by Ovidia Yu
‘That’s quite impressive,’ Jonny Ho said. ‘I can tell you are very conservative in your investments, which is not a bad thing if you don’t know much about investing. You don’t know it, but keeping your money in safe investments is a myth. There is no such thing as a safe investment. And there is no such thing as preserving your capital. The cost of living is always going up, true or not? Especially in a place like Singapore? Therefore, if you keep your capital the same, your money is actually decreasing. The only way you can stay safe from inflation in old age is to make sure that your capital is growing faster than inflation. And for that it is no use sticking with the safe old investments because by the time people around here decide something is safe that means that it is already dead! Going downhill! But you listen to Miss Wong tell you about my investments here first. Fair’s fair, right? I find out about your investments, you find out about mine. Then after that, when we understand each other and trust each other, I will explain to you how you can increase your value to match mine.’
Aunty Lee nodded agreeably enough. Since her goal was to find out more about Jonny Ho all this suited her perfectly, and her only concern was not to look too interested as Miss Wong started reading. Aunty Lee knew she would not remember all the figures but later she would get Nina to source them for her somehow … a fresh pang of loss struck her as she remembered Nina was occupied doing legal things elsewhere. Well, Aunty Lee would give her another week to come to her senses. Nina might be stubborn but nobody could be as stubborn as Aunty Lee when she had a point to prove!
‘So what do you think?’
Caught up in her own thoughts, Aunty Lee had not realized Miss Wong had finished reading. Both she and Jonny were looking at Aunty Lee expectantly.
‘Sorry,’ Aunty Lee said vaguely, ‘old lady like me, so many numbers, my head cannot compute.’
Old lady or not, she saw clearly that they both looked relieved.
‘I believe you knew Mrs Patricia Kwuan-Loo,’ Miss Wong said.
Drat these bankers, Aunty Lee thought, wondering if she was going to bring up her phone inquiry. She looked guiltily at Jonny Ho, who only smiled at her.
‘Your investment portfolios are very similar,’ Miss Wong said, speaking more slowly. ‘With some minor differences, of course. Now that Mr Ho has taken over your friend … his wife’s … investments they have grown considerably, but that is because he is more actively involved with growing his own portfolio.’
‘In such a short time?’ Aunty Lee could not help asking.
‘The professionals can only take you so far,’ Jonny said. ‘For them it is just a job, just a nine-to-five responsibility. But for me, my investments are important to me 24/7. Like my family. For example, if you are a teacher then once the children leave school they are no longer your responsibility anymore. But if you are a mother? Ah, then whether your children are at home or in school you are thinking about them, worrying about them, responsible for them non-stop 24/7 even, true or not?’
Aunty Lee nodded, because it was clearly what was expected of her. His use of the phrase ‘24/7’ had made her think of the 7-Eleven convenience stores that were so named because they had once been open from 7 a.m. to 11 p.m. but were now open twenty-four hours a day. Didn’t their name suggest they were less than they actually were?
‘Sometimes opportunities come up that can be guaranteed to pay off. But you have to keep an eye on them. The so-called professionals working in a place like this cannot be bothered to do that for you because it means they have to work overtime and, if they do it, they are doing it for their own selves, not for you and me.’
Aunty Lee looked at the professional sitting across the desk from them but Miss Wong did not seem offended. She smiled encouragingly at Aunty Lee, who returned her attention to Jonny.
‘So when such guaranteed opportunities come up, I withdraw my investments from here and take advantage of the opportunities to invest. And then, at the right time, I sell out and take my profits and give them back to these people here to look after for me until the next opportunity comes along. That’s the only way to do it if you want your capital to grow faster than inflation. That’s why my numbers on the books here are higher than your numbers. But the reason I brought you here to show you I can be trusted is because I am about to invest my funds in a guaranteed opportunity, and I am offering you the chance to join me. Don’t worry, I will take care of everything. And everything that you invest in, rest assured that I am investing in double, so you know that I will be paying two hundred per cent attention on the perfect moment to sell out. All you have to worry about is what you are going to do with all the bonus profits that I hand to you. Look, here are the forms. All you have to do is to write down your name for me.’
