Before Rachel could answer, an Indian guard with a fierce-looking beard, wearing a crisp olive-green uniform and a bulky turban, appeared at the gates. Peik Lin’s driver slowly inched forward, lowering his window as the man approached. The guard peered into the car and said in perfect Queen’s English, “Miss Rachel Chu?”
“Yes, that’s me,” Rachel answered, waving from the backseat.
“Welcome, Miss Chu,” the guard said with a smile. “Keep following the road, and stay to your right,” he instructed the driver before he proceeded to open the gates and wave them along.
“Alamak, do you know who that man was?” Peik Lin’s Malay driver said, turning around with a slightly awed expression.
“Who?” Peik Lin asked.
“That was a Gurkha! They are the deadliest soldiers in the world. I used to see them all the time in Brunei. The Sultan of Brunei only uses Gurkhas as his private protection force. What is a Gurkha doing here?” The car continued on the road and wound up a slight hill, both sides of the driveway a dense wall of clipped hedges. As it turned up a gentle curve, they came upon another gate. This time it was a reinforced steel gate, with a modern guardhouse attached. Rachel could see two other Gurkha guards staring out the window as the imposing gate silently rolled to the side, revealing yet another long driveway, this one paved in gravel. As the car rolled along, its tires crunching against the loose gray pebbles, the thick greenery gave way to a handsome avenue of tall palms that bisected rolling parklands. There were perhaps thirty palm trees perfectly lined up along both sides of the driveway, and someone had carefully placed tall rectangular lanterns lit with candles under each palm, like glowing sentinels leading the way.
As the car headed up the driveway, Rachel looked out in wonder at the flickering lanterns and the vast manicured grounds around her. “What park is this?” she asked Peik Lin.
“I have no idea.”
“Is this all one housing development? It looks like we’re entering a Club Med resort.”
“I’m not sure. I’ve never seen a place like this in all of Singapore. It doesn’t even feel like we’re in Singapore anymore,” Peik Lin said in amazement. The whole landscape reminded her of the stately country estates she had visited in England, like Chatsworth or Blenheim Palace. As the car rounded one last curve, Rachel suddenly let out a gasp, grabbing Peik Lin’s arm. In the distance, a great house had come into view, ablaze with lights. As they got closer, the enormity of the place truly became evident. It wasn’t a house. It was more like a palace. The front driveway was lined with cars, almost all of which were large and European — Mercedes, Jaguars, Citroëns, Rolls-Royces, many with diplomatic medallions and flags. A cluster of chauffeurs loitered in a circle behind the cars, smoking. Waiting by the massive front doors in a white linen shirt and tan slacks, hair perfectly tousled and hands pensively shoved into his pockets, stood Nick.
“I feel like I’m dreaming. This can’t be real,” Peik Lin said.
“Oh Peik Lin, who are these people?” Rachel asked nervously.
For the first time in her life, Peik Lin was at a loss for words. She stared at Rachel with a sudden intensity, and then she said, almost in a whisper, “I have no idea who these people are. But I can tell you one thing—these people are richer than God.”
Part Two
I did not tell half of what I saw, for no one would have believed me.
1
Astrid
SINGAPORE
Cassian was just being buttoned into his smart new Prussian-blue sailor suit when Astrid got a call from her husband.
“I have to work late and won’t make it in time for dinner at Ah Ma’s.”
“Really? Michael, you’ve worked late every single night this week,” Astrid said, trying to maintain a neutral tone.
“The whole team is staying late.”
“On a Friday night?” She didn’t mean to give away any indications of doubt, but the words came out before she could stop herself. Now that her eyes were wide open, the signs were all there — he had canceled on almost every family occasion over the past few months.
“Yes. I’ve told you before, this is how it is at a start-up,” Michael added warily.
Astrid wanted to call his bluff. “Well, why don’t you join us whenever you get off work? It’s probably going to be a late night. Ah Ma’s tan hua flowers are going to bloom tonight, and she’s invited some people over.”
“Even more reason for me not to be there. I’m going to be much too worn out.”
“Come on, it’s going to be a special occasion. You know it’s awfully good luck to witness the flowers bloom, and it will be so much fun,” Astrid said, struggling to keep the tone light.
“I was there the last time they bloomed three years ago, and I just don’t think I can deal with a big crowd tonight.”
“Oh, I don’t think it’s going to be that big a crowd.”
“You always say that and then we get there and it turns out to be a sit-down dinner for fifty, and some bloody MP is there, or there’s some other sideshow distraction,” Michael complained.
“That’s not true.”
“Come on lah, you know it’s true. Last time we had to sit through a whole piano recital by that Ling Ling guy.”
“Michael, it’s Lang Lang, and you’re probably the only person in the world who doesn’t appreciate a private concert by one of the world’s top pianists.”
“Well, it was damn lay chay,[42] especially on a Friday night when I’m exhausted from the long week.”
Astrid decided that it wasn’t worth pushing him any further. He obviously had a thousand ready excuses not to be at dinner. What was he really up to? Was the texting slut from Hong Kong suddenly in town? Was he going to hook up with her?
“Okay, I’ll tell the cook to make you something when you get home. What do you feel like eating?” she offered cheerily.
“No, no, don’t bother. I’m sure we’ll be ordering food here.”
A likely story. Astrid hung up the phone reluctantly. Where was he going to order the food? From room service at some cheap hotel in Geylang? There was no way he could meet this girl at a decent hotel — someone was bound to recognize him. She remembered a time not long ago when Michael would be so sweetly apologetic for missing any family occasion. He would say soothing things like, “Honey, I’m soooo sorry I can’t make it. Are you sure you’ll be okay going on your own?” But that gentler side of him had dissipated. When exactly did that happen? And why had it taken her so long to notice the signals?
Ever since that day at Stephen Chia Jewels, Astrid had experienced a catharsis of sorts. In some perverse way, she was relieved to have proof of her husband’s unfaithfulness. It was the uncertainty of it all — the cloak-and-dagger suspicions — that had been killing her. Now she could, as a psychologist might say, “learn to accept and learn to adapt.” She could concentrate on the bigger picture. Sooner or later the fling would be over and life would go on, as it did for the millions of wives who quietly endured their husbands’ infidelities since time immemorial.
There would be no need for fights, no hysterical confrontations. That would be much too cliché, even though every silly thing her husband had done could have come straight out of one of those “Is My Husband Cheating on Me?” quizzes from some cheesy women’s magazine: Has your husband been going on more business trips lately? Check. Are you making love less frequently? Check. Has your husband incurred mysterious expenses with no explanation? Double check. She could add a new line to the quiz: Is your husband getting text messages late at night from some girl proclaiming to miss his fat cock? CHECK. Astrid’s head was beginning to spin again. She could feel her blood pressure rise. She needed to sit down for a minute and take a few deep breaths. Why had she missed yoga all week, when she so badly needed to release the tension that had been building up? Stop. Stop. Stop. She needed to put all this out of her mind and just be in the moment. Right now, in this moment, she needed to get ready for Ah Ma’s party.