by H. Y. Hanna
“I always seem to end up being mauled by you in lifts,” said Leah with a teasing smile, remembering the first time she had come to Singapore. She had been scared of Toran then—scared of the dangerous stranger he had seemed to be, but also scared of the way he had made her feel. In a way, she was still scared of the raw attraction that pulsed between them. No other man had ever made her feel like this. It was both frightening and exhilarating.
“I can always maul you somewhere else, if you like,” Toran said with a wicked grin.
Leah laughed again, then gasped as he moved his lips to the sensitive spot just behind her earlobe. Tingles of pleasure shot down her spine. She dropped her head back, closing her eyes, feeling his lips rove down the side of her throat and to the little hollow above her collarbone. Leah shivered, her nails dragging across his shirt. She felt his hand wander up her ribcage, caressing the side of her breast through the thin fabric of her dress. She ached for him to touch her properly. His fingers pulled down her neckline and slid towards the lace edge of her bra, closer and closer…
Ping.
The lift doors slid open. Toran took a deep breath and eased himself away from her, leaving Leah feeling bereft. He slid her dress gently back into place and pulled her away from the wall.
“Come on,” he said with a wink. “We’d better get to my apartment, otherwise we’ll be arrested under Singapore’s Outrage of Modesty Laws.”
Leah followed him out of the lift and down the hallway towards his front door. Her legs felt like jelly and she felt like she was walking in her sleep. No, she thought. Actually, she felt like every part of her body was deliciously awake.
“Hey,” she said, laughing. “Don’t you think—”
Leah stopped speaking as she realised that Toran had abruptly dropped her hand. His steps slowed, the smile fading from his face. Leah peered around his tall frame and saw that an older Asian couple was standing outside his door. They seemed to be in the act of ringing his doorbell. They turned as they heard steps approaching and their eyes lit up when they saw Toran.
“Toran!” The Asian lady rushed forwards, her hands reaching out to him. She spoke with the typically clipped Singaporean accent. “We try to call you, but no answer! We are so worried about Angela!”
“Why? What’s happened?” asked Toran.
The Asian lady pressed a handkerchief to her mouth, her eyes wide and panicked. “She’s gone!”
CHAPTER 9
Leah sat huddled in the corner of the lounge as Toran paced the room while Angela’s mother sobbed and told her story. She had already been frantic with worry when Angela hadn’t come back home all week, although she had been a bit reassured when she heard that Angela was staying at Toran’s place.
“We know you take care of her,” she said tearfully. “You were almost our son-in-law, you know?” She shot a dark look at Leah.
Leah shifted uncomfortably. Mrs Chan might not have seen her and Toran holding hands, but Angela’s mother obviously had no trouble picking up the chemistry between them. She wondered again if she should leave. She had suggested it once, in an underbreath, to Toran, but he had given her a faint shake of his head. Now she listened, trying not to squirm, as Angela’s mother started talking about how happy she had been about the wedding and how much she had looked forward to welcoming Toran into their family.
“I don’t understand! Why? Why you break up? You were so happy, no? Such a beautiful couple together. Now, all gone…” She sobbed into her handkerchief. “Angela is so heartbroken, you know? You don’t see how much she cried and cried.”
Leah saw Toran stiffen, his face a mask of regret.
“Mrs Chan,” said Toran gently. “I’m truly sorry. But it just wouldn’t have worked. It wouldn’t have been fair to Angela. She deserves someone who loves her completely. It was better that we faced the truth now than to have gone through with the wedding and then split up afterwards.” He hesitated. “I’m sure that with a bit of time, Angela will meet someone else; someone far better than me to—”
“Nooooo!” Mrs Chan wailed. “No, Angela is talking crazy now! She says she doesn’t need men anymore. She says she found a new way of living which shows real respect for women… I don’t know what she is talking about. She never used to talk like this!”
Toran frowned. “Well, maybe she was just venting. You know, sometimes after people get hurt, they—”
“No, no!” Mrs Chan insisted. “She was serious. She was so upset after your break up. I was so worried—maybe she will get depression again, you know? Maybe she will think about killing herself? And now she is gone!”