Aunty Lee was almost tempted, out of curiosity rather than greed, to go along just to see what his next step would be. But thanks to safeguards set up by the late M. L. Lee, she could not make any major transfers without her lawyer and doctor present to confirm she was not acting under duress. Dear M. L., Aunty Lee thought fondly, he had always believed in taking precautions so that they wouldn’t be needed. Though in this case, she suspected he had been more concerned about what his son … or rather his son’s wife … might try to pressure his widow into doing.
At such times it was easy for Aunty Lee to slip into her vague, pre-Alzheimer’s Aunty persona and make a fuss to change the subject. These young people thought that anyone over fifty was senile anyway.
‘I don’t want to sit down for anymore,’ Aunty Lee said loudly, rising to her feet. ‘I need to drink some hot water! And I need my pills! Where are my pills?’
‘Look, just sign these forms and you can go.’ Jonny Ho gestured to Miss Wong, who passed a sheaf of papers across the table. ‘Just put your signature here, Rosie.’
The cheek of the young punk, calling her ‘Rosie’! Aunty Lee raised her volume and her confusion: ‘Where’s Nina? I want Nina to come and take me home!’
But Miss Wong only said: ‘You must excuse me, I have a meeting coming up.’
‘Go ahead,’ Jonny Ho said without looking round.
‘My meeting is here,’ Miss Wong said firmly. ‘I’m afraid this is all the time I have for you today. Please continue your discussion elsewhere. Jonny, you better take your forms … ’
‘Come on.’ Jonny Ho again attached his hand to Aunty Lee’s arm to help her rise out of her chair. ‘Let’s go.’
‘Since we’re here can we walk through the Food Village in the Takashimaya basement?’ Aunty Lee recovered as soon as they were out of the door. ‘And I want to go to the back door of the Crystal Jade restaurant. Sometimes the staff go outside to smoke. I can ask them about their chicken!’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Kopitiam
Aunty Lee did not get to see the Takashimaya food basement after all. Once the meeting was over, Jonny Ho seemed as eager to get out of Ngee Ann City as he had been to get into it earlier. They ended up in a kopitiam off Sunset Drive.
‘We have to talk,’ Jonny Ho said. ‘But not in your café. Neutral territory, okay?’
On leaving the Ngee Ann City car park, Jonny had suggested any number of well-reviewed restaurants, or restaurants where he had contacts who could get them a good table without a reservation, but Aunty Lee, sulky over how close she had come to the secrets of ginseng chicken, not to mention checking out how long the queues were for Korean beef, kimchi soup, Bakerzin and Japanese cuisine at the Ngee Ann City food court, kept saying ‘no, no, drive on,’ till they left Orchard Road and its good restaurants behind them.
Holland Road was less fraught but Aunty Lee vetoed Holland Village as well, eventually telling Jonny to turn in at Sunset Drive.
‘Ah, I know there is a live seafood restaurant here,’ Jonny said, ‘but I don’t know about the quality … ’
‘I don’t want to go to the seafood restaurant,’ Aunty Lee said firmly. ‘If you want to talk, I need to think. For me to think properly I need more people around, more pe
ople eating and minding their own business.’
They ended up in the kopitiam. It was a large space with a high ceiling and open on all sides to the car park and industrial buildings in the area. Despite three rows of ceiling fans it was hot and humid, the sound of rain drumming on the metal roof competing with the buzz of conversation, people shouting orders to stall holders, who, on their part, were calling out invitations. There were also two large television sets suspended from the ceiling: one turned to an English news channel and the other a Chinese soap opera or drama. Though Aunty Lee had not deliberately chosen a place where Jonny would feel uncomfortable, this kopitiam worked very well. She suspected this was not because he was unfamiliar with such places but because he was all too familiar.
