Author: Lee Su Min 李素明

Waiting … but not at the lamppost ….

I found her waiting for me at the lamppost again. 

In the dark I could see her silhouette. Her shadow cast on the floor by the small but brightly lit moon. Something told me that she was waiting for me. But I could not be sure. If I wanted to know I would have to approach her and talk to her but I was not inclined to do so. In my line of work, people came to me every day to ask me to help them. And I only helped them when I have decided that the case was interesting enough. Money was never the consideration for me to decide on whether I wanted to take on a case. But I was not about to play the role of a solicitor now. No not after office hours. Yes, it was already eight p.m. 

I tucked my MacBook under my arm and turned left. If I continued to walk straight I would have to confront her face to face. I wanted to avoid her at all costs. But how could you say that she was waiting for me? 

After I reached the traffic lights. I stopped to let the cars pass, and then I continued to walk until I reached the bus stop. I have nowhere to go except to drop in at The Winsor Café for my regular pumpkin soup and lamp chop and then browse around the shops before I finally called it a day and went home. Tonight, Claire was busy. 

Life has been kind to me. At thirty-eight I have a secure job and I didn’t depend on anyone for money. At the way I calculated it, I would have sufficient passive income for retirement, so long as I didn’t fall ill suddenly or fancied a house which cost ten million dollars. I was contented with the state of affairs now and I didn’t want anybody to disturb me. Claire wanted me to propose to her, but I was keeping her waiting. If I put her off completely she might then decide not ever to talk to me again. That would be inconvenient as Claire was my financial consultant. 

By this I meant that I had decided not to get married. I have been married once before and it ended in a separation, so I didn’t want to make another attempt. Cupid has failed me once and I didn’t trust him anymore. 

After my dinner I walked around. I saw a picture, which I liked very much but the price was way out of range. Annoyed at the fact that I could not afford a simple painting I went home by the Grab. Usually if I was alone I took the bus home. I arrived home at nine p.m. sharp when I heard the cuckoo chime. I switched on the television and heard the news of an impending air strike against Syria. 

But still the image of her standing at the lamppost played on my mind. Was she waiting for me? Was she still standing there? Singapore was a safe country so that even if you were out at midnight no bad thing would happen to you. But then it did not mean that there were no crimes …. I almost wanted to go back there and speak to her. 

Then I switched off the television, annoyed that my sense of peace had been disturbed. I went to my drawer and took out a diary. Claire’s bank gave me this diary and I had not used it before. It was already August. Now I decided to use it to record the days when she was standing at the lamppost waiting for me. I assumed that she was waiting for me. 

After I have taken my sleeping pill I fell asleep on the bed effortlessly. Since Rashida walked out on me thirteen months ago I have been relying on these pills to help me sleep. The next morning, I woke up feeling refreshed. And by the time I walked to the office from the bus stop where I last saw her I had already completely forgotten about her. 

Many people came to the office today. I was not always the decision maker so there were times when I had to KIV the matter. But overall I was satisfied that I could persuade most of my clients to take my line of defence or to pursue the matter to fight for their rights. Nora, my secretary lost her temper again today but luckily it was just with the courier who came to deliver some files from another lawyer’s office. 

I rang Claire, wanting to tell her over the phone that I would be late this evening. I have been working on a very unpleasant case. My client was charged with rape as he reportedly forced his pregnant wife to have sex with him to satisfy his own sexual fetish. Under the law, a man cannot rape his wife. But pregnant wife? It seemed that it varied from case to case, depending on whether the pregnant woman consented to it. But the problem happened when the woman seemed to have consented and then later on made it a big deal after the event. Did she say yes? My client was a decent office worker. You could imagine him in one of his suits of jacket and pants along Shenton Way in the middle of the day. He could not be a rapist. 

At five p.m. when Nora was about to go home, she came in and told me that Claire had rung several times to look for me today whilst I was attending to Terrence Ng’s case. Terrence was my client who had been accused of raping Margaret, his pregnant wife. So when Claire picked up the phone I immediately apologized. I had bought her our anniversary present and I wanted her to wear it there and then. It was the pair of pearl earrings, which she has been eyeing for a long time. The sales girl tried to explain to me why fresh water pearls were so special, but that she did not impress me. A pearl was a pearl, as far as I was concerned. It was either white or black, not fresh water pearls vs. non-fresh water pearls. Black pearls were so much more expensive, so I bought the white ones. 

After I spoke to Claire I decided to go to the toilet to clean up before I finished with the defence’s case and then I went downstairs to meet Claire. She worked nearby. We often met at the café calledThe Winsor Café just opposite the building and then we would take the Grab home together. This was just to save ten dollars and sixty cents. The draft affidavit would take me at least another hour and Claire told me she could wait. 

I almost forgot the time when I finished. And then as I was walking towards The Winsor Café I saw her at the lamppost again. She was wearing a loose dress and her slim figure made her look haunted. I wondered if she was waiting for someone. But again something told me that she was waiting for me. I did not know where she came from. 

As an advocate and solicitor of the Supreme Court, I met with clients every day. Sometimes I was fighting against people whom I have never met before until the day of the trial. I often sketched a drawing of my opponent’s face on a piece of paper when I did my submissions. Invariably I was right. Yes, I do have a knack for reading people. Today her dress was completely white, which made her stand out in the dark. I saw that she was wearing a pair of Ferragamo shoes. I knew how much that pair of shoes cost. I often saw Claire in them too. 

Then as one of the cars sounded the horn, I woke up from my thoughts and I turned left once again and continued walking ahead until I reached The Winsor Café. Claire was already there. 

“You are fifteen minutes late,” she announced. 

“Oh, sorry,” and then “I have this for you,” I passed the parcel to her, still tightly wrapped. 

“Are they real?” Claire asked as she was opening the box. 

“Of course, they are, silly.” I chuckled. 

“Did you want the black ones?” out of curiosity I asked. 

I remembered that Claire took quite some time at the boutique when she was deciding on the black pair. 

“No, I don’t wear black, although the black ones are nicer, but they don’t match my clothes.” Claire finally commented. 

I left her at that and ordered my pumpkin soup with lamb chop. No dessert as we often bought a tub of ice cream from the convenience store further down the street. 

“You seem preoccupied,” Claire looked at me and enquired. 

“Err, yes, a little ….” I was thinking of the woman in white rather than my client.

Could she be pregnant? She was wearing a loose dress and it could well be her wanting to tell me something. I brushed the thought off and then finished the lamp chop. Claire was not satisfied, 

“Shall we go for dessert?” she asked. 

“I think I am tired,” I said, “I want to go home.”

Claire was my female companion. We lived together on the same floor next to each other in an apartment block called Blue Heaven. It was not a satisfactory state of affairs but for the time being this was the best arrangement. Rashida walked out on me a year ago and it would be at least another two years before I could file for divorce from her under “irreconcilable differences”. 

Then I chanced on Claire when she moved in next door and I fell for her. I didn’t know what Claire liked about me but all I knew was that I sat outside my apartment for hours waiting for Claire to come home whenever she went out just so to chance on her. Yes, Claire was very pretty. She had the beauty of an Indian Bollywood dancer. 

I could not say why. But I fall in love easily. I was easily intrigued by situations and circumstances pertaining to women who are lonely. You could say that I won’t have been in love with Claire if she were not a foreigner. And this time, again I found that I was engrossed with this lady by the lamppost, the she who was standing at the lamppost waiting for me every night. 

I was handling another case of a woman who killed her husband after being forced to do pornography. Murder was an offence punishable by death. Capital punishment was still being practiced in this country. The female murderer, Sushila, told the police that when her husband was under pressure to repay money to a loan shark, he ordered her to act in porn movies. The investigator was my colleague in law school, so it was easy dealing with him on the case. 

He told me straight away that my client could not use “self-defence” as being forced to do porn movies was not an act which could endanger her life. Actually this client of mine, if she had performed in the porn movie she might one day have become a Bollywood queen. I got the file from the public prosecutor’s office as pro bonowork, so I haven’t met my client at all although in my mind I had already sketched her. 

After I left Claire at the front door and saw to it that she had locked herself safely in her apartment I went inside my own. Tonight, I wanted to try without the sleeping pills, so I poured myself a cup of warm milk to fall asleep and I lay staring at the ceiling wondering if the lady at the lamppost was im pari materia to any one of these two cases. She could be pregnant. 

I had no way of knowing until and unless I met with her and spoke with her. But Claire would see it; Claire would see me talking to her. And Claire would get jealous sensing that something was amiss. I knew that my mind was preoccupied with she now. And I knew that I was fast falling in love all over again. 

It was dangerous falling in love with someone when you did not know where she came from. With Claire at least, I knew her to be living at Blue Heaven and I had an address to trace. I didn’t know the whereabouts of she. All I could rely on was the lamppost which she was leaning against. Ok, the lamppost would be there for good. But would she be there again tomorrow night? 

I fell into a deep sleep with the warm milk. The next morning I was late for the office. It was my own office, so I could go in at any time. I usually arrived by ten a.m. Nora was always already there waiting for me. I commented her on her punctuality although even if she arrived late after nine, I would have no means of knowing. 

This morning I was impatient and irritable. I wondered if she would be there this evening. And what colour would she be wearing. By now I knew that she must be in need of something from me. Something which I was able to give her. Was she pregnant like Margaret? Could she be in Sushila’s shoes? I had not yet met either of them. 

The file on the table which read: Public Prosecutor vs. Terrence Ng stared at me boldly, as though telling me that Terrence Ng was not at fault. Come to think of it, it was a grey area. Some wives still had sex with their husbands whilst pregnant and if they did who was to say that it was wrong? It was only when the pregnant party was unwilling that a problem arose. 

I thought hard about my defence for Terrence Ng. 

“Did she say ‘yes’ initially then turned him down later?” 

“Was this the first time that she said ‘no’?” 

To know the answer, I would have to talk to Terrence Ng. I wanted to speak to Margaret Ng too. Now Terrence Ng’s wife had turned him into a criminal her baby could be having a father who was serving sentence when his child was born. I must speak to Margaret as her action was most unwise. 

Immediately I conjured up the face of the shadowy figure by the lamppost. I thought that she must have been pregnant, in the loose dress like that. Immediately I rang Claire and told her I wasn’t meeting her for dinner tonight. I wanted to talk to her tonight. My curiosity got the better of me and I couldn’t wait any longer. 

At dusk, at around seven I took my briefcase and MacBook and walked out of my office. I had no prepared speech. I knew not what to say. All I knew was that I wanted to ask her out for dinner. And then she could tell me if she were pregnant. This time, I was sure that she was waiting for me. I was impatient for the lift, which stopped at almost every floor to pick up workers from the lower floors. My office was on the sixteenth floor, so it took a long time for me to arrive at the first floor. 

It was past seven when I finally got out of the building. No, she wasn’t there. She wasn’t there today. My efforts had been futile. 

“Never mind, I shall try again tomorrow,” I consoled myself. 

I tried to get Claire back on the line, but she wasn’t picking up the phone, so I knew that tonight I would have to have dinner all by myself. I was still having the pumpkin soup and lamp chop. The restaurant knew my orders by now. The waiters had stopped asking me and showing me the menu two months ago. 

A little frustrated, I took out the the file to read. I sometimes brought work home, and this was one occasion. This time I wanted to interview my client to find out if her husband had used force on her, or had threatened her life in any way. 

Sushila was still in custody, so I had no chance to see her yet. She must be pretty, for otherwise she would not have qualified for porn. I did not have as much sympathy for this client. 

Murder was a serious crime, much more so if it a pre-mediated act. Apparently, my client gave her husband some poisoned milk. And that was only after he demanded that she took part in group-sex. All the other pornographies she did not refuse. This looked like a loose woman even if she might look glamorous. 

I made some notes by the side and then I closed the file to concentrate on the food in front of me. The waiter had placed my pumpkin soup and lamp chop on the table silently and walked away. They knew that it was my habit to take the soup and the main course together. 

When I paid for the bill he asked me, “Where is your wife?” 

“No, she is not my wife,” I quickly corrected him. 

“I am single,” I emphasized. 

“So sorry, sir” came the reply. 

I had not realized that Claire and I had been behaving like a married couple. 

Feeling let down I walked along the street hearing my own footsteps. My shoes were expensive and the rain in the day had made the pavement wet, soaked with mud. I almost tripped over a beer can. And then I bent down to pick it up. There was no trashcan in the vicinity, so I just held the empty can until I reached the lamp post, the one that she had been leaning against for eight nights. 

I needed someone to talk to. I was handling two sensational cases. Although I had a first class honours I was poor at handling love affairs. I was a weak character when it came to romance. I succumbed to women easily. 

When an empty taxi came by, I put out my hand almost as an automatic reflex to hail it down. It didn’t stop for me, but instead it went on to join the long line of taxis further down the road where the taxi stand was. It was just past eight p.m. so many taxis were waiting to pick up passengers now because of the extra three-dollar surcharge within the restricted zone. I had just walked past it. No wonder the taxi did not want to stop for me.

I had no idea what to do. I needed to caution Margaret Ng to get her to see sense. But that was against the rules. Her testimony was deemed to be more reliable as she was apparently the victim. I tried to apply for an order that would grant me an interview, but it did not succeed. Then I wanted to spend more time today with Sushila, but she had to go back to the cell. I was only given ten minutes. 

The police were afraid that I might coach her. The only thing I looked forward to today was this evening. I thought that she might be at the lamppost again and that today I would approach her. 

When I arrived back home I saw that Claire’s door was ajar. That meant that she is back home and that I could peep in on her to see what she was doing. But tonight, I wasn’t in the mood. My mind was cluttered up with the three women: Margaret, Sushila and she.

Their images appeared on my mind like pictures rotating at random display. I wanted to help all three of them. I always wanted to help women. Most of my clients were women. This lady by the lamppost could be in the same shoes as that of my client’s pregnant wife or that of the potential Bollywood porn star. Tonight, I didn’t want to see Claire. Not yet. 

When I gave Claire the pearl earrings I knew what she wanted. She did not want earrings. It was a ring that she wanted and an engagement ring. And tonight, I had disowned her. I had announced to the waiter of The Winsor Café that Claire was not my wife. I could have told him that she was my fiancée. After all, neither one of us was dating anyone else. This meant that in my mind I had worked out that I wanted to see she.

Yes, I wanted to give she a chance. Something told me that she was waiting for me. 

Again, I did not take the sleeping pills. I fell asleep at four a.m. and got to the office late. Terrence was waiting for me already as I came in. I told Nora that I didn’t want to take any calls. Once I shut the door I interviewed my client. 

“Did you know that she was pregnant?” I asked. 

“I thought that was undisputed? What are you trying to get at?” Terrence said. 

“How many months pregnant was she at the material time?” I asked again. 

“Three, possibly four …. I’m not sure.” He said. 

“Listen, what I am trying to say is that she must be looking rather unattractive with a big belly … that it was unlikely you want sex from her,” I was getting at it.

“If she was only three months pregnant it would be a little tricky to be having sex, did she want the child?” I continued. 

“No, she came out of the bathroom naked …” Terrence began to recall, 

“then she told me that this was going to be the last time before the baby gets bigger, and then … it just happened.” 

“Why do you think that she did that?” I asked my client, looking at him directly. 

“I really have no idea.” I could see that he was getting very exasperated. 

I wanted so much to help this man sitting in front of me. I wanted to know the truth. I told myself that I must get to the bottom of this. I was prevented by the code of ethics not to see his client. But already I have sketched a wicked image of her. 

Why would a woman want to put the father of her unborn baby in jail? Unless … unless he was not the child’s father. Yes, I have stumbled on the truth. There was no logic to it unless this was the fact. I was a lawyer. In all situations, logic must prevail. I put this matter aside for the time being until I found the missing link, the woman’s lover. 

It was not unusual for me to bring clients to Jasmine’s Inn for lunch. Most of them like Szechuan food. Half way through lunch, Terrence suddenly said, 

“Now I remember. Margaret was a little strange at the scan … when she found out that it was a boy, instead of turning to me, she took out her handphone and she messaged someone.” 

“Did you see who the recipient was?” I asked. 

“No,” Terrence replied. 

“And why not?” lunch was getting serious, 

“I am not in the habit of prying on her,” Terrence confessed,

“although I should have, in hindsight,” he said. 

We were getting somewhere now. The deceitful woman was contacting her lover. I was sure of that. 

“Do you want to hire a PI to trail her?” I enquired of my client. 

“How much?” he asked. 

“A few thousand dollars, but it’s worth it.” I urged him. 

Terrence thought about it, “No harm done. Although I don’t think she is seeing another man.” 

“Do you have a picture of Margaret?” Terrence paused for a while, then he brought his wallet out, 

“I don’t have a recent one,” he held out the photo. 

I stared at the picture. It looked a splitting image of the lady at the lamppost, except that the subject in the picture had cropped hair and she looked a little fairer. 

“Is she Indian?” I asked. 

“Yeah, a classic Indian beauty, we got hitched after three weeks.” Terrence seemed proud of the fact. 

I rang Spider’s Bureau the private investigation agency. Preoccupied with Terrence’s case now I have since stopped buying little gifts for Claire and I hoped that she had not noticed it. If I could identify malice as a motive, then I knew that Terrence and I had won the case and then all we need do was wait for the Attorney-General’s Chambers to withdraw the charges. Although I knew the director of Spider’s Bureau very well I had never been to the firm. 

The lady at the lamppost was at the same spot as I walked out of the office to meet Claire at our usual joint at The Winsor Café this evening. I couldn’t say that I was happy to see her at the lamppost as I had expected to see her almost every day now. She looked like Margaret, Terrence’s wife, and she looked like Sushila the Indian Bollywood dancer. And I was not sure whom she resembled more. 

The fact of her standing at the lamp post waiting for me had become a scheduled event. I had started to buy a few new neckties, as the ones I was wearing did not make me stand out. I bought a pink tie and a turquoise one to compliment my grey pants and as for shirts I had always worn white. By now I had decided that I was not going to marry Claire. Was I wrong in eliminating Claire? I was not cheating on her. So far, I had not spoken to she yet. I only looked forward to the glimpses of recognition on the street on the way to The Winsor Café.

It took only one week to establish that Margaret was seeing another man. And according to the taped conversation, that man was the father of the unborn child. 

“No wonder she wants to put me in jail,” Terrence woke up. 

“Yes, and whilst you are serving sentence, she could file for divorce without having to be separated from you for three years.” 

I never saw a man break down before. 

“I loved her,” he sobbed. 

As though it was not affirmative, he told me he recently bought a house in joint names.

“The more reason why she wants to be separated from you,” I hit the nail on the coffin. 

I knew that I was also stupid like Terrence. I told myself I didn’t want to fall into the trap again. I managed to resist Claire so many times. I was getting a divorce soon and I didn’t want to be involved with another woman. But this time, this woman standing at the lamppost, looked different, like a changed person. 

I went to church on Sunday and spoke with my pastor. He was happy for me that I had decided against Claire. 

“You were married in church, so you have taken the sacred marriage vows, divorce is unacceptable in Catholic marriages.” He proclaimed vehemently. 

I listened and at the same time I wondered if when an Indian married a Christian in church would she be regarded as having renounced her Hindi faith.

The case of Sushila was still pending and I knew that there was little chance that she would be found innocent. There was clear guilt as she confessed to the crime. Was there any way to establish that her husband had beaten her up before? I thought of the lines of defence. 

And as I walked along the streets down at the office thinking of the case it was the same evening, the same moon casting a shadow on her thin long figure. She was across the street under the lamppost. 

In the dark I could not see if she were wearing black or navy. Then I wanted to walk right up to her; I wanted to say hi tonight. Just then I saw a silver Mercedes crossed a median and went straight for her. With my own eyes I saw her fall onto the pavement. I rushed up to her as another bystander rang for the ambulance. 

Together we waited for the paramedics to arrive. Immediately they went into action. 

I heard the paramedics asked her, “Ma’am, you have just met with an accident. Can I have the telephone number of your next-of-kin?” 

“Nine-eight-three-six-nine-one-eight-four ….” with that I saw her close her eyes and at the same time my handphone rang almost instantly. 

I picked up the call and I saw the caller’s identity as “unknown”. I listened to the caller from the civil defence force, 

“Your wife has just met with an accident. Please go to the nearest hospital at Alexandra Road to see her.” 

Yes, this woman, this lady who had been waiting for me at the lamppost was Rashida my wife. We were only separated now after she walked out on me and I told myself I would not talk to her again. We were not divorced yet. If she died divorce would not be necessary anymore. 

Silently I prayed to God that she would come out alive. I promised God that I would honour Him by making the marriage work this time. And I realized that I still loved Rashida, perhaps that was why I had refused Claire. 

Claire was waiting for me again at The Winsor Café, but I knew that I would not be eating pumpkin soup and lamp chop tonight for once.

I can see you from my kitchen ….

From my balcony I could see him taking off her clothes. 

Eileen had gone out with a group of friends again, so that I was left without company for at least four hours. 

I took out a bottle of wine and some cheese and laid a piece of tablecloth over the round garden table. At the same time, I took out the candle stand, lit a white candle, and let the bamboo Venetian roll up a little so that I could look into the apartment on the opposite side of the road. 

This was a small road. It was never crowded. I could hear cars passing by only every now and then. But the sound of the traffic gave me the feeling that I was involved, involved in the life outside my flat.

Eileen was a journalist. She wrote for The Gossip Times and often worked late into the night at her reporter’s desk. There was a template she had to type into on her office computer, so she could not bring her work home. Often when she rushed for a story, she did not even pick up my calls. 

This has caused a number of misunderstandings and some friction in our relationship. I had been living with Eileen for three years now, and her mother had been pestering us to be married. 

I couldn’t explain why I had not married Eileen. Eileen was pretty by all counts. She had an oriental face and slim shoulders. Not too tall and not too short. But just between you and me, like any other Asian girl, Eileen was flat chested, especially in comparison to Anne. Anne was a size C or D. 

I first met Anne when I was at an art exhibition. Anne and I both spotted the same painting. In fact, I wasn’t clever enough. I was standing there with a glass of house wine, contemplating buying a piece of art after having gone through several rounds. 

I eyed it and then overheard Anne telling the salesman that she was in the process of deciding on one of the artist’s two pieces. This was just some unknown Chinese artist, but I liked the way he painted a lady in front of a dressing table. I turned around and said, 

“If you are not buying this piece, I will buy it.” 

Now, with a competitor, Anne decided that the piece of work I liked was better than the other one, and she immediately told the salesman that she was buying it. I so much regretted my honesty and stupidity. I should have encouraged her to take the other piece, thus leaving this piece of work available for my buying pleasure. I had never been so frustrated before. 

Anne wasn’t bothered with me. She got good advice, and she got what she wanted. She paid for the art piece and finished her cocktail. 

“Do you have someone to carry it outside with me? I need to get a taxi,” she asked the salesman. 

“I’m afraid no, Ma’am. We are shorthanded. I am the only one here today,” the salesman said, his mission accomplished when he got her cheque. All else was immaterial to him. I stepped in. 

“Do you think I can drive you home?” 

“Why, of course, you are welcome to do so. I live nearby.” The woman was gracious. 

I was only interested in the piece of art. Once I got the owner’s contact information, I could then persuade her to resell the painting to me. The more I thought about the piece, the more I liked it. If Anne hadn’t bought it, I would have done so. 

And so, I found out that Anne was my neighbour. She lived on the opposite side of the road in my flat at Wimbledon Lodge. At the driveway of MaryAnn Lodge, I parked my car and helped the woman carry the painting. I wanted her telephone number so that I could call her. Before I left her with the painting outside her unit at #05-01, I told her, 

“Give me a call when you don’t want the painting anymore.” 

I said when meaning that it was imperative. She did not sense the urgency in my tone and simply replied sure. I did not forget to give her my card. I think my title “President, Baker’s Treasury” should sufficiently describe my eminent status and wealth, and that should impress her, if she was not already taken in by the smooth running of the engine of the BMW that I sent her home in. 

I waited one day. Then two days passed without Anne calling. I gave her a week. On Friday night when I was sure that she wouldn’t call, I drove my BMW around to MaryAnn Lodge. I parked my car at the visitors’ lot and went to intercom her. 

I pressed 0501, then the bell. No, she didn’t answer. Without being buzzed in, I could not access her floor to wait in the lobby outside her flat. What could she be doing on a Friday night at 10:30 p.m.? I wasn’t too late. If she had a dinner appointment she should be home by now. Did she have a boyfriend? I sat on the parapet with my jacket still on. The jacket was to give the impression that I had just come out of an important meeting. 

Then I needed to charge my handphone. I went to security and asked if I could use their power point. They saw that I was harmless and took my handphone to plug it in without further questions. I was quite pleased that I could get things done so easily. It took ages to get a 100 per cent status. Finally, when I ran out of patience, I walked out of the estate. 

One of the security guards came after me, “I see her coming back in a red car sometimes.” 

I looked at him, annoyed that he volunteered this piece of information. All I wanted was the painting. The artist held my imagination. I pictured Anne in a brothel waiting for clients …

I ignored the guy and walked back to my BMW. My remote control gave a loud beep as told the residents that someone was trying to intrude into their calm, quiet night. Reluctantly I started the engine and drove out of the compound. This was my second encounter with Anne, or rather, a non-encounter. 

Anne was a small woman. She was not particularly pretty, because she was short. But her breasts were large, and that made her desirable. On the night of the cocktail she was wearing an off-the-shoulder top and a white skirt, which gave her the schoolgirl look. She had tied her hair with a red scarf. I wondered if her breasts would be larger if she were taller. 

Nonetheless, I was not in love with Anne, yet. For now, I only wanted the art piece. Tonight’s trip had been futile, and it was damn annoying. 

From then on, I thought of the painting on and off, and I began to conjure up a naked woman right in front of me. The more I thought of it the more I liked it. Fact was that every time I visualized the art I saw Anne in her naked form. The next day during the lunch hour I went to other art galleries to search for paintings, to see if I could find another piece to replace the one Anne beat me to. But none of them suited my purpose. 

This painting of Anne had the drawing of a mirror and a comb by the dressing table and much was said in the brochure about the frame of mind of the artist while he was working on his creation. 

Apparently, it was the culmination of his experiences in visiting several brothels and dance artists’ abodes that created this. I wanted it on the wall in my studio flat where the bedroom and living room met. This painting could decorate both the bedroom and the living. Yes, it put my imagination to work. 

Basically, I just wanted to see Anne without her clothes. Anne was the woman in the painting, I was sure of that. She must have been in a brothel before and was probably a prostitute, for otherwise she wouldn’t be so inhibited as to parade herself at the bay window. 

How did I get to see the actress in person?

It occurred to me that I might want to send Anne a gift calendar or something. That was one step towards getting into her life. As the days went by, I had become more and more obsessed with Anne. She had a voluptuous figure. Her breasts were larger than most women her size, and that made her look good in whatever clothes she wore. 

It was true that all this while I was more interested in my career than women, but I was a clear heterosexual. I have no platonic relationships and was generally fonder of women than men. I had a brother in Australia, and my only woman friend is my sister-in-law. I visited my brother’s family once a year during spring. I have planned another trip this January once the new year arrived.

I didn’t know Anne’s telephone number. Only she knew mine, and I was depending on her to give me a call, in order that I could create a contact out of her. But she eluded me. I was looking forward to finishing the renovation of my entire apartment so that I could get a priest to do a house blessing. I worshipped at theSt. Peter’s Catholic Church, and I knew that it was church regulation that divorce was not acceptable in the Catholic faith. 

Therefore, I have to be very careful in choosing a partner, since it was for life. Once I married, there would be no turning back. I was rich, but I have not been looking around as I have concentrated on my career up until now. Women were a nuisance. They were emotional and didn’t make sound business decisions. Most of my Board of Directors were men except for Christina, and I really didn’t like her at all. 

Christina came in late for meetings and always took a long while to come to conclusions. You could say that she was cautious, but that always delayed things and meetings ended late because we had to wait for her to finish giving her pep talk before we could call the meeting to an end. 

But that I had a very good relationship with my secretary Kim. She always saw to it that I got my Christmas hampers delivered to my address at Wimbledon Lodge, and I really appreciated her for that. It was her sixth year at my office. Ok, I was side tracking. 

I went back to work on Monday morning having told myself that I must give up on this piece of art. But it was not my habit to give up on anything. I was a banker and a determined man. I had to acquire the painting at all costs. I remembered that Anne paid four thousand dollars for the piece, and I was prepared to pay five, or even six for that matter. 

I didn’t waste any more time. I went to her place another week later, on a Friday night again. The security guard did not recognize my car, and I gave Anne’s unit number at the entrance, so they didn’t even know that I was not staying there. I parked my car at the same lot for visitors and got out wondering if I would also meet her “business” boyfriend in the red car. 

When I heard Anne’s voice over the intercom I was genuinely surprised that this time she was in at 9:15 p.m. I told her I was “Mark, the guy at the art gallery,” and she seemed to have recalled our last meeting. 

The lift registered the fifth floor, and I was happy that I was going to bargain for the piece of art tonight. 

“I must be straightforward,” I told myself. 

I might not be given another chance to come in here and see her again. And anyway, I didn’t have time to waste on her. She is too young for me. I liked older women. Efficient, older women. 

“No, I am not going to sell it.” She rejected me outright. 

“I have a wall, and it goes very well with it. How about if you pay a visit to my place?” I became desperate. 

“Why not give me your number again, and I will call you if I want to sell it?” 

I think she was impatient to be rid of me. Friday night after work, anyone would be tired. I was a patient man and a good dealer. That was why I got to this position at Baker’s Treasury in the financial industry. I knew how to play my cards. I was in my late thirties and was still taking my time to choose a wife. 

Basically, I wanted somebody whom I didn’t need to support and not some cheap floozy. I saw Anne as a woman who could serve my purpose very well and the fact that she was a prostitute was a bonus to me. And that this was the thing about Anne that made me want to sleep with her. Invariably, my mind visualized Anne’s breasts without her blouse. 