“Wait… what do you mean, she’s gone?” asked Toran. “I thought she went back home. She left me a note this morning—”
“No, no,” said Mrs Chan between sobs. “She never came back. I ask the neighbours. They say they never saw her.” She gulped. “Maybe they will find her body soon… Aya! It is all finished! Finished! My baby girl is gone!”
Toran looked helplessly at Mr Chan. Up till now, Angela’s father had hardly said a word, standing in the shadow of his wife. Now he came up to her and patted her awkwardly on the arm. Mrs Chan flung herself at him, sobbing loudly into his shoulder.
Leah blinked. She could understand the woman’s distress, but Mrs Chan seemed a bit melodramatic. She thought of Angela’s frustration when they had talked last night and felt a pang of pity for the Singaporean girl. What was it like to live with a mother who was always on the verge of hysterics? Still, Leah also felt a slight pang of envy. She had never had a mother worry like this about her.
“Mrs Chan, please… calm down,” Toran said gently, putting his hand on the woman’s shoulder. “I’m sure nothing bad has happened to Angela. She might have just decided that she needed to go away; you know, have some more time alone for a bit. Didn’t she go to Bali recently? Maybe she decided to have another—”
“No,” said Mrs Chan. “I ask all her girlfriends. They say she said nothing about going away again. And her message! Her message was so strange!”
“What message?” asked Toran sharply.
“This morning, she sent me text message,” said Mrs Chan. “Say I will not hear from her for a while, but don’t worry because she has found a sanctuary.”
Sanctuary? Suddenly Leah remembered Angela’s flushed cheeks and excited eyes. Sanctum Bona Dea. The retreat she had been writing an article about. Had she really gone there? Leah glanced across the room at Toran. She remembered her promise to Angela not to say anything.
Leah got up abruptly. “Would anyone like a drink?”
Mrs Chan completely ignored her. Toran gave Leah a harassed look and shook his head. Leah went through into the open-plan kitchen and tried not to listen to the conversation in the living room as she switched on the kettle and looked through the cupboards. There’s no need to get involved, she kept telling herself. Angela was a grown woman. If she wanted to get away for a bit, especially from such an overbearing mother, why should anybody stop her?
Leah pulled a brown earthenware mug out of the cupboard and paused, staring at it. Her mind flashed back on Angela handing her this very mug last night as they sat here talking in the kitchen. Leah thought of the other girl’s face, her eyes sad and lost. What if Angela was really in danger? How much was a promise worth?
“…try to remember, Mrs Chan. Did she mention this sanctuary before? Like where it might be located?” Toran’s voice sounded like he was losing patience as Angela’s mother started wailing again.
“I cannot! I cannot!” Mrs Chan waved her hands in the air. “I don’t know! She never tell me anything! My own daughter—she never speak to her mother anymore, like I am her enemy!”
“Well, do you still have this text message?” asked Toran. “Maybe if I can see it—”
“I know where Angela is.”
Leah’s voice cut into Mrs Chan’s wailing and switched it off, like a tap. Everyone turned and stared at her. Next to her, the kettle spluttered and bubbled, then made a
loud click as it hit boiling and switched itself off. A plume of steam rose from the kettle’s spout.
“What are you talking about?” Toran asked.
“I think I know where Angela’s gone,” said Leah, putting the mug down and coming around the counter, out of the kitchen. “When I was here last night, we got chatting and she mentioned a place that she’s been researching for an article for her magazine.”
“Aya!” Mrs Chan shrieked. “Not that place! That is not sanctuary—that is evil! It is a cult! Oh, no! No! No! They have Angela now!” She sagged backwards and collapsed in her husband’s arms, sobbing even louder than before.
Toran crossed the room to Leah’s side. “What place is this?” he asked, lowering his voice.
“It’s called Sanctum Bona Dea,” said Leah. She saw something flicker in Toran’s green eyes. “You know it?”
