by Vas, Mahita;
Uday nodded as he turned to Lavinia and continued gazing at her, stroking her forehead with the back of his finger. The wounds on both sides of her face were still bandaged, with pus from the wound on her right side oozing and staining the gauze just beneath the surface. “My beautiful child. I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again. You will be safe. I promise.”
25
Later That Day
“Mama, come.” I keep hoping for a miracle, hoping to hear her whisper those words. She had uttered them regularly, ever since that day, years ago, in hospital, when I was on my way out, when Uday and the boys had gathered to say their goodbyes. Lavinia was ten years old, but she cried like when she was a toddler and couldn’t find her blanket. She leant towards me, supported by her little elbows, and kissed me. With what little strength I had left in my decaying body, I turned to face her, before looking at Uday and the boys. I whispered, “Just say, Mama, come. I will be there. You won’t see me, nor hear me, but I’ll be there. Okay?”
Lavinia had smiled through her tears and nodded. “Mama, come.”
Hours later, I left.
That night, the whole family sat at home, calling friends and relatives. The cremation was scheduled for noon the next day, followed by a reception at home. Uday had chuckled when months before, I had joked about how atheists make weddings and funerals so much easier by eliminating the religious component. Yes, he had said, especially for Indians—we can simply focus on the party.
It was my idea to have a party. We’d been to a few funerals where it really felt like more than one person had died. We had mourned, separately and together, the loss of loved ones in years past, but for my own departure, I wanted a celebration. Something small, with my dearest friends, a multi-national group of women—neighbours, school mothers, tennis partners, friends of friends—all of whom had welcomed me when we first arrived in Singapore. They were a big part of my charmed life in my adopted home. I insisted on picking the caterer—Indian food, real and good, none of that Indian-Chinese pretend food Uday used to love until we moved to Singapore. The music was not to Uday’s taste, but it was on my personal top of the pops list—Kate Bush, The Who, The Pretenders, George Michael—and lots of champagne.
I wanted another little party in London, for my friends from school and university. Similar to the Singapore party—a few friends, good food, good music and drinks, more likely to be gin and vodka rather than champagne. After that, Uday, the children, my parents and my siblings would drive to the Scottish West Highlands and take the Jacobite Steam Train. It was where Uday and I had spent many term breaks while we were at Edinburgh University. We loved the raw, rugged beauty of the Highlands. The people were always warm and kind towards us.
One summer, after our first year, we had taken the West Highland train from Fort William to Mallaig. The woman at the B&B at Fort William had urged us to take the ride just for the Glenfinnan viaduct crossing. It was the most spectacular train ride I had been on, and I had been on many, having spent all my life in England. On the way back, just as we were crossing the viaduct, I had said to Uday, when I die, I’d like my ashes scattered out of the window at this spot. He had laughed and said he would be too old, or possibly dead, by then, and we’d have to leave that to the children.
That’s when he said he didn’t care how many children we had, as long as we had a daughter. Girls can be anything boys want to be and still be girls, loving and caring towards their parents. He was convinced all daughters would be like his sisters—one an engineer and the other a photographer, both extremely filial—and me. We were lucky with Lavinia.
I had forgotten about having my ashes scattered out of a train on the Glenfinnan viaduct. Uday reminded me. When he first discussed the plans with the children, Lavinia had bawled, saying a party was a happy thing but Mama’s death was a sad thing, and everyone had to be sad. Everyone had to cry every day and wear black for the rest of their lives.
It took a while for Ashwin and Sayana to explain that Mama was so special and happy and enjoyed life so much that she had asked for a party. Everyone had to be happy and wear colourful clothes and celebrate her life. Lavinia seemed puzzled, and though still heartbroken, agreed to go along with the rest of the family in fulfilling my wishes.
Lavinia’s mood shifted the moment she was told about Scotland.
“We’re going on Hogwart’s Express?” Ashwin and Sayana had laughed at how quickly she had smiled, her eyes lighting up, as they had done every time she stood in front of her cake—invariably in the form of a Disney princess—which was wheeled towards her at her birthday parties.
“Better than that!”
“Hogwart’s Express is the best train!”