Finally: No, Anne was too plain. I told you, if she were taller I would have considered. 

I decided to distract myself. I walked towards the door and at the same time used a pen to write my number for her again, pretending to be leaving. But Anne just opened the door and signalled that it was time for me to leave. Frustrated, I went straight back to Wimbledon Lodge.

Later when I saw Eileen back at my flat, and to distract her, I complained that I had nothing to do with my time. Eileen reminded me of an offer from Sean, her editor, to try my hand at book reviews. The book I was reading was called Wild Swans, a story of the lives of three women. I struggled at it, as I knew nothing of Chinese history. I was less than a quarter way through. I had no idea how I could write a good review to persuade others to buy the book. It was a difficult task. 

Sean had said I was the right person to do the review because I was Chinese educated. But the entire book was in English. I refused, but he was so enthusiastic I had no chance to say No. So, in the end, Eileen promised him that I would do the job by the end of the holidays. The worst part of it was that it coincided with my leave, so in effect I was using my own time to do this piece of work. If it were a novel by Jeffrey Archer or P. D. James it would have been a breeze. 

Christmas came and went. I received only two presents. One from my mother, who had gone for a holiday in China and had pre-arranged this gift, and another from an old neighbour at Mt. Sinai. The gift from my mother was to be expected, but the one from Mr. and Mrs. Lee was a surprise.

I told myself I must pay them a visit before the new year. But then I had to finish with the book review. I picked up the book. At page 187 I found something that I could use to write about, and then I thought about Anne again: 

Had she grown tired of the painting? Would she be ready to part with it now? It had been three weeks since our last encounter. 

Tonight, was Christmas Eve. I took out my wine and some crackers from one of my client’s hampers and cut a slice of log cake from the fridge. I saw the woman at the balcony. And then I saw another man! He was taking off her clothes again, this time out of the emerald green gown. They had not drawn the curtains, so that I could see what he was doing very clearly. She sat there without moving away. I saw him unzip the gown, and then he closed the curtains …

In this hot and sultry climate, I was trying very hard not to let my imagination run wild. I wondered how much longer he would take to open his curtains again. I knew which house they lived in. If I walked across the street to his row of apartments I would be able to identity his unit number. It was the second unit from the right. So, I started to count. Oh, God! It was Anne’s unit! So, the woman by the window was Anne, after all. 

The man must have been the business man who drove the red car.

Flabbergasted, I decided to leave Anne and the man alone. If he wanted to sleep with her and she with him, it was entirely their business. As far as I was concerned, my relationship with Anne was that of between two art connoisseur, if you put it plainly. I had no reason to pry on her except to inquire if she still wanted to keep the painting. And I was still waiting for her to call me for a negotiation, which so far, she had not. What I saw now here was entirely my own making. If I were to barge into the MaryAnn Lodge to look for her, I would be committing trespass. 

I was not at liberty to tell the security guard what I saw, for then I would be taken for a Peeping Tom. Yes, I did buy a pair of binoculars and had been using them. And I was pretty sure that Anne was the woman who was sitting by the bay window. There was a book on her lap, so I guessed she was reading whenever she was left alone. The man, her boyfriend, was not always around. I could now say with hundred percent certainty that he was the red car driver whom the security guard mentioned. 

So, I was stuck there. What could do? I could only see that the room lights were on in the flat opposite. The curtains were drawn, and I guessed that Anne was no longer sitting at the window. I felt a little disappointed and wished I had their telephone number, so I could contact them. But then what could I say? That I had been watching them? It fell short of stalking, so far. All the while I had been stationed and looking out from inside my own home. 

Come to think of it, they should not conduct their activities in full view of the neighbours. However, I couldn’t find fault with Anne either. No one should expect that a neighbour would look in. So, it would be better if I remained in the background anonymously. I went into the kitchen and got myself a bottle out from the fridge. It was chilled, and I sipped it quietly like a mouse in a trap.

The air was sultry hot, and I needed the air conditioning. I reluctantly shut my own windows. A sense of unease came over me, as I had to shut Anne out of my vicinity. I remembered her wearing the emerald green taffeta before he took it away. I frowned at that stupid gown. 

It did not occur to me that a woman would be dressed in a nightgown for an ordinary night reading by the bay window. I became a little confused. But I was still sober. The bottle of wine from the Christmas hamper was still in the basket unopened. 

I took a cold shower and felt much better. After that I decided to bear with the hot, humid air and opened my windows when I had just shut them ten minutes ago. I was interested to know if the couple had returned to the bay window. If it were really Anne, perhaps I should tell her that she shouldn’t parade herself with her curtains open oblivious to her neighbours. 

Finally, I saw him putting a wedding gown on her. What?! Did that mean that they were getting married? Oh, my God, I am going to lose Ann! Then I knew straight away that I must do something drastic.

I left my apartment without even locking my front door. I took the lift down and headed straight for the MaryAnn Lodge. With quickened steps I rushed across the road up the slightly steep path. I used the side entrance where cars exited. The security guard probably didn’t see me. I almost tripped over the raised step meant for pedestrians. I went to the intercom and I pressed 0501, followed by the bell. 

I didn’t remember hearing anyone on the other side of the intercom. But the lift opened, and I saw a young man dressed in jeans coming out. He looked at me, but I did not greet him. It was not my habit to greet strangers. I stepped into the lift without giving the man a chance to get out first. My heart was beating with anxiety as the lift was going up to the fifth level. Once the lift door opened, I found unit 01 and rang the doorbell even though the door was slightly ajar. I waited for a while outside when I realized that the occupant was not coming to the door. 

I was brave enough to push open the front door. As I said, I was quite desperate. I stepped in. 

“Hello?” I enquired. 

“Have you forgotten something?” It was Anne’s voice. 

I took one step further in. This was the first time I saw the inside of the flat. On the right side was a kitchenette, and there were some fruits in a basket on the marble tabletop. A Burberry lamp hung over the tabletop, and I could see a small Christmas tree at the far end of the room. 

She has very nice ornaments. I thought to myself. 

The floor was littered with bits and pieces of cloth material, and sequins were everywhere. The kitchen countertop was about the only place that was spared from this disarray of remnants. I marvelled at the disorderly scene. Then I realized that the guy at the lift was her boyfriend. I could not tell if he was the same guy at the bay window with her that I had been watching. 

“No, it’s not him. It’s me, Mark.” I said with raised voice. 

Anne was inside her room, and I was wondering if I should walk in or stay outside in the living area enjoying the Christmas lights on the tree. The lights came on and off, alternating between blue and orange. Frankly, I would have preferred it not to flicker. I think Anne didn’t hear me, for she was still inside her room. So, I became bolder and walked towards the room …

I could see several photographs arranged neatly inside a large border hanging on both sides of the wall. Then I saw Anne, with her back facing me. She was wearing a tank top with a pair of loose pants. The top was navy and the pants were a floral pattern with navy background. She looked marvellous. This was the first time I saw Anne in casuals, and I must concede that she looked rather delicious. Her shoulders were bare, and I could see her cleavage when she turned around. 

I took a deep breath and at once I asked her, “Are you getting married?” 

“To whom?” came the reply from Anne. 

Then I fumbled. I was not supposed to have seen her in the wedding gown. That image was confined to a Peeping Tom across the street at the balcony. 

“Err …. your boyfriend told me just now.” 

“Oh, David, you mean?” Anne asked. 

“Yes, David.” 

“David is not my boyfriend. David is my partner, and we are NOT about to get married.” 

You would not believe how relieved I was at what I heard at that particular point in time. 

“There are pins and needles everywhere; you can come into my room and sit down on the bed.” 

I walked into Anne’s bedroom. Then I saw her: the girl in the wedding gown. It wasn’t Anne, but a mannequin the size of Anne. The mannequin was wearing the wedding gown and it fitted her nicely. The emerald green taffeta was lying quietly on the floor with the zipper opened. You must be crazy if you want to believe that I was more interested in the painting than in Anne. 

The painting showed a woman half-dressed, her make-up tools scattered all over the floor, her bent shoulders revealing almost her bust … 

It put my imagination to work … 

I moved into MaryAnn Lodge from that evening onwards. Four weeks later Anne and I got married. I cross-examined myself and asked why I made the decision to marry Anne, who was just a dress designer. Eileen was well qualified and educated. I had lived with Eileen for three years, refusing to tie the knot, and than there and then on that very night I had proposed to Anne. I could say that I was somewhat surprised that Anne said yes immediately. 

“You can now have the painting you like so much.” 

That was all Anne said after she accepted my engagement ring. Needless to say, we had sex on that very same night when I barged into her home. The ring cost six thousand dollars. The painting would have cost me another four if I had bought it over from Anne at the same price which she had paid. For now, I got both the art piece and the owner.

A bargain by all counts.

I live here ….

Chapter 1

I will stay in this attic now, if she moves I will know. This is a small house and I live here with her. There are three rooms to this house, one for her daughter, one for her granddaughter, and one for herself. I am only given this small bed, which is leaned against the window, so that if I open the curtains my body would be exposed. 

The flat is situated along the main road and I can hear the sound of the traffic at muffled levels, depending on the time of the day. At night it is slightly louder when you don’t hear the rest of the background noises. In the middle of the day you can hear the children playing in the background if you happen to be in the other part of the house. And early in the morning you can hear the loud chirping of the birds. The birds migrate and gather together to make a lot of noise so that if you use your imagination you might think that you are in the middle of a jungle. 

She doesn’t know who I am. She thinks that I am her daughter. Sometimes maybe even her granddaughter. Other times she calls me by my actual name “Mei”. Whenever she calls me “Mei” I will answer her immediately, loud enough for her to hear it and to register it at once. She is a little deaf but often I find that she can hear every word that I say. 

I have been speaking to her in my normal tone, not raising it to make it more audible. I often forget that she is an old woman for she looks like she is only in her early seventies. But her daughter tells me that she is already past eighty and suffering from dementia. And that is why I am here. 

I like old people. I find that they have a certain charm because they are somewhat detached from this world. News of natural disasters doesn’t seem to bother them, as though by the time the typhoon arrives they would no longer be around to see their houses destroyed. If you tell them that there is this new disease called the Ebola they would just ask you if you have gone for the vaccination. Nothing flusters them. They are as firm as rock. 

She asked for a glass of water. I went straight into the kitchen and I poured out a glass. She likes the crystal glass and would only drink from that. I have tried serving her with the ordinary plain plastic cups that we have here and she rejected my water. So I don’t think that she is suffering from dementia. 

I watched her finish her water, then I took the glass from her and I brought it to the sink to wash. There were at least half a dozen dishes at the sink, unwashed, and I am tempted to run the water and soap on them. But I told myself that I would do it later. When Celine her daughter has come back she would attend to it. 

Chapter 2

Celine is a middle-aged woman with spectacles. I describe her as such because her spectacles define her personality. She changes her spectacles according to her clothes. She has about seventy pairs of different colours and designs in her wardrobe and she matches one with her outfit every day. The spectacles I know are not cheap. Most of them I think cost at least three to four hundred dollars a pair. I made a quick calculation of the amount she would have spent and it came up to around twenty-five thousand dollars. Gosh! 

Compared to Celine, I think I look slightly better as I don’t need spectacles. But I don’t have a boyfriend. Celine seems to be engaged in an affair. I do not know whom she is dating but I know that the man seems to be very interested in her. Celine is not young; her daughter is already in the university. 

I want to go to the kitchen and wash up but I dare not. I am waiting for Celine to come back before I take a shower. The weather is hot and I could really change into something comfortable like a pair of shorts and a loose T-shirt. No one told me to dress in this white nursing uniform but I decided that I must wear it in order to remind myself that I am at work. In a home environment it is easy to forget that you are doing the job of a caregiver. 

I didn’t have to apply for this job. I was already looking after the old lady in the hospice before I came here. Then when it looked as though the old lady wasn’t going to die it was the most natural thing for her daughter to engage me to continue to care for her mother. It was easier when I had to look after the old woman in the hospice for the facilities are there. There were also nurses on duty who can relief me if I went to the toilet. I could take my shower at any time for instance. 

Now I look at the clock. It is only three p.m. and is another three hours before Celine arrives. I always look forward to her cherry greeting as she steps in. “Hello,” followed by “I am back!” she yells. Usually we don’t answer, we just notice her walking in and we continue with our activities. She has her own set of house keys. Celine takes off her shoes and she walks straight to her own room. She plugs the cable into her iPhone and she charges it. 

She does not switch on her computer; she collects her clothes then heads straight for the bathroom. I marvel at the speed with which she takes her shower. Within seconds she comes out refreshed and is ready for another long day at home. I call it a long day because the old lady doesn’t sleep early. She moves between the living and the dining rooms and she watches television. I have to pretend to be interested in the programs that she is following on the various channels. 

Chapter 3

I have followed Celine’s instruction to put everything on timetable and to run everything on schedule. It is as though the household were a plane running on autopilot. I am beginning to wonder if Celine wants to dispense with me. Once I finish compiling the entire timetable on how the household is being run, Celine can just use the list and hire someone else to take my place at no inconvenience to herself. 

All she needs to do is hand over my file and then the new housekeeper can take over. I feel a little uncomfortable at this. But Celine seems not to care if I am worried about it at all. Perhaps she is not thinking of replacing me, and hence it does not occur to her that I am feeling insecure. Maybe I haven’t raised any objections. I have only started working for her since April and it is only August now less than six months into the job. It is just time for settling in, still too early for a resignation. Probation is at least six months for most jobs at any organization. I decided to give Celine the benefit of the doubt. 

Tonight Celine ordered pizza from the Pizza Hut on the telephone. The operator told her it would arrive within forty-five minutes and I was told not to cook. Relieved I was, for by the time Celine came home it was already six-thirty and the beef wasn’t thawed yet. Today is Friday and we have run out of food. I was given Wednesday and Saturday to go to the market and I had bought just enough to last till tonight. 

By right I should have prepared the beef but I usually waited for Celine to give instructions before I take the food out from the fridge. So far she has given me the menu for Mondays and Tuesdays. On Monday nights she told me from now on it would be sweet and sour pork and fried Kang Kong (a Malay delicacy) and for Tuesday nights, Assam fish and broccoli with scallops. These were to be standard dishes until further notice. I know that once Celine is satisfied with my style of cooking the dish she would place it on set menu. This gives me less chance to manoeuvre. 

So I was keeping the beef for tomorrow Saturday’s lunch, in case there was no chance to go to the market. At least then there is still food in the fridge. I should have bought some chicken but then I ran out of money. Anyway, Celine tells me that I should always check with her first before I started to cook, as sometimes she may not come back for dinner. If this were the case, then all I need do is open one packet of instant noodles and add boiled water to it. 

I love instant noodles, especially the Korean ones. Their flavour is hot and spicy and it is enough to fill my stomach. I don’t eat much anyway. All I need is a cup of hot Japanese tea to accompany my meal and I am rejuvenated. Work here is not too demanding but needs a lot of initiative. I need to read the old lady and guess what she wants. She does not tell me.

Chapter 4

I like this job. Compared to my previous job at the hospital this is a much better environment. No nasty colleagues and no wicked supervisor who gives you work just before it is time to rest. My hours are relaxed; so long as the old lady has gone to bed, I can do anything I like. Housework can be left undone for days on end. Nobody tells me what to do except Celine. And Celine is always polite to me. She never scolds me or treats me like a maid, which basically I am, now with the kind of duties I am landed with. 

My official status in this household is that of a nurse but in effect I also perform the duties of a helper. Helpers are servants, but nursing is a profession. You have to go through a course in order to be qualified as a nurse but you don’t need to acquire any skills in order to be a housemaid. I am proud to be called a nurse but I am a little ashamed at being known as a maid. That was why I did not take on this job readily the moment Celine sounded me out. 

I prefer sick people to old people. Old people are not always sick. With sick people the fact that they are ill means that they are incapacitated and that makes them harmless. I grew up in a family of four. My mother disowned me at birth for she tells me that when she was pregnant with me my father met with a car accident and died, so I was a bad omen to her. My siblings hate me because of that and are always trying in every way to outsmart me. 

Whenever I have good news about anything they took it to my mother first so that I am being deprived of being the bearer of the good news. Apart from that they never speak to me. Decisions regarding birthday dinners and visiting of the relatives were always made without me and I am always told at the last minute. Sometimes not even told about it at all. Not surprisingly I wasn’t informed of the dinner celebration of my mother’s seventieth birthday. I had bought her two dozen pink carnations, her favorite flowers but when I arrived home from the florist I found that the vase which usually kept her flowers was broken. The carnations wilted away in the wrapper after one day. 

The next month, my mother passed away of liver poisoning. Dutifully I made payments for all the funeral arrangements although I wasn’t the one who planned for the entire ritual. My mother left me with nothing but the watch that my father gave her. When she was alive, she used to remark, designed to hurt, that she was looking for the time on this watch when my father failed to come home on time, and later found out that indeed he would never come home. “Time had stood still for me since”. 

I could understand her grief, as it was not just the departure of a husband, but also that of a shelter and provider. My mother never worked and she didn’t know how to earn a living. My eldest brother was about to enter university and because of that he had to go out and work and he enrolled as a police cadet. My mother often remarked that if not because of her fear in God she would have aborted me. 

I don’t grudge her for that. That is the way in which my family treats me. In their own subtle hurtful manner, they tell me that I shouldn’t have been around. That is why I put my entire mind into my job, and now this family. I never asked Celine if she had any siblings, it seems that she is the only child. 

Chapter 5

But I can see that she has someone else. Celine is not married now. I mean that she is not the one who makes decisions on most matters. She tells me one thing, and then she walks away. Half an hour later she comes back either to change her mind or to confirm it with me again, as though what she said earlier has no weight. Yes, Celine likes to make impromptu suggestions that are to be ignored. 

Between Celine and I there is no friction. Our roles are clear. She is the lady boss and I the subordinate. I don’t mind it even if her friend Steven, who lives downstairs, thinks that I am her maid. But actually I did mind it. That is why I made sure that I put on this white nursing uniform all the time to demonstrate that my role is that of a nurse, although housework is also part of my job. No, I don’t get paid extra as a housekeeper. My salary as a nurse is quite a substantial amount. Celine tells me that she will share the household chores with me. 

Like now, I am waiting for her to come home so that I can move away from the old lady and wash the cups and the dirty plates from this afternoon’s lunch. I am getting a little bored listening to the BBC. The news announcement has come on the second time on the same news events. 

It is good for the morale to be looking after sick people because they seem so helpless, being incapacitated by their illness. Old people fall within this category because they either cannot hear or that they cannot move around easily. Sometimes they are also forgetful. In a more severe form we call it dementia. There is also a disease called Alzheimer’s; I can’t quite distinguish between the two but I was told that the old lady suffers from one of the two. 

Frankly speaking I don’t think that she is ill at all, difficult maybe but not ill. She seems to be lucid all the time. And I am beginning to think that she calls me “Celine” deliberately. Last night I stayed by her and listened to one of the BBC plays until midnight and at the end of the story I asked her if she knew who the “uninvited guest” in the play was in order to test her. She answered very well, which means that she understood the plot from beginning to end. So her concentration lasted for three hours, which was remarkable. 

Chapter 6

Which reminds me, I am also supposed to do a report on the old lady’s sleeping hours. I can write down her waking hours and the time when she decides to go to bed. But times when she just dozes off it is difficult to pin down. I must do it more conscientiously. My salary is good and I don’t want to lose this job. But something nags at me, as though something bad is about to happen. I don’t know what it is but I am getting more and more uneasy as the days go by. For instance, Celine telling me to make a menu for the entire week and then repeating the same dishes the next week. And then why would she want to know exactly when her mother falls asleep? I put the thought aside and decided to talk to Celine about it tonight to ally my fears. 

Tonight Celine came home after we’ve had our dinner. It was a Monday night and so we were having the usual sweet and sour pork from the menu. Nothing unusual happened except that she was late, which was unusual. I toyed with the idea of telling Celine that we could use with a steam iron. But Celine stayed in the bedroom for quite a long while before she came out with a set of clothes to change into. I saw her holding the set of clothes; they were a pair of jeans and a long sleeve blouse, which means that she is going out again. 

It is not right of me to ask her where she is going, as I am just an employee. But she rarely went out at night, not after a long day at work. Often she is on the telephone with someone, or in front of her PC doing work. But this time Celine came home before midnight. 

Last Friday night the Pizza man came without fuss punctually at 7:30 p.m., within forty-five minutes of our placing the order. By now I recognize the deliveryman as the same Muslim guy who comes around to this area at Bukit Timah. He dresses in a bright red short sleeved shirt with the Pizza Hut logo and a pair of black trousers. I tried to take the box of pre-packed pizza from him but Celine rushed out from the bedroom and took the box from him directly and gave him the payment on the spot. 

He took the money and I could see that he was surprised that it was the exact change. The amount I saw later on was 17 dollars and 65 cents, which Celine prepared in advance. People don’t usually have that amount in small change. I saw Celine take the pizza away and put it on the dining table for the old lady who was just sitting down on one of the chairs. Celine had told me to leave this dinning chair always pulled out for her mother so that she could sit on it without having the trouble to pull it out first. I found it very thoughtful of Celine.

Chapter 7

There are many ways in which Celine manages the household, which made me admire her. I have come to the conclusion that she is a very organized person. She seems to run her life according to a pre-set timetable and she prepares a schedule for every event. I wonder if you could call her after 10:00 p.m. and invite her out for a heart-to-heart talk at the bar. And yes you could. There was one night that Jonathan rang and she left almost immediately after his call. 

Jonathan is the guy whom Celine talks with over the phone almost every night. I have not met him in person and so I do not know what he looks like. I guess him to be a man of about forty and well educated. On Valentine’s day I saw Celine come home with a bunch of peach roses and later on when she went for her shower I was curious enough to keep at it and I found this name “Jonathan” on the card stuck to the stems. I wished someone would give me something like that too. But that does not seem to be my luck. 

There was something odd about the Pizza man and Celine. It seems that Celine always had the exact change for him, and Celine does not allow me to accept delivery of the fast food. I noticed that instead of having her shower immediately after she comes home, which is her habit, Celine sat by the living room and waited until after the man has come and gone before she went into her shower. So Celine remembers that every Friday night we have pizza for dinner and she was always home on time on Fridays at before 6:30 p.m. 

The flowers, which Jonathan gave Celine has wilted and I was told by Celine to go out and buy a vase. “Not too tall and square,” Celine specified. Vases are usually round and cylindrical, square ones are hard to find. Nevertheless, I managed to get one for her at 46 dollars. I made her pay for it, as I know that it was meant for Jonathan’s roses and frankly items like this are too extravagant for me. In my mother’s house we never had fresh flowers, or flowers for that matter. I am envious of Celine my boss. 

Since then the flowers came at regular intervals. “Mom likes peach coloured roses,” Celine remarked and she put the vase in the old lady’s room. Three days later Celine went on the Internet and placed a standing order for ten stalks of roses every week for one year. I saw her make the online payment when I peeped into her computer screen when I was supposed to be giving her a cup of hot green tea. My boss likes Japanese tea as much as I do. 

As I was always curious as to Celine’s activities, I linger a while to enjoy the nice cool breeze of her air-conditioning. I wished that I could change places with her, that I led hers and she led mine. I very much want to change out of this set of nursing uniform and wear the fashionable dresses that would make me look glamorous. Although I am not pretty I think I fare better than Celine, with and without makeup. For one I don’t wear spectacles. 

“Maybe Celine thinks that I am interested in the Pizza man,” I told myself. 

Otherwise why would she intercept me whenever I want to deal with the guy? It is just a matter of collecting the dinner and sending the guy off. And in any case, isn’t she involved with Jonathan? No, Celine doesn’t tell me about her love affairs, she doesn’t even talk to her mother at all. Most of the time the atmosphere is silent and awkward, except when the television set is on.

Chapter 8

The television comes with a large LCD display and dominates the entire living area. I would love to lower the volume in case it is too loud for the neighbours. But Celine told me not to change the settings on the remote control. So I usually turn on the television and then leave the remote control with the old lady and let her use it to change the channels and to turn it on and off. These days nobody uses the on-off power switch anymore. 

The days go by and the household is getting more and more organized. The menu from Mondays to Sundays has been set and I know exactly what to cook for the three of us. Fridays the Pizza man comes and we eat out of the box. Celine arrives home at between 6:00 and 6:30 p.m. and she does not go out anymore. Jonathan hasn’t been calling since he bought her the roses. And the old lady watches television if she is not asleep on the chair. Whenever I find that she has fallen asleep on the sofa I would wake her up and ask her to go and lie down on the bed, to catch a good proper snooze. 

Often I wish that I could change the menu, or get the Kentucky Fried Chicken man to come instead of the Pizza man, to change out of the monotony of things. Celine now has my salary increased and paid directly from her bank account instead of giving me a check, thus giving me the indication that my salary will not be raised for at least sometime. As I said, I’d rather work here than in the hospice. I have only just one patient to contend with. But that is also no good, as I am solely responsible for the wellbeing of the old lady. 

If something bad happens to her I am the first one to be blamed. Thank God she has been healthy so far. And I have given up trying to determine if she can remember who I am. If she thinks that I am Celine her daughter that means that she is pleased with me, and if she calls me by her granddaughter’s name I take it that I looked too young that day. So I have dropped the habit of pinning my name tag with my name “Mei” onto my white nursing uniform. And on my first anniversary April 6, I have stopped wearing my working clothes and instead I put on my casual outfit. That day, I waited anxiously for Celine after work to see me in an ordinary yellow T-shirt and jeans. She took no notice of me.

Chapter 9

I have been saving up quite a bit of money. I do not take my rest day since a year ago, as I have no home to go to. My mother is deceased and she was the only person whom I cared about in my family. As I mentioned, my siblings and I have very poor relations and I would be surprised if anyone of them rang me up for a meeting. I treat Celine and the old lady as family and like them I am looking forward to the return of Celine’s daughter, the old lady’s granddaughter, from the U.S. I was told that her parents divorced when she was a year old. Celine never makes any reference to her ex-husband.

In any case, I know that Jonathan is her boyfriend now. But lately there is no sign of Jonathan. I can see Celine talking on the telephone every night as before and I am sure that it is Jonathan on the other end. But my boss’s love affair is none of my business. So long as he doesn’t call her out late at night after dinner I don’t really care. If she goes out late at night I would have to wait for her to return before I could lock up and go to bed. 

Tonight is Friday night again and I am glad I did not have to cook. I sat down by the old lady and waited for her to finish her glass of water before I poured her another one. I made sure she drinks enough water for 70% of our body constitution is made of water. Without water we cannot survive. So the old lady is given water throughout the day, apart from her regular meals. 

Soon Celine will be home and she would take care of the Pizza man. My job is simple today. We eat out of the box so all I needed to do was to throw the box away and clear away the Japanese tea that I serve for dinner. I felt quite relaxed so when Celine came home I didn’t even take notice. The television was on and the screen was flashing news of the Ebola crises. Many people are told to shun travel. 

I thought I heard the water run in the shower. And I thought I saw a man in red T-shirt and black pants come and go. Then I saw the box of pizza on the dining table. This doesn’t seem congruous. If Celine had accepted the pizza, then she couldn’t have been bathing at the same time. Who paid the deliveryman? The old lady was asleep in her room. As usual she dozed off at 5:00 p.m. It would be cruel to wake her up just to have her meal. Old people need sleep and if I were hungry I could start eating first. But it is not polite to do so. 

And so I waited. I decided to turn on the television, to let the sound from the television to gently wake up the old lady. I know I am not supposed to adjust the volume so I went to shut the door in case it is too loud for the neighbours. Then I realized something strange. The door should not have been opened. 

Why was it unlocked? Oh yes, the Pizza man came. But I thought he was supposed to be the same guy? The one who usually delivered pizza was not the same one whom I saw just now. This guy was not Malay looking. That seems strange. And the water in the shower is still running, shouldn’t Celine have finished her bath by now? Slowly I let the sound of the smooth running of the water draw me to the bathroom, and something made me knock on the door. 

“Are you alright?” I spoke in a raised voice, above the sound of the running water in case she couldn’t hear me. 

I found the door slightly ajar, which was unusual if someone was bathing so I pushed it open a little, then a little more.No one was inside!

Celine has left. That was the first thought that occurred to me. This woman has left her mother with me, and she has run off with the Pizza man. Then I thought that it could not have been the Pizza man, it must have been Jonathan. Celine created a pattern whereby someone comes around every Friday night so that when Jonathan himself came I won’t have been alarmed. She needed Jonathan to help her with the luggage. 

Jonathan delivered the pizza personally tonight and collected Celine at the same time. Whatever it is, I am now left with the old lady in this house. The clock on the wall showed 8:20 p.m. The food is cold by now. I must have waited for at least an hour before the realization took effect. I have been deserted. 

Slowly I shut the front door and locked it at the same time. Then I went into Celine’s room to tidy up. I know that she would leave a note or something for me. True enough, there was a piece of pink paper with some words scribbled on it: 

“I have left with Jonathan. Don’t tell mom. You can take my place from now on. I will be back for Christmas.” 

Chapter 10

This was only April. The first thing I did was to check on her spectacles. Most of the seventy pairs were gone. In slow motion I unfolded her nice fluffy quilt and I climbed underneath to lie down for a while to enjoy to snuggly feeling. Then I took the remote control and turned on the air-conditioning. 

The temperature has always been set to 22 degrees C. The cool air satisfied me. And then I got up and I walked straight to the old lady, who has the remote control of the television by her side. I took the little gadget and I lowered the volume. If the television had not been so loud I might have heard the Pizza man come and go. I might even have met Jonathan and seen what he looks like. But would it have prevented him from taking Celine away? 

No, I do not regret any of this. As I said before, I don’t have a family. This benign old lady is my family now. Thank God she didn’t die in the hospice. 