“Only vaguely. I’ve heard Angela mention the name—and I think I might have heard it mentioned in the news a few times…” He frowned, obviously trying to remember. “It’s led by a woman. I think.”
Leah nodded. “Yes, that must be the leader that Angela calls the Matronae. She told me it’s a retreat for women, but it sounds like it’s got some strange selection process to join. You can’t just book a place in there, like a normal retreat.”
“Do you think Angela really went there?” asked Toran sceptically. “It doesn’t sound like her sort of place. She used to hate meditation and yoga and all that sort of thing.”
“I don’t think she’s really herself at the moment,” said Leah slowly, remembering the way Angela had looked last night. “I don’t know… maybe she just feels like she needed a change after… um… after what happened. You know, people feel like they want to try new things, find a new identity.”
Toran sighed. “I wish she had told me. I wish you had told me last night. She’s been acting so strange lately, I have to say…” He threw a glance over his shoulder at Angela’s parents. “Even I’m a bit worried about her.”
“I’m sorry. She asked me not to tell anyone,” said Leah. “And to be honest, I didn’t really think there was anything to tell. I mean, she’s a grown woman. She’s allowed to go and join a retreat if she wants, right?” She lowered her voice. “You don’t seriously believe her mother, do you? To be honest, I sort of feel some sympathy with Angela for wanting to get away from her.”
Toran glanced over his shoulder again and lowered his voice as well. “Mrs Chan is actually not this bad usually; I think she’s under a lot of stress. But yeah, Angela’s mother can be a bit… over-expressive.”
To put it mildly, thought Leah. Then she felt ashamed. Who was she to judge? How would she know how she would have behaved if it was her own daughter? Maybe growing up without a mother meant that she couldn’t relate to a mother’s anguish.
To assuage her guilt, she went over to Mrs Chan and gave her a tentative smile. “Please don’t worry,” she said. “I talked to your daughter last night and she seemed to be quite excited about going to this place. It’s just somewhere for women to get together and relax. I’m sure there’s nothing sinister about it—”
“You liar!” spat Mrs Chan. “You know that place is bad, but you just don’t want to say! You are happy that Angela went there. It is your fault. You made her go. You want her to go away so you can suck Toran into your net! You think I don’t know? You think I am not seeing the way you look at him? You want to steal him away from my daughter! You—”
“That’s enough, Mrs Chan.” Toran’s voice had a hard edge to it that caused the older woman to stop talking. “I understand you’re upset, but there is no need to be—”
“Toran, no, it’s okay,” murmured Leah, putting a hand on his arm. “I… I think it’s best if I go.”
Mrs Chan sniffed and pointedly turned her back. Toran clenched his jaw for a second, then he turned and gently ushered Leah to the door.
“I’m sorry. This wasn’t the way I imagined us ending our afternoon,” he said wryly.
“It’s all right. I just hope Angela’s okay.” Leah reached up to peck Toran on the cheek, then caught Mrs Chan glaring at her from across the room. She settled for squeezing his hand instead.
Then she let herself quietly out of the door. Behind her, she could hear Angela’s mother starting her wailing again.
CHAPTER 10
The sound of her mobile ringing had Leah throwing down the rake and running for the French windows which led from the living room into the garden. She slipped through the open window, ran across the room, and groped amongst the mess of newspapers, magazines, keys, tissues, empty mugs, and pens on the coffee table, looking for her phone. Finally, she found it. Picking it up, she checked the display eagerly, hoping that it was Toran calling.
It wasn’t. It was Julia.
Leah bit her lip. She didn’t want to speak to Julia. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to speak to Julia ever again. The phone continued to vibrate in her hand. She stood there looking at it until, finally, it went silent.
Leah sighed and dropped the phone back on the table, then went back outside. She retrieved the rake and started to drag dead leaves out from the undergrowth again. It was nearly two months now since her father’s death and the villa had held up pretty well for not being lived in—but the lush tropical garden surrounding it was beginning to look a little wild and overgrown. She could have hired a gardener to give it a tidy up, but Leah quite enjoyed the work. She wanted something to keep herself busy.