“The Royal Scotsman is even better. Super luxurious, with yummy food, and it’s really comfortable. Trains aren’t always comfortable, or even clean, you know.”
“Super expensive, too!” Sayana rubbed his thumb against his bent forefinger to signal the counting of money.
“We’ll cross that special bridge, the same one we always see in Harry Potter films. That’s when we’ll say a final bye-bye to Mama.”
“Why do we have to say that? Mama is still here. She’s dead, but not really. I talk to her all the time. She doesn’t always talk back. Only sometimes. But she always listens.”
Ashwin looked at Sayana and turned back to Lavinia. “What do you mean, Lavi?”
“I told you! She’s here.” Lavinia pointed to the floor near the cupboard where I was sitting. The boys turned to look.
“I don’t see Mama.”
“Nor do I.”
In the early weeks, I had spoken to the boys, shown myself to them, but they never heard me, nor saw me. It was the same with Uday, though sometimes I think he felt my presence.
“I see Mama. And I’m not saying bye-bye to Mama.”
The boys hugged Lavinia and promised her that Mama would be happy with their plans.
“Mama will be at the party,” said Lavinia as she faced my direction and smiled at me.
It was a delightful event. Most of the people I really liked were there. A few were travelling. Lavinia wore her long, blue Cinderella dress and asked Maribel to put her hair up, exactly like Cinderella at the ball. As no one could find a blonde wig for such a small head, Maribel used golden sparkly spray instead. Lavinia told me that night that she felt like a fairy tale princess, like Cinderella herself.
I stroke her arm and tell her, You are a fairy tale princess and always will be. I’ve been saying that several times a day since we arrived at this hospital room.
Like Sleeping Beauty, I want to believe my fairy tale princess will wake up.
26
Friday Evening
Tamara was getting dressed for dinner when Uday arrived home from the hospital. She sashayed towards him and threw her arms around his neck.
“Did you miss me, Uday?”
“Of course!” Uday was glad Tamara couldn’t see his face. “You’re all dressed up. Going out?”
“I thought we could go out for dinner. I feel restless. I’ve asked Pin Hui and John to join us.”
Uday threw his shoulders back and groaned. “Why did you not think to ask me? They are the most boring people I know. I’ve said that before! She doesn’t say a word and all he ever talks about is himself. I have no idea why you think I’d want to spend an evening with them. We’ve never done that. Cancel it.”
“Exactly why I arranged it. Because we’ve never done this before and I thought you liked them. They’ve been asking us to dinner for months but you’re always busy. What am I supposed to say to them?”
“I don’t know. You got us into this, you get us out of it. We’re having dinner at home. We’ve got a special meal arranged.” Uday held her chin and smiled as he spoke. “Just for you. Now, don’t be so grumpy, my darling.” Uday walked towards the dresser, removing his cufflinks. “Call your friend. Cancel the dinner.”
Tamara called her friend. Her voice soft and weary, she said, “S
o sorry, we can’t make it. I feel quite sick … Yes, that, too. Tired from the flight … Yes, we’ll arrange something soon … yes, within the next few weeks. I’ll check Uday’s schedule and get back to you.”
By 8pm, the whole family had gathered at the table for a feast.
Instead of Tamara sitting by his side as she usually did, Uday asked her to sit at the other end of the table, directly opposite him. “So I can spend the evening looking at you. I’ve missed you.” Uday felt nauseous as he spoke.
Ashwin sat on his left, while Angela sat on his right. Sayana scowled as he took his seat between Tamara and Angela, while Priyanka sat between Tamara and Ashwin. Sayana, without making any effort to be subtle, dragged his chair closer to Angela. Uday was about to admonish Sayana for being ungracious when he noticed a momentary smirk on Tamara’s pink-tinged lips, followed soon after by what must have been a curse in Chinese.
“It’s a shame Lavi can’t join us.” Ashwin raised his glass. “May our beautiful sister come home soon!” Uday rose with the rest of the family. Tamara remained seated until Priyanka jabbed her arm. While everyone raised their glasses, no one except Tamara could pretend to be joyous. It was the most mournful toast Uday had participated in, with Tamara masterfully disguising her rage with feigned sorrow.