Today is Boxing Day, if Celine is to return she would have been here by now. And I am happy that she did not. Come next April my second anniversary at this job I am going to get myself baptized as a Catholic and I am going to give myself the Christian name “Celine”. Who knows? Celine may never come back. 

I am sure that in Jonathan she has found a new lease of life. They have probably gone straight to the U.S. from Singapore to meet with Celine’s daughter. And now I have once again found my mother, the mother that I have always wanted, one that accepts me as I am and never blames me for her husband’s death. 

The fact that this old lady also has half a million dollars in her savings account is immaterial.

Jack is missing here ….

Jack and I often discuss the best way to die. The cause of death ranges from, for unnatural death, accident, execution, homicide, misadventure, suicide, terrorism, war and abortion. For death by natural causes I was told that old age is not a scientifically recognized cause of death. 

So, if you find that your wife is sleeping with another man and you kill her, it is classified as “unnatural death” in the coroner’s inquiry. And if your ninety-nine-old mother went to bed before midnight and you woke up in the morning and found that she has stopped breathing you can’t say that it is natural.

Jack and I are colleagues. We work at this private investigation agency. I shall not reveal the name because I am going to tell you this story. This story belongs to me. It is my own story and I am glad that I am still alive to tell this. 

During lunch, Jack and I talk about many things. One time he even go so far as to tell me, “When I stand in front of the washing machine and I turn it on, it works, when I stand in front of the microwave oven, it works; but when I stand in front of my wife sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t, I don’t know why.” Jack is often exasperated with his wife. 

I first come to know of this agency through the “Classified Ads”. I want to work there at the agency because I think the scope of the job would be very interesting. Imagine being a private eye, you are being paid to spy on other people. So, I tell my husband, who is reading the newspapers at the time, that I want this job badly.

I am a housewife and he doesn’t really want me to work. I ring for an interview. Two men interview me. Jack isn’t one of them. The fact that there is a mannequin in the conference room where I am interviewed says nothing about the company except to give me a creepy feeling. 

I am not too sure why I am eventually picked for the job, but I know that my looks matters t a lot. I mean, not that I was pretty or what. It is that I look very ordinary. To be a private eye you must have a nondescript face, a kind of face where people look at you and would not want to take a look at you a second time. 

When Mr. Singham come into the conference room to interview me the first thing he says to me is, “This you?” showing me my picture in the resume, which I have submitted. 

I know that this isn’t the end of the selection. Mr. Singham has two other candidates waiting for him outside the conference room to be interviewed. The application is open until 9 April and today is only the 7th. They may decide to wait until after the 9th to make the final decision. 

But Mr. Singham’s decision is based on Mr. Wong’s choice as I am told after I am given the job. At the interview I promise both Mr. Singham and Mr. Wong seven days a week and twenty-four hours a day. To this end I also give them my phone number so that is how I got the job. 

“You work eight hours a day, forty-four hours a week.”

“We begin at 8:30 a.m. and we end at 5:00 p.m., lunch is from 12:30 p.m. and we start again at 1:30 p.m. You may be required to work at night because of the nature of the job. However, you will be given double your hourly rate when you report to work at night.” 

I ask Mr. Wong if I could wear jeans during weekdays and he nods his head approvingly, “You are supposed to wear jeans,” he says, 

“As a PI you must look as casual as possible but not too casual,” he adds, 

“but you shouldn’t be wearing slippers, high-heeled sandals are alright.” 

I am told before that if you can’t finish your tasks during office hours you are a lousy worker. 

“How long am I supposed to take for each assignment?” I ask. 

“It could be weeks, or even months, so long as you procure the evidence.” 

“Do I need to buy my own camera?” I ask. 

“No, you sit in the office and wait for the instruction.” 

“What kind of instruction?” I ask again. 

“You’ll see,” and with that he ends the conversation. I gather that if I want the job I had better keep quiet. 

I am a night person. In the mornings I have to drop by the coffee house at the ground floor for a cup of coffee before I start the day. 

Once I get the phone call from Miss. Suzie, I know that I am in. “See you on the 10th of April,” she tells me over the phone. I am elated. After I put the phone down, I immediately go into action. 

I organize all my clothes the ones for rainy days I keep them all in a basket and as I throw open the wardrobe, I decide on the black Gucci bag as it has many pockets and is more functional. I find my Jack and Jill sunglasses from the drawer and I put it on to see if the frame still fits nicely. To be a private eye a pair of sunglasses is a necessary tool for the trade. 

Whereas Mr. Wong has a pair of sheepish eyes, Mr. Lee has a strong physique. By that I mean that you see that he is tough and you conclude that he can withstand cold weather and long walks. Not surprisingly both of them choose their profession in the private investigation industry. 

On the first day I start work I pack my handphone, my purse, my house keys, my pouch, and a notebook with a pen, and I carry a denim jacket with my bag. My bag is the Gucci that I picked. I wear a dress and then after looking into the full-length mirror I take it off and change into a pair of black pants and a black silk blouse. I am glad that I could still fit into them. 

I am told to be there on 10 April. I arrive at 8:15 a.m. sharp and I make sure that the security guard at the ground floor lobby sees me. I try to tell him that I am a new staff to one of the tenants here in the building but he ignores me completely. Then I give the agency fifteen minutes to open. It is officially open from 8:30 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. 

I don’t want to be late on my first day at work. First impressions always count. So far, I have given the employers the idea that I am a hard worker. And two days ago, I bought two silk blouses and they cost one hundred and fifty dollars each. I am hoping that my salary can cover the capital outlay soon. 

The first person I meet on the fifth floor is Jack. I am not introduced to him yet, so I just smile at him. He merely says Hi and he promptly go inside the conference room leaving me standing by the reception. My first impression of Jack is that he is about thirty and married with at least one kid. He looks a family man to me. 

Another guy was sitting at the reception and I am glad that he does not seemed to be interested in me. Later I find out that his name is Bobby. It seems that the agency take no notice that I am reporting in today. 

Three minutes later Jack comes out and he tells me to go into the conference room and sit down next to him. I merely sit there watching him type. When I become restless, I stand up and ask him whether I could have a cup of coffee. 

“You can use the guests cup today, but tomorrow please bring your own.”

I am annoyed with myself that I haven’t prepared a mug to bring in today. As Jack takes one from a set of six, he orders, “Don’t break it,” before he promptly leave me standing in the kitchen. 

The coffee percolator is brewing the powder and I can smell the flavour of the Arabian coffee. “Is it the Arabian brew?” I ask. 

No reply come so I stand there and wait until the coffee is ready. I pour the brown liquid into the cup and find that I need milk as well but this time I dare not disturb Jack again.

I simply open the fridge to look for fresh milk. There is none. So, I bring the coffee back to my seat and starts sipping the black coffee at regular intervals until it is time for lunch. It is bitter and for the first time in my life I don’t like coffee. 

I am completely ignored for the first half of the day and I don’t know when I could have my lunch. During the morning I find out that the wall clock is slow by ten minutes and that Jack is following the hour on his PC. He gets up from his chair at twelve twenty by the time on the wall and then goes to the back to see Miss Suzie. 

I could hear them talking but I couldn’t decipher the content of the conversation. After a while Jack comes back and asks me to follow him out for lunch. I leave my handphone on the table and forget to bring it out with me. The handphone is the latest iPhone 5S series and very expensive. “Never mind, next time I call you on the handphone to go out for lunch, so you won’t forget.” Jack is kind. 

After four days I realize that my work is just typing the reports, which does not involve any field jobs. I am still not properly acquainted with the other colleague by the name of Bobby who comes in to change the clothes on the mannequin every day after lunch. Work becomes boring so I ask to be given field jobs. 

During this time, I learn that a “subject” would be the person whom we are engaged to spy on, and the “suspect” would be the person who is related to the “subject” usually by way of having an affair. The number of people having an affair when I start counting the number of files that I am been given shocks me. Clients need not give their real names. 

The firm has recently taken on the case of Paul. Paul our client suspects that his wife Monica is having an affair with another man and before he files for divorce, he wants clear evidence of adultery. By that he means that he wants direct evidence and not circumstantial evidence. So far Bobby has only been able to produce pictures of his wife Monica having coffee with a man at the Cluny Hotel in the mornings. 

The man is usually reading the newspapers and you can’t really see his face hidden behind the pages in the pictures. The firm has spent a substantial amount of money on getting Bobby to arrive at the hotel to have breakfast at the same time. Each time the subject Monica would pay for the bill and walk to the concierge to hand over the keys at the counter leaving the man still sitting at the table with the newspapers. 

We try to find out the room number but are unable to do so. We even took a picture of Monica holding the key card and tried to zoom in on the number on the magnetic access card, but the image is blurred. 

What we need is the information on a meeting between the lovers for us to prepare ourselves at the scene to do some video-taping, or at least a camera shot of the two going into a hotel room. So far, the evidence we gathered is nothing more than a spouse’s unfounded suspicion. We need a continuous link to provide the chain of causation to prove that the two of them, Monica and the man reading the newspapers, actually went up into the service apartment for sex. 

The fact that a man and a woman are having breakfast together does not imply that they slept together the night before. You could only infer that they might be having breakfast together again tomorrow. 

As usual Jack has lunch with me today. 

Out of the blue Jack asks me, “Do you know why Mr. Singham has this mannequin in the conference room?” 

“No,” I say, waiting for him to tell me. 

“Mr. Singham’s wife ran away with another man.” 

“What?” I am very shocked. 

“Yeah, that was why he has this mannequin in the room, to replace her.” Jack elaborates. 

“Was Mr. Singham very heart broken?” I am curious. And actually, I am beginning to find Mr. Singham a little funny. 

“Obviously,” “How did he find out?” I wanted more gossip. But Jack stops short and continue with his food. 

I don’t know that Jack is in love with me until we are at night together doing one of the field trips. He tells me that he has been feeling this way for me for a long time now. I am flabbergasted, as I do not expect this to come. He knows very well that I am married, what is he expecting to get out of me? I want to ask him. Jack is thirty-four whereas I am forty-three. All along I have thought Jack a safe male companion because of the age gap. 

Now that this has happened, either I accept Jack’s advances, or I resign. This job is getting interesting. But the trouble is that I am also infatuated with Jack, something I myself have not want to face. So, I do not turn Jack away at once. I merely tell him to put his feelings on hold. I want to see what happens to my own marriage. I have always been very frustrated with my husband’s sullen character. He does nothing but reads the newspapers whenever I am around. 

My husband does not know that I have been going out at night. To work on this Paul file, we have to station ourselves at the vicinity of the Cluny Hotel early enough before the subject and the suspect arrive, so that we could follow them from then on. This is called “Project Planning”. Once Jack or I spot either one of them we are supposed to go up to the concierge to try and check into one of the rooms on the same floor. 

If we succeed, we might be able to take a snapshot of the lovers coming out from the same room. This is still circumstantial, but it is better than nothing. Bobby has seen the layout of the premises by pretending that he wants to book a room there for three months. By now Bobby is closely acquainted with the concierge manager. The convenient thing is that the Cluny Hotel is just two blocks away from our firm. 

Bobby is good at these things. In his case, Jack tells me, he slept with his bosses’ secretary while he was still married, and after three years his wife divorced him. The funny thing is that his wife just left their matrimonial home one night and never returned. He couldn’t careless as he already has this other woman. Subsequently, his wife suddenly reappeared with her lawyer’s letter and filed for divorce on the ground of a three-year separation. 

This morning as I come in, I found that the conference room door is shut. It is usually left ajar so that we could go in to look for either Mr. Singham or Mr. Wong if they are inside. I am not sure if it meant that a client is inside, so I go closer and then I hear a voice say, 

“Are you sure?” this seems to be Mr. Singham’s voice.

Then the sound of a chair being pulled to one side, “Sit down, I heard Mr. Singham again. 

Before I could walk away, Mr. Wong comes out of the room and he orders me to go to the kitchen to get a drink for the guest. 

“How could this happen?” as I am walking away, I hear Mr. Singham asking. 

I want to stay behind to listen to the full story, but I have to fetch the drink for Mr. Wong’s guest. I quickly go into action so that I could come back and follow up. I take out one cup from the set of six. The pattern has some cherries on it, but I was in no mood to admire it. And then I pour coffee that has already been brewed for drinking. I add some coffee mate, which Jack teaches me to get from inside the cabinet. 

As I bring the beverage back to the conference room, I knock on the door. 

“Come in,” is Mr. Singham. 

I am shocked to find someone sitting on a chaise lounge, just beside the mannequin. The mannequin doesn’t look so eerie this time maybe because Bobby has changed her sarong into a cheongsam. I place the cup and saucer on the table in front of the man, careful not to spill the liquid. “Meet our client Mr. Paul”, Mr. Wong tries to introduce us.

Evidence of the night’s stay with the man and Monica as his guest has been procured. Bobby has befriended one of the concierge managers and with a significant sum the concierge manager gave him a copy of the hotel bill with the man’s name on it and the signature of Monica on the use of the access card. Nothing could be clearer than that. Nobody knows why the subject signed with her full name “Monica”. 

When I see the name on the hotel bill I am shocked beyond belief. It has the name “Simon Wong and guest”. It turns out that the man is my husband the suspect behind the newspapers. With the NRIC number S6899232C I know beyond reasonable doubt that Simon Wong is not married to Monica because he is married to me. 

In the conference room Miss. Suzie was busy taking down notes. I find my chair and quickly sit down to join in that part of the conversation that I have missed. I almost tip over Jack’s mug, wondering what bringsPaul here. 

So, my husband is having an affair with another woman. All this while when I am working with Jack he is sleeping with another woman. And all along I have thought that Simon does not mind my working after midnight. The conclusion is that Simon leaves the house after I have left for overtime work to have a rendezvous with Monica. 

Luckily, I have told Jack to give me time to think over our relationship. Shall I continue to stay on in the marriage? Shall I forgive my husband? Or shall I simply file for divorce? If I were divorced would Jack divorce his wife too? 

I know that I have been sneaking out of the house at midnight coming into the office to work. But I myself have not committed adultery so my conscious is clear. But I have no idea if my husband knows about Jack and I. Have I been neglecting him? The clock on the wall is still slow and I am wondering if I have to sit here longer to torture myself. 

As Jack is typing away, I could see that it is already 12:30 p.m. on his PC. Then I see Jack picks up his handphone and tap on it. My handphone rings. I excuse myself and get up from my chair. Jack is turning off his PC. As I am leaving the conference room, I hear Paul asking Miss. Suzie. 

“Where are they going?” 

“Jack and Jill are going out for lunch.” Comes Suzie’s reply. 

At lunch I know that Jack will complain to me about his wife again, and then I am wondering if he knows that my husband is the suspect in this entire Paul file. Should I tell him about it? I feel very sorry for myself now that I may be forced to make a decision. I have been procrastinating my relationship with Jack for a long time. If my husband is unfaithful, I must make a clean break at once. 

I turn to Jack and ask him a hypothetical question. 

“What happens if your spouse is sleeping with another person?” I asked. 

“Depends. The man with another woman or the woman with another man?” 

“Both,” I said. 

“If I were you, I would file for divorce,” comes Jack’s reply. 

“You mean you know that this man is my husband?” I ask Jack. 

Jack walks a little faster so that I would need to catch up with him if I want to pursue the topic. My heart is still unsure as I am wondering what to make of the situation that has been presented to me so far. I am used to being married to Simon and I like the status of being married. 

To divorce Simon all I need do is use the same materials gathered on the Paul file and produce it at the Family Court. But then I could never see myself as a third party in Jack’s marriage. I am still reluctant to have an affair with Jack. Even if I were divorced, I should not be another man’s mistress. As I walk my thoughts are racing. 

Once I catch up with Jack, he holds my hand. And as he grabs me tight, he leads me into the Cluny Hotel. With efficacy he produces his passport at the concierge and gives the man at the counter the number of guests as “one”. I am hypnotized as I follow Jack blindly. Then I see him take his ring out and put it into his breast pocket. 

“I have never been married, I have been lying to you all along, and I tried to pretend that I was married because I did not want to fall in love again. Until I found you, Jill.” 

My mission now is not to determine whether my clients have committed adultery, but rather to determine whether Jack was telling me the truth when he said that he wasn’t married before. Do I have time to find out the truth before I walked into the Cluny Hotel with him?

Who is her heart after?

Chapter 1

A foster mother might not necessarily know the father of her adopted child, but every mother sure darn knows who the father of her child is. 

And a journey is only pleasant if you have someone waiting for you at the other side. 

Chapter 2

This was about the fifth time that Suzie was walking into this building at Peak Centre along Canton Street in the past five days, which meant that she had been coming in here every day, unless she came in here twice or three times in a day. Nobody knew. 

A lot of shops were here. But there was something very disorganized about this shopping centre. There was no interior at all. Jewellery shops stood side by side with dried goods store and every other shop was a travel agency. There was even a fortune teller in the middle of nowhere. 

“At least the walls ought to be painted,” Suzie thought to herself. 

The other uncoordinated feature about the Peak Centre was that there was no one main entrance. You could come in from the side by the food stalls or you could enter from the side where just outside was the taxi stand. 

No one told Suzie to come here. It was just that what she wanted to do this was the place to do it. Suzie wanted to book herself on a group tour to Europe. This was summer time and the weather was not so cold there. 

Suzie lived in a country where the weather was hot all year around. The temperature ranged between 25 degrees Celsius and 34 at its highest. Almost every building had air-conditioning and she didn’t get typhoons or earthquakes. At the most it rained three consecutive days and even then the weatherman complained that the rainfall was insufficient for the demand in consumption. 

The higher demand had caused an increase in water costs. Water was drawn from her neighbours and the country managed water shortages year after year. You could call this increase in water costs a rationing. The motto seemed to be that: if you can afford it, why not? 

After the taxi dropped Suzie at the taxi stand, she walked out without getting a receipt from the driver. This was her habit, as Suzie did not have to give an account of her expenditure to anyone. Suzie was single so there was no joint account holder. Right now she was just happy where she was. 

Today she just thought of going away for a break. Suzie didn’t know when Norman Lee was going to propose, if at all. 

Chapter 3

Last night Suzie just went into the website of the Registry of Marriages and couldn’t find Norman Lee’s name so that meant that he was still single. He was thirty-one and not in a hurry to get married, according to him. Suzie had gone to Maria Sofia a clairvoyant lady and consulted her. She prayed in her own tongues and discerned for Suzie that this man by the name of Norman Lee will marry her, by hook or by crook, but that Maria did not know when. 

So Suzie was very sure of herself and therefore she came to this Peak Centre. This building housed many travel agencies. They all offered similar services. Suzie had no idea which one offered a better deal. If you wanted to go to China, they all ran China tours. If you wanted a European tour, every agency did it too. The difference lay in the departure dates. 

But even then they were around the same dates and the prices were very competitive. Suzie didn’t feel good whenever she walked in. That was because her brains were not allowed to use logic. Suzie had no idea which was the best agency. And there was no formula on which she could use. There were no cheapest, best dates, or best itinerary agency. You simply walked around and chanced into one of them. You made some enquiries and then you walked out. 

For someone who hadn’t really decided on her destination, dates, and costs, it was confusing and fruitless. But today as Suzie walked in she told herself that she must make a booking. She had just come from Maria Sofia and that lady told her that she was going to meet someone on this trip, that this was the only chance of meeting another man, and that if she didn’t it would have been too late for her. 

Chapter 4

Maria Sofia said that in her life she got only two chances of marriage and time was running out for this first chance. So yes, Suzie was hoping to meet someone on this trip and get hitched. But she had no idea whom he was, where he came from, and where he was going for holiday and when he was going. Suzie was just calling on Lady Luck. 

As she walked, Suzie looked up and there she saw the words Sesame Holidays. Nice name but she was inside before. No result. There were several vacancies on this tour and she gathered that it was not so popular. In the other one two shops away the Mable Tours the departure dates were not even fixed. 

The customer service officer a Ms Hazel at  Sesame Holidays again suggested Palestine but Suzie hesitated to be the first who placed a deposit. The tour was empty and then they needed at least twelve confirmed passengers to depart. 

Also the write-up on the brochure for Palestine looked interesting. There was no nation called Palestine. There were proposals for establishing an independent State of Palestine, and because of this there was much tension in this Palestinian territories, which included parts of the West Bank and all of the Gaza Strip. 

For reasons best known to herself, Ms Hazel kept selling this tour package to Suzie. 

“You travel via Israel and land at Tel Aviv. The Gaza International Airport is currently closed. But it is worth visiting as you could visit Israel’s capital city Jerusalem as well as the famous biblical city of Bethlehem. On Manger Square you could spend some time worshipping at the Church of Nativity. This fortified church is built on top of the cave in which Jesus is allegedly born.” 

Suzie decided to try her luck. The warning Maria Sofia gave she could not put it out of her mind. She had been dating Norman Lee for close to five years now since she was twenty-five. They dated on and off and it was understood that the two of them would marry one day. But when? 

Chapter 5

The pilot made an announcement just before his quick landing. Taxing was a cruise and a little bit too long. Maybe the airport was large. Suzie waited at her seat then only stood up when her neighbour got to the isle. The seat between them was empty so they shared the space throughout the journey. They both used the tray table from the back of the front seat which folded down whilst Suzie put her pillow on the recliner. They were careful not to tread on each other’s space. 

“Let me help you,” as Suzie was trying to lift her heavy hand luggage her neighbour said. 

The stewardess saw and quickly came to their rescue. Suzie wished the stewardess hadn’t come. But the neighbour managed to do the chore before this stewardess could do anything. 

“Thanks,” Suzie gave a grateful smile when he brought the luggage down. 

Then they both waited in line for the aircraft door to be opened to let the passengers out. 

Once Suzie arrived at the arrival hall she picked up her luggage and looked for the tour group leader. She remembered having met him at the tour agency and that he was a stout man with a moustache, and without spectacles. Suzie walked around. She could see many people greeting their loved ones and she was getting a little worried.

I hadn’t made any contingency plans. If the group didn’t materialize what should I do?

Ben Gurion Airport was a small airport. Once the group of people arriving cleared Suzie could see the airport workers walking around in their casual shirts and pants. She could only guess that they were not airport passengers by the fact that they didn’t seem to have any purposeful activity. It was like they were loitering around. So was Suzie. 

So that Suzie tried to go to the newsstand to pick up a newspaper but realized that she didn’t have the local currency yet, which was very careless of her. So she looked around for the exchange bureau. 

“A penny for your thoughts?” a man came up behind her.

He spoke English so Suzie knew that he came from her part of the world. Glad to find company she turned around quickly. It was her neighbour! 

“You haven’t found your friend?” he asked. 

Suzie realized that she had completely forgotten about him and so she tried to apologize, but then it wasn’t her duty to follow him.

I am not his keeper. 

“Oh, sorry, I forgot about you, your friends haven’t arrived?” Suzie asked in return. 

The man didn’t answer but merely took over the luggage from her hand and gave it a push. She saw that he only had an overnight bag. He looked like a frequent traveller. 

Chapter 6

Suzie had no idea why the tour leader still hadn’t found her and she still hadn’t seen any Singaporeans yet. The population in this hall was generally of a darker skin. She could see that the city was dilapidated and in the mist of confrontation. Before she arrived here she saw pictures on the websites but she didn’t expect it to be so real. 

Woman was getting upset. She had her return ticket with her, which she couldn’t use until 3 March. And she had no clue where the airline office was even if she wanted to change her departure date to leave from Palestine straight away. Without the comfort of a tour bus and the familiarity of Singaporeans around her, she felt completely lost. She had no choice now but to rely on this kind soul the man beside her now. 

At least I have already encountered him on the flight. 

Suzie remembered that the tour group was supposed to check in at the Wallace Hotel at Bethlehem Palestine but she had no idea where it was. 

The people around here carried with them a kind of sullen look. They seemed oppressed and waiting to go into a fight at any time. 

I would not go up to any one of them to make enquiries. In any case I  don’t think they speak my language.

Then Suzie caught sight of a man in a loose white T-shirt and black pants staring at her. He was standing next to a pillar and he had deep-set eyes, with a distant look, as though thinking of something else at the same time. Suzie could not be sure if he was actually looking at her. 

No, I could not pluck up the courage and walk away from my neighbour, this familiar man, and got up to the unknown locals and ask them where the hotel was.

They didn’t smile and they had no expression on their faces. Or maybe Suzie was a foreigner she couldn’t read their minds. It was all very new. 

At this point in time Suzie realized that she must make a quick decision. 

Either I follow him for the rest of the day, or I tell him to go away and continue to wait for my absent tour group. If I follow him from here, then I break away from the tour and then the rest of my stay here in Palestine would be entirely his call. 

As she was thinking, her neighbour had already hailed a car, with a swift move he checked both their luggage into the back seat and he showed the driver a map. The bearded man muttered something and he brought the engine to a start. The two of them both jerked a little and Suzie and neighbour looked at each other in agreement. 

“The guy didn’t seem to like his job,” Suzie said aloud. 

The neighbour gave her a look as though to tell her to keep quiet, “be careful he understands English,” he said softly. 

Suzie quickly shut her mouth and tried to enjoy the scenery. There wasn’t much to see at all. It was just an impression of an old civilization in a Muslim country. By this time Suzie already felt that she could have followed the news on television and missed this adventure. It was just beginning to look boringly dangerous. The grass was dry and the plants were malnourished. No street lamps and she wondered if it was safe out at night. 

In Singapore the pride was that any woman could be safe out even after midnight. 

Chapter 7

The journey was long enough for Suzie to wonder if they had been taken in for a ride, or on the wrong track. But fact was that there seemed to be only one direction from the airport on the muddy road. So the driver must be taking them to the hotel. She started to think if it were five-star or four-star when they stopped in front of a house. 

The driver came to a halt when he arrived at a building which was completely walled off. 

“So this was it.” Suzie thought to herself.  

The hotel was very small; it was just a large house with several rooms. Suzie didn’t know how many rooms there were but it looked very small. She dumped her luggage in front of the concierge and gave the woman her name. The neighbour asked for a “presidential suite” and she heard the concierge said U.S. ninety. 

“If you don’t’ want, we can do U.S. seventy,” the concierge offered. 

“You can check in now and leave before sunset, we have another 700 people coming and we are always full.” 

At this point in time Suzie knew that her life depended on God and Him alone. No one was here to help her if her neighbour connived with the locals to cheat her or do harm to her. If she died in Palestine the office would know only after the holiday when she didn’t report back to work. They wouldn’t even be able to find her body. The only sensible thing to do now was to give this neighbour his best interpretation and be of use to him. 

Suzie tried to think where he came from. He spoke English like he came from Hong Kong. If she were lucky he might even be a fellow Singaporean. 

The hotel concierge asked, “Just the two of you?” 

“Yes,” the neighbour said, 

“Just the two of us,” and then he gave the lady his passport. 

It was bright red, and when the concierge flipped it open the biodata showed his name as Daniel Lee. 

“Are you Singaporean?” Suzie just wanted to start conversation. 

“What makes you think I am not?” Daniel Lee retorted. 

Thank God! Suzie’s heart almost stopped beating. 

“Can we go home together?” she made an instant request. 

The man didn’t say a word but merely handed her the room key which he got from the concierge. 

Suzie had envisaged a large group of about twenty people touring the city on the bus and the tour leader giving them a continuous string of narration. And that she would be hopping on and off the bus for sightseeing. Ms Hazel promised that lunch and dinner would be taken care of. 

Now I had better find out if this Daniel Lee was going home on the same flight. I had better cling on to him for dear life. 

“When are you going back?” Suzie asked. 

“Same as you,” Daniel Lee replied. At the time it didn’t occur to Suzie that he could have known her departure date. 

Suzie just wanted to shrink into a corner. She walked to the single-seater sofa at the middle of the hotel lobby and dumped her hand luggage and slumped on the soft-cushions. She refused to be checked into the hotel room. 

How could I be certain that the hotel concierge did not also have a spare key to my room? 

“Are you going in or not?” Daniel Lee looked impatient. 

“I am not checking in,” Suzie said. 

“What?” he sounded surprised. 

“I want to check into your room,” Suzie made herself clearer. 

“Why? How can we?” the man began to look puzzled. 

“I want to share the room with you, it’s cheaper,” Suzie said. 

She knew it didn’t make sense; she had already paid for the entire tour duration, food and lodging.

“No, I don’t want to go into the room myself,” woman finally said. Now this time she detected a note of sympathy. 

Chapter 8

Daniel Lee knew that she was lost and that she was in an unfamiliar setting without my contact. He still hadn’t told her why he was here with Suzie. She assumed that he was just another traveller who happened to be on the same trip. In any case who cared why he was here, fact was that he was here was a blessing from God. 

If he wanted to take advantage of me this is the best opportunity. 

Suzie told herself that if he slept with her now she could always insist on him marrying her after they had arrived back in Singapore since they both shared the same Women’s Charter. 

Suzie was sure that the room would have a sofa by the side. All hotels have. She knew this to be the only time for bargaining, even though Palestine was the worst place for negotiations. 

Once I was in my own room I would have no idea if he had left the hotel to go out or not, I don’t have his itinerary. He could even have checked out the next morning before I knew it. No, I am not going to budge. 

A woman was sweeping the floor in the background. Suzie could see that she was just going through the motions. The floor was cemented and she couldn’t see dirt on it at all. Her coat was loose and Suzie could see a pair of embroidered pants underneath. She sat on the sofa and refused to be checked into her room. 

Suzie didn’t know what made Daniel Lee agree to her demand and as she saw him gave her set of keys back to the hotel concierge, she leaped up from the sofa with joy. 

“I am going to follow you,” she said. 

So for the time being, Mr. and Mrs. Daniel Lee were in room 8. The hotel was only three stories high, and there was no television in the room. Suzie realized now why the tour agency gave her a discount and made her pay the full package fare on pretext that she was an “early bird” as one of the earliest passengers. 

Hazel lied, I was the only passenger and there was no tour group. The tour leader was supposed to meet me here and to conduct the tour with me but that he did not make it.

But it was too late to strangle Ms Hazel now. 