But she had chosen this place because the food and the location were just what she needed right then. The good-natured shouts, the ‘stall for rent’ signs, the mélange of stalls selling Indian Muslim food, chilli crabs, roasted chickens, ducks and pork ribs side by side with the Xin De An Medical and Minimart on one side and, beyond it, the back of the Veterinary Clinic (now restored) where the terrible fire had taken place not so long ago … all these things were part of the Singapore that Aunty Lee felt most at home in.
The gold Buddha statue in the small shrine set high into the wall (higher than the television sets) looked down benignly on all. Because of the rain the tables were more crowded than usual. The older folks who normally sat on benches outside their apartment blocks or on the stone seats in the public courtyards had all been driven indoors by the weather. Now nursing glasses of tea or coffee or bottles of beer, they unhappily tapped packets of forbidden cigarettes. Smoking was forbidden not only in the food centre but within the vicinity of the food centre.
Jonny shook his head, snorted at the signs, making Aunty Lee wonder if he was a smoker. She had never seen him with a cigarette, but then his breath always smelled of mouthwash or mint gum, which made Aunty Lee think he was hiding either bad habits or bad breath.
‘So, you like this place? What’s good here?’ Jonny was still trying to be nice. He still thought he could win her over.
‘I want to try something I haven’t tried before. Maybe that Thai stall. It’s new.’
Aunty Lee had her own system for trying new stalls. She examined the photographs on display, dishes being carried away by previous customers, ingredients on display, and finally engaged the cook in conversation; what did he or she recommend? How long had they been cooking? Where did they source their ingredients? Though, if it was a crowded time of day, the questions could wait till after the food was sampled.
But Jonny’s impatience got in the way of the comforting ritual.
‘No point eating here. You want to eat Thai food, I can recommend a genuine Thai restaurant run by genuine Thai people. The only stall here worth trying is that seafood one. I’ll see what they have. You stay here. If the drinks guy comes round order me a coffee.’
Well, Aunty Lee was certainly learning more about Jonny Ho. He wasn’t so much interested in new food experiences as making sure he patronized the right places. It was as though he was playing life like an online game and only spending energy on activities that would bring him bonus points. And that being seen in the wrong places or in the wrong company would lose him points. What, then, was he doing with her, she wondered?
He ordered crab noodles. Aunty Lee thought this was meant to impress her, because on looking through the lunch menu at Aunty Lee’s Delights on his last visit Jonny had said: ‘No pepper crab? Pepper crab is supposed to be Singapore’s top dish. How can you call yourself a Singaporean restaurant if you don’t sell pepper crab!’ That just showed he didn’t know much about Singapore cafés and was not good at making jokes, but still, it stung a little.
Still, Aunty Lee had to admit the hot noodles with tender crab in coconut gravy was delicious. The crabs were fresh … fished out of the live tank in front of the stall. Jonny Ho had not only chosen their crabs himself but insisted on watching them slaughtered and shelled so that no substitutions could be made. As he told Aunty Lee: ‘That’s where they look to making their money you know. If you don’t watch and make sure they kill the crab you are paying for, they will just give you old crab out of their freezer and, once you are gone, plop the live crab back into the tank!’
‘People will taste the difference!’ Aunty Lee wasn’t sure if she was defending the honesty of hawkers or taste buds of diners.
‘Put in enough tasty sauce, nobody can tell what is underneath. That one of the things I want to talk to you about. You are in the food business. The first thing you got to remember about that is that it is a business! You are in it to make money, to show profit, otherwise why are you doing it? If you love cooking so much, why not just cooking at home for your family, for your friends?’
This was something Aunty Lee had tried to tell Mark on his previous (failed) ventures. In the course of his attempt to set up a fine wine adjunct to her café, Aunty Lee had often wished that Mark had a sharper business sense. If only he had been a bit more cautious and not so particular about maintaining a higher standard than any of their customers could appreciate … in short, if only Mark had been a bit more like Jonny Ho … he might have made a success of it. But then Mark also got tired of things quickly. He was more interested in the grand idea, the big launch and the write up in the Life! section of the Straits Times than in the daily grind and monthly accounting. Jonny Ho seemed to have started as many projects as Mark, but Jonny’s projects seemed to be surviving.