The first course was spiced pea soup with mint, drizzled with yogurt. The only sound was the spoons dragging against the soup plates, seemingly everyone’s at the same time. Uday, never good at making small talk, broke the silence. “How was your trip, Tamara? Your parents alright?”
“They are fine—”
“Fine? I thought your mother was dying,” said Priyanka, with genuine surprise.
“Very sick, yes, but not dying. Now she is much better and is home.”
“Quite a recovery, then, for an old woman,” said Priyanka.
Tamara ignored Priyanka as she smiled at Uday. “My parents send their regards. They want to come for the wedding, but Mother might not be well enough to travel, and Father won’t go anywhere without her. They asked if we could fly to Shanghai for the tea ceremony. For them, we won’t be considered married until we go through that ritual.”
Both Ashwin and Sayana peered over their soup towards Uday, who cleared his throat as he spoke. “Yes, of course. We must do that.”
Once the soup plates were cleared, Wati and Conchita brought out the main courses. With each serving dish placed on the table, they announced what they had spent the day preparing: cauliflower with turmeric and cumin; cod, pan seared and lightly cooked in a spicy tomato sauce; black dal with cream; cucumber and tomato salad; mushroom pilaf, and kofta curry.
“The piece de resistance,” said Uday, as he raised his water glass and beamed. As instructed by Ashwin earlier that evening, Wati placed the bowl of kofta curry between Tamara and Priyanka, who, like everyone else except Tamara, had earlier been told not to eat any of it until cued to do so. “The menu was planned by Angela and Pri.”
While everyone helped themselves to the various dishes and passed the bowls around, Tamara heaped spoonfuls of the kofta curry onto her plate before adding the other items.
“Mmmm. This is delicious! My favourite Indian dish.” Tamara picked up the bowl and gestured to Sayana to pass it to Uday. “You must have some, Uday! One bite and you’ll be non- vegetarian again.”
“Thank you, Tamara, but I like being vegetarian. I’ll help myself later. Go ahead, take as much as you want,” Uday said, as Sayana placed the serving bowl right in front of Tamara, suppressing his characteristic snigger as he did so.
After making sure Tamara was looking in his direction, Ashwin winked at Uday, who nodded. “Tamara, I heard you were having trouble contacting Sharon. Did you manage to reach her when you got back?”
Tamara sighed. “No. I am so worried. I asked Aaron—”
Uday dropped his fork on to his plate. “Aaron is back? When? He’s not here, in this flat, is he?”
“I called to tell him I was coming back today, a few days earlier. He arrived this afternoon. Maybe he’s out now.”
Uday’s sons and their wives exchanged glances. Perhaps Lavinia was right—perhaps there was something going on between Tamara and Aaron.
Uday pursed his lips. “What did you ask Aaron to do?”
Tamara’s expression changed. She twirled the corner of her napkin as she stared at her plate and spoke in a soft voice. “I asked him to go over to Sharon’s flat. It seems she left on Wednesday morning to work as a private chef—”
“I thought she worked in a restaurant,” said Sayana.
“She does but on Mondays, when the restaurant is closed, she freelances as a private chef. She has her regulars who call her for dinner parties—”
Priyanka interrupted. “On a Monday evening?”
“Why not? We Chinese like to eat early. Finish early.”
Uday stared straight at Tamara. “But Wednesday isn’t her day off. Where do you think Sharon is?”
Tamara placed her napkin by her side and leant against the ornate dining chair. Rubbing the gilt, cushioned arm, she stared at the contents of her plate and said, “I don’t know. Sometimes she gets requests on other days and her clients pay her a lot more. She didn’t say anything to her friend except that her client was Indonesian, was paying her a lot of money and that she would be picked up at a bus stop. I am afraid for her.”
“Afraid? More than worried? Why would you be afraid? Singapore’s so safe!” Ashwin turned away and winked at Sayana, who sulked. “Has she done something wrong? Got mixed up with some bad company?”
Tamara shook her head, her curls dancing across her shoulders. “She’s a good girl. But many people here don’t like people from China, so maybe something happened to her.”