At this point in time Suzie was not in love with Daniel Lee. She knew that she would not return as Mrs. Daniel Lee as it was not possible to register their marriage in Palestine. Daniel was merely her saviour. Once she got back to Singapore she was going to ditch him. Suzie didn’t fall in love with people easily. She had only one boyfriend to date and that was Norman Lee. Basically Suzie was a very cautious woman. 

Suzie started working the moment she finished school and was able to support herself, including trips overseas for holidays. But this time she was over confident, landing herself in this state of affairs. 

I should have ordered Ms Hazel to give me the names of the travellers. That would have made her confess that there was no one else in this tour. The clairvoyant Maria Sofia told me that I was bound to meet someone if I went on a holiday. Yes, I was tired of waiting for Norman’s proposal.

“Can we sleep with the room door open?” once the concierge handed Daniel Lee the key to Room 8, Suzie quietly asked Daniel Lee. 

“If you wish to go back to Singapore I will help you,” 

“You are afraid of everything;” 

“Since I was queuing behind you at the check-in counter I knew you to be a very difficult woman,” 

“You insisted on a window seat when you actually checked-in late; you didn’t like the wine on board, you were upset with the stewardess.” 

“At then first you distrust the locals, you followed me, 

“Then once we were together you became suspicious of me;” 

“Now you have decided that the locals could be used as witnesses against me.” 

“My dear, you must decide for yourself who is your best bet; and I am not going to toy with you the whole night.” 

With a barrage of words, Daniel Lee finished his lines, “I want to go back to Singapore and end this matchmaking process. Maria Sofia the matchmaker told me that I was bound to like you, and yes, I like you very much.” 

“But you must trust me, at least somebody.” 

So Maria Sofia had set me up. No wonder she told me to go on a holiday, now I remembered telling her I would like to go to Palestine. There was only one flight to Tel Aviv this week, which meant that Daniel Lee trailed me. He knew who I was right from the beginning since I was standing at the check-in counter of Qatar Airlines at the Changi International Airport. 

Now that Suzie knew the whole situation she was getting quite comfortable with Daniel Lee. 

“Are you afraid of mosquitoes too?” Daniel Lee could see what she was thinking. 

“No, mosquitoes don’t bite me, they don’t like my blood,” meekly Suzie replied. 

And so Suzie Wee and Daniel Lee checked into Room 8 of Wallace Hotel.

Throughout the night Daniel Lee was on the phone talking to the Qatar Airways office, trying to find their next flight out. We were told to go to the airport by 6:00 a.m. the next morning to wait for some other passengers who might have made cancellations or missed boarding. 

Suzie did not unpack her luggage and slept intermittently. Daniel allowed her to sleep on the bed and she did not know what time the man finished talking and landed himself up on the bed beside her. In a strange and foreign country, you could do anything. When you have decided to trust someone you could let go of your guard completely. Anything that happened here in Palestine must be that of the will of God, for this was after all Jesus’s birthplace. 

Chapter 9

The next morning, both parties headed straight for the Ben Gurion Airport. Daniel made Suzie take coffee at the hotel café as breakfast was free and by now the two were regarded as Mr. and Mrs. Lee by the hotel staff. Suzie did not want to deny it as the marital status offered her some kind of protection. 

When both of them approached the check-in counter the airline staff said that they were lucky as the flight wasn’t full. Suzie wanted her window seat as usual but this time Daniel Lee and she couldn’t get the same row. If they sat together one of them would have to take the middle seat. So they agreed on “either he took the isle or I take the window.” 

After a long journey, the plane finally touched down at the Changi International Airport. As Suzie was pushing her luggage from the arrival hall into the waiting area, Daniel followed behind her. She guessed he didn’t think that their relationship should end here after the holiday. 

“After all this time together and what happened, don’t you want to see me again?” Daniel asked. 

Suzie was sure. At the back of her mind the image of Norman Lee surfaced. Suzie knew nothing about Daniel except that he was a good bodyguard whereas she had already spent five years with Norman. Norman was a tycoon’s son and his father owned two GCBs and a few apartments in Singapore. 

That was why Suzie waited for him all these years. By now she had found out that she did not love Norman for himself, she knew that her feelings had changed for Norman after the hot and sultry night in Palestine. It was a country not yet recognized.

Suzie felt the struggle of the people wanting to be themselves, wanting an identity … the people minding their own activities as though no outsiders should disturb them. No questions were raised about Mr. and Mrs. Lee on the night of 27 February behind the closed door of Room 8 in Wallace Hotel.

Suzie continued walking to the taxi stand. There she got the taxi man to carry her luggage into the boot compartment and she bid Daniel goodbye. The cool air-conditioning refreshed her and Suzie knew that she must give Norman Lee a call. 

Norman Lee was very excited when he heard Suzie’s voice. 

“Suzie! Where have you been?” he asked to drop by her apartment straight away. 

Suzie sensed the urgency and true enough Norman was at the front door already waiting for her. 

Suzie never gave him her set of keys. Norman hugged her tight and said that her absence made his heart grew fonder and that since the time she disappeared he had decided that they must get married. Of course Suzie accepted his proposal. This was what she had been waiting for. Maria Sofia was right on all counts. She did predict that Norman Lee would propose.

Chapter 10

On 22 November Suzie’s daughter Julia Lee was born. On her third birthday during the celebration Suzie noticed that Julia’s nose was a little sharper than usual, liked she had a crooked nose, a feature that Suzie didn’t have. 

Suzie wanted to call Maria Sofia again but instantly she realized that this was not a matter of the future for the lady to discern anymore. It belonged to the past as it called for her daughter’s DNA. Suzie was glad that Julia was a girl, for even if she were a Lee, for sure that when she got married her surname would have to be changed. 

Suzie Wee’s past would not be a matter of concern for anyone in the next generation. But the truth of the matter was, only the woman knew who Julia’s real father was.

Henry vs. Joshua ….

Murder seemed to be the best way to stop someone from talking. And I knew that I am being framed for a crime that I did not commit. 

In order to avoid investigations, I decided to take part in a retreat in New Delhi and booked myself on a flight to the country. 

I was told that room 1175 was haunted but when I arrived there, I was given room 1102. The number 1102 has no significance to me save that I was once told that November 2nd is the Remembrance Day for Death. 

And so with slight trepidation, I checked in. 

The room was dark when I opened the door. I saw that the curtains were drawn. Then I put the key card in the key slot to make the lights come on. I put my luggage on the bureau stool and opened the padlock attached to my Samsonite. The combination number was 2512, for 25th December. I liked Christmas. 

Then I surveyed the room and quickly found the safe, hidden beneath the large LCD. I remembered being warned about passport thefts and that it was better to keep it in the hotel before I went out. So I put my passport in, setting the safe pin to 1102 the same pin number as the hotel room number to make it easier for myself to remember. I liked to simplify things. 

There were also two twin beds, two side tables, and a counter top with a coffee percolator together with a kettle. Some loose packets of coffee cream and tea bags were neatly arranged inside a box. Sugar of different types could also be seen inside the box. I was surprised that there was also Japanese green tea. Then I got more curious with the supply I opened the fridge below. 

Two large bottles of Coca-Cola cans stood next to three cans of 100-plus. I picked one bottle out so that it could unchill itself for me to drink it later. And then I pressed the switch on the kettle to boil some water. It was just an automatic reflex. I did that whenever I saw a kettle. 

Nothing happened until after midnight, it being the first day after I have checked in, I naturally needed a goodnights’ sleep. I have eaten some food on the plane. The flight to India was a Singapore Airlines flight so that I thought I was travelling to India with Singaporean locals, rather than with a group of Indian nationals returning home. There seemed to be some mistaken identity there. 

As I was on the way here, the temperature dropped as we were crossing the longitudinal zones and I fell in love with the air hostesses in turquoise jacket at the entrance. By turquoise jacket I meant the air stewardess with straight long hair tied in a bun. I could have asked for the price but something told me that I would not be able to afford it, in order not to embarrass myself I kept to watching movies throughout the journey. 

I landed early in the morning. 

At the Theresa Centre at the New Delhi branch of the St Anthony Catholic Church, I was glad to be introduced to Father Francis. My twin-brother Joshua was not here with me for otherwise Father would have difficulty telling us apart since we were identical twins. Joshua fell down and sprained his ankle at the last minute so that he was detained in Singapore. 

But that was not so serious. Late last night just before I left, Joshua had contracted high grade pneumonia and was currently warded in the Alex Hospital in Singapore. The doctor said that the virus has spread to the lungs and that if he did not recover soon enough the infection could cause paralysis to the rest of his body.

I was at the hospital and I asked Joshua if I should postpone the trip but he told me that if he did not make it the Singapore side would contact me. 

“I am not going to bring too much cash to India.” I told Joshua. “But if I should encounter any problems I would need you to wire me some money.” For the purpose I gave him my user name and my password to my bank account. 

The first thing I told Father Francis when I met him was that I was coming here for the specific purpose of receiving a blessing. Our old mother has just been taken seriously ill and I would like to know how long more she could last. So that at this same time I wanted to find a woman with whom I could marry to take over from her. As this was the first time I was travelling to India, I had to depend on the Google translation to help me get about, even though Father Francis could speak English very well. 

“Tell me, Father, are there really ghosts in this world?” This first thing I asked. 

“Of course. They are the holy ghosts,” The rather stout looking man replied. 

“Then can we see them in the day? Or only at night?” “I meant, were they visible to the naked eye?” I fired him with three questions at once. 

“Ghost are there all the time, depends on how you perceive them,” Father was patient. He had allocated three hours for me today. And this was the first of my lessons on this topic. Tomorrow I might present him with another. I was the only person at this time. I hadn’t met the rest of the course attendees. 

“I am not sure whom you are talking about?” Father Francis said. 

“I know,” I answered. 

“What do you know?” Father turned the question towards me. 

“I know that Satan is also a ghost,” I was happy that we were on the same thread now. 

“Satan is not a ghost, he is a fallen angel,” Father Francis said. 

“But an angel is a ghost, a holy ghost,” I was adamant. 

“Apart from Satan, do you know that there are more than one ghosts in the universe?” Father Francis looked at me. 

“Universe?!” This was too large for me. 

I was only concerned about the earth which was the planet earth. And I cared only about the greenhouse effect and the environmental issues. I only worried about whether it was going to rain tomorrow and only in my location. As a matter of fact, I had stopped eating meat, although this was another topic altogether. Nothing to do with pollution. 

After the discussion, we went back to our respective rooms. The smell of cold air greeted me, it smelled refreshing and I was not sure if it was the azaleas from the twigs in the air, or the scent of the detergent that was used to wash the bed linen. 

I walked to the sliding door out into the small balcony and found that there were two chairs with a coffee table. It was getting dark and I realized that I haven’t eaten before I came up. I stared outside for a while and became bored with the scenery of the set of low roof tops. 

I did not know why the retreat centre refused to provide dinner. Perhaps Catholics were also superstitious people and they didn’t like to sit down and eat together as it could mean The Last Supper so that we were not supposed to share a meal together. Although lunch was filling I was only half-full. Nevertheless, I looked into the room service menu instead of venturing out again. 

Housekeeper told me that room service would take at least forty-five minutes to arrive, so I made up my mind to go out for some food. I planned to eat either downstairs at the hotel or at some café nearby. I picked up my jacket and walked out of the room, deliberately leaving the lights on so that I would not need to return in darkness. 

There was a man outside the lift when it opened on the ninth floor on the way down. We made eye contact but we did not greet each other. It was not my habit to greet strangers and from the way he dressed I knew that he was a local. The man had a turban tightly wrapped, and it was a turquoise blue. I said I liked the colour. 

“Nice blue,” I thought to myself. I knew that Sikhs was one of the religions being practiced in India. I was sure that the colour that they used represents hierarchy rather than personal choice. When the lift reached the ground floor I walked out from the hotel into the main road to find a café. 

A man walked past me, almost knocking me down with his umbrella. I wanted to ask him where was the best place to have a meal, but decided against it when I found that he did not notice me, and after ten meters, I found a café on the left.

Hungry enough for a nice Indian meal, I was keen on trying out Indian dishes, but am confused by the array of foods on display at the food counter. They were so mixed that I had no idea whether they were Indian, Chinese, Muslim, American, European, and/or Continental. Studying them I became full suddenly. So I stood around waiting for someone to notice me. 

A waitress spotted me but she decided to turn away to serve the other customers. Slighted, I became crossed. I sat down like a spoilt child and I started to wave my hand frantically. Finally, one waitress catching my attention, and I quickly pointed to an item on the list in the menu. Without thinking, I ordered Ceylon tea at the same time. 

When the food arrived I used my bare fingers to grab at the chapatti and dip into the garnish. The orange coloured sauce was pungent and I had to sip the tea before I could continue. Three minutes later, the waitress who ignored me came to enquire, “Is everything alright, Sir?” and at the same time she cleared the plate away, together with the plate which helped me scoop honey for my tea. I was annoyed. 

I left the café and I walked along the streets, amazed by the masses of people on the streets without a purpose. I found that New Delhi was not my kind of city and I just wanted to complete my course and then go home. Actually Joshua was supposed to be here with me, but he wasn’t and I was beginning to miss him. 

Joshua and I were in the same church together and we were supposed to travel here together. I wanted to send him an SMS but was unsure if the network was working. If it got to an unknown source it could be misread. In any case I was here on a retreat, which meant that I was to connect with God, just God, and no one else. My brother Joshua was a human being. 

This morning I was having another discussion with Father Francis. 

“I didn’t encounter any ghosts last night when I was out,” I blurted out immediately the minute I saw the priest. 

“No, they are there all the time, it was just that you can’t see them with your human eyes,” 

“Huh? I thought that ghosts were visible with the naked eyes,” 

“You are wrong there, my child.” Father told me. 

“With spiritual eyes, you could see them.” I tried to be clever.

“Ok, I know, if you like what you see, you call them saints, and if you don’t like them and they disturb your sense of peace, you call them devils,” I made an educated conclusion upon which Father Francis further elaborated. 

Father Francis asked me if I had, or thought that I had done anything wrong. I dug hard into my recent past and had to confess that I was very attracted by the ladies in blue turquoise. 

After confession I was made to read out loud certain chapters of the Bible for at least half an hour. Father Francis released me after I put the rosary on the table and I was set free. So I planned my own schedule. I looked at my watch and suddenly realized that my time was two and a half hours in advance. I turned the clock to the local time in India and relaxed a little, automatically I walked back to the hotel room. 

The retreat was being held at the annex to the hotel and as I walked back to the hotel through a sheltered walkway, there was a slight drizzle but I need not take out my umbrella. Once I was inside I could see shops on both sides, they had mannequins like they were soldiers on a parade. I thought about the air hostesses in blue turquoise again. 

The streets were crowded, people walking randomly about. They were mostly dressed with a wrap around their waist. I knew that the Indian ladies who wore the sarong had a special way of knotting the grip. I told myself I would ask Father Francis if he could teach me that tomorrow instead of going on and on about the Bible. 

The hotel annex also had a massage parlour and a barber next to each other, with a revolving tube in blue and red lines at the entrance. I looked at the options and decided on the massage parlour. Since they were good at knots, they must similarly be good at untying the knots in my body when they massage me. I meant the blocked qi passages. I tiptoed upstairs, and found a darkened room with some people on the bed. 

“Sir, want some?” 

An Indian lady with long hair stood at the doorway, as though she did not want me to go in. 

“How much is this going to cost me?” I asked her. 

“It takes only an hour of your time,” woman replied. 

“I only want half hour,” I said. 

“No time?” woman said.

“Got, got time, but never done before,” I sounded like a little boy, naïve. 

“In that case, I charge you half hour,” woman answered. 

Mesmerized, I was being led into the room with the Indian charm, and the drumming sound, and I forgot that I was in a massage parlour. I lay on the bed. The bed had a hole to look through with my face downwards so that I could breathe without having to turn my head sideways. 

I took my jacket off and lay it by the side. Without a word the woman put her hands on my shoulder and she began. I had no chance to protest. I relaxed after a few pushes. 

“Ring, ring, ring, ring, ring,” 

It was my cell phone. It was loud and I jumped up from the bed. 

You want to answer?” the woman asked. 

I groped for it in the jacket. I was in a foreign country I needed to be connected in case the call came from Singapore.

“It’s me!” the voice on the other end said. 

“Hello,” only then I began. 

“Are you Mr. Chia?” she asked. 

“Yes, it’s me,” I replied instantly. 

“What are you doing now?” she asked. 

That was strange. A caller asking me what I was doing. I didn’t know whom she was. She had no business to ask me. But I felt compelled to answer. 

“I am having a massage being done now,” automatically I reported to her. 

“So you have arrived, Joshua.” she sounded pleased. 

Joshua was in Singapore how could he have arrived here in India? Unless, like Father Francis had said, his soul ascended into my body, and I took over his spirit. Apparently according to the Catholic faith, Jesus ascended into Heaven to be with his Father. I am Joshua’s twin-brother, our father had passed a long time ago. 

“Miss, I am Henry, not Joshua,” I tried to emphasize. 

This always happened, people calling for Joshua and speaking to me thinking that I was Joshua. I didn’t know why. Perhaps we sounded alike. 

“You from the headquarters?” I assumed. 

I was being employed by the Hearty Insurance Company in Singapore at the time. I wanted to tell the caller that I was here on retreat and not on paid leave. 

“The hotel is looking for you, wondering where you have gone to,” the woman sounded concerned. 

“Could you give me your room number again,” the woman asked. 

Instead of giving her the answer I decided not to trust her. I wanted to know if she were calling from Singapore or from India. 

“Have you reserved my seat on my flight back to Singapore?” I tried to engage her. 

The line went dead at this point. The masseur’s hand on my back. 

I looked up, I saw the woman staring at me, my instinct told me that the massage parlour disconnected my line from the caller. The service provider was now the Indian even though I was using a Singapore service number.

Two hours later I walked back to the hotel. I went to the gift shop to see if I could buy anything of value. A girl was sitting behind the counter. I picked up a postcard, the scenery of Taj Mahal was exactly as it should be. I bought the card and paid the cashier in Indian Rupiah. 

With some amount of satisfaction on my purchase, I walked out of the shop. My purpose became aimless again. The people around me paid no attention to me. I felt every bit a stranger in a foreign land. A taxi stopped in front of me and the driver asked me if I would like a tour around the city. I made a calculated risk and decided that there was no harm. 

The driver who took me through the streets was a man without a turban. The car was old and rattling, maybe because the roads were lined with pebbles at random. I could feel a layer of dust on my face as I wound down the window. I dared not ask for air-conditioning in the car as I was at the mercy of the driver. I allowed him to drive me until the point where he decided that I could get down and took some pictures. I made it clear that I was not here to shop. 

At the market place the driver told me to alight, “fruits,” he said. I didn’t travel all the way to India to look at fruits. As a matter of fact, I was told that if I were to eat food by the roadside stalls I could get diarrhoea so I merely glanced at the fruits displayed at the stalls, and made no attempt to get out of the car. Then my cell phone rang again. 

“Hello,” I answered. I was an insurance salesman by profession. I picked up calls as a matter of habit even if they were unknown. 

“What time can you come back? Joshua,” she sounded like an Indian lady, not at all the contact I expected. 

“I am outside now,” I said. 

“Come back by 7:00 p.m., Joshua,” she ordered. 

I was being addressed as Joshua again. What has happened to my twin-brother Joshua? 

Then I saw a woman with long slim legs. Her shoes a stark white so that I could follow her easily. They were tall and striped on her thin bony feet. Her flare skirt swung about against the light wind. I almost forgot that I was by myself in India, as I often brought Joshua with me everywhere I went even though he might not have been physically present. 

Again my cell phone rang. “Hello,” I said. 

“What time will you be back at the hotel? Joshua,” she asked. It was the same woman. 

“Who are you?” I decided not to talk to strangers now, since she could not tell me how Joshua was doing. I had decided that she was not a genuine caller. 

“I am Judy, your companion for the trip, thank you for asking, Joshua,” she said. 

“Listen, I want to know how Joshua was doing,” I began to get a little worried. I knew that he was ill, he could be dying. 

The woman in front turned into another lane. I followed suit and walked faster. 

“Could you receive some money for me? Joshua,” the woman on the line continued. 

“Of course, anything you ask.” I was a sucker for pretty women. I had begun to perceive the woman on the line to be the lady walking in front of me. And there was no harm in agreeing. I could always turn her down later. Oral agreements were unenforceable at law. 

Three minutes later I saw the lady with the white shoes standing by an ice-cream man. 

I ran towards the stall. She could disappear anytime. I didn’t want to be detained by the woman on the phone. 

By the time I got back to theWaterloo Inn I was considerably fagged out, my legs tired from too much aimless walking. Exercise was good, but I didn’t want to collapse in a foreign country. I turned on the television and sat around. Finally, I was tired enough to fall asleep on the bed. The sky outside was getting dark, and the curtains were left open. 

At dawn I chanced into the housekeeper at the corridor when she was cleaning the next room. Her housekeeping trolley which kept all of her tools was standing prominently along the corridor. The expensive Dunhill soap stared at me, and I found myself taking one bar. I walked back into my room to put it back into the soap dish. I told myself I wanted to change my image. 

I have turned over a new leaf, when I return back to Singapore, I am going to be myself once again. “I am not Joshua, I never was, has never been and will not be,” I said out loud to myself and rejected all notions that I was Joshua. 

Since I denied the fact that I was Joshua, I had better do something to my image. Perhaps having a new hair-do would be the best solution. I was not a woman so I couldn’t put on make-up to change the way I look.

The meant that I must go back to the salon again. T

he lady leaning by the door was too happy to welcome me in. 

“Do you sell fake hair?” I enquired before I stepped in, hesitant. 

“Yes, of course,” lady walked over to the side, signalling me to come in. 

She went to a row of hair wigs, of different colours, and I had to admit that they look rather nice. 

“Which colour do you want?” lady asked, flipping the silky brown linings. 

“I like a dark brown,” I said. 

“So you don’t want to change your hair colour?” lady seemed surprised. 

If I didn’t want a new colour I supposed there was no reason for me to put on a wig. People bought fake hair because they wanted to try out a new colour, and wanted the option to change back. 

“Ok, this one is nice,” she quickly flipped another set, before I changed my mind. 

I sat on the chair. A little unsure. 

The shop was small. I was on the only chair with a mirror in front. The one next to me was reclined, and a woman was resting on it. Her face was being made over as her eyes were shut, and I could see that there were no eye brows. She was not dead, I could see that from the tone of her skin, there was still some moisture on the open pores, and I could see breathing from her chest. 

I quickly turned my head away. 

“There, this is nice,” the lady proceeded to clip a patch of the fake hair onto my scalp, using some of the hair already stuck together. I saw some with tiny curls and they did look the same colour. 

“I think it is a little too long,” I complained. 

“I could cut it for you,” lady took out a pair of scissors. 

“Now?” 

“Let me think, err …… ok!” I made my decision. 

I saw my hair being snipped off, it didn’t feel like it at all as it wasn’t my hair. 

“Don’t worry, this haircut is free of charge,” lady said. 

Nothing was free. Time to ask for the price. 

“How much is it?” I was prepared for the worse. I should have asked for it before I began. I

was being slaughtered now in India. In Singapore we used the term loosely. She had performed the services, and I needed her to let me off. I couldn’t leave the shop without paying her. This was India. And the lady owned the salon. 

“Wait,” I saw the woman beside me got up from her reclining position, walked to the counter and just at the time, a young man came in and paid for the bill. Subsequently both of them walked off without saying a word. I observed them and took a hundred-dollar bill equivalent to fifty million Indian Rupee.

“Is that enough?” I asked casually, trying to hide my ignorance. 

The lady grabbed the money, put it in her pocket and said, “off you go.” 

With that, I walked out of the shop, back into the rays of sunlight where the evening sun cast a shadow on the floor. I saw a cat sitting by the steps just right in front of me. I wondered if he spoke Hindi, and I wondered if it belonged to the lady the owner of the salon. 

I thought of Joshua and his sprained ankle. And then Judy ringing me calling me by his name Joshua, and my conversation with Father Francis last night: that no two souls could be the same, even if for all intends and purposes as human beings, they appeared to be the same in outward appearances, the souls were the inborn character, the inner self, and how they treat another. 

I thought about it, and I asked myself how different Joshua could be from me? Joshua and I have been passing off as one and the same person. So that if he died, I would take over his persona.

So that Father Francis made me say a short prayer, and then he brought me to a fountain somewhere in the retreat premises whereby he said a prayer. I had no idea what he was muttering as it was in Hindi. I submitted to his super natural link, and made a silent petition: Let Joshua be Joshua, and Henry be Henry, let the two of us, Joshua and Henry, be separated henceforth. We were born on the same day, we shared the same set of parents, but we were not one and the same. 

I didn’t know how I linked it up. But fact was that I did, and that I had now come to the conclusion that Joshua could have been dead by now. For if Joshua were still alive, why would the caller the woman presumably from Singapore kept ringing for me and calling me by Joshua? She must have been looking for his next-of-kin, none other than myself. 

In that case, I must fly back to Singapore at once, to claim the remains of Joshua. Should I take the next flight out or waited for my original departure date which was the day after tomorrow? But at the same time I needed to verify if Joshua was dead, and at the same time verify myself. I suspected that I was being used as the soul of Joshua. For the caller kept calling me Joshua. 

Where was Father Francis? Father Francis was my only help. He knew who I was, he had been engaging in conversations with me for the last two days. I was registered with him as Henry Chia. He had all my details he couldn’t have mistaken me as Joshua Chia, unless he was sick. I panicked and rushed back into my room. That was my abode for the time being. 

Nothing happened until midnight, as it was the third day after midnight, I had eaten my meal at the same café, with Father Francis this time. 

Back at the hotel I automatically went to the concierge to pick up my keys. 

“What is your room number?” the receptionist asked. She was wearing the traditional sari. Her face white ashen. I was wondering why. 

“1102.” I said. 

“One-one what?” she asked. 

The receptionist handed me the keys to 1175. 

I picked it up, and I started to walk away. 

Then I thought about the salon again and the woman lying on the reclining couch next to me. And then later on the woman in white shoes. Could someone have passed? Could this woman be a corpse from another dimension? The ghosts which Father Francis and I have been talking about? And then it occurred to me that Joshua has died and that I had been the lead to the perpetrator.

I was being used as the brains of that killer! As far as I was concerned, I was now in India when Joshua’s death took place, I used my own passport to enter the country so there was no way in which I could have been the murderer. The hotel also checked me in as Henry Chia. 

At this juncture I realised that I must locate my travel document immediately. I used the key card to tap on the wi-fi operated front door. The lock gave a beep sound and it opened immediately as usual. I went straight to the safe. I remembered the pin very well; I had used the room number which was a number I would never forget., and I pressed the digits 2512 on the keypad. I pulled the catch, but the door did not open. It was jammed! I pulled again. But nothing happened.

Omg! Could the hotel cleaners have broken into the safe and taken my passport? 

I quickly went down to the receptionist to tell her that my safe could not open. I walked into the ground floor hotel lobby and found the receptionist counter full of guests all wanting to check in. I saw several people having food in the courtyard. One waitress saw me and she came up to make me an offer, “Sir, outside or inside?” She asked. “Inside,” I replied. The air was slightly chilly and I was wondering if I should remove my jacket. 

More people were inside rather than outside. I could hear generally that they were speaking in Hindi. I didn’t understand a word and so I had better use sign language. I drew a square sign in the air to signal that I wanted the menu. It came, but everything was cursive, a little bit like the Chinese calligraphy that I did not understand. So I decided on the food according to the pictures. 

Most of time I was wondering when I could go back to Singapore: whether I should take the next flight out or wait until my original departure date which was the day after tomorrow. I wanted to verify if Joshua was dead, and at the same time verify myself. 

I knew that I was not Joshua, and Joshua knew that he was not me. Father Francis and everyone in India had not been acquainted with the relatives and friends of Joshua. So only Joshua would know that I was not Joshua. But right now Joshua was not in India and it was not possible to get hold of these people to act as witnesses. I was a little lost. 

The next best thing was to go to the High Commission of Singapore to report the loss of my passport. I had no identification papers with me except my credit cards. I arrived at the concierge again, asked for a hotel limousine to bring me to the High Commission of the Republic of Singapore in New Delhi. The man seemed to know whereabouts it was, for he took out a piece of paper and wrote something on it. I thought it was the local address. 

“Could you get me a taxi to go to the High Commission of the Republic of Singapore?” 

“Certainly, anything you say, Mr Chia.” The Indian man replied politely. 

I did not have to wait long before I was ushered out into the cold air of New Delhi and the Indian taxi driver was extremely polite. He picked up the luggage and opened the boot, put my luggage in after confirming with me, “The boot, Sir?” 

I nodded my head as I was keen to report the loss. 

The taxi made three turnings before he hit the main road. I could see that the traffic became heavy at this point as many cars were competing with the use of the same road. How much taxes do they pay? I tapped on my App for the exchange rate on the Google. With Google you could never go wrong. I decided to use the Google map this time. 

The road signs were in English, but when I looked up I found the street signs all in Hindi. 

So I immediately turned to the driver, “How much longer would I take to arrive at the High Commission?” 

“High Commission?” he asked. 

“Yes, the High Commission of the Republic of Singapore.” I replied. 

“I thought you want to go to the airport.” The man was looking a little cross. 

“No, not the airport. The High Commission.” I answered. 

“But the hotel told me you want to go to the Indira Gandhi Airport.” He said again. 

“No, the High Commission of the Republic of Singapore in New Delhi.” I raised my voice a little. 

“What is the address?” He asked. 

“GOD DAMN IT! I DON’T KNOW!” I started shouting, angry. 

“Don’t shout.” Driver was very calm. And then he turned up the volume of the radio on his vehicle. 

The sound of the drums disturbed me now. 

“LOWER THE VOLUME.” I was beginning to lose control. 

