body rallies, as if it knows that this will be the last hurrah. The minute I saw Su Yi appear at the breakfast table, I surmised that this was happening. After all this time, with all the medical advances we've made, the human body is still an unfathomable mystery to us. The heart most of all.

I was in the library with Fiona and Kalliste, showing Kalliste my Enid Blyton first editions, when the dogs started howling. It must have been around half past three in the afternoon. It wasn't just our pack of Alsatians that patrol the grounds, but it seemed like every dog within a two-mile radius was making restless, high-pitched yelps. I gave Fiona a look and she knew exactly what I was thinking. She left the library without a word and went upstairs to check on Mummy. By now the howling had stopped, but I remember feeling enveloped by a sense of dread. My heart was beating a mile a minute, and I kept staring at the door. I was somehow willing Fiona to not come back through those doors. I didn't want to hear any bad news. I was trying to focus on Kalliste, who wanted to know if she could have the entire Malory Towers series—they were her favorites too when she was younger. Then Fiona came back in and I just froze until she smiled. “All's well. Auntie Cat is with her,” she whispered to me. I was so relieved, and we went back to the stacks. About an hour later, Ah Ling came rushing into the library to tell me to get upstairs. The look on her face told me everything. You see, the dogs knew all along. They could sense it coming.

I was in bed at Harlinscourt, reading the latest Jilly Cooper novel when my phone began to vibrate on silent mode. I recognized the number immediately—it was Deep Throat, my spy at Tyersall Park. (Of course you knew I had an inside source at that house. It would be so foolish of me not to.) At first, Deep Throat simply said, “
Boh liao
.”
^*
I said, “What do you mean
boh liao
?” Deep Throat was overly excited, but she managed to get it out: “Su Yi just died. Big fight upstairs right now. I must go.” So of course the first thing I did was call my father. I said, “Are you at Tyersall Park?” He said, “Er, no.” I think I caught him at his mistress's apartment—he was very out of breath. So I said, “You better head over there now. Something just happened to your sister.”

Great-uncle Alfred called me. I think he was on his way to Tyersall Park. He said to tell everyone on my side of the family that Su Yi had just passed. But he didn't want any of us at the house tonight. “Tell your father to stay home, and I'll let you all know when to come. Tonight is just for the family.” As if we're not part of the family, fucking bastard! Then he said, “Better start ordering the tents and folding chairs. We're going to need a lot of them.” I was still at Irene Wu's house trying to acclimate the damn fish back into the tank, so I told her the news and she started to lose it. “Oh no!
Alamak!
How to face Astrid?” she cried, fleeing to her bedroom. I went back into the living room and when I saw Astrid sitting there pouring tea like Princess Diana, I realized the spoiled bitch didn't have a clue that her grandma had just kicked the bucket.
Kan ni na
, I had to be the one to tell her. Of course she was in total shock, but I don't feel sorry for her one bit. She's now instantly a million times richer than she already is.

The first thing that came into my mind when I saw her lying there with Eddie crying over her body hysterically was:
Thank you Jesus, thank you Jesus, thank you Jesus. She has been released, and so have I. I'm free at last. Finally free.
I numbly put my hand on Alix's back, and tried to rub it soothingly while she stood looking at Mummy. I thought I might cry, but I didn't. I looked over at Cat, who was sitting in the armchair still holding Mummy's hand, and she wasn't crying either. She was just staring out the window with a rather odd look on her face. I suppose we must have all looked rather odd that day. I started to consider the curtains—Mummy's curtains with the
point d'Alençon
lace trim, and I began to imagine how they would look in the front windows of the town house I would buy in London. I could really see myself moving to one of those lovely town houses in Kensington, perhaps on Egerton Crescent or Thurloe Square, just a stone's throw from the Victoria and Albert. I would use the V&A's glorious library every day, and go for afternoon tea at the Capital Hotel or the Goring. I'd attend All Souls Church every Sunday, and maybe even start my own Bible-study fellowship. I could endow a chair in theology at Trinity College, Oxford. Maybe I could even convert an old rectory in some charming town in the Cotswolds. Someplace with a particularly smart and handsome clergyman like that Sidney Chambers in
Grantchester
. Goodness me, one look at him in that stiff clerical collar and I go weak in the knees!