Ashwin chuckled. “Maybe some people aren’t pleased about the wave of workers from China, but that’s hardly a reason to harm someone. Maybe Sharon isn’t as good as you think? Maybe she is nothing but a vile little shit—”
Tamara stood up and threw her napkin at Ashwin. “Don’t you dare call my daughter that!”
Ashwin laughed again. “Your daughter? Didn’t you think it was odd that we knew about this daughter only two days ago? Because Dad mentioned it to us when you got worried? Look at you, former Miss Shandong—”
“Miss Shanghai! Very prestigious! I was Miss Shanghai, winner of a contest with China’s most beautiful women. Shandong is a province; the women there are peasants.”
Tamara curled her lips and looked away, trying to catch her reflection in the mirror above the sideboard.
Ashwin and Sayana shook their heads and smiled at each other. “She’s quite amazing. Her daughter could be dead and she’s all, oooooh, look at me, I’m Miss Shanghai! I’m not a peasant.” Ashwin mocked Tamara by putting on a high-pitched voice and making feminine gestures with his hands.
Tamara sprang from her chair. “How dare you! What is wrong with you? Uday, tell them to stop being so disrespectful!”
Uday laughed. “Tamara, sit down.” Tamara glared at Uday. With her hands on her hips, her eyes narrowed to mere slits, she said, “No. Try and make me.”
Ashwin laughed. “Ohhhhh, Tamara Wang. You don’t want Dad to do that. I’d sit down if I were you. Right now.”
Tamara slunk slowly into her seat. Uday lowered his voice. “First, tell me what happened to Lavinia.”
“Lavinia? How would I know? You said she was attacked and she’s getting better.”
“You know that’s not true. She’s supposed to be dead, isn’t she?”
“How would I know?”
“That’s your response? I thought you might ask, pretending to gasp at first, why would she be dead? Cue a few more gasps.”
“Okay then, why would she be dead?”
“Too little, too late. I heard from a very reliable source that you ordered the rape and murder—”
“What?”
“You heard me. You ordered the rape and murder of Lavinia.”
“So you lied to me. Lavin
ia is actually dead?”
Ashwin laughed and thumped the table. “You order my sister’s killing and you’re upset that my father lied to you about what really happened? You really are a psychopath. No. Lavinia is not dead. So sorry to disappoint you. By the way, did you like the koftas? As delicious as you exclaimed upon the first bite?”
Tamara frowned. “Yes, I liked them. Stop changing the subject. If Lavinia is alive, then where is my daughter?”
Uday got up, picked up the bowl which had been sitting in front of Tamara, and placed it right under her nose. “Here she is. Made from her skinny thighs. You were too busy to notice that none of us touched this.”
Tamara gagged and tried to push the bowl out of Uday’s hands before he handed it to Sayana. She dashed to the powder room but was unable to make it in time.
“Oh yuck, it’s on the floor! Poor Conchita will have to clean up because Miss Shanghai is unlikely to,” said Angela with an excessive melodic lilt.
“Ashwin, I think you should call the cops.”
“What am I supposed to say?”
Uday rolled his eyes. “I’ll call them.”
Soon after, Sayana and Priyanka answered the door bell and led four policemen to the dining area.
Tamara ran towards the policeman standing closest to the dining table and, sobbing as she pointed towards Uday, begged, “Arrest him! He killed my daughter. And then, then he …”
The oldest of the four, a policeman with grey hair and a stocky frame, asked her to sit down. He introduced himself as Inspector Lim.
“No! How can I sit down?” Switching to Chinese, Tamara rattled away in a shrill voice.
Sayana translated her version for the rest of the family. “She said you cooked her daughter. Hamburger curry. She swears she is innocent. She was in Shanghai. Uday is evil. He beats her often. She asked them to please arrest him and rescue her.”
Priyanka smiled as she helped herself to two pieces of kofta and spooned another two onto Angela’s plate.
The younger policeman, whose nametag read Ronald Teo and who was a constable according to Ashwin, told Tamara to be quiet. The other policeman, whose name was Ridzwan, repeated Constable Teo’s command. Ashwin identified him as a Sergeant. Ashwin whispered to Uday, “People here aren’t very good at introductions.”