“No worries, Mr Joshua Chia.” Indian man replied. 

My name is Joshua. 

Today was 5 December 2016, and I was still in India. But at least I had not been charged for the crime I thought I would commit. And I had no idea when I would be Henry again.

My mother and I in Lourdes, France in Oct 2014 ….

Clever people don’t have sex. No, I am not a nun, yet. I was only an administrative officer at the Esplanade Methodist Church.

Chapter 1

I am not there now, but at the time that I was working there, I was a secretary to three pastors. 

I arrived at the large building just behind the Howard Shopping Centre, and I managed to find my way around only after I spoke to a guy. 

“Hello, I have come here for a meeting with your director Mr Bernard Soo and how do I get to the church office?” 

“It is on the fourth level. You can take the lift to get there.” 

“Thanks, and how may I address you?” I found him rather cute looking. 

“My name is Benjamin. You can call me “Bernie”. 

I asked Benjamin if he could show me to the director’s office. He did not say a word, but merely walked towards the lift. I followed suit and when we arrived at the lift, I was a little annoyed that it stayed on the fifth floor for an unduly length of time, so that it made it necessary for Benjamin and I to make small talk. 

“Working in a church can be quite complicated,” the director of the church Mr Soo told me when he interviewed me in his room full of potted plants. 

I described his room as such as I have never seen such a large amount of plants in anyone’s room in all my entire life. Plants didn’t live very long under the roof without sunlight, so therefore I did not have plants in my apartment. But the number of plants I saw in Mr Soo’s room was enormous. If I were to make a count, I think it was at least seventy to eighty pots, big, medium and small. 

I also had the chance to take a sweep around his office, and apart from the three watering cans, there was a large board with postcards pinned on it. And why he needed three watering cans I have no idea since they all served the same purpose. I dared not ask him at the time as it would have been impertinent. 

Mr Soo was nice. He did not give me a hard time. What I said and described of myself, he simply nodded in agreement. He didn’t even ask me for the names of my relatives. I felt quite happy after the interview and as the director of the church in charge of all the admin procedure, Mr Soo told me that if there should be any problems arising from my church work in the future, I could always call upon him. “Just knock on my room door,” he said. 

The interview went on well and ended by Mr Soo telling me that I would definitely hear from him within the next three days, which meant that I was short listed, although I did not see anyone else waiting to go in after me earlier on. As I reached the first floor I passed by the sanctuary, but something told me that I shouldn’t go in, so I said a short prayer before I left the church compound. 

The minute I walked out of the church, I took out my grandmother’s jade cross on my neck and put it back inside my handbag, which would have cost more than my salary. Retail therapy was still safer than travelling. The piece of jewellery was the topic of conversation at the interview and I thought that it helped me secure the job. 

I told Mr Soo that I was applying for this job because I wanted to be “totally immersed in the Christian culture,” and “as I have just been baptised as a Methodist on 22 December 1996, this is what God tells me to do.” 

Mr Soo told me that here were three bosses to whom I must report my work. As this was a church setting, I assumed that each and every one that I came across in the office henceforth was a Christian. 

Chapter 2

The first day at work I bumped into Benjamin again. Benjamin was a thin looking man with a large beard, his beard was not too long and the thought that came to my mind was why he couldn’t have shaved it off. 

So, I asked Benjamin why he did not want to shave his beard. He told me that the beard was a disguise for his age. 

“Do you want to look older or younger?” I asked. 

And then I asked Benjamin why Mr Soo kept so many plants in his office. 

“No reason,” he said. 

“Does he talk to them?” I asked, just for conversation’s sake. 

“Plants are living things, they hear, they see,” he told me. 

“Of course, they eat and drink as well” I added, just to annoy him. 

“Yes, every living thing needs food and water,” Benjamin agreed at once. 

“Which means that they are as good as human beings,” I continued. 

“Why do you think that Prince Charles likes talking to his plants?” he gave as an example. 

And then when we arrived at the director’s room, Benjamin opened the door and strolled in. I guessed he went in there to water the plants. 

The church director Mr Soo also had a vase in his office. The vase was large and stood on a table by the side of his window. I often marvelled at it but never went up to take a look at the engraved pattern. It was the blue and white a piece of Chinese artefacts.

Further in there was a two seater sofa presumably meant for entertaining guests.

Chapter 3

When I first started work, I have to use Siew Lan’s PC. Siew Lan was nice, but there was something about her that chilled me. She smiled whenever I asked her to help with my typing, but she never talked to me directly. She did not look me in the eye. I found her an evasive character, but it never occurred to me that she could be a criminal.

One day, as I was going to the kitchen to pour myself a cup of coffee, I heard two persons talking. 

What are they doing here? 

“How much do you think you can fetch from this?” the hoarse voice sounded like Benjamin’s. 

“Ten thousand, or twelve at least,” another voice. 

Then there was complete silence. 

I heard the sound of a cellophane bag, like one of those Cold Storage bags that we had. 

I was not a lawyer, but I had seen enough movies to know that there were some illegal activities going on here, right under my nose. I inclined my ear, and as I was standing behind the curtain, I could not see what was happening. 

A piano was behind the curtain. But at this moment there was no connection between the two voices and the piano. 

This was my fourth week at work, and I still haven’t been introduced to my third boss Reverend Ha Hwa Kim. I was told that Rev. Ha spoke no English, as he was Korean. So, I went to the local bookstore the Paper Works to buy myself a dictionary. A Korean-English dictionary. 

My job involved that of typing the church bulletin in both the Tagalog and the English. That was not too difficult as Tagalog was made of an alphabet language. I learnt that the Philippines language used mainly the letters “a” and “e” and “l”. 

As I was typing my Filipino bulletin one afternoon, I felt someone standing behind me. The breathing was loud and accompanied by a tinge of smoke, but I decided not to look up as I wanted to show that I was busy with my work. I pretended to be busy until the shadow on my PC moved away. 

I felt chilly. And then when I was stuck with the Chinese characters, Siew Lan gave me another one of her toothless smiles when I approached her to ask her how to type one of the Chinese characters. Siew Lan just got up from her desk and walked away. And yes, I was also typing the bulletin for the Chinese service. 

Something is amiss in this church. I told myself. 

It was confirmed when Rev. Ha called me up to go into his room. He said he wanted me to do accounts. Rev. Ha spoke good Korean and no English. He placed his little booklet on his desk right in front of me and asked me to take it, then he muttered something under his breath. 

Rev. Ha Hwa Kim stood five feet eight inches tall, clean shaven, and has short hair, short enough to call it a durian head.

Chapter 4

The pastor usually came in three times a week. On Monday, Thursday and Friday. So, when he appeared on Wednesday, I was naturally surprised. He asked me to follow him into his room as usual. 

I was not quite happy about doing accounts, as accounts meant money, and money meant problem. I was being told that once you handled money you were likely to land yourself in hot soup, as accounts could never be clear. Unless it was your own money. 

In any case, I never spoke to Rev. Ha as I couldn’t speak Korean. But that since he was my boss, I couldn’t refuse him outright. I have to be patient, sit, and wait for him to finish saying what he wanted to tell me before I opened my mouth. 

Every time I went into Rev. Ha’s room, I would have to bring the booklet, placed it right in front of him, waited for him to write some figures on it, picked it up from him again, before going back to my desk to keep it inside my drawer. 

There was a key provided for the drawer, but I did not lock it for I didn’t think that anyone in the church would want to steal. And a crumpled looking booklet at that. 

Rev. Ha surprised me on the first Wednesday, but then after three weeks when he turned up on Wednesday, it suddenly dawned on me that he could be interested in Siew Lan, since Siew Lan sat next to me and he came by my desk to look for me. I could not see why Rev. Ha did not intercom me. 

So, I set myself up as a detective to make some investigations. 

I was happy today as Siew Lan broke the ice. She normally waited for me to start talking to her in the mornings before she got up to make herself a cup of coffee. And as a matter of fact, I found it very strange of her to have to wait for me to get my drink first. 

Ok, she was talking to me now. So, I answer, “How’s your coffee?” 

Siew Lan was holding her mug, and immediately she put it on her desk, and she said, “This is not coffee, it is tea, and if you want to know what brand, it is Earl Grey. E-a-r-l-G-r-e-y.” 

That was very rude of her. And unwarranted. Nobody asked her what she was drinking, and I certainly was not asking her for the brand of her beverage. 

Her mug had the picture of a dog on it. To be precise it was a bulldog, and a rather cute looking bulldog. 

I was waiting for an opportune time to set up a meeting with Siew Lan for a heart-to-heart talk. 

This morning I went to her desk and took her mug, went to the sink and ran it under the tap. I thought I forgot to take it and put it back on her desk. 

That same day I went home, and I forgot about Siew Lan’s mug entirely. 

The next day when I was at my desk whilst at the bulletin: “In the beginning there was light. The light shines in the darkness and the darkness does not recognise him.” 

“Why did you remove my mug?” Siew Lan appeared. 

How could Siew Lan know? I was sure that she did not see me take her mug. I tried to ignore her. 

“Hello, could you stop typing?” the woman said. 

I continued to ignore her. 

She gave up after a while as she saw that I was typing the Chinese bulletin. I knew that she was afraid of me asking her for help on the Chinese characters. 

Could Siew Lan have extra-territorial sense to know that I took her mug to the pantry yesterday? I was sure that no one saw me. 

Chapter 5

It did not take too long for Siew Lan to open up. 

It happened on the day when everyone had left the office for lunch. I was still around as I haven’t finished tying the bulletin, and Siew Lan was still around presumably drinking her Earl Grey tea. 

“He raped me,” Siew Lan began. 

“Who?” 

I asked Siew Lan who did that to her and how it happened. 

“The devil,” she said, very calmly. 

“He is a devil in disguise,” Siew Lan continued, her jaw clinched, and she gave out a false laugh. And then she flipped her hair aside to show off her beautiful earrings. She turned and smiled at me. I marvelled at the speed at which she suddenly changed the expression on her face. 

I used to think that they were only characters in the Bible, and not to be taken seriously. As far as I was concerned, they were tattooed and ugly looking. 

And then I got chilled again, so I left her so as to stop her from talking. Recalling of a painful past could be devastating for the victim. I didn’t want to do that to Siew Lan. 

There were only two possibilities: I was guessing that it was Peter Tan the IT guy, or Benjamin. Mr Soo was unlikely as he was the church director, so was Rev. Wong. 

It became a habit for Benjamin and I to walk to Café 21 for lunch. For by which time we have more or less made perfect our standing instructions for order. It was either, one big one small or two smalls. Big meant roast pork meat with rice garnished with sliced cucumber and small was without the cucumbers. And then I would usually ask for chilli sauce. Benjamin did not take chilli sauce. 

We watched the char siew lady stall holder pour the red liquid over my food. Benjamin looked at my plate with disgust and said nothing. 

I continued with my food after Benjamin had finished talking, and then we brought our respective trays back to the stalls. The canteen usually had someone clearing the unwanted dishes, but they were always too slow. Today Benjamin took his unwanted soya bean juice and poured it into the plant next to the char siew stall. I felt pity for the plant. 

On the way back to the office we walked past a set of low-rise shop houses and then the church was on top of the hill. The slope was not steep and the minute we arrived at the gate we stopped talking. 

After that lunch with Benjamin, I began to like plants, and I went to the nursery and bought two such living things:Ixora and another called Ipomea, lavender in colour, the names of the plants I learnt from the nursery. The owner was reluctant to make delivery unless I paid her thirty-five dollars. I brought them into my Grab and lugged it into the lift. 

“I bought two plants for myself,” I told Benjamin the minute I saw him the next day. 

Benjamin was of course not impressed. 

Chapter 6

After that my job progresses, and I was made to look for and arrange the songs selected by the pastor of the Praise and Worship Service, who was Rev. Wong. 

I took upon this duty gingerly, as it could be quite disastrous if the entire congregation worshiped contrary to the preacher’s intention simply because the slide was flashed in the wrong sequence. 

But I was overjoyed, more duties meant more work. And that led to promotion. I was now the secretary to three pastors, and I hoped soon I would be the secretary to Mr Soo as well. Apart from Benjamin, Peter Tan took me out for lunch sometimes. And I must say that I was quite pleased about it. 

One day, Peter asked me, “Hey, do you want me to teach you how to do Excel?” I knew what Excel was. It was a spreadsheet and seemed complicated. 

After three sessions with Peter, I decided to use the spreadsheet to record the accounts. It was neater and I could print out the result. Peter had input the formulae for the chart so that I only needed to key in the amount I collected each Sunday. The total sum would automatically show just by tapping “enter”. 

I was busy with the Excel one day when again I noticed a figure standing next to me. 

The breathing was consistently loud, so there was no mistaken identity. It was the same presence that stood beside me four days ago. I did not look at it. 

Is the Esplanade Methodist Church haunted?

Chapter 7

Benjamin and I usually turned up at Café 21. It was the nearby food court. In Singapore we didn’t call it a restaurant or a cafe, we called it a canteen, which was within an office building, and now we called them an eatery place. 

Out of curiosity I attended the Praise and Worship Service. The church was already singing the song: 

“As the deer panthers for the water, so my soul longed …. ”  I found my place amongst the pew as I squeezed in. 

After the service ended, I strolled up to the church office again, as it was my habitat. When I needed to get a hot drink to keep myself awake, I went to the pantry and then passed by the piano. The piano sat nicely, as though it was there merely as an ornamental piece. I was tempted to open it and play a tune on the instrument. I sat on the piano stool. And then I heard someone talking behind the curtains,

“Has she spoken to you?” a man’s voice. 

Again, it sounded like Benjamin’s but this time I could not be sure. 

“No, she said she would give us one more week,” the other voice says. 

“How much does Siew Lan want?” the man says again. 

“Am not sure,” came the reply. At this juncture I had to control myself so as not to intrude, for I didn’t want to be an accomplice to their wrongdoing. I went back to my desk and as I was typing my bulletin, I felt chilly again. Maybe it was a Sunday and that no one was around. I grabbed the remote control and I increased the temperature.

Chapter 8

After attending the Praise and Worship Service and having gone into the Sanctuary to pray, I understood that the two services even though did not contradict each other, had different objects and were on different themes, if you knew what I meant. 

“No, I don’t know what you mean,” Benjamin told me when I tried to draw his attention to this phenomenon. 

“Ok then, how do you explain the fact that one sings in English, and the other worships in tongues?” I fired him at once. 

Work was getting boring as by now I could almost type with my eyes closed. Siew Lan and I had reached a certain understanding – I didn’t touch her bulldog mug. 

When the photocopier spoilt, I was being introduced to another guy. His name was Peter Tan. Peter was in charge of IT and he was tall and thin. His work was very relaxed because the photocopier, fax machines, computers etc. hardly gave any trouble. The only time we needed to call on him was when I accidentally put a stack of clipped notes into the feeder. The papers jammed at the roller and the paper got stuck in between. 

“Help! Peter!” I yelled whenever it happened. 

And soon I became pals with Peter Tan the IT guy. 

One day Benjamin came up to me and started talking to me, “I have found from experience that in order to find the answer to a complicated issue, you must not confront the person directly. Facing an accused person one on one is very draining, as he would never tell you the truth.” 

I was taken aback and stunned. For a while I thought that he was suggesting that I had done something wrong. So, I quickly put up my hands and said. 

“I am clean.” 

“Don’t accuse me of anything,” meaning that I did not take any money from Rev. Ha’s account. 

And then the other day Benjamin came up to me and asked, “Why do you type with only your right hand?” 

I was surprised, as I didn’t know that he was watching me all the while. 

“My habit,” I said. 

And I continued typing. 

“In the beginning there was light, the light shines in the darkness, ……” I typed. 

As a matter of fact, I was already getting quite bored with these phrases. I decided to stop. 

“Do you want to type for me?” I asked Benjamin. I know I was a little rude. 

And then I continued with my typing. Benjamin left his coffee mug on my desk and he walked away. I let it stand for a while then when I found it a nuisance, I brought it to the pantry to wash it and return it to his table. Since that day, it had been a habit for Benjamin to leave his mug at my desk for me to wash. 

Here we left the office promptly at 5:00 p.m. sharp. We didn’t get overtime for staying on and actually we had too much time and too little work. 

Once I reached home, I had a quick hot shower as the office temperature was always too cold for me. 

As I had said, Siew Lan was not only chilly but strange. She walked with her left leg slightly longer than the right, and she often ate alone at her desk. I asked her why she did not want to eat with me at the food court, she said that she was too lazy to walk out. 

By the sixth month, I more or less knew that they were likely to renew my contract at the end of two years. Benjamin dropped by my desk to put his mug there, Rev. Ha now left his receipts on my keyboard, and Rev. Wong just dumped his slides over my papers. And I was often asked to make photocopy. 

I noticed that everyone in the church borrowed names from the Bible and used them as though they were real characters, as apart from Benjamin, Peter and Siew Lan, there was also James who worked for Rev. Baines and the receptionist by the name of Job. 

But I almost flipped when I found out that the new Filipino guy who joined us went by the name “Jesus”. 

Mr Soo explained to me that “Jesus” was a common name to be adopted by Filipinas, like “Mary” and “Joseph”. Come to think of it, if “Mary” and “Joseph” could be used, why not “Jesus”? 

Chapter 9

Today Benjamin decided to try out the Indian stall. I had no objections as I liked their cuisine as well. We arrived in front of the Indian man, he smiled, and we saw the items laid out on the hawker stall. I told Benjamin I liked the Chapatti the Indian bread and we both ordered a piece of the thick dough. 

“I am sleepy now,” I told Benjamin after lunch as we arrived at the church office. 

“So am I, and I can’t believe it is just the Indian food,” Benjamin said. 

“By the way, what are the names of the dishes?” he asked. 

“No idea,” I replied meekly. I just wanted to sleep. 

We felt so sleepy as though we were drugged. So, I told Benjamin that the Indian spices did make people drowsy. 

But why would the Indian man Rama want to poison us, why should he? He got nothing out of two sleepy customers. 

I continued to eat with Benjamin. I wanted to find out the truth in Siew Lan’s accusations. 

“Of course not!” The man exclaimed. “I could visualise Siew Lan in her naked form even before she takes off her clothes. Her hair was brown, frizzy and unkempt when let down. The moment I realised what was it was that she wanted from me, I ran as fast as I could.” 

“What did she want from you?” I asked, pretending not to comprehend. This was the art of cross-examination. 

“Omg! You are so stupid.” Benjamin raised his voice. I knew that he was annoyed. It was not my intention to annoy him. I just wanted the truth. At the time I didn’t think that Benjamin would tell Siew Lan about this. 

“Did she make a proposition?” I asked. 

“How could she? She said that I raped her right?” Benjamin replied. 

So that meant that Benjamin had overheard my lunchtime conversation with Siew Lan. I was thinking that I was alone with her at the time. This meant that Siew Lan also talked to Benjamin. What was my response to her that day? Did I say anything that I shouldn’t have? I couldn’t remember now. 

Ok, I knew a bit about the law. It was Siew Lan who said that Benjamin raped her, I merely listened. I was not there at the time when the case happened, so I was unable to verify the truth of the matter. But now that I was being told about it, and that Benjamin had denied the fact, it was clear that he did not wish to be responsible about it. The next question was – were there any off springs out of this relationship? 

Now I knew why Siew Lan told me about Benjamin, she was hoping that by telling me about his misdemeanour, I would get a bad impression of Benjamin and stopped having lunch with him. It had become a habit now for us to walk to Café 21 for food. Sometimes we even brought back the locally made coffee with a special flavour. 

I tried not to talk to Siew Lan as I didn’t want her to talk to me about Benjamin anymore. I couldn’t side her since Benjamin was my regular lunch partner. A friend in need was a friend indeed. 

But after a while I realised that Siew Lan just hated me and wanted to get rid of me. And there was no solution to that except to resign. I needed the job it paid for my phone bill and my water bill. So finally I decided that I should talk to Mr Soo about it. Mr Soo was not surprised when he heard about it. 

Chapter 10

“What do you want me to do?” He asked. 

“I don’t know,” I said. 

When Mr Soo came to the conclusion that the only way to solve my problem was to dismiss Siew Lan, he gave me a tip. 

“You could come in and water my plants for me,” he advised. 

More work! This is great! So I left the room. 

The church office was small and it was not too far to get water from the tap. The watering can was in Mr Soo’s office. I had to fetch water from the tap which was located just behind the piano. 

I arrived at the same spot again. 

“She told me,” the voice said, same as the one behind the curtain the first time. Benjamin’s voice. 

“So she knows,” the reply came from Peter. 

In that case there was no need to cover up anymore,” the guy continued. 

It’s me again! They are talking about me!

I realised that my position was precarious now as I was into some secrets. I waited for the conversation to end, and the sound of the voices receded into the background, before I carried the watering can quietly back to Mr Soo’s room to complete my task. 

I knocked his door before opening, and then I pulled the knob, the door did not open. That was strange. I thought he told me to water the plants just now. Surely he must know that I would return soon. So I stood outside and waited. Finally the door opened and Rev. Ha walked out. He muttered something and signalled for me to follow him to his room. I knew that he wanted me to do accounts again. 

I got the booklet and went in. I placed it in front of his desk again. He looked at it, smiled and he said, “Do you want me to show you the receipts?” This was strange as I had never asked to him to show me the receipts. 

“No,” I reply. 

Then he opened the booklet, he took out his pen, and he wrote a few figures on it, and he returned to me. I quickly walked out as I was afraid to start any conversation with Rev. Ha. I could never understand what he wanted to tell me. 

Chapter 11

And so it became a habit not to see the receipts with Rev. Ha. In any case the receipts were written in Korean so that when he showed them to me, I really had no proof if he was actually spending the amount as he declared. He could be visiting a brothel for all I knew. 

OMG! Does Mr Soo know about this? 

Come to think of it, Rev. Ha did smell of alcohol whenever he came into the office. 

I decided again that this was not a matter that I should confront myself with. I had no means of knowing the truth. The answer was even more remote than Siew Lan’s case. I couldn’t drag Rev’s Ha’s girlfriend out of the closet, assuming that he had one. 

So as they said, the only way was to pray about it, especially when the problem arose in a church setting such as this. I finally found a reason to visit the church sanctuary. I saw a few people scattered around the pews even if it was not during the worship hours. 

If I did, then the first person that I would have to speak to was Mr Soo. Immediately I walked away from my desk to go to Mr Soo the director’s office. This was the second time I knocked on his door. 

I heard laughter. It was kind of strange. The way they were laughing. Who else was inside? And what were they doing? I dared not open the door now. 

Mr Soo had failed in his promise. He said so before that if I should encounter any problems I could always knock on his door. 

“Mr Soo is on leave,” Peter Tan came by and told me. 

My suspicion is now confirmed. The esplanade church is haunted. Otherwise, why am I hearing voices from inside the director’s room?

How come I do not know about it? I became upset. I walked back to my desk where Siew Lan sat beside me and she was watching me. 

The next morning Mr Soo called me in to his room. After my coffee. I went in to water his plants before I opened my little notebook which I used to take instructions. 

“I want you to take over the duty of collecting thighs,” Mr Soo said. 

“That is not easy,” my immediate comment. 

“No worries,” Mr Soo continued. 

“And then do I also keep accounts of the monies collected?” my uppermost concern. 

“Of course,” he said. 

“You need a booklet?” Mr Soo continued. 

“No, I can use this one,” I preferred to use my own stationary. 

And then I walked out of the room, closing the door behind me. 

Chapter 12

Mother bought me a dress today. 

She rarely bought me things so that I was a little surprised. I put it on to show her even though I didn’t really like it. Then I walked to the mirror to examine myself. It was a chequered piece, full-length, and Japanese style. I took it off immediately after I saw that it was too colourful for me. 

But I wore it to work the next day. I didn’t know why. 

There was nothing unusual at the office today, except that nobody greeted me. 

“Hello,” I said to Benjamin. 

He ignored me. 

“Hello,” I greeted Siew Lan as I sat down. 

“You had your Earl Grey?” I attempted conversation. 

No reply came from her. She didn’t even look up from her PC. 

Slighted, I felt deflated, but I continued to start on a new day. I opened my Excel and started work. I have to make sure that the figures tally.

Today I found another thirty dollars missing. I dared not report the shortfall to Mr Soo. I knew that Rev. Ha was a pastor and was presumed innocent. If anything they could instead accuse me of siphoning money. After all from the way at the sanctuary to the office I could have taken the money if I had wanted to. 

I did not realise that CCTV was installed at the church premises. 

This happened regularly for the last four weeks. By now I had calculated losses of ninety-eight dollars in my purse. And I was still waiting for a right time to report the shortfall of petty cash to Mr Soo. As a matter of fact the amount is significant enough to constitute misappropriation if I had pocketed the sum. So I left it in the drawer. Now I had decided that I must lock the drawer or bring it home. God! I forgot where I put the keys. 

I remembered when I first arrived there were a pair. I took one and left the other hanging by the side on the key hole. Which meant that anyone could have taken it, so that even if I locked the drawer the other person still had access to the money in the drawer. What could I do now? 

I can’t be losing money like that! 

I yelled from the bottom of my heart. A bright idea came. I decided to collect the rest of the money, kept it inside a special purse, and dumped all the money inside, then I tied up the purse and put it inside my drawer. By this time I realised that I would need to lock the drawer. I proceeded to look for the key …

Chapter 13

I had to bring the special purse home now, and then waited for an opportune time to bring the matter up to Mr Soo. 

So today I took a taxi home. From outside the church it was not difficult to get a taxi. It was on a slope and then after 5:00 p.m. the drivers had just changed shift. I was able to bring the cash home safely. 

Back at home I put it in my wardrobe straight away. 

The next morning I woke up forgetting about the special purse. I got to work as usual, taking bus number 174. 

Mr Soo called me in straight away the moment I arrived. It was as though he was waiting for me. 

“What happened to the money?” he asked. 

“What money?” I replied. 

“The money you kept in the drawer,” he said. 

I became nervous I quickly said, “Oh ok, Mr Soo.”

“Let me have it,” he ordered. 

I brought him to the desk, opened the drawer for him, forgetting that the special purse with the money was no longer inside. 

“Hey, I thought I put it in there!” I screamed. 

Mr Soo looked at me, and he said, “You took the money,” 

“No, I didn’t steal it!” I denied it at the top of my voice. 

And then I realised that he couldn’t have known that there was money inside the drawer. I never told him about it. 

I looked hard at Mr Soo. What was it that he was trying to do? To frame me? Why on earth would he want to do that? 

I was in a dilemma now. I knew that I might have to resign now. If I did, I would have to return the money which I had no intention to take in the first place. But if I were to return the money to the church now, I would have a lot of explanation to do. Maybe I should just let the money lie in my wardrobe at home. As they said, let the sleeping dogs lie. 

Immediately I walked away from the man. I headed straight for the entrance to the lift, took the lift down to the first floor and then took my steps on the pebbled floor with my head held high. 

Chapter 14

The next day, I went to work as usual. At the office, everyone behaved as though nothing had happened. Not a word was mentioned about how I stormed out of the office yesterday. I went to the pantry to get my coffee as usual, and I did not fail to say hi to Siew Lan. Siew Lan’s mug was on her table, the bulldog staring at me as though to tell me to keep quiet. 

Benjamin was in a mask. Looked like he got the flu. I decided to keep quiet for the rest of the day. In my mind I was thinking of the ninety-eight dollars. 

And then when I went to the pantry to make myself another cup of coffee, I heard the same two voices: 

What is happening here? 

“Has she spoken to you?” the hoarse voice, belonging to Benjamin. 

“No, she lost her temper,” the softer voice, Peter Tan. 

OMG! That is me! They are referring to me! 

So, I sat on the piano stool again waiting for them to leave. 

Five minutes later when I was certain that they were no longer there, I pulled open the curtain and walked out of my hiding place at the piano. 

And then suddenly it dawned on me that I could do something – I could return the money inside the piano stool!

… and tell Mr Soo that I have found it there. He might ask me how I got to know that there was money there. I would have to make up a story. 

“Will you be free tonight?” 

“I thought that was the last time,” Siew Lan’s voice. 

I couldn’t help overhearing the conversation. I stood still. If they opened the curtain they would see me at once. 

I held my breath, waiting for the conversation to end, and waiting for the other side to leave the pantry area. There was another way out through the main kitchen door. No one came in here unless he wanted to play the piano, and I was not intending to strike the chord now. All I wanted was to have my coffee. 

I recognised the voices to be that of Benjamin and Siew Lan. So, Siew Lan lied to me. All along I had thought that she submitted to Benjamin against her own free will. The conversation I heard proved that she not only consented to the sexual relationship, she was also a willing party. 

Oh dear! This was a matter that I must attend to. I was not the admin manager of the church, but non-marital affairs must be stopped at once. Didn’t the Bible tell us that adultery was a sin against the law? I remembered correctly that it was the seventh commandment. 

But in order to prove that there was adultery, I must be certain that one of the parties was married. So far, both appeared to be single to me. I went home deflated and I told myself that I must attend service this Sunday. 

Once I reached the first floor I knew that I was safe. I then remembered that the money was inside my purse at home. 

How do I return it?

Chapter 15

This afternoon when I went to the pantry to get coffee I found Benjamin there. There was a stool next to the fridge, and he was sitting on it. I emptied the contents of the 3-in-1 into my mug and added hot boiling water. And then I saw Benjamin looking forlorn and unhappy. I gave him one packet of the 3-in-1 instant coffee and I took the lead. 

“Would you like to walk me home tonight?” I asked. My voice a little soft. 

“What?” Benjamin asked, sounding almost rude. 

“No, I was thinking if you’d like to walk me to the bus-stop. I repeated myself. 

“Oh, ok, I have no problems with that,” I was happy with his answer, I felt a certain elation. 

I looked at my watch almost every fifteen minutes that afternoon, until it reached 5:00 p.m. Then I left the premises and arrived at Benjamin’s room. Benjamin had his own office. He was the church admin officer. And there was only one admin officer. 