I was at my Friday-afternoon mah-jongg game at Istana with the First Lady, Felicity Leong, and Daisy Foo when Felicity got the call. She didn't say anything to us at first—she just started rummaging through her Launer handbag, saying she needed to find her blood-pressure pills. Only after she had swallowed her pills did she say, “Ladies, I'm terribly sorry to leave like this in the middle of a game, but I must go. My mother has just passed.” My goodness, the First Lady became so overcome I thought she was going to faint right there at the table! After Felicity left, the First Lady said she should go upstairs to the office to tell the president the news, and Daisy said, “
Alamak
, I should call Eleanor! She didn't call me, so I bet you she doesn't know yet!” When the ladies all returned, we decided to toast Su Yi. After all, she was a mah-jongg maven par excellence. We all knew never to bet serious money when Su Yi was at the table. Now that she has left us, my money market account won't feel the loss, but I know her family will. Su Yi was the glue that held them all together. Those children of hers are a disgrace. Philip is a simpleton, Alix is a useless Hong Kong
tai tai
, Victoria is a spinster, and the one that married the Thai prince, I never really knew her, but I always heard she was very stuck up, like most Thais I've met. They think just because they've never been invaded they are the best. Only Felicity has any sense
,
because she was the eldest. But all those grandchildren are also good-for-nothings. This is what happens when too much money falls on people who are too attractive. That Astrid, so pretty, but her only talent is spending more than the GDP of Cambodia on her clothes. Look at my grandsons. Four of them are doctors, three are lawyers—one is the youngest judge ever to be appointed to the Court of Appeal, and one is an award-winning architect. (Let's not mention the grandson living in Toronto who is a hairdresser.) So sad for Su Yi, she can't brag about any of her descendants. Just you watch, everything is going to go down the toilet now.

I had only just arrived at Tyersall Park and was unpacking my suitcases when I heard the commotion outside my bedroom. Maids were running down the corridors everywhere like a fire alarm had gone off. “What's going on?” I asked. “Your Ah Ma!” one of them shouted frantically as she passed me. I immediately ran up the back stairs to Ah Ma's bedroom. When I got there, I couldn't see anything. There were too many people blocking the way, and someone was wailing uncontrollably. Victoria, Alix, Adam, and Piya were hovering around the bed while Uncle Taksin was embracing Auntie Cat, who was still sitting in the armchair beside Ah Ma. Ah Ling was closest to me by the door, and she turned toward me, her face swollen with tears. As Adam and Piya moved aside to make room for me, I could see that Eddie was lying in bed with Ah Ma, holding her body, shaking violently as he whimpered like a tortured animal. He caught my eye and suddenly, he leapt out of bed and started screaming, “You killed her! You killed her!” Before I knew what was happening, he's on top of me and we're both on the ground.

What an odd family I've married into. Adam's aunties are like characters straight out of a Merchant Ivory film. They go rattling around this huge palace, dressed like underpaid civil servants, but then they start speaking and they all sound like Maggie Smith. Auntie Felicity clucks about like a mother hen, criticizing everyone, while Auntie Victoria seems to be an expert on everything even though she hasn't worked a day in her life. She even tried to challenge me on the origin of the hantavirus! Then there are the Hong Kong cousins—Alistair Cheng, who is very sweet but…how do I put it politely…not the sharpest tool in the box, and his sister, Cecilia, and Fiona Tung-Cheng, both perfectly polite but soooooooo stuck up. Why do all Hong Kong girls think the sun shines out of their asses? They just chatter away to each other in Cantonese and go off on foodie adventures every day with their kids. I suspect they only came to Singapore to eat. Every time they are around I feel like they are assessing me from head to toe. I don't think Cecilia approves of Balmain. And then there's Eddie. What a crazy fuck. Grandma has just died, and all her daughters stand there staring at her body without a single tear in their eyes. The only people who seem to be crying are the maids, the Sikh guard, and Eddie. OMFG I have never seen a grown man sob like that. Crawling into bed and cradling his dead grandmother. Dressed in a velvet smoking jacket! And then Nick—the only halfway normal person in the whole house—enters the room and Eddie lunges at him. The aunties start to scream but really, it's a pretty pathetic fight, because Eddie hits like a girl and Nick simply rolls him off and pins him to the ground. “Calm the fuck down!” Nick says, but Eddie's screaming, kicking, thrusting, and finally Nick has no choice but to sock him right in the nose, and blood just goes
EVERYWHERE
. Especially all over my brand-new Rick Owens toad-skin boots. And now I'm told we have to spend at least another week with these people. Kill me now.