“It was a well-played move. He’s trying to do maximum damage to Charlie and to our future life there.”

“I’ll bet you anything he’s behind those paparazzi pictures too.”

“Charlie seems to think so. He’s got his whole security team trying to figure out how Michael’s had me under surveillance.”

“I know this is going into Jason Bourne territory, but is there any way Michael could have put some sort of tracking device on you before you went on your trip? I mean, he did hack your cell phone once upon a time.”

Astrid shook her head. “I haven’t seen Michael in almost a year. We only communicate through our lawyers now—and that’s his doing, not mine. Ever since he hired this Jackson Lee fellow, who I’m told is a mad legal genius, things have gotten more and more acrimonious.”

“How often does Michael see Cassian?”

“Technically, he gets him three days a week, but Michael rarely lives up to his end of the deal. He takes Cassian for a meal once a week or so, but sometimes he goes two or three weeks before he sees him. It’s like he’s forgotten he even has a son,” Astrid said sadly.

A maid entered the courtyard and set a breakfast tray down on the coffee table.

“Kaya toast!” Nick exclaimed happily at the sight of the perfectly toasted triangles of bread smeared with a thick layer of kaya coconut jam. “How did you know I was craving that this morning?”

Astrid smiled. “Don’t you know I can read your mind? This is Ah Ching’s homemade kaya from Tyersall Park, of course.”

“Brilliant!” Nick said.

Astrid noticed the glint of sadness that played across his eyes as he took his first bite of the crisp yet fluffy white bread. “Listen, I heard about how you’ve been banned from Tyersall Park. It’s so ridiculous. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to help, but now that I’m back, I’m going to try to figure something out.”

“Come on, Astrid, you’ve had so much to deal with. Don’t worry about it. Do you know the stunt my mother’s been trying to pull? She wants me to get Rachel pregnant, pronto, and then she’ll announce the news to Ah Ma in the hopes that she will want to see me.”

“You can’t be serious!”

“She called Rachel and demanded to know where she was in her cycle. She had Carol Tai’s plane all lined up to whisk her to Singapore this weekend specifically so that I could impregnate her. She even had a honeymoon suite ready at her friend’s resort in Sentosa.”

Astrid clasped her mouth in laughter. “Jesus! And I thought I had a crazy mother!”

“No one is crazier than Eleanor Young.”

“Well, at least she’s still trying to look out for you. She’ll do anything for you to get back in Ah Ma’s good graces.”

“For my mother, everything’s about the house. But you know I just want to see Ah Ma. It’s taken me a while to get there, but I realize I do owe her an apology.”

“That’s big of you, Nicky. I mean, she was pretty horrendous to you and Rachel.”

“I know, but I still shouldn’t have said the things I said. I know how much it hurt her.”

Astrid reflected on this, staring into her teacup for a moment before looking up at her cousin. “I just don’t understand why Ah Ma suddenly doesn’t want to see you. I sat by her bedside for a whole week while she was at Mount E. She knew you were on your way back, and she never mentioned a thing about not wishing to see you. Something’s up. I think Auntie Victoria or Eddie or somebody’s been influencing her while I’ve been out of the picture.”

Nick looked at Astrid hopefully. “Maybe you can find a way to bring it up with her…delicately. You’ve always had a way with her that no one else has.”

“Oh, didn’t you know? I’m persona non grata at Tyersall Park too. My parents don’t want me to show my face at the house, or anywhere in public for that matter, until this scandal blows over a bit.”

Nick couldn’t help but laugh at the whole situation. “So we’ve both been excommunicated, as if we were the devil’s spawn.”

“Yep. We’re the friggin’ Children of the Corn. But what can we do? Mum doesn’t want anything at all to risk upsetting Ah Ma right now.”

“I think Ah Ma would be more upset that you’re not there by her bedside,” Nick said indignantly.

Astrid’s eyes brimmed with tears. “We’re losing precious time with her, Nicky. Every day, she’s fading away more and more.”

* * *

*1 Originally an area of orchards and nutmeg plantations during the colonial era, Emerald Hill was developed into a residential neighborhood for Peranakan families in the early twentieth century. These Peranakans—or Straits Chinese, the term that was used for them in the era—were English educated (many of them at Oxford and Cambridge) and intensely loyal to the British colonial government. Serving as the middlemen between the British and Chinese, they grew rich and powerful as a result, as was clearly evidenced in the opulent shop houses they built.

*2 Although the Hokkien phrase literally translates to “redhaired dog shit go to drink alcohol,” it can be interpreted as “that street where the Eurotrash go to get drunk.”

*3 Deceptively simple, as it turns out—Astrid was wearing a perfectly constructed ribbed jersey tank from The Row over a vintage Jasper Conran black silk skirt in a festive tiered rah-rah design.

CHAPTER NINE

TYERSALL PARK, SINGAPORE

Eddie walked down the east corridor on the way to his grandmother’s bedroom, admiring the cluster of old photographs that had been hung salon-style over a damask-covered settee. In the center was a framed oversize print of his great-grandfather Shang Loong Ma posing next to several enormous elephant tusks and a jewel-turbaned maharaja after a safari in India. Next to that hung a studio portrait of his grandfather Sir James Young in the late thirties, looking every inch the matinee idol in his houndstooth jacket and white fedora, and improbably clutching a Norwich terrier in his arms. How dapper he looked! Who made that blazer for him? Could it be Huntsman, or Davies & Son? Eddie wondered. I wish I had known him back then. Of all his grandsons, I’m obviously the only one who inherited his style.

Lower down on the wall was a long, rectangular photo of his grandmother Su Yi wearing a tea dress, sprawled elegantly on a picnic blanket in what looked like the Jardin du Luxembourg. Next to her were two French ladies, and each of them clutched intricate lace parasols that appeared to be straining against a gust of wind. The two ladies were laughing, but Su Yi stared straight into the camera, perfectly composed. How beautiful she had been in her youth. Eddie scrutinized the signature that had been scrawled at the bottom of the print: J. H. Lartigue. Holy fuckballs, did the great French photographer Jacques Henri Lartigue really take this picture of Ah Ma? Jesus, this is priceless. I must have it for my office. It could go right next to my Cartier-Bresson print of the boy holding the wine bottles. No one else would appreciate this photograph like I would. If I took this photo and replaced it with one of the others hanging on the other wall, would anyone notice?