We said nothing to each other on the way from the church to the bus-stop, which was actually half the journey as when we walked together to and back from the Café 21 during lunch hour. Except that this time we both knew that we could adjourn elsewhere. 

Nothing happened after we arrived at the bus-stop. By now I had concluded that Benjamin was actually more interested in Siew Lan than in me, which was a defeat for sure. Whether he was having an ongoing relationship with Siew Lan I really did not know. Now my only concern was that Benjamin might tell Siew Lan about my special purse. 

“Look, you won’t tell her what I told you today, right?” I opened the topic, just before my bus arrived. 

“Who is her?” he asked. 

“Siew Lan, of course,” I said. 

“I thought you meant Judy,” Benjamin said. 

“Who’s Judy?” I followed suit. 

“My wife, I thought you knew that I was married,” Benjamin said, genuinely looking surprised. 

Hold it. Benjamin was married! Which meant that he and Siew Lan were not supposed to be sleeping together. It was against church laws to be sleeping with someone else’s spouse. 

I had every reason to break up this union between the two of them now. Once I procured Benjamin’s home address I could inform his wife about his relationship with Siew Lan, and then he, Benjamin would get the sack. And then the next thing was – I would get the promotion – to take over as the admin officer replacing Benjamin. 

“Where do you live?” I asked, immediately. 

My mind works very fast. 

“East Coast,” he replies. 

“Look, my bus is here.” Benjamin hurried off. 

And then I saw Benjamin going up the bus and leaving me standing waiting for mine. I knew that he was upset, I saw him in the pantry on the stool this afternoon.

Chapter 16

The minute I arrived at home, I rushed to open the wardrobe. Thank God! The special purse was still there with the money inside. Now the problem was how to return the cash of ninety-eight dollars back to the church. They belonged to the parishioners and it would be dishonest to keep it. It was a matter of law and not of morality nor of good behaviour. 

I spent the entire night holding the Rosary and praying. Esplanade was a Methodist church, but I was used to praying with the Rosary, as it had become my habit. I liked the crystal like beads as they exuded a special charm when I held them. 

By now I could safely tell you that my credit and debit balance was in a complete mess. I glossed over my balance sheet, and I started using colour pens to help me trace the net balance. The plus and minus was inconsistent so that I could even decide how much money I would have to add in order to make it appear that I had done a good job of keeping accounts. 

All I knew was that I did not take any money out of the purse for my own use. There was no reason to. I was not short of money. I was only trying to protect my honesty, which was to prevent someone else from suggesting that I stole. It began with the stupid key. If only I had known where I kept the second key. 

If only I had locked my drawer right from the start. 

I was really stuck now. What could I do to prove my innocence? 

There was only one person with whom I could talk to – Benjamin. “Look, if you refuse to admit that you stole there is nothing I can do.” This was Benjamin’s reaction when I told him about the purse situation. 

“You are not committing me.” I argued. 

“I can prove it to you by circumstantial evidence,” Benjamin said plainly. 

“How?” I got slightly curious. 

“Look, I am going up to the church office, and Siew Lan is there.” Benjamin ended the talk there. 

Ok, if you say so, I think to myself. I was quite sure that Benjamin won’t find any incriminating evidence. For one, I didn’t steal, and his confidence was infuriating. I walked away to get some fresh air. Three minutes later I came back and he was gone. 

Chapter 17

The special purse I was bringing it back to the church this morning. And whilst waiting for a taxi I saw a policeman getting into his taxi which was “on call”, so I was a little surprised that a policeman was out in his uniform taking public transport. Shouldn’t he change out of his uniform before he left the neighbourhood police post? 

But then I told myself that he did not know about the money hidden in the special purse. The policeman was just happening to be waiting for his transport. He was not there to spy on me. 

I was going to return the special purse to the piano stool today. 

My printer was spoilt again, the printer could not print. I had to call Peter Tan for help again. I picked up the mouthpiece and pressed Peter’s extension. 

“Hello, what is the problem again?” the guy sounded reluctant. 

“Hi Peter, my printer is spoilt, please come and see.” I said. 

“What is wrong?” he asked. 

“I don’t know,” “No paper,” I added. 

“No paper or I don’t know?” Peter Tan asked. 

“Hey, could you come and look at it?” I was getting impatient.

The problem was imminent as I needed to print the church bulletin. 

“Ok,” he put the phone down. 

I waited. Ten minutes. No sign of him. I gave him another ten. Still no sign. 

Just as I was about to give up and ring Benjamin instead, Peter Tan appeared at my desk with two packets of A4 size paper. 

“Again?” first things he said. 

“What do you mean by again?” I fired him back. 

“This is the first time this has happened.” 

“Oh, I see.” Peter Tan shut the printer and turned it on minutes later. 

And then he pulled the tray out from the printer. He put it on my desk and tore the wrapping apart. Then he added a random stack onto the tray. He put the tray back into the slot and he left without a word. 

This man is rude! But I told myself that he helped me, and I didn’t know when I would need his help again. 

“Would you like to eat with me tomorrow afternoon?” I heard Peter Tan say before he walked away. 

And then just as I replied he was not there anymore. 

Since I had arranged for lunch with Peter Tan, I had better cancel my lunch appointment with Benjamin. I went up to Benjamin and said, “Hi Benjamin, I can’t have lunch with you tomorrow.” 

“Fine with me,” he replied. 

I left Benjamin and went to look for Peter Tan. Peter Tan was nowhere to be found. 

Chapter 18

At 12:30 p.m. sharp, I intercom Peter Tan but there was no answer. I dialled his extension again and this time I let it ring until the line was cut off. When after the second time, I walked up from my desk and left for Café 21 by myself. When I arrived at the canteen, I looked around and did not see Benjamin. And then I decided to take the one small.

“Only one?” the char siew lady asked. I was slightly annoyed as I was being made to confess that I was alone. 

So, I was having lunch by myself today. After lunch I made sure that I collected a packet of coffee so that I won’t feel sleepy when I returned to work. Coffee always helped. As a matter of a fact, coffee seemed to help me in every ailment that I suffered from. No, I didn’t have diabetes.

And then I also went to the sanctuary to pray again. This time I went after lunch, as by now Benjamin had broken off his lunch engagement with me. We no longer ate together as a matter of course. I had also stopped eating Indian food. The upside was that I stayed alert and did not feel sleepy anymore. 

The person I liked most at the church was still Mr Soo. I knew that I could always count on him to bail me out. I was considering going into his office to tell him that I had encountered the unknown kind. 

“Mr Soo, I thought that the place is haunted,” I began. 

Mr Soo was writing something, his head bent, and holding a pen. I was thinking that I was annoying him. 

“What makes you think that the place is haunted?” finally he looked up at me and said. 

“I feel chilly,” I continued. 

“You mean the air-conditioning is too cold for you?” he asked. 

“No, Mr Soo, I have no right to tell you what temperature I wanted for the air-conditioning,” 

“The temperature is at 20 degrees all the time. If you made a request, I could increase it,” Mr Soo said. 

I counted with my figures under my desk. I had been here for four months, eighteen weeks to be exact. Asking the church director to adjust the temperature of the central system seemed a little bit too demanding, so I quickly shook my head. I got up from my chair and I walked towards the door. 

“Meet me at the pantry behind the curtain, you could sit at the piano and wait for me,” Mr Soo’s voice trailed after me. 

I opened his office door and walked out without looking back. I knew that he knew that my special purse with the money was inside the piano stool, and he was giving me a chance to return the money. Hooray! 

Chapter 19

At the pantry behind the curtain. 

“You know that Judy is our old staff,” 

“She is Benjamin’s wife,” I volunteered the information, and then I added, 

“You told me yourself.” 

“Yes, she used to work at the Esplanade with us,” Mr Soo elaborated. 

“So, they met in church,” I see. 

“And then she resigned and got married whilst I joined,” I thought I got the story. 

Mr Soo cleared his throat, and then with some reluctance, he opened his mouth, “Judy is dead.” 

“What?” my eyes widened. 

“Was she his wife before or after she passed?” I was a rather curious person. 

Mr Soo got up from his seat then walked to the piano. He opened the stool, and he took out the stack of ten-dollar bills beneath a pile of piano books. He flipped open one of the piano books and rest it on the capo bar, and then he stood up and walked away without another word, presumably back to his office. I was visibly distressed by Mr Soo’s actions. As by now, it was pretty clear to me that he knew that I had handled the thighs and I had no good explanation to pardon myself. The only option was to wait for him to fire me. My contract was not due to expire in another eighteen months’ time so that if they didn’t want me, they would have to dismiss me for reason. 

There was no proof that I had taken any money from the church. I started to think of the grounds. The contract agreement was not with me. But I was sure that it would fall under “dishonesty”, which was a “criminal breach of trust”. I had read some of those cases in the newspapers before. I panicked, and immediately I walked towards Mr Soo’s room. I did not knock on his door before entering. As I thought he was seated at his desk. I headed straight for the watering cans and as I picked them up, I said, 

“Up to you,” then I sauntered out of his office, and I came back to the pantry area to fetch water. I brought the two watering cans back to the office, like I was doing a Jack and Jill at the same time. The water spilled when I carried them as they were full. When I reached Mr Soo’s office, the door was ajar and I strolled in casually, as though nothing had happened. Then I put the watering cans on the floor and closed the office door behind me. 

“Mr Soo, I know that you have been waiting for this for a long time.” I whispered. 

“Oh yes, my little angel,” the man got up from his chair and walked towards the sofa on the other side in his room. That was the first thing I noticed when I was at the interview six months ago. And then he said, “these roller blinds are especially installed for you.” 

“So that no one can see us here?” 

……… 

I told you my mind works very fast.

The woman with the umbrella ….

Chapter 1

Every morning I woke up thinking that today was yesterday. 

I woke up this morning and found several people waiting for me. I didn’t know any of them. 

I took time to survey the surroundings. The walls were wallpapered, the furniture a dark oak colour, giving the entire room an English Laura Ashley feel. I was no expert in interior designing, but I could tell that this was an expensive house. 

“Rosalind! Ethan is awake.” A woman spoke to the other woman who stood next to her. 

“Laura, not to worry, I will look after him from now on,” the woman said. I meant, Rosalind said. 

“How do you feel?” One of them lowered his head and asked me. Then I saw three persons standing by my bed. 

“Huh?” I whispered. 

My entire body was weak and my head a cloud, as though someone had given me a bottle of Volka the night before. 

I didn’t normally drink. In fact, I didn’t drink at all. 

What did I do last night? I couldn’t recall. 

So I looked at the man dressed in blue, and I said, “I need a glass of water,” 

That was the best thing I could ask for. But then I added, “coffee is better.” 

“No problem,” the man in blue said. 

“I think he is out of danger now,” Rosalind said. 

Chapter 2

I remembered coming here before. I didn’t remember coming here before. 

As I tried to recall where I was I looked at my surroundings – beige wallpaper with small flowers and a small clock on the wall. The clock was hexagon with a thick white frame. I almost felt like I was the Mad Hatter in Alice in Wonderland. 

“Tea will be served punctually at 3:00 p.m. every day,” the blue man said to me. 

“Huh? What time is it now?” I needed to know if I were waking up from the night’s sleep or having just got up from an afternoon nap. I knew that I had been asleep for a long while, for as long as I could remember. 

Who was the last person I spoke to before I went to bed? Gosh! I couldn’t remember. 

Chapter 3

I remembered the house that I used to live in. The sun shone over the trees and into the gardens without fail. Whenever you inclined your ears to the sound of life you could hear the birds chirping happily. The windows of the houses were shut so that the sunrays reflected from it and gave the entire house a feeling of warm hot air. 

I didn’t normally go for walks but suddenly I felt the urge. I tried to get up, and the blue man caught my arm. I thought that he was trying to help me get out of the bed but actually he was just holding me to sit upright. 

“No, you can’t go out like this, not in this state,” the blue man said. 

I didn’t know him, and why was he telling me what to do? But I thought it best not to speak now. My throat was dry. 

The other two just stood there, on standby waiting for instructions from him. 

“Turn on the television,” I ordered the blue man. 

Dutifully he went to the television set. The remote control lying by the console. He picked it up, and then he handed it to me when I thought he was going to turn it on. 

Quite pissed off, I dropped the gadget on my lap. Just at this time one of the other two spoke. 

“He is still having the concussion after the car accident,” 

“Why not?” I asked. 

The two looked at each other. I think they were Rosalind and Laura. 

Chapter 4

I didn’t know what time I went to bed last night. All I knew was that I had a good night’s rest. I woke up feeling quite refreshed, but I didn’t see anybody this morning when I woke up. And I saw a bear sitting on the sofa chair in the room. 

A bouquet of mixed flowers was lying in a vase large enough to sit on the floor for some potted plants. 

The thing that disturbed me was that there was no one here to greet me this morning. Maybe I woke up too late and that they had all come and gone. 

I tried to move my legs a little but they were numb. Only the upper half of my body was working. I stretched out my hand to pick up the glass of water by the bedside, as that seemed to be the only thing to do right now. A long string with a bell attached was by the side of my bed. I thought of whether I should call for someone. But I didn’t want to be a nuisance right now. 

Outside the sun was bright and I could see some trees a distance away. Just at this time, I caught sight of a woman knocking at the window. 

“You want to come in?” I asked her but I was sure that she couldn’t hear me. So I raised my voice, “You want to come in?” 

A woman in pink uniform came in immediately. “Sir, you called?” she asked. 

Chapter 5

I set the alarm for waking up in eight hours’ time. But when I woke up I found that I had overslept by another three hours so that my total hours of sleep for drinking alcohol beforehand was altogether eleven hours. 

I went to the toilet and saw a woman scrubbing the floor. 

“I want to go out,” I said. 

“You could ask to leave but then the rest of the residents would say that you were mad.” 

By mad I think she meant crazy. I forgot that I was recovering from a car accident. Was I the only survivor? 

I told myself to be calm, “by dawn tomorrow I should be able to get out,” I was sure. But to where? I was in my own house! 

Chapter 6

Dinner was served not long after I woke up. The lady serving the food was systematic and had our names by the side of the tray. Tightly wrapped in cellophane the food was transported from some kitchen not located in these premises, if my guess was correct. 

I was allergic to some foods, like oysters. They looked awful and have a strong iron smell. It was not that I have not tried them before. I did but I did not like it. So I never went near oysters again. Luckily the food was easily recognizable. You could always see some blood stains oozing out from the meat. 

After a long tussle with my digestion system I became sleepy but I didn’t want to go to sleep. Having to keep oneself awake was a chore and almost impossible when you were sleepy. 

We all needed sleep, but not all of us needed so much sleep.

Chapter 7

They said that when you were depressed you saw everything in grey, that for instance, pink flowers appeared to you as blue or lavender, that everything was exaggerated. In practical terms, it was as though you put a layer of thin coloured film over everything you saw. The world was less happy, and the log cake less creamy. 

I was no expert in the illness, in fact I didn’t think that depression was an illness at all. I just happened to turn on the television and I saw this documentary. And then just as I was about to turn it off the blue man came in. He said it was time he took my blood pressure. 

I didn’t know what that was for and why I needed it, I rolled up my sleeve for him, before he had any chance to call the nurse to come in. I didn’t want too many people in my room. It gave me the feeling as though I was about to die, and giving my survivors my last words. 

The blue man didn’t come in with his stethoscope so I was sure that he wasn’t a doctor. Doctors didn’t measure blood pressure. It was considered to be a menial task. 

I called him the blue man as he never wore any other colour in all of the appearances. 

After all that fuss, my blood pressure appeared to be normal. No reason why it should not. My blood pressure had always been normal. And I have not been doing any exercises that would pump up the measure. As a matter of fact, I had been in bed since I woke up the other day. 

Chapter 8

After one week of confinement, I realized that there was no need to make any distinction between being awake and being asleep. I was in bed anyway. 

I got restless. And I wanted to see the rest of the world there – outside my window. 

The woman that knocked on my window has since stopped coming. And the stains of bird shit on the window had been removed without my knowledge. 

Apart from watching television and having my meals, I had no other activity. All I wanted was someone to talk to. So I asked the blue man when he came in again, if I could go out and meet some of the other people staying here. He said yes.

Chapter 9

This morning Rosalind came in with a smile on her face. I happened to be seated on the chair having my morning coffee. The manner in which she tidied up my sheets and arranged the pillows was very business-like. I watched her in silence and then I opened my mouth, 

“Are you new?” 

I think she heard me but she did not answer. So I ventured again. 

“Are you newly assigned to my room?” making my question clearer. 

This time she answered. 

“No, Sir,” and then she continued using her feather duster to clean the rest of the furniture in the room. There were very few pieces, so that by the time she was done with my side table, she had to come over to where I was seated to clean. 

“I want to go out to the gardens,” I felt this to be the right time to be making my request. “No, Sir, you can’t,” she replied. 

“Why not?” I asked. 

She had no answer to that so she quickly dropped her chores and proceeded to the door. I almost wanted to get up from my chair to block her from going out. But I was too weak. My muscle wasn’t taking my orders. 

I sank back into my chair and I think I wanted to call someone to complain. 

Chapter 10

I poked my head out of the large swing door and stepped back into my room when I saw a woman in pink seated at a counter. The heavy wooden door swung back into place and locked me in again. 

No one told me I couldn’t go out. It was just that I didn’t feel it proper to do so. By proper I meant that I had no good reason to be outside. The room was contained and compact. It had everything that I needed – a television set and a sofa chair together with a bed and also that I need not go outside to use the toilet. 

Oh yes, Rosalind hasn’t come in today to ruffle my bedsheets. 

And that was what I had to go out for. But now I was back in. Since I remembered what I was trying to do, I made another attempt to go out again. 

This time I ventured beyond the service counter. No one bothered about me. I was quite happy to be walking along the corridor and then I suddenly discovered that I had not brought my slippers with me. Immediately I rushed back to my room. 

When I came back into my room, I found the blue man waiting for me. I knew what he was here for. 

He wanted me to write my will.

Chapter 11

Since that day, I have not seen the woman knocking at my window. I was actually waiting for her, since having someone causing a commotion in my area was an event that I looked forward to. I was getting bored. Having no pressing matters, anything was welcome. 

Speaking of the devil, the woman appeared at my window again. 

“Hey, can I talk to you?” I thought I heard her say. 

I went straight to the window. There was no catch. All the panels were sealed tight. That was strange! Every window must have an opening. What was the purpose of a window when it could not open? I couldn’t think of a good reason and then I waved at the woman to acknowledge the fact that I saw her from inside. I wanted to ask her where she came from, and how she came to be here also. 

I was happy to be here, as I couldn’t recall where I used to be staying, as though my life began from this room. Nothing in the past mattered. It was just too troublesome to recall. 

Chapter 12

This afternoon I found an oyster in my tray. I didn’t eat the food and so I had to call someone to remove it from my plate, although I could have eaten around it, meaning to say that I ate everything else on the plate and left the morsel untouched. I threw the oyster out and put it on the table. 

“Sir, it hasn’t past its expiry date,” Rosalind commented when she came in later to remove the tray. 

“When was the expiry date?” automatically I asked. 

“1st December,” as though I didn’t know the year, she added, 

“2016”. 

And then I went back to the television. There didn’t seem to have more than two channels. I was getting bored with just the Korean drama and the kids channel. What has happened to the rest of the world? 

Have I just died? This seemed to be heaven – no need to report to work, no compulsory meetings, no need to record minutes. But hey, they said that heaven was a place where you need only sing and worship. I quickly grabbed the remote control to get the current news. 

Ok, since I was in heaven now. When did I ascend? And then I suddenly remembered my Rosary. I groped for it under my pillow for this was the place I always kept it. Oh but that was not this bed. With a faint tinge of hope, I went to my bed and pulled out my pillow, the pillow had light pink flowers. But this was not my point, the point was that I saw my Rosary, right there staring at me. 

Who put it there? As now I realized that I had not been sleeping on my own bed all along. Whose bed was this? Whose house was this?

Chapter 13

Today my lunch turned out to be curry chicken. I remembered that at the beginning of the week, I was given a chart to choose my menu for the week. And I distinctly remembered that curry chicken wasn’t on the list. What happened to the pork chop and sour fish? 

And then I saw a banana. No, it was not unusual to see a banana. We have bananas in Singapore, we are a tropical city. But that the one that I saw which came with my food on the tray was half black, almost ready to be thrown away. What made the kitchen staff think that it was edible? 

All food on the tray must be eaten. Otherwise I might not be served again. I was told that throwing food away was a sin. Many people in the third world countries were starving and more die out of hunger. I looked at the banana, and the banana looked at me. Finally, I gave in. I took it, peeled out the skin and I started to eat it. 

I swore at the cook. I swore at the lady who brought in the tray. I swore at the man who read the television. And finally I swore at my parents. And then I knew that that was it. It could not have been their doing as they were long gone. 

What message was the kitchen trying to convey to me? Was the kitchen trying to tell me that I have been eating too much fruits? Or were they trying to tell me that I was a yellow banana, making fun of me for the fact that I spoke no Chinese. 

Yes, I was English educated. I spoke only English even though I was Chinese. But that has nothing to do with my current state of affairs. I was here because I sold my house. My house was sold because I had to leave. But why did I have to leave? 

Chapter 14

Laura came to see me today. Nowadays usually I didn’t remember people by their names. It was hard. I could never remember from where I last saw them. And I often had to ask them for the context in which I last met them before I could talk to them properly. 

She came with a set of papers for me to sign. I saw the document and remembered that I had to sign the same things before. So why this time again? And then I looked at the title: 

The Will of Ethan Fong Seng Nam

Oh yeah, this was a will drafted by me. I scrambled for the date and found that it was 12 June 2015. I was to put my signature down for the sale of my property known as Bali Green. Bali Green was where I lived. So this was not Bali Green?! 

“No, I don’t want to sign this,” I protested. 

“But you had agreed,” Laura said. 

“I don’t remember,” I put my pen down. 

Laura’s face turned white, as she was completely flabbergasted. 

Just at this time my tea came in. A scone set and a cup of tea. I had ordered English Breakfast. There were some black spots on the scones. 

“Why the black spots?” I took this opportunity to raise an objection. 

“Sir, they are raisins,” Laura looked at me with disgust. And I read her: are you an idiot?

Laura left without my signature. 

Chapter 15

Perhaps if Laura didn’t give me the document yesterday, I wouldn’t have been able to recall that I had a house …. and that I was staying in a hospital now. But was this my new house? This place seemed like a hotel more than a hospital, too many people bubbling in here. For one, I didn’t have food brought into my room before. 

Finally, when I had decided that I wanted to see Laura again, I informed the blue man. The blue man was handy. He was always ready to help me with my request. And the funny thing was that I still didn’t know what his role was in this entire set up. 

I lived day to day. I decided it best not to ask too many questions. Life was tolerable if not wonderful. Everything seemed to be running smoothly. The lady came in and tidied my sheets every morning. She took my dirty towels out to wash. I observed her. She seemed quite happy at her job. She ruffled my sheets with a kind of enthusiasm that made one think that she will be amply rewarded afterwards. And she was rather fast at tugging the lines back into their respective corners. 

I couldn’t say that I was happy about this state of affairs. Neither was I unhappy about it. I let things pass. I let the world go by. The news on television did not affect me too much. 

Chapter 16

And then news came that Prince Harry was to marry the American actress Meghan Markle. That cheered me up tremendously – not that I was going to be invited to their wedding ceremony. It was just a piece of cheerful news. I guess unless it affected the ordinary world, it won’t go into the news. But what was an ordinary world? 

My house was sold, and therefore my world was different now. And then I met with a car accident during the course of the transaction. 

I got up from bed almost immediately, wanting to go back to my own house. I meant, my old house. My favourite furniture was there. They followed me from the other old house. And from the older house to the old house. My Barbie doll my best companion had disappeared. I had not seen her for weeks. What had happened to her? She couldn’t have walked out on me, she couldn’t walk! 

Immediately I made plans to go back to my old house to look for her. Even if my house were sold there must be someone living in it. There has to be a new owner. And my doll must still be there, waiting for me to fetch her. I became excited. I went to dress, no, I needed to call for transport first. I started pacing up and down my own room, and then I tripped on the table leg and toppled over my jug of water. It was left there for me – I was supposed to finish one jug a day. The blue man said that the doctor told me that it was good for my health. 

Doctor! I was suddenly acquainted with the idea of a doctor. Since when? The word just slipped in. I didn’t remember seeing a doctor. Was I ill? Since when? And what could be the illness? 

I remembered that I had chicken curry yesterday. And then this morning I had two pieces of French toast for breakfast. What did I do yesterday? 

Chapter 17

Like a phantom she appeared to me in the dark. I saw her face. It was white and her cheek bones were very high. She had makeup on, like one of the actresses in a horror movie. I opened my mouth and asked her, 

“What do you want from me?” but I think in reality she couldn’t hear me. 

My words were soft and powerless, as though it were just a thought. I said it many times and only after several times did she obey me. And before she left, she threw me a sentence, 

“My name is Elaine,” and then I woke up. I lay still, frightened. 

I was hundred per cent sure that some supernatural being was in my room, on top of me. But that since no concrete evidence could be found, I couldn’t tell anyone about it. 

When the servant came in to tidy up my sheets, I told her to bring them all out to wash. I wanted to wash the unseen being away. Elaine was definitely from the evil side.

Chapter 18

Of course I complained to the blue man. I was fast in making complaint. The blue man had this to offer me: get a priest to bless your house. 

It seemed like a good idea except that I didn’t liked priests. It was just my own prejudice and a strong belief that sex played a major role in a man’s life – any man – and if you avoided it, it was like avoiding food and drinks. For those who have not had sexual experiences, how could they understand the temptations of the flesh, and be able to offer advice accordingly? 

And so I rejected the blue man on the spot. He didn’t seem to be offended. He merely told me, 

“Let me know if you change your mind,” 

“No, I don’t want anyone to take control over my house,” I gave him the reason. 

“He is not taking control over you or your house, he is just here to lend the presence of the Holy Spirit to ward off the evil spirit,” the blue man said. 

“How did she come in?” I followed after him. 

“I think she followed you home from outside,” the blue man said. 

Lying in bed that night I cracked my head over the spot where I last saw Elaine. Where could she have followed me from? Could Elaine have been the lady with the umbrella and followed me back from the gardens? Yes, I went for a walk in the gardens two days ago. And as it was raining I took shelter with the lady who had an umbrella. I did not ask her for her name before I dropped her and rushed back into the sheltered walkway … 

Chapter 19

I began to look forward to the walks in the gardens. The garden was not too far away. Just two blocks and you could see several rows of multi-coloured flowers. I told myself not to bring an umbrella so that I could borrow from the lady. 

When you can’t remember anything at all you really couldn’t remember anything at all. I walked around the garden, from the sheltered walkway to the pavilion. I sat down and I got up. The woman did not appear with her umbrella. But of course, it wasn’t raining! 

I saw several people alone by themselves. I had an urge to go up and talk to them but I had no decent topic to offer for conversation. The only way I could probably start was: hi the weather looks fine today.

And then I looked at my watch. It was almost 12:00 p.m. Time for lunch. I hurried back to my house and true enough the blue man was waiting for me. 

“Where have you been?” I was surprised he asked. 

 “Just out for a walk,” I wasn’t going to tell him about the woman with the umbrella. Especially since I had met with no one. 

“You have any siblings?” He asked. 

“No, why?” 

“Someone was here to see you today,” the blue man said. 

“A lady by the name of Ruth, she said she was your sister,” he continued. 

I remembered I was an orphan. I had no sister. 

Chapter 20

My parents left me at a convent when I was very young. According to the sisters, they were supposed to come back for me. Money for lodging with them was paid regularly until one day when the money just stopped coming in. 

I started getting less food on my plate, and I was not given a new set of clothes to change into for the new year. I couldn’t account for the reason as I was very young and didn’t know the intricacies of the adult world. 

Two persons, a man and a woman, used to come to visit me at regular intervals. Only when they stopped coming then I was told that they were my parents. I had no idea. 

So who could this Ruth be? 

If they said that Ruth was my sister, then so be it. I have no problems with that. For after all if I could accept the notion that two strangers were in fact my parents, then I should similarly be able to accept the notion that Ruth was my sister. The only question was, what could Ruth want from me? I was poor I had no money to offer her. 

Hey, wait! Who had been paying for my expenses here all the while? I remembered that I paid my own utilities bill, my own telco bill, and I had my own letterbox. And …. what happened to my emails? Yeah, WHERE WAS MY LAPTOP? 

Chapter 21

I remembered that the Mac was on the right side of my bed, propped up on a side table, the side table I rolled it to one side when I went to bed. I distinctly remembered that I logged it off last night before I went to bed and didn’t touch it until I woke up this morning. But then I could not find it now. Where was it? I looked right and left, up and down, even at the ceiling – there was a fan hanging there – and finally I landed myself on the bed under the sheets. No, it was not there! 

No use looking. I have lost my Mac forever. If it were around it should have been here, right under my nose. I decided that I must lodge a report with the blue man right away. I walked out of my room, went to the counter and spoke with one of the staff. I saw a man putting some pills in a box, and I saw Rosalind counting the pills on a tray. They were busy! 

“Err, excuse me, I lost my Mac …” I started tentatively, a little timid. They continued with their activity, as though they didn’t hear me. Frustrated, I walked away, back into my own room. And then I realized that my house wasn’t my house. For otherwise, why would the entire place be flooded with so many people? And then, apart from my Mac, where was my doll? I had her on my chair all the while. Oh yeah, the fabric of this chair in my room was different! This time it was a blue material, mine was a beige all the while. 

I was shocked beyond comprehension. My world has been turned upside down. This world was a new world. And where was my old world? My old world consisted of the doll. Who can help me find it? Yup, the blue man. He was always around. He was the solution to everything … 

I took my steps one at a time. When I reached the door I looked up, and there I saw 103. What 103? Was this a room number? I remembered my house number was 49. Why 103 now? I began to panic. I was not living in my own house! 