She had gotten up at the crack of dawn—probably due to jet lag—and had lain awake wondering what had happened in the end at Toran’s place, after she had left. Finally, after a half-hearted breakfast, Leah had forced herself outside to the garden and searched for something that would at least occupy her hands, if not her mind. But her ears kept straining for the sound of her mobile. Why hadn’t Toran rung yet? She glanced at her watch. It was still only a few minutes past eight o’clock, she realised with a rueful smile. Maybe she was being a bit impatient.
Leah looked across the garden, staring unseeing at the bank of bromeliads. It wasn’t just that, she thought. It was the dream. She had dreamt of Angela—the other girl had been on the opposite side of a deep chasm, her eyes wide and scared. Angela had reached out her hands and called to Leah for help. But no matter how hard she tried, no matter how much she had stretched out her hands, Leah hadn’t been able to reach the other girl’s fingers. Then she had seen Angela tip forwards and fall into the chasm, her screams echoing as she plummeted into the black depths. And Leah hadn’t been able to do anything except watch.
She had woken up, panting and sweating, her heart racing. It had been one of the reasons she couldn’t get back to sleep. She knew it was stupid letting herself get so unsettled over a dream—everyone knew that dreams were just the debris of your imagination—but still, she couldn’t push the images out of her head.
She also couldn’t shake off the feeling of guilt. Leah thought again of the scene in Toran’s apartment last night and squirmed as she remembered Mrs Chan’s accusations. The woman might have been hysterical and unreasonable, but there was a grain of truth in her words.
Leah shifted uncomfortably. After all, wasn’t it true that when Angela had asked her about joining the retreat, she had encouraged Toran’s ex to go partly because she hadn’t wanted Angela around? Would she have gone if I hadn’t been so enthusiastic? wondered Leah guiltily. Angela had been desperate for someone to take her side and support her views about the retreat. Maybe if I had been more reticent, Angela might have thought twice about going? What if something really happened to her?
The thoughts continued to torture her, and an hour later, Leah found herself back inside the house, staring at her phone. She had missed two more calls from Julia, but nothing from Toran. Making a decision, she brought up Toran’s number. She couldn’t just sit here waiting any longer. But before she could call, the phone beeped, startling her. It was a text message from Toran: “Checking out some things this mornin
g. No news on Angela yet. Will come see you later. T”
What was he checking out? wondered Leah. And what did “no news” about Angela mean? Images from her dream flashed through her mind again and her stomach turned uneasily.
Resolutely, Leah stood up. She couldn’t just sit here all day, staring at her phone, fretting about it. Forcing her mind away from Angela, she spent the next two hours going through the villa, rearranging some things, tidying up and storing away others—trying to add her personal touch and make it feel more like home. Her old bedroom and her father’s study were the only rooms she didn’t touch. Somehow, she didn’t quite feel ready to tackle them yet.
When she had finished, Leah stood slightly at a loss, wondering what to do next. Looking for a new job would have been top of most people’s lists and it was something she would have to think about soon. But her father’s estate had left her comfortably off and inheriting this villa meant that she didn’t have to worry about a place to live. She could give it a few weeks—give herself time to settle back into life in Singapore—before having to find a new job.
Finally, Leah grabbed her handbag and headed out to do her first grocery shop to re-stock the fridge and pantry. It was strange browsing the aisles in the supermarkets—some brands so familiar, others so foreign. Not to mention the unusual items in the fresh produce sections that you would never have found in an English supermarket, such as speckled purple taro and hairy snake gourds!
Eating out was so cheap and easy in Singapore, Leah was sorely tempted not to bother much with food at home. But she forced herself to pick up the boring staples of milk, bread, eggs, and others—and then succumbed to temptation on the way home and stopped at a food court for a quick bowl of laksa noodles.
Her tongue was still tingling from the tangy, spicy flavours of the soup when she finally arrived back at the villa. She was almost finished unloading the bags of grocery when the front doorbell sounded. It was Toran. She could tell as soon as she opened the door and saw his face that it wasn’t good news.
