Rich People Problems (Crazy Rich Asians #3)

Astrid reentered the Royal Suite, and Su Yi smiled at her.

“All taken care of, Ah Ma. They will move you home as soon as possible. They just have to set up the medical equipment for you first.”

“Thank you. You are much more efficient than your mother.”

“Hnh! Don’t let her hear you say that. Anyway, you shouldn’t be talking so much. You should rest.”

“Oh, I feel like I’ve rested enough. Before I woke up, I had a dream about your grandfather. Ah Yeh.”

“Do you dream about Ah Yeh often?”

“Rarely. But this dream was very strange. Part of it felt so real, because it was a memory of something that really happened during the war, when I had been evacuated to Bombay.”

“But Ah Yeh wasn’t in Bombay, was he? Didn’t you only meet him when you returned to Singapore?”

“Yes, when I went home.” Su Yi closed her eyes and was silent for a few moments, and Astrid thought she had drifted back to sleep. Suddenly she opened her eyes wide. “I need you to help me.”

Astrid sat up in her chair. “Yes, of course. What do you want me to do?”

“There are some things you must do for me at once. Very important things…”





* * *




* Called Moti Mauli, or “Pearl Mother” in Marathi, legend has it that the statue was brought to India in the sixteenth century by the Jesuits from Portugal but was stolen by pirates. One day, a fisherman had a dream in which he saw the statue floating in the sea, and this is how it was rediscovered.





CHAPTER NINE


TYERSALL PARK, SINGAPORE

The lid on the enamel kettle started rattling, and Ah Ling, the head housekeeper, reached for the kettle on the hot plate and poured some boiling water into her tea mug. She relaxed into her armchair and breathed in the earthy, musky scent of the ying de hong cha before taking her first sip. For the past two decades, her younger brother had been sending her a parcel of this tea every year from China, wrapped in layers of brown paper and sealed with old-fashioned yellow Scotch tape. These tea leaves were grown in the hills above her village, and drinking it remained one of her last connections to the place where she had been born.

Like so many girls of her generation, Lee Ah Ling left her tiny village on the outskirts of Ying Tak when she was just sixteen, taking a boat from Canton to an island far away in the Nanyang, the Southern Seas. She remembered how most of the other girls who were crammed into that stifling little cabin had wept bitterly every night on their voyage, and Ah Ling wondered if she was a bad person to be feeling not sadness but a sense of excitement. She had always dreamed of seeing the world beyond her village, and she didn’t care if it meant leaving her family. She was leaving a difficult home—a father who died when she was twelve and a mother who seemed to have resented her since the day she was born.

Now at least she could do something to quell that resentment—in exchange for a modest sum of money that would enable her brother to go to school, she would go abroad, take the vow of celibacy that every black-and-white amah was asked to, and be tied to serve an unknown family in a strange new land for the rest of her life.

In Singapore, she had been brokered to work for a family called the Tays. They were a couple in their late thirties with two sons and a daughter living in a mansion more lavish and luxurious than she had ever dreamed was possible. Actually, it was a rather unspectacular bungalow off Serangoon Road, but to Ah Ling’s untrained eyes, it might as well have been Buckingham Palace. There were three other black-and-white amahs like her in the household, but they had been there for years. Ah Ling was the new girl, and for the next six months she was assiduously taught the finer details of the domestic arts, which for her meant learning how to properly clean varnished wood and silver.

One day, the most senior maid announced, “Mrs. Tay thinks you’re ready. Pack your belongings—we’re sending you to the Youngs.” It was only then that Ah Ling realized that her time at the Tay household had been a training ground, and she had passed some sort of unspecified test. Ah Lan, the junior maid who had been there ten years, said to her, “You are very lucky. You were born with a pretty face, and you’ve proven yourself good at polishing silver. So you get to work at the big house now. But don’t let your head get too big over this!”

Ah Ling had no idea what she meant—she couldn’t imagine a bigger mansion than the one she was already in. She soon found herself in the passenger seat of the Austin-Healey, with Mr. Tay at the wheel and Mrs. Tay in the backseat, and she would never forget that drive. They had entered what seemed like a jungle road, and at a clearing they pulled up to a grand wrought-iron gate painted light gray. She thought she was dreaming, to suddenly come upon this strange ornate gate in the middle of nowhere.

A fierce-looking Indian jaga*1 wearing a crisp olive uniform and a bright yellow turban emerged from the sentry house and scrutinized them closely through the car window before ceremoniously waving them through the gates. Then they drove up a long winding gravel lane that had been cut through the thick trees, giving way to an avenue lined with majestic palm trees, until suddenly the most magnificent building she had ever seen came into sight. “What is this place?” she had asked, suddenly becoming afraid.

“This is Tyersall Park, the home of Sir James Young. You will be working here from now on,” Mrs. Tay informed her.

“Is he the governor of Singapore?” Ah Ling asked in awe. She never knew a house could be this immense…it was like one of the grand old buildings on the Shanghai waterfront she had once seen on a postcard.

“No, but the Youngs are far more important than the governor.”

“What does Mister…Sir James do?”

“He’s a doctor.”

“I never knew doctors could be so rich.”

“He is a wealthy man, but this house actually belongs to his wife, Su Yi.”

“A lady owns this house?” Ah Ling had never heard of such a thing.

“Yes, she grew up here. It was her grandfather’s house.”

“He was my grandfather too.” Mr. Tay turned to Ah Ling with a smile.

“This is your grandfather’s house? Why are you not living here, then?” Ah Ling asked, puzzled.

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