I started walking backwards, one step at a time, without looking back, and as I reached the wall. I stopped. I sat down on the floor and I looked at my feet. No shoes! Oh yes, I came out barefooted. I never used to wear slippers in my house anyway … 

“What are you doing here?” a voice said, rather stern. I stood still. 

It was the blue man. Today he was in a white shirt. I have begun to recognize his face now. And I could see his name tag: Dr Tan Yee Chong, Harry. 

“Oh, nothing,” I said. He has this therapeutic effect on me. 

Chapter 22

Tonight I saw her again. Since she said that she was Elaine, so be it. Ok, I saw Elaine. This time she didn’t put her hands on my neck. She sat on the blue chair. In fact, I had difficulty finding her, as when I stood up and walked to the chair to look for my bear she had disappeared by the time I reached the chair. 

Stumbled on nothing. I stood in the dark, wondering where the switch was. I gave myself sometime, and then I remembered where the standing lamp was. Slowly I walked towards the lamp … ouch! I tripped over something on the floor. Hey, it was a car! Why was the car there?! 

Oh but it was only a toy car. I chuckled at the thought. And then I decided to go back to sleep. “Tomorrow night she will look for me again,” I told myself as I flopped onto the bed. The bed was welcoming and I crawled back into the sheets which had been ruffled just earlier.

Chapter 23

I never saw Elaine in my room again. On the contrary I saw the lady in the garden again. She was wearing a hat, and she was reading a book when I saw her at the bench. This time she didn’t carry an umbrella with her. 

I knew that I couldn’t talk to her anymore. She was Elaine. And Elaine was from beyond. 

In life there was a limitation to events. Time was a commodity we borrowed from God. We repay Him by being kind, by being patient, by giving love to those around us. We lived in this world, we did not exist alone. We might seem alone, but God was watching us, always, visible or invisible. 

I tried to look for Elaine again when I saw the same umbrella at the entrance to room number 104. Upon enquiry I found out that the umbrella belonged to an “Elaine” and that the room was vacated abruptly last night. 

I tried again.

And then I stopped trying. 

I never knew that that was the last time I was given a chance to talk to Elaine. And I couldn’t remember what we said to each other. God had conveniently erased it from my memory. But I couldn’t say that I missed Elaine now, all I remembered was that she had decided to leave. 

If she were a human she had decided to leave. 

If she were from beyond she was reborn. 

Death was a path to which we walked alone. They said that two angels will accompany us to heaven when the time came. I walked up and I saw the door to the gardens and I pulled hard to open it. No one was on my left, no one was on my right. The other side that greeted me was a fountain. No longer the benches. 

I went up to the fountain and was moved to cup some of the water in my palms. I drank it and felt rejuvenated. Again, I wished that I need not have to die. Again, I realized that there was no heaven. 

I came, I saw, I conquered. Fear was what I needed to conquer. Fear was what made me come. 

I meant, I was back on earth again. If you still feared death, then you could never enter heaven. 

I still have to die. Perhaps another day.

You could see the reflection of the building … inside … where I made all confessions ….

They say that when you have murdered someone, only you and the deceased knew that you have killed him. 

No one else knows. 

Chapter 1

No one can say with any amount of certainty that you put an end to his life. Not the police who subsequently surveyed the scene, not the inspector-in-charge, not the coroner, and certainly not the victim’s family. 

I knew that I had been dead before. 

Norman didn’t wake me up before he went to school this morning. 

It wasn’t unusual, as he didn’t normally wake me up. 

What was unusual was the fact that he left a cup of coffee for me at the dining table, together with some food. I won’t call it breakfast, for it was not cereal or cornflakes or anything like that, it was not toast and not butter. I took a look at it, and decided straight away that I was not going to touch it. And then I would just leave it in the dustbin outside until just before Norman was due to come home this evening. 

After the coffee, I felt a little queasy and I decided to wait thirty minutes before I got up again. 

If the meat was not thawed by then I could defrost it again. I told myself. They say that the bacteria multiply in the meat if you reheat it too often. Frankly I didn’t really care. I never thought that I would die of food poisoning. Heart attack maybe. 

I knew that I have no good reason to be here.

I was only a student. Once I finished my course I would have to go home. I have a ticket bound for Christmas Island where I came from. When I applied for my visa I had to produce a two-way ticket. 

My family knew that I was here. But no one else did. Not my classmates nor my relatives, in general the people that I knew before did not know that I was here. Since I came here, I have stopped talking to them. 

There was no reason to. They were too far away. 

Chapter 2

Dinner was cooked. Dinner was served. Norman and I ate it. But Kenny and Shaun preferred to have their own cooking. They did mash potatoes and fish fillet and I did steak and broccoli. 

Chapter 3

I find that the more often you confessed your sins to your priest the more sins you have. It’s like digging up your past. You could go up to the day you were born, or even the time before you were born. But that would require a very good imagination. It’s like telling a story, after a while you have many things to say, and you just talk rubbish. The priest who hears just listens and nods in agreement, for it is his duty to pardon. 

I could remember the day very well. 

I could remember the people who were there when it happened. I couldn’t blame them but that since they created the environment by being present, I would find them culpable. 

Chapter 4

The house was quiet, at least until 5:30 p.m. when either one of the three of them Kenny or Shaun returned from school. And then Norman usually came back by 4:00 p.m. Shaun was usually coming back early before 3:00 p.m. I could recognise the way in which he opened and shut the door. 

Shaun came in through the living room door, as it was always open, we shut it only at night when we have declared it to be time for bed. Once he was in, he headed straight to his own room, opened the locked door with a loud jerk, the door slammed against the wall, and he shut it again. 

Then I knew that it was time for me to prepare dinner. I forced myself out of bed, walked to the kitchen, and opened the fire on the stove. With some reluctance the fire ignited. I watched the flame moving slowly and I made it a little larger. 

But actually I shouldn’t have done this first. I should have taken the meat out from the freezer. So I opened the compartment and took one chunk out. It was hard and I ran some tap water over it. 

“Maybe I should turn on some hot water,” I told myself. 

Then I remembered that I have a microwave oven. The appliance could do the trick. I saw the time – 01:34 – this always annoyed me. I hated inaccurate reporting. “It is completely misleading,” I cursed under my breath and I decided to adjust the time. The date was 16 May 1983. 

I walked away to look at the radio, it was 3:47 p.m., and then back to the microwave. I took my time to reset the hour. Once the time was current I set the microwave to thaw. I usually tried 30 minutes first so that if the meat was not soft by then I could defrost it again.

Chapter 5

Once Norman came back the place came alive again. Invariably he would switch on the television and decided on the channel. 

I stayed on the sofa, unable to move, waiting for Norman to inject some life into me. But Norman was still talking on the phone. I could only hear his side of the conversation. 

“So he is ok?” “Did he need to stay overnight at the hospital?” “Give me a call tomorrow morning once he wakes up,” and he ended the conversation. 

“Ah John our neighbour is in the hospital for SARS,” Norman said. 

“What is SARS? You mean the Hong Kong passport?” I asked. 

“No, not the Special Administrative Region thing, I am referring to some bacteria by the name of SARS,” he corrected me. 

“Oh, which hospital was it?” I asked. 

And then I decided that it was best to concentrate on the script in the movie, in case Norman should ask me. He has the habit of asking me in the middle of the show what happened in the story. 

Overtime, I had decided that Daniel in “Falcon Crest” was far more important to me than the neighbour in Christmas Island who seemed to be in the ward at the Alex Johnson Hospital now. 

When I woke up in the morning, I often had this feeling that I was drugged. It couldn’t be the food that I ate the night before. It was just fish and chips, and there was no wine either. I just couldn’t understand why I could not get up. Maybe it was the air-conditioning, or maybe I did not open the window. 

I told myself that I would drink some coffee tonight, so that the after effect of coffee would carry me through to the next day when I was supposed to wake up. 

“Why are you drinking coffee at this time of the day?” Norman asked. 

Why was he watching me? I became a little annoyed. And then three minutes later I made a cup of decaffeinated coffee which defeated the purpose entirely. 

“Why drink decaf?” again Norman asked. I hated his inquisitiveness. He was not supposed to ask so many questions, it was none of his business.

Chapter 6

I had a class today. The class started at 2:00 p.m. but I was there at 2:30 p.m. I took thirty minutes from the class. Usually I was early. But I knew that I had class today. The teacher was always very keen to teach me, as though imparting knowledge to me her mission would be accomplished. I knew why. I was the only one in the class who knew Chinese. The other students were non-Chinese and they could not read and write the Kanji in Japanese so easily. Kanji is the Chinese character equivalent in Japanese, but the same meaning in different pronunciations. 

Yoko-sensei saw that I was a good student. 

I knew that I was stuck. I meant, there was nothing else for me to do here but to study Japanese. Norman was here. I got the special student pass by virtue of the fact that I was married to Norman. Before I left Christmas Island I told New Zealand that I was married to Norman. I managed to produce a wedding certificate without the ceremony. 

You could say that the marriage was a sham. We haven’t told anyone about it yet. Not before we left, not since we left. I used the piece of paper to make my name change in my passport, so that I could rightfully be called Mrs. Foo. But that it was not allowed. The name included my maiden name. I became Monica Foo nee Li Swee Tin.

I wanted to establish that I have a legitimate purpose in the country. I have never been abroad before. 

New Zealand is far. It is far away from anywhere in the world. They have more sheep than people and land is in abundance so that they never need to depend on anybody. 

Our relationship was strange as it bothered on the fringe of matrimony, as no one could say with any amount of certainty if I were married. Yoko-sensei had to drum into me: watashi kekkon shite-imasu. I liked to say watashi kekkon imashita. She somewhat knew that Norman was not actually my husband. But she could never know what went on in the room upstairs between Norman and I. 

In fact, I thought that Kenny was so upset by the absence of sex that one day he started throwing raw meat into our trolley whilst we were at the supermarket. I didn’t know if I guessed correctly that this was some kind of innuendo from him, as there was no way in which he could know that Norman and I have not consummated our marriage. 

We have not had sex. But everywhere I went I told people that I was Mrs Foo –Norman’s wife. Norman did not object to it. All the while I was wondering when he was going to propose to me. The wedding ring that Norman and I bought haphazardly at a small jewel shop stared at us, and at everyone else. 

Chapter 7

In this town there was a chapel nearby. It was small and the same faces appeared. Every time I was there they ignored me completely. But actually they were supposed to ignore me. 

At the entrance to the sanctuary, there was a notice, prominently displayed, meant for anyone who had any confessions to make. I passed by the notice every time I went in to the sanctuary. It stared at me, like someone had decided to tell me that I should talk to a priest and tell him about myself. 

I have nothing to tell you, I told the writer of the note, except that I would want to wake up early. The days passes me by and I had nothing specific to do each day. I told the note. All I wanted was to wake up early. 

Chapter 8

Today I decided to go in and see what it was all about. There was a small room and few chairs were arranged neatly in two rows. A lady was sitting there and she looked at me ready to smile. I felt the need to make some conversation. 

“Do you come here often?” I asked. 

“Good heavens no, one doesn’t have so many sins to confess,” she looked appalled. 

“Do you worship regularly?” she asked. 

“No, as a matter of fact, this is the first time I am here,” I replied, whereupon I added, 

“I don’t feel God is talking to me.” 

“He is there! Just that you don’t see him,” lady said to me. 

I felt the lady making fun of me so I took my Bible out of my bag and flipping at it pretending to be reading at the pages. 

“We have a Bible Study reading every Friday night, 7:00 – 9:00 p.m.” the lady ventured. I was not too keen on this for I wanted to be left alone, but 7:00 p.m. in the evening is ok for me, I would have been awoken by then. 

So I said, “maybe I will come.” 

Chapter 9

We go to Cob and Co. for dinner every night. The food is Asian as it is not as bland as most Western food. We like it there but they are slow. The waitress greets us, she brings us to a table, then she puts us there. Immediately she walks away. You can’t find her, she disappears into the kitchen and is nowhere to be found. We sit there like some lost kids and is at the mercy of the waitress. We waive our hands but no one takes any notice of us. We sit and wait for our food. 

Today Yoko-sensei told me that I seemed to be worried about something all the time. She asked me if I missed my family back home in Christmas Island. And she started speaking to me in Japanese which I did not understand. 

When I went home, I started reading the Bible. 

The Bible says, “Do not let your hearts be troubled, do not be afraid, …” and then I fell asleep on the bed. Norman was still watching ghost movie with Kenny and Shaun. 

Chapter 10

Since the Bible says so, and the Bible is the Word of God, what the Book tells me must be true. 

I decided to see the priest who presided at this church. He would be a good person to talk to. 

I made an appointment with the priest for confessions at the chapel. It was easy as all you need to do is write the preferred time on the guest book. 

“I have evidence of murder.” I finally got the courage to tell Father James Crawley when I saw him on Friday.

“You saw him put the knife in her throat,” Father looked at me, appalled.

I realised that I had said something dangerous.

“It was a recent film that I saw and a fragment of my imagination.” I quickly threw the sentence at him before leaving.

Chapter 11

Today I found an interesting article on my email. It was sent by somebody from India: 

The laws of Reincarnation state that there are certain things in your past lives, both good and bad (known as Karma), that may be “erased” or, on the contrary, “activated”, thus affecting your present life to a considerable extent.

I can’t remember the author of the note. I cut it out and put it in my Bible. 

When Norman came in after watching the ghost movie, he told me to pray for Ah John’s recovery. 

“Are you sure that he wants to carry on?” I asked casually. 

“It could be that secretly he wanted to die,” I said. 

“And it could just be that he was asking God for permission to end his life, one never knows these things,” Norman agreed with me at once. 

“But it is our duty as Christians to pray for sick people,” Norman corrected me. 

“Amen.” That was all that I could mutter. 

I didn’t know any other words of prayer. I still believed in Buddhism, even though I ate meat. 

Chapter 12

This afternoon I rushed to see Father Crawley immediately after Yoko-sensei’s class. Surprisingly Father was there waiting for me. 

“Do you get bad dreams?” He asked. 

“Not at all, I sleep through,” I said. 

“I am not surprised, since you take sleeping pills,” 

“No, I don’t,” I said. 

“But I do take those white tablets … and they are contraceptive pills.” Thus emphasising my marital status. 

Who told him I took sleeping pills? 

“I really want to wake up early,” I declared again. 

“It is up to you, why don’t you set the alarm?” 

“I do set the alarm,” I began to get a little frustrated. 

“Listen, unable-to-wake-up is not a sin that we, as spiritual leaders, know how to deal with. Perhaps you should seek medical help.” Father Crawley gave me an alternative. 

And then he continued with our old thread and asked, “were there any blood stains? 

“Why? No,” I proclaimed. 

“Then, were you there?” he asked. 

“No, I wasn’t,” I had to confess. 

It suddenly dawned on me that a witness to a murder, or any other type of crime, must be present at the scene. 

“Then how did you know that a murder took place? Assuming that you knew.” Father Crawley looked at me intently, with a piercing voice. 

“In any story, you must decide if you are the victim or the villain.” Father gave me another piece of advice. 

I couldn’t answer the question on why I was dead and then now I was still alive. 

“I am not whom you think I am,” I said, emphasising. 

I knew that I was Victoria, the wife of the President of Christmas Island. But that Father Crawley didn’t know about this, and I was not about to tell him. It was a state secret, it still was. No one knew about this. No one knew who I was, except that I was Mrs. Foo – Norman’s wife. And then I allowed Father to decide if he wanted to pursue the thread. 

Father told me the number of decades I should pray and what to say for penance. A decade is ten beads of the of Rosary consisting of fifty beads. 

I walked out of the cubicle, and noticed that the lady that was in the waiting area was no longer there. I took my time to walk back to the apartment. I knew that I will be having steak for dinner again tonight. I had already brought the meat out and put it in the basin, as I walked past the mall, I saw that the shop at the corner selling winter clothes was still having the same items on display. I wanted to go in and ask for the price except that I might feel obliged to pay for it later on, so I stopped at the window and admired it for a while before deciding against it. 

Shaun was already in when I arrived at the flat and I was surprised that he was early today. The door to his room was closed. If he wasn’t back, he would leave the door open. The radio in the living room was on, news of the new American leader making another surprise move was announced. We were too far away to be affected by him, and I haven’t decided if I wanted to go back to Christmas Island after my course. A two-way ticket did not mean that I could not later on secure a job in the country and change my mind. 

Chapter 13

“It’s good to believe in God.” The lady at our regular meeting place told me. By regular meeting place I meant the waiting area outside the confession room. 

“And all murderers must be punished,” I replied. 

“They usually are, no one gets away with murder,” the lady continued, as though stating that it was going to rain tomorrow. I wanted to tell her that I knew of someone who was off the hook – the one who murdered me. But that she did not know that I was Victoria. Victoria was dead. Victoria Li was Bill’s wife. Bill Young was the President of Christmas Island. Christmas Island is a country in the South Pacific. 

Victoria died of a heart attack, just after she had given birth to a half-Indian boy. Nobody could explain how two Chinese persons could produce an Indian baby. Both Bill and Angelina swore on the Bible that neither he nor his late wife Victoria had committed adultery. The newspapers were hiding the information, with only one short paragraph released about the death. And even then it wasn’t clear if Victoria had died of heart attack or suicide. There was even a mild suspicion that Bill Young killed her. Angelina Leong is the second wife of Bill Young. 

Chapter 14

I went in to do my next round of confession. 

“I can’t wake up again,” I said. 

“Is there any way you could help me get up?” I looked at Father James Crawley, helpless. 

“Even Norman could not wake me up in the morning.” I lamented. 

“Why can’t you wake up?” Father asked. Whenever I woke up in the mornings I felt like I was being drugged. 

“Could it be the food that you ate at dinner?” Father asked. 

“You must remember to give thanks to the Lord before you partake the of your meal,” Father Crawley told me.

“It is only right,” he said, and he continued, 

“since all good things come from Heaven,” 

“I often forget,” I had to confess. 

“But I am sure that doesn’t account for my being drugged,” 

I was thinking of what happened eighteen months ago. I haven’t told Father Crawley that I was Victoria yet.I am a deceased Victoria and I am posted to heaven.

I arrived at home, the steak waiting for me. I sprayed a layer of soy sauce and rubbed some pepper in, making the meat more succulent. For sure I was not a Buddhist. Buddhists don’t eat meat. But I believed in their theory of reincarnation. I was yet to decide if I was going to cross over to become a Buddhist, if Father Crawley couldn’t help me wake up in the morning.

Chapter 15

This morning after I woke up I felt compelled to see Father Crawley again. 

Father James Crawley knew who Victoria was and I thought that he could help me. I didn’t want to get in touch with Bill Young and Angelina as I didn’t think that they would welcome me. The minute they saw me they would lock me up and put me away for good. So therefore I was very sure that Bill Young killed Victoria, since I was the Victoria that he killed. I woke up after Victoria died. And only I knew that I was Victoria, no one else did. Surely I knew how I passed. 

It had been eighteen months. I left Christmas Island and arrived at New Zealand after Victoria died. I didn’t know why I did that. It was clever to run away from the killer to another country. For if he didn’t succeed in destroying you the first time he would want to do so again. He had to silence you. So why was I here? 

I was not sure if Bill Young knew that I was still alive. 

But every dead person woke up in another’s body. It is fact.

So I kept quiet and I merely told Father that there was this frock I wanted to buy. 

“What made you not buy it?” Father asked. 

Before I could answer, Father continued, “A desire for some material things is a simple want, I doubt that we can call it a sin. It is not like your covert the flowers in your neighbour’s garden and you climbed over to pluck it.” 

I listened, and then I knew that he didn’t know who I was.One day I will tell him. And then that would expose Bill Young.

Bill Young would be formally charged and then he would have to be sentenced. But then how would it benefit me? I thought about it seriously and then decided it best not to talk about it. Father discharged me today without making me do penance and I was extremely pleased. 

Chapter 16

Norman told me to clean his car today. That was a difficult job as I didn’t know how to extend the hose from the tap to the garden. 

I was always on the inside looking out, as I was driven around most of the time. Norman always drove and I let the three of them watch horror movies on television whilst I picked up my knitting. I had to make my own outfit since the shops were slow in producing new ones. 

I got up from bed this morning and I made coffee straight away. At this moment I was still Victoria. I was dead. I knew that I was a corpse. A living person didn’t feel this way. If you were alive, you could wake up in the morning. You didn’t feel drugged. 

Norman didn’t know this. He thought that I was Monica Li his fake wife all the time. As I said, only I knew that I was Victoria Young. But as far as Bill was concerned, his first wife Victoria was dead and now he was into his second marriage. I was envious of his second wife. It could have been me. It was me! 

I decided to go and make another confession with Father James Crawley. He understood me most. He had been with me since I came to New Zealand. He knew the ins and outs and all the goings-on here. Maybe he could help me. 

“Child, what do you want?” Father Crawley has decided to adopt me. 

He called me child! “Father, what do you do when you are confronted with the truth?” I started. 

“Do you carry them to the grave with you?” I asked. 

“I am afraid so. It is a heavy burden,” he sighed. 

“…. and sometimes it is better not to know the truth.” I followed the lines. 

“You have something to tell me? Father asked. 

“Err,” I stammered a little. 

“No, but then if you think that I need to know then tell me. I am here to listen to your woes.” he lowered his voice, 

“Listen, I too know that he killed her.” Father repeated what I said, or rather what I wanted him to say. 

Which meant that Father Crawley decided to collaborate with me. 

“I am Victoria,” I began. 

“If that is the case, who is Monica?” Father asked. “Monica is me too.” I continued. 

“So do you know when you are Victoria and when you are Monica?” Father asked. 

“Yes, you can say that.” And then I asked Father for some coffee as he went to the pantry and poured me a cup. I liked his mug, it has a black cat on it. 

I liked Father James Crawley’s coffee. His coffee has a special flavour which made it fragrant. I always made sure that I finished the cup before I left him. 

“Sometimes it was best to forget about the past,” watching me sip the coffee, Father said. 

“I knew some people who made themselves drunk simply because they couldn’t stop thinking about their enemies.” 

“They could take sleeping pills, I suppose.” I said. 

Chapter 17

Confessions with Father James Crawley became a habit by now. I went to the chapel automatically on days when I did not have a class, and strange things was, that Father was always available. In the beginning it was limited to the hours displayed on the notice. 

“Were there any blood stains?” Father opened topic. 

“Why? No.” I replied. 

And then, “how could that be?”

“Did you see your own body lying on the bed after you stopped breathing?” 

“Yes, I remembered that I was sitting just outside the room, and then I was telling myself: Victoria, if you want to wake up, you have to go back to your body, but I was too tired to walk down the steps, and then that was the time I heard a click. 

“What kind of clothes were you wearing?” Father tried to help me recall my memory. I thought he was trying to ascertain if I were wearing hospital clothes to establish the scene where I said I died. 

The truth was getting closer.

Chapter 18

A dangerous liaison occurred when a man was sleeping with a woman and one of them was married. There was a cloud of mystery in the whole situation, we didn’t know for sure if the affair took place, as it was usually done in secret hidden behind some hotel doors. But when an ordained man was having a special relationship with his ward – the person whom he was counselling – then what was their relationship? 

And if they are so attracted to each other, why couldn’t God make an exception? Surely rules can be broken. Priest in principle are not supposed to marry but long term relationship without marriage? One where he sleeps with the woman without publicly acknowledging her as his wife. He himself is unmarried, so how could he be committing an adultery? 

Having sex is like eating, drinking and skiing. You are just activating some part of your senses. Surely you couldn’t blame the parties for making a mistake. 

Monica, or Victoria as you might like to call her, was an extremely attractive woman. She has no failings except that she slept long hours. And it might also be true that she has never slept with Norman Foo. So that it was not totally inconceivable that Monica liked Father James Crawley. 

It could just be the very reason why Monica went for confessions so regularly. 

“You should move on and not continue to live in the past, wake up and live in the present, the future is there for you,” Father Crawley had this prepared when he was waiting for Monica today. 

He wrote the note and left it on his table. 

Chapter 19

As usual we began the session today. “Father, I know that Bill Young has forgotten about me. I mean, he didn’t know me at all. As far as he was concerned I was dead. He laid the last wreath on my coffin. I was asleep throughout.” 

“Nobody knew how I died. There were only the three of us in the hospital room – Bill, myself and Chandrasen. Chandrasen was a baby so he could not remember a thing. A baby in a cot. He would never have known that his father killed his mother.” 

“And how did he kill you?” Father Crawley asked me. 

“He turned off my life support ventilator.” I said plainly. 

“But then if you were dead, how could you have known?” 

Father looked me straight in the eye. “I am the one! He turned me off, of course I know.” I almost cried. 

“You mean to say that you knew which methods you were used to put to sleep?” 

“Why not?” I looked him in the eye. 

“You are crazy, my dear child,” Father concluded and gave me some more of the coffee. 

He sprinkled some substance into the beverage before he passed the cup to me.

I went home happily after the priest called me child again. I wanted to feel loved. I was alone in a country where no one else recognized me except Norman Foo. But I wasn’t afraid. I trusted Norman. Norman would never play me out. 

Chapter 20

“Was there any communication between you and the perpetrator after the killing took place?” 

“No, none whatsoever,” I had this to confess. 

“So you are telling me that Bill Young does not know who you were,”

“But why should he?” I asked. 

“Oh yes, I forget. You, as Victoria, woke up in Monica’s body some miles away.” 

“You got it, Father!” I was elated. 

“What happened on the night when you said something strange happened to you?” Father James Crawley became interested in my story. 

“On that fateful night, I suddenly decided to turn on all the switches in the house, I started with the bedroom, the living, the study then the dinning, the toilet, I went in search of all the lights, including the table lamps and the wall lights. Who gave me the idea I didn’t know. Maybe I was dreaming of a wedding party for myself where I imagined guests joining me. I just wanted all the lights on, it wasn’t Christmas or anything, or that I was expecting guests in the house …” 

“… and then I heard my dad’s voice, I did not hear the car driving into the porch. My mother was with him. They were shocked when they came in and they asked me repeatedly what happened. I couldn’t open my mouth and talked, like I was dumb.”

“So that you came to the illogical conclusion that someone else has turned off a life support ventilator elsewhere in another house, is that it, Monica?” 

“Yes, however, I realised that there were perhaps three other million switches out there being turned off at the same time. So I couldn’t say for sure that it was Victoria’s life support system that was being turned off.” I could use logic now. 

Father James Crawley suddenly took my hand, and then he held it and warned me severely, “You know you can’t report this to the police.” 

“Yes, I know. It’s not like I was hit by a car, got up and walked away subsequently. I died. A dead person cannot walk, sleep or eat, neither can he talk.” Monica said. 

“And a dead person cannot usually remember what happened to him before he died.” Father Crawley supplied me with the next statement. 

So I carried on, “And even if I did, my identification documents showed that I was Monica Foo nee Li Swee Tin and not Victoria Young.” 

“You are finally sane,” Father finally concluded. 

I picked up my bag and walked out of the cubicle. Disappointed that Father Crawley did not make any further move since he held my hand the other day. And then as I passed the mall, I walked to the cosmetic section and bought myself a lipstick.

Chapter 21

“If he killed you, assuming that he did, would you like me to send someone to assassinate him?” Father James Crawley asked me today. 

“Is it possible?” I looked at Father, my eyes rolled big. 

“Nothing is impossible if you prayed hard enough,” Father Crawley said. 

“You could write a petition and place the note in one of the boxes in the chapel,” Father advised me. 

Thoroughly bored with my time, I decided to give it a try. 

I am not here just to cook steak and broccoli. 

At night, after Norman, Kenny and Shaun has eaten, I went up to the study room and quietly took out a piece of paper and penned my thoughts: Dear God, please teach me how to let Father James Crawley know that I am sexually interested in him, and then I continued, I want to marry Mr. James Crawley if possible.

I appeared at the chapel and placed my note in the little box located outside the confession room the very next day. And then for the next three days. The note the next day I wrote: If Mr. James Crawley does not want to marry me, God please give me the courage to tell him that I love him by bringing him out for dinner.

No one was there in person to receive my note, but I knew that it was read. 

On the third day, after I had come back from the chapel having sent the petition note, I received an anonymous call. I picked it up, 

“Are you Monica Foo?” the voice on the other end said. 

“Yes, I am,” I was happy to reply. 

“You are invited to a cocktail at the Huntington Park this weekend, it is our open house,” a woman said on the phone. I immediately knew that she was going to rescue me from cooking steak and broccoli at night. 

“When is the date?” 

“8 July, it is a Saturday” 

“So it’s confirmed,” I wrote the date on a piece of paper and then I slipped it inside one of the pages in my Bible. 

Chapter 22

July the eighth came. I put on the piece of knit wear that I had completed just the day before, and the lipstick that I bought at the mall the other day. It was a new colour bought on the spur of the moment, inspired by the feelings I had for Father for what he said the day. 

I waited for Father James Crawley at the lobby of the hotel. He saw me and he quickly ushered me to the restaurant. The girl at the reception seemed to be expecting us but nonetheless she asked him, 

“May I know which name the table is booked under?” 

“Mr. James Crawley,” as Father was speaking he held my hand. 

“I thought you were Father,” I said teasing the man. 

“Priests are also human beings,” he replied firmly. 

I immediately concluded that he must have read my note, for otherwise he won’t have called himself a Mr. and then I quickly excused myself and said that I was going to the toilet. 

“Where is the ladies?” I asked the girl. 

“At the end of the corridor to your left,” she gave clear instructions. 

Three minutes later I was back. 

Chapter 23

“What food did you order?” I was famished. 

“Steak and broccoli,” James Crawley replied. 

By now I couldn’t decide if he were Father. or Mr. It was safer to err on the side of caution. 

“I cook this at home too,” I said. 

“You know Norman, my husband?” I offered his name. 