‘How do you keep up with so many projects?’ Aunty Lee asked, interrupting what seemed to be turning into a business pitch. The crab noodles were good. She had detected a trace of salted egg yolk in the sauce which gave her an idea for a sauce for pork ribs and she was feeling happy again. ‘You are doing construction, that children’s school, now you are interested in the food business. How do you manage it all?’
Jonny Ho looked taken aback for a moment, then beamed as though Aunty Lee had asked the very question he was waiting for. ‘I don’t. I leave the managing in the hands of the experts … people like you. I handle the business side of it for you. I watch the bottom line. I make sure that you are paying the lowest price and charging the highest price so that you can concentrate on making customers happy. Perfect partnership, right?’
She had been wrong, Aunty Lee thought. It was not Mark but Selina who was the aspiring Jonny Ho. Selina, who believed that anybody could be a success if only you organized them better. But where Jonny Ho was going around tirelessly trying to create business connections, Selina had only worked on Mark so far. It was impossible to say whether she would have succeeded with someone else, or whether Mark, left to his own devices, would have stuck with his ventures long enough to reach success if his wife hadn’t been constantly reminding him that he was failing on the bottom line. It might be interesting, Aunty Lee thought, to see how Jonny Ho managed one of his perfect partnership businesses.
‘So what do you say? You take me on as a business manager, and I turn your business around in eighteen months or you’re free to fire me.’
‘I think I want to see a trial run first.’
‘That’s what the eighteen months is for. A year and a half. You pay me salary, that’s all. Then afterwards we can talk percentages. You like the Food Village in the Takashimaya basement so much? I can guarantee you your own stall there within two years, if you put yourself in my hands!’
‘The trial run can be the children’s playschool. You and Beth are partners there, right? And my daughter-in-law is investing money in it. I want to see how that turns out first. Say, wait five years and then see how.’
Aunty Lee saw an angry, petulant look flash across Jonny Ho’s face before he dismissed it. This was clearly off script for him. ‘Children’s schools are different. I’m leaving that entirely to Beth. If it doesn’t work that is her fault, not mine. After all, how often do people have children, right? Compared to how often they have dinner. Frankl
y it is much easier to get fast turnaround in the food business. You just need a good name and an okay product. That’s why I’m so keen on turning your café into a franchise. You already got the product that people like, but no branding at all! Can I speak to you honestly? The childcare education business is new to me. But there is clearly a need for it in Singapore. All we did is send out the survey and already so many parents are interested. But Beth is also new to this line. I tell you, if she wasn’t my wife’s sister I wouldn’t be in partnership with her. And results won’t come as fast as with the catering business. Better that you say, we work together on your café business as the trial. Then if you are happy with the results, you can invest in KidStarters. That way you can get rich first, and the childcare centre will be ready in time for your grandchildren. Good, right? What do you say?’
‘I’m so full,’ Aunty Lee said. ‘I ate too much. I can’t think. Can we tarpow the rest for me to bring back?’ She waved, and a server from the stall was happy to accept her approval and take away the leftovers to pack for Aunty Lee to take home.
‘That’s exactly why you need somebody like me to think for you!’ Jonny Ho persisted as soon as the server was gone.
‘I need to burp,’ said Aunty Lee. ‘When there’s too much hot air it is very difficult to make decisions.’
For a while they talked about other things … digestive medications for example. Jonny Ho didn’t approve of commercial medications. ‘I don’t trust those Western doctors; all of them are only trying to line their own pockets. You know they are all sponsored by drug companies to recommend their own drugs?’
‘I make my own ginger tea.’ Aunty Lee did not hold much with Western doctors either. She had liked the late Dr Ken Loo but most of the doctors she had seen recently all seemed so young and so obsessed with height to weight ratios and BMIs. They all seemed to think Aunty Lee was shorter than she ought to be for her weight, but there was nothing she could do about it so she avoided going to doctors as far as she could.