I always used it to protect myself whenever I wanted to not sleep with a man. James Crawley looked awful tonight. Maybe it was the lighting, or maybe because he was in ordinary clothes. Usually he wore a white robe with a sash over his neck. 

And then he began telling me a story. There was some uncertainty about the way he spoke, he never looked me in the eye for any length of time, and he would stop himself suddenly in the middle of the sentence to pour some red wine into his glass to quench himself. I watched and listened. When he offered me some red wine as well I decided to accept it even though it was not my favourite drink. 

I felt a sense of relief, almost exhilarated, after having heard James Crawley. It was definitely not a confession, just some facts that came out from a man who had a very sad past. I almost wanted to sleep with him the very night but for the fact that he refrained. At the end of the dinner, he took out his wallet and handed the waitress a three-hundred-dollar bill. I was surprised that he paid cash. And then I asked, 

“Mr. James Crawley, do you always remember what I said during confession?” 

“Yes, I always prayed for you, my dear.” James Crawley responded, as though tapping a note on the piano key. 

“Thank you so much,” I was happy and then I waited for him to walk me out of the restaurant, past the lift and I knew that he wasn’t going to sleep with me. Not tonight, but perhaps tomorrow. 

Chapter 24

Norman woke me up before he went to class this morning, “You should know that a particular situation has happened, and that you no longer need to pray for a particular person,” I was taken aback, then I asked, “Ah John …. ” Norman quickly said, “he has passed away,” and then he continued to say, “last night, at about 10:00 p.m. local time.” There and then I realised that the bottle of red wine Father Crawley and I took last night could actually be interpreted as some sort of celebration in Ah John’s passing from this secular world. Then where has he gone to? 😱 

As usual I rushed out of Yoko-sensei’s class once time out and I went to the chapel for the next round of confession. Having a heart-to-heart talk with Father James Crawley had become my daily habit, my highlight of the day. I wanted to break the news to him. I always chose different knit wears. I knit fast and I churned out more than one piece per month. “Daniel” on “Falcon Crest” was no longer my idol. Spiderman was also fading away. 

As Monica arrived at the chapel, she saw a note: 

Father James Crawley is on sabbatical leave and away until further notice. 

Which meant that he was away indefinitely. The dinner we had the night before was one of the most memorable evenings I ever had. I found my father. I found an honourable man – James Crawley. You are at liberty to call him “Father”, or simply “Mr. Crawley”. But to me he was always my counsellor my best listener. 

God, were you privy? 

I was, I am, and I will be.

My old abode ….

Chapter 1

Cher the cat 

I found that every time I used a path often enough, invariably some changes were made to it, like someone was marking my footsteps. 

I was no important person, just an ordinary citizen in this small city. The land area of this city was small. It was called the Lion City and became a republic more than fifty years ago, complete with its’ own aircrafts, warships, and all military preparations ready to fight a war, if its’ sovereignty was being challenged. 

You could say that I was paranoid. 

I lived here, as I was born within these borders. Like a fish that was used to tropical waters, or an orchid that was cultivated on this earth, I was unable to move. Not that I was unwilling to, but that I was used to the way things were, here. I liked the fact that things could be done very quickly here. 

Even the rain poured easily without warning. 

In this country, you turned on the tap, you expected water to come out. You tapped the switch, the bulbs would light up, and if you pressed the remote control, the television screen would come on. Everything worked, everyone worked. If it didn’t you call the serviceman, he would come ready with his tools in his little van within the hour. That was why I liked it here. This place was convenient. This was my home. 

But things have begun to change recently. 

You couldn’t say that I didn’t like the other people who lived here, as I rarely have anything much to do with them. Most of the time I was alone, as I liked to be doing things alone. I found that too many people doing the same things at the same time tended to make it worse. I have always been used to managing the fort by myself. 

You could call it a training. My master used to engage a large number of contractors to renovate the house where I used to live in, and the noise and hammering by the contractors the plumbers the carpenters coming in and going out altogether sank in as part of my mental makeup. I liked contractors, I was used to them. My master renovated his house without fail once a year at least so that having contractors at my home has become a part of my routine. 

My neighbour Trevor Tan was a man from China. I often saw him coming home whenever my mistress left her front door open. 

Chapter 2

Trevor the neighbour 

When Trevor came back this evening he found the neighbour’s entire house in darkness, all the lights were off. The door was left open and the television set was on. You couldn’t say that the house was in pitch darkness because some lights were emitting from the television screen. 

Trevor entered the flat, tip toed to the sofa, picked up the remote control under the table. And as he offed it, he realised that he had turned off all the lights at the same time since the only source of light came from the television. He turned on the television again. 

The news was unpleasant but that was not what he was concerned about. What he wanted to do was to find out where the neighbour Mrs. Song was. It was already 8:00 p.m., so that if she were in the kitchen the lights should be on indicating some form of activity. 

Then suddenly he saw Mrs. Song opening her bedroom door, and a man walking out at the same time. If he couldn’t understand Chinese no one would have been alarmed. But fact was that Trevor understood what she was saying – “see you again sometime,” to which the man replied, “if I don’t see you, that means that my wife is keeping taps on me.” 

By nature Trevor was a curious person, so he waited to see the response of Mrs. Song. She promptly sent the man out of the front door and then went back into the bedroom leaving Trevor in her house. 

All these happened as though Mrs. Song did not see Trevor. 

Trevor quickly retreated out of Mrs. Song’s house back into his home in case she came out to confront him. He had not realized that he had trespassed upon her property. The fact that she left her front door opened was an invitation to treat. 

At the same time Mrs. Song’s cat Cher slipped out of her flat and went into Trevor’s house. Cher’s movement was so quiet that neither one of them could have noticed it. 

Chapter 3

Trevor 

Tonight Trevor told himself that he was just going to relax. He bought a cheese burger from the Lunch Crowd Café and he made some tea for himself before he turned on the television. The news was not reassuring. The Supreme Leader of the North Korea Kim Jong En had decided to test his nuclear power once again. He has launched another one of his ICBMs. 

Most of which Trevor heard had gone into the sea. The rest was still unknown. When everyone seemed to be talking about world peace the man was flexing his muscle by pointing his nuclear power towards the sky which is altogether incomprehensible. I read that North Korea was a very different country from the rest of the world. The streets were quiet and no one talked bad about Leader Kim. In fact, no one talked. 

With a certain amount of disgust, Trevor turned off the television. He’d rather listen to some more cheerful news. Like the French election whereby the result did not affect him one way or the other. Whoever won, be it far-right or centre-right, it was still the right wing. And in any case they were going to leave the EU. The French currency was not the world currency like the U.S. dollar. Trevor allowed the noise from the television to occupy the audio space in the bedroom before he went in to take a shower. 

No one was with him at the time. Or so he thought. 

Cher was in. 

Chapter 4

Zubin the guard 

Robert Zubin knew that she was back. Once he was satisfied that Jacqueline was back at home he took another final round of the estate. He could see that the lights in her kitchen were on, and he noted the hour on his iPhone. The time was specific: 19:38. 

Tonight Zubin noticed that Jacqueline was wearing a ring on her finger. She looked visibly engrossed in some activity, and he noted that she had been late in returning three nights in a row. His was beginning to wonder if Jacqueline had found a boyfriend. 

Forty-five minutes later Zubin found himself back at the guard post. Zubin was one of the four guards at the estate. Making sure that Jacqueline was locked up at this estate was Zubin’s business. No one knew about this special task except Zubin himself, and Zubin told no one about it. Peter Ling his supervisor in charge of the small piece of property was stationed at another spot not so far away. 

Zubin’s attire was a light blue and navy pants. He always changed out of his uniform before he left the guard post. His wife Fatimah picked him up at 8:40 p.m. I said 8:40 and not eight-thirty because her timing was very precise. 

Once Zubin saw Fatimah he completely forgot about Jacqueline. 

“What have you cooked tonight?” Zubin asked. 

“Fish ball soup and Chap Chye.” Fatimah replied. 

The menu was boring, and so was Fatimah. 

Zubin knew that Fatimah would never leave him, so it was no use treating her badly. He was always civil to Fatimah even if Jacqueline were at the back of his mind. Like when he greeted Jacqueline he was actually speaking to Fatimah, or vice versa. He hoped to do a synchronisation by the end of this month, meaning to say that he wanted to make Jacqueline a cache of Fatimah.

Chapter 5

Fatimah, Zubin’s wife 

Zubin always felt that women were trouble makers, so that he hated and avoided any meaningful conversation with them. 

As far as Fatimah was concerned, so long as she has Zubin coming home for dinner every evening, things were ok between the two of them. She hasn’t slept with Zubin for as long as she could remember. Sex was not an activity which she looked forward to. Her account with Zubin was joint-alternate so that if he died, her means to a livelihood was not frozen. 

You could say that there was no reason why Zubin took upon watching Jacqueline as his extra duty. Nobody told him to monitor her, he just felt that a woman living on her own needed to be checked. Zubin didn’t know Jacqueline’s details, whether she was younger or older than he. 

Chapter 6

Trevor 

Again Trevor found the neighbour’s door open. He pretended that he was concerned about Mrs. Song’s property and her safety. Trevor was at least ninety per cent sure that Mrs. Song was an escort. But that he did not know how best to approach her. Fact that her front door was always open indicated that she was in the business. Ordinary women don’t leave their front doors open. 

He found a cat inside the house and he ignored it and sat on the sofa. The cat paid no attention to him and he wondered if he should look for Jacqueline in the other parts of the house. He waited and after fifteen minutes when no one else appeared he walked out of her apartment closing the front door behind him. 

No one knew where Jacqueline was at the time. Only Zubin knew that she was still outside the estate. 

Chapter 7

Zubin 

As Robert Zubin was making his final round at 7:15 p.m. this evening, he came across a fawn cat. The cat was perched at the bay window in one of the apartments. You could see it from the garden trail. It looked like a porcelain cat, unreal. Zubin observed the creature for some time and it didn’t move. 

He couldn’t determine if it were a real cat or just a figurine. He stood at the spot for ten minutes and still the creature was there. It was standing upright so that it could not have been asleep. Its eyes were a light blue, and it was staring right at Trevor. Trevor was almost certain that it was real. 

Zubin stood there for about ten minutes, and then he realized that it was silly to confront a feline. He immediately walked away from the spot and proceeded to go further down the path. And then he carried on his way to the other parts of the estate. The property housed two hundred and fifty-four units. 

For someone who has served in the police force before, this job at the estate was relatively simple. The residents were working class and Sleeping Alone Story by Lee Su Min 8 Zubin understood that most who lived here owned their units without a mortgage. 

Chapter 8

Trevor 

Trevor Tan took his midnight jog as usual. He liked to jog during this hour when there was no traffic on the roads and the streets relatively quiet. Trevor was working for a financial company called Marketing Basket and he usually came back before 8:00 p.m. every night. His father who lived at a bungalow not so far away was a multi-millionaire. 

Many people expected him to be working with his Dad and in fact Trevor did try, but was regarded as a spy for the directors so that no one in the office would talk to him, much less lunch with him. He was in this new office without anyone knowing about his background. 

Usually he dined alone. He has been used to this for a long time. After a heavy rain, the ground was soaking wet with his footprints on the mud as he passed. Trevor never looked back. When he jogged he ran as fast as he could. It was like he was racing against time. His Dad was looking forward to a grandchild from his younger brother, and once the baby arrived the old man was likely to leave the larger part of his estate to the younger Tan. 

Trevor has no close friends, neither did he have any enemies. He lived for himself and he was answerable only to his bank account. He managed his life so that he need never have to borrow from anyone. 

As he was jogging around the estate Trevor heard a meow. He continued with his path, but further down he heard another meow. It sounded like a baby crying. Trevor was unsure if it were a baby or actually something else. He went in to the bushes and there he saw a fawn creature. 

It was a cat! 

The cat was lying on the muddy ground and looking up at him. Its emerald eyes sparkled at him. Trevor could not help but pick it up. The fawn creature melt in his arms and Trevor was immediately mesmerised. He carried the cat all the way back to his flat, and then he placed her on his rug. 

The cat was happy and so was Trevor. He knew what he must do straight away. Immediately he went straight to the fridge to get some milk. He poured a sizable amount onto the plate and he placed it right in front of the cat. The feline lapped it up without as much as a wink. 

Trevor got a blanket and placed it on top of the cat and both of them fell asleep on the bed. The next day, Trevor felt someone scratching at his face, and he awoke instantly. He opened his eyes and he saw that it was Mimi. Trevor named her Mimi because all cats were called Mimi. 

In the morning the buzzer sounded and Trevor woke up suddenly and found that he was late. He jumped up from bed and promptly went for his shower. Ten minutes later he was all shaved and ready for work. Mimi stood by the railings of the bed and waited for him to leave the house. It was as though the cat had claimed territorial rights to his home in one night. 

Chapter 9

Zubin 

Robert Zubin said hello to Trevor as usual. He was keen on making sure that every resident in the estate knew that he was doing his job well. He remembered the face of each and every one so that he knew roughly whether they were at home during the day. 

The minute he took his round and saw that the lights in Jacqueline’s kitchen were off, he knew that everything was fine. It would seem that Zubin depended on Jacqueline too much. There was no reason why Jacqueline’s wellbeing equated with everyone else’s wellbeing. 

Once Trevor passed the side gate back into the estate, he was no longer Robert Zubin’s business. 

Chapter 10

Trevor 

Trevor took the bus. He did not own a car for the simple reason that he did not have a licence. The bus ride was half hour to forty-five minutes. He would read the news on his iPhone, so that before he arrived at the office he already knew what was happening on the other side of the globe. 

He never missed a chance to make money for his clients and they liked him a lot. However his relationship with them was confined to merely the emergency lunch. Meaning that they needed to either pull large sums of money out or inject lots of cash into the sector or equity of Trevor’s choice. 

Trevor’s terms to them was that they must abide by his judgment and that they were not to question him on why he made certain moves. 

Working in a financial company was like manoeuvring a boat at the foot of a waterfall and at times scary. But with Trevor’s business acumen it was usually plain sailing and always rewarding. He has more or less mastered the technique of reading the market forces of demand and supply. He played it like a game of chess and always made sure he got the queen before he went home.

Chapter 11

Zubin 

Robert Zubin used to think that animals such as cats and dogs were sub-humans and that those who kept them were low-class human beings. Maybe the fact has something to do with his religion. Muslims abhorred animals, dogs especially. Zubin couldn’t explain why. It was just like that. Like if you asked him why a bird could fly but that he couldn’t unless he booked a ticket on a plane. 

But after his encounter with Trevor his views somewhat changed. Zubin looked upon Trevor as the de facto manager of the entire estate. Trevor carried with him the look of success and a kind of composure which no one else could imitate. You could say that Zubin emulated Trevor, so that if the man approved of cats Zubin also would. 

Chapter 12

Jacqueline the lady 

As usual, when Jacqueline came home the first thing she did was to look for Cher. Cher was not at the bay window. Jacqueline searched the entire house including the storeroom. No Cher was there. 

Cher could be hiding under the bed! 

Jacqueline checked under her wooden bed as well. 

In the end she gave up. She was fond of Cher, but the feeling may not be reciprocated. After all Cher was just a cat, and what more could you expect from a feline?! 

Jacqueline had a picture of Cher perched on the carpet with her fat tail, taken just three weeks ago. But Jacqueline knew that she could not report the disappearance to the estate office. 

Jacqueline couldn’t remember where she met Zubin before. It could have been in the old office where she used to work. 

The Police were after Jacqueline which was the reason why she was lying siege in this house. This address here had no block number and no unit number, there was only a building name. And even then you call the blocks by the names of the flowers. No one knew the actual address. At most they knew the IP address of her computer when she turned it on. 

You could say that someone who was wanted by the Police has different traits from other ordinary citizens. They disliked having people walking behind them, even be it just for a short duration. 

Jacqueline could not say that Robert Zubin was stalking her. He was working here as a guard and he has every right to stand on the same grounds as she. It was just that she could see the flicker in his eyes whenever she greeted him, perhaps a sign of recognition, a hello from the past. 

Chapter 13

Trevor 

Mrs. Song has a nice smile and could only be described as being attractive. It did occur to Trevor that he could ask her out for dinner one night since she was living alone. The only thing that prevented him from doing so was the fact that she might also be married, even though it seemed from the other night that the Chinese man was one of her customers. 

Apart from that night he has never seen her with other men in the vicinity. Several times he was about to enquire if he was also in Singapore. But Trevor did not know that Mrs. Song also went by the Christian name Jacqueline. 

Jacqueline was married to Gordon Song in Singapore before he left for China. They have been separated for six years by now. In one year’s time at seven years if Jacqueline did not hear from Gordon he could be presumed dead. And then Jacqueline would be free to remarry. 

Jacqueline was used to living alone. Being able to sleep on a queen-size bed alone was to her a luxury. In contrast Cher was left to lie on the cold tiled floor to sleep. 

And Cher was only fed with water and dried cat food. 

Chapter 14

Jacqueline 

Jacqueline went to the kitchen to reheat the curry puff that she had bought from Old Chang Kee, kept in the fridge since the night before. She found that she was still hungry after the meal. There was no more food left in the fridge except for a few apples and some pears. The bread had already passed its’ expiry date. 

Whilst she was heating up the curry puff she heard the doorbell ring. She never had any visitor. 

It was the Police! 

Jacqueline hesitated, wondering if she should pretend that she was not at home. But then the security would have told them. She had greeted Zubin when she came in. With no choice she arrived at the front door and opened it, surprised to find that it was a man dressed in plain clothes. 

The man held out a parcel and produced an iPad for her to sign on. She saw the recipient’s name as Trevor Tan and she reluctantly accepted delivery. Jacqueline did not remember that she placed an order for any products but that she did not want to cause any fuss. 

Jacqueline, Mrs. Song had no idea that the man was just living next door. She concluded that the parcel must belong to the previous occupant of her unit. She moved in here about a year ago. 

The parcel felt like a hot potato on her hands. Jacqueline placed it at a corner where she would not be reminded of it. She was not about to look for the owner to return the parcel. 

Chapter 15

Trevor 

Trevor came out of the office and found that it was pouring. It has been raining steadily for the last three weeks and this wasn’t even autumn. 

He was beginning to feel that the rain was a deliberate attempt to foil his jogging efforts. 

When Trevor finally secured a taxi to pick him up he was considerably relieved. He grabbed one of the umbrellas and when the Grab car came he was relieved to find that it was a white Mercedes Benz. The car was almost brand new and he ordered the man to take his route. 

“No, I am just following the GPRS,” the driver declared. 

“But your wheel is tied to the map so that if you make the wrong turning, the map will only re-route, it does not give you the fastest and shortest route.” 

When he saw that the driver was unresponsive he became exasperated, 

“Listen, I am the passenger and I am in your car now, I can tell you how to go there, why don’t you just look out of your window and follow my directions?”

“Ok, then I don’t know. You just guide me,” the driver decided to discharge his duty there and then. 

As a result, Trevor could not read so that he missed out on some important news. His schedule was being disrupted today and he became very irritated. 

The moment he reached home Trevor rang the old man. This was just to remind him that his elder son was still around and to enquire if he had been promoted to an avuncular status. Not that he welcomed the fact. 

Chapter 16

Zubin 

Robert Zubin saw her red shoes and he knew that it was she at once. He pretended not to notice Jacqueline by not looking up, but fact was that he knew her too well. He knew her for a long time, longer than she would realise. 

A new signpost with the name of the estate engraved was erected. The signpost gave Jacqueline an idea of where she was in. In Jacqueline’s mind she was still living in a remote area the location only she knew. The entire estate was painted in one uniform colour. It was not easy to recognise which block you were in. 

One turning was no different from the other, so that if you missed the right turning you ended up walking round and round. 

An email came to Zubin via his supervisor this morning. The company which employed them wanted Zubin to work at another estate. This was bad news, as that would at once remove the link Zubin has with Jacqueline. 

The object was clear. Zubin didn’t know who was actually behind it. So far he has not made any enemies. No one knew that Zubin had met with Jacqueline before, not even Jacqueline herself. Apparently the other people in the estate had started to notice that Zubin watched over Jacqueline. 

Chapter 17

Jacqueline 

On the way home tonight Jacqueline found a police car waiting by the side. She was a little uneasy about it but Jacqueline had no idea where Gordon was so she could not warn him not to come. 

“Hello Zubin, what happened?” Jacqueline tried to find out. 

“Nothing, nothing at all,” Zubin replied. 

She had to ask him four times before he would supply her with the answer. She was sure that the authorities found Gordon again. 

“No, the car was here about an hour ago,” Zubin said. 

“Who are they looking for?’ Jacqueline asked. 

“Nothing, nothing, ma’am,” the man said. 

“Has someone ….” Zubin turned his head away, unwilling to offer further information. 

Jacqueline proceeded to walk in, once she ascertained that the matter did not concern her. If the Police came to look for her, it could mean that Gordon was in trouble overseas. And then she might need to give legitimacy to their marital status. 

Chapter 18

Jacqueline 

This morning the estate cleaner came and summoned Jacqueline to remove the potted plants at her corridor. 

“You have to remove them immediately,” the Indian lady ordered. 

“Why? It doesn’t obstruct anybody,” Jacqueline replied. 

“No, this is our house rules,” the woman refused to budge. 

And then she gave Jacqueline orders to do so at once. 

Jacqueline was exasperated beyond comprehension but still she kept her cool. The plants were getting sunlight at the corridor and very welcoming for they cheered her up considerably. Finally after some tussle Jacqueline relented. 

I must not create any attention. So that Jacqueline went back into her apartment and stayed in throughout the day. 

The net result was that Jacqueline forgot to buy cat food for Cher. Cher did not ate fish and milk. 

Chapter 19

Trevor 

As expected, the rain came when Trevor was just about to leave for the office. He decided to head for the gym on the fifteenth floor instead. The man who manned the centre did not look surprised when Trevor walked in, this time the third occasion in the same week. And today was not even Friday yet. He registered his name at the counter and walked straight ahead to the treadmill. 

After pressing a few buttons, the belt moved and the equipment started with a grunt. He walked as fast as he could and knew that it served no purpose as he was just walking on the same spot. Exercise which did not make you perspire did not expel the toxins in your body. 

The manager came up to Trevor and pointed him to the other equipment. It was as though he was waiting for Trevor to fail at the treadmill. 

“You should bring a towel the next time you come,” the man said. 

Trevor did not think it necessary to ask for the man’s name. They all looked the same – young, inexperienced. In any case, he might resign before I come in the next time. Trevor thought to himself. 

Frustrated by his own lack of fitness Trevor became angry. 

“Oh shits!” he said. 

“What is wrong?” the young man asked. 

Trevor grabbed a bottle of ice water from the fridge and rushed out of the gym. 

“Sir, you haven’t paid,” the manager shouted after him. 

Thank God the rain stopped when he arrived at the entrance below the gym. Trevor took a deep breath and started his evening stroll. 

Chapter 20

Zubin 

Police officers have a certain look – strict. They looked straight ahead and rarely moved their heads. Their walk was firm and their torsos upright. It was not incorrect to say that their duty was to uphold the law. Most of the time their eyes were fixed at a spot and you never knew what they were thinking of. But so long as they didn’t smile at you, you should consider yourself lucky. If they did that meant that you were the subject of their perusal. 

Zubin was in the police force before, so he knew what to expect. His former supervisor was the head of the Interpol and according to the top, the headquarters in Lyon in France, they were looking for Jacqueline’s lover.

Chapter 21

Jacqueline 

The train stopped working this morning so Jacqueline took a bus. A woman on the same bus got down after three stops. She had her son with her – Jacqueline assumed it to be her son. She wasn’t rude or anything like that to Jacqueline but for the fact that the woman noticed her cheap shoes and lousy bag. The general message seemed to be that she has a rich husband. Jacqueline could see that she was wearing a Chanel as the prominent double c was there – unless it was an imitation. 

They communicated with each other by thoughts with Jacqueline ended thinking – “yes unlike you, I don’t have a rich husband”. Jacqueline became impatient to be rid of Gordon Song. She was still attractive enough to engage someone and she remembered Trevor that day sitting on her sofa briefly. 

Jacqueline knew that she could not quarrel with anyone. If a scene was created on the bus the journey would have to be disrupted and then the Land Transport Authority would be involved. It would prevent Jacqueline from getting back in time for Cher’s meal. 

Cher needed her cat food. 

Chapter 22

Jacqueline 

Housebreaking did not always occur at night. Some thieves do break in by day. But of course the punishment was greater by day for the thief was showing to the law makers his blatant disregard – “committed under broad daylight.” The authorities had announced that there was a spat of housebreaking and it seemed that the total estimated losses amounted to over one million dollars. 

You guessed it right. Cher was gone. 

Jacqueline sat at her flat. 

She was completely lost. She could not report the loss of Cher. She knew no one at the estate whereby she could talk to. She was not close to any of the neighbours. All she could think of was how to explain to Gordon Song when he came back if at all. The cat was given to her from him. He told her that Cher was an extremely smart cat so that if she didn’t find him, she could always depend on Cher to “sniff me out”, as he put it. 

She knew Gordon’s number by heart. So she rang him now that Cher was not at sight. 

“I am coming,” Gordon said over the phone. Jacqueline was hundred percent sure that it was Gordon on the other end. She recognised his voice at once. The minute she heard Gordon’s voice she was relieved that the man was still alive. 

Sleeping Alone Story by Lee Su Min 22 Jacqueline sat in the dark for thirty minutes, afterwards she went to the kitchen to make herself some food. There was only one piece of leftover fish in the fridge, she reheated it and then she made some tea for herself. 

Without Cher by her side, Jacqueline had the entire queen-size bed to herself, and she was able to sleep without waking up in the middle of the night. The cat always announced her need to use the cat litter beforehand, as though there was a lock to it, when in actual fact it could just hop in and release herself. 

At night, Jacqueline dreamt that she was in a cave surrounded by loads of snakes. She knew that it was a sign that Gordon was doing something bad. But that she had no power to stop him as he was too far away, apart from the fact that she knew not where he was. In any case, Gordon never listened to her. 

Chapter 23

Mimi 

Trevor would have walked out of the estate this morning at 8:15 a.m. if not because of Mimi. When he woke up he found Mimi lying on the floor motionless. The bowl of milk and the chunk of fish was beside the cat but it had not been touched. It would have been clear to anybody with some common sense that his female company had taken ill. 

Trevor decided to bring Mimi to the veterinary at once. He entered the words “cat hospital” on the search bar and was glad to find the Camila Veterinary Hospital within the vicinity. He carried Mimi and rushed out of his flat to look for transport. 

Zubin could see Trevor taking Mimi out. This was the first time he saw the resident with the animal so he was a little curious. The animal looked exactly like the fawn which he saw at the bay window. 

“This your cat?” Zubin started conversation. 

“Yes,” Trevor didn’t want to say that he picked Mimi up from the bushes. 

“Rather pretty looking,” Zubin said. 

“I can’t get transport,” Trevor said. 

“Let me help you,” Zubin stepped forward to flag down one of the oncoming cars. 

Many taxis passed by and refused to stop. Finally one of them stopped in front of Zubin and wound down his window. 

“Where are you going?” the driver asked. 

“The Camila Veterinary Hospital,” Trevor said. 

The man accommodated but on condition that Trevor paid him double the fare. 

“I would have to clean out the car for the next passenger after you alighted,” was his reason. 

Doctor Choo the vet gave Mimi an x-ray and declared that the feline must stay for the night for further observations. He brought Trevor to the cat hospital grounds and showed him where Mimi would be sleeping. 

Trevor was shocked to see the animal shelter comprising of cages in several rows. He felt revolted and almost vomited. 

Trevor was Mimi’s rightful owner now so that he paid for the hospitalisation fee. Before he walked out he promised doctor Choo that he would come back to collect Mimi. 

The treatment for Mimi costs more than my own medical fees. Trevor thought to himself as he walked out of the hospital. 

The way to treat an animal is not to treat him as an animal. A cat is not a cat unless you meow at her. The message that Trevor got now was very clear – that he was grounded permanently. If Trevor wanted to travel he would have to lock Mimi up here and now that he has seen the living condition he could not bring himself to put Mimi in confinement. 

The next day duly at 10:00 a.m. Trevor went straight to the Camila Veterinary Hospital to pick up Mimi. He paid for the exorbitant hospitalisation fee and brought Mimi back to the estate, not forgetting to give the guard Robert Zubin a triumphant wave. And then it was fresh milk for Mimi as usual. 

Chapter 24

Jacqueline finally plucked up the courage to confront Zubin on the whereabouts of Cher. 

“Ma’am, once I am off duty at 8:00 p.m., I have no idea who comes in. Who is this Cher? Your friend?” Robert Zubin exonerated himself right from the start. 

“No, I am not asking about who came in, I am asking you about who went out,” Jacqueline was impatient. 

But then further on she continued, “I am referring to my cat,” 

It did not take two seconds for Zubin’s brains to tick. 

“I can bring you there,” Zubin offered. 

“Please!!!” Jacqueline was overjoyed. 

Both security and resident walked along the path and arrived at the spot where Zubin first stood, where he saw the fawn creature. It wasn’t a porcelain and that was actually Trevor’s apartment. 

There was a cat. 

Jacqueline saw and without looking so much as one glance at Zubin she went into the unit to retrieve her lost creature. Trevor’s front door was open. Jacqueline rushed into his flat, almost tripped over the real feline lying on the rug. The porcelain cat was as it should have been – right in front of the bay window. At the same time they both heard a meow and almost like a small hurricane the real cat Cher rushed out of the flat. 

Zubin was just too eager to pick up the fawn animal. 

With the cat in his hands the security guard walked up to Trevor. 

“Sir, I have found your lost pet and am now handing it back to you,” with clear English accent Zubin spoke. 

‘My, of course, thank you,” Trevor replied whilst taking over Mimi the creature from Robert Zubin. 

Chapter 25

Cher alias Mimi 

Even a cat knew who played a better master.