No matter how old you are, no matter how ready you think you are, nothing quite prepares you for the loss of a parent. My father passed away years ago, and I still haven’t quite recovered. People have been saying to me all week long, “At least your mother lived to this ripe old age, and you got to spend all these years with her.” And I just want to spit in their faces. I want to scream at them, Shut up, all of you! My mother died. Please don’t tell me how lucky or fortunate I am that she lived this long. She has been here on this earth my entire life and now suddenly in the blink of an eye she’s gone. Gone, gone, gone. And I am an orphan now. And even though she was a difficult woman, even though she drove me crazy half the time and I was never ever quite good enough for her exacting standards, my heart is broken. I will miss her every day and every hour for the rest of my life. My only regret was that I wasn’t there with her at the moment of her passing. Cat was the only one in the room with her, and I kept asking her what happened. But Cat seems too distraught to speak. She won’t tell me a thing.
—
A small, discreet, one-column death notice was published in the obituary section of The Straits Times:
SHANG SU YI, Mrs. James Young
(1919–2015)
Beloved wife and mother
Son—Philip Young
Daughters—Felicity Young, Catherine Young, Victoria Young, Alexandra Young
Sons-in-law—Tan Sri Henry Leong, M.C. Taksin Aakara, Dr. Malcolm Cheng
Daughter-in-Law—Eleanor Sung
Grandchildren and Their Spouses—Henry Leong Jr. (m. Cathleen Kah), Dr. Peter Leong (m. Dr. Gladys Tan), Alexander Leong, Astrid Leong, M.R. James Aakara (m. M.R. Lynn Chakrabongse), M.R. Matthew Aakara (m. Fabiana Ruspoli), M.R. Adam Aakara (m. M.R. Piyarasmi Apitchatpongse), Nicholas Young (m. Rachel Chu), Edison Cheng (m. Fiona Tung), Cecilia Cheng (m. Tony Moncur), Alistair Cheng
Great-grandchildren—Henry Leong III, James Leong, Penelope Leong, Anwar Leong, Yasmine Leong, Constantine Cheng, Kalliste Cheng, Augustine Cheng, Jake Moncur, Cassian Teo
Brother—Alfred Shang (m. Mabel T’sien)
Visitations begin tonight at Tyersall Park by invitation only.
Funeral at St. Andrew’s Cathedral, Saturday at 2:00 p.m. by invitation only.
No flowers please. Donations may be made to the St. John’s Ambulance Association.
* * *
* Hokkien for “No more.”
CHAPTER TWO
TYERSALL ROAD, SINGAPORE
Goh Peik Lin turned to Rachel from the driver’s seat of her Aston Martin Rapide. “How do you feel?”
“Well, I didn’t manage to sleep a wink on the plane, so it’s 7:30 a.m. New York time for me right now and I’m about to crash the funeral of a woman who didn’t approve of me marrying her grandson and meet all of her possibly hostile relatives that I haven’t seen in five years. I feel great.”
“You’re not crashing the funeral, Rachel. You’re part of the family and you’re here to support your husband. You’re doing the proper thing,” Peik Lin tried to assure her. Peik Lin was her closest friend from their Stanford days and had always been such a pillar of support.
Sitting beside Rachel in the backseat of the sports sedan, Carlton squeezed her hand in a show of support. Rachel leaned her head against her brother’s shoulder and said, “Thanks for flying down from Shanghai. You really didn’t have to do this, you know.”
Carlton made a face. “Don’t be daft. If you were going to be anywhere in this hemisphere, did you think I could stay away?”
Rachel smiled. “Well, I’m glad I get to spend a few moments with you both before I get sucked into the matrix. Thanks so much for picking me up, Peik Lin.”
“Don’t even mention it. Poor Nick, I know he wanted to come get you but he’s totally trapped at the night visit,” Peik Lin said.
“So what is this night-visit thing, exactly?” Rachel asked.
“Night visits are like sitting Shiva, Singapore-style. It’s officially for family and close friends to come to the house to pay their last respects, but really, it’s a chance for all the kaypohs*1 to get in on the family gossip and start scheming. I guarantee you everyone at Tyersall Park is furiously speculating about what’s going to happen to the house now that Shang Su Yi has dearly departed, and there are plenty of shenanigans going on in every corner.”
“Unfortunately I think you may be right,” Rachel said with a slight grimace.
“Of course I’m right. When my grandfather died, all my uncles and aunties came out of the woodwork and crept around his house during the night visit, putting stickers with their names behind paintings and under antique vases so they could claim that he had given it to them!” Peik Lin said with a chuckle.
Soon they found themselves in bumper-to-bumper traffic as the line of cars snaking up Tyersall Road to the estate’s gates were stopped at a security checkpoint. Glancing at the policemen peering into the cars ahead of them, Rachel felt her stomach begin to knot up.
“There’s so much security—I think the president or prime minister must be here,” Peik Lin noted. After passing through all the checkpoints, the car sped up the long driveway, and as they rounded the last curve, Tyersall Park finally came into view.
“Bloody hell,” Carlton said, impressed by the scene before him. The great house was ablaze in lights, the front driveway resembled a parking lot lined with fancy cars, many with diplomatic plates. Uniformed Gurkhas and policemen were stationed everywhere, trying to manage the traffic flow.
As the three of them got out of the car, a large black military helicopter swooped into sight over the house and descended gracefully onto the manicured lawn. The doors slid open, and a portly Chinese man in his early eighties dressed in a black suit with a deep purple tie was the first to get out. A woman in a black cocktail dress with art deco patterned jet beading followed behind him.
Rachel turned to Peik Lin. “Is that the president and First Lady?”
“No. I have no idea who they are.”
Then a middle-aged man in a black suit emerged, and Carlton exclaimed, “Well that’s the president of China!”
Peik Lin looked awestruck. “Oh my God, Rachel, the president of China has come to pay his respects!”
Much to their surprise, the next person to emerge was a tall, lanky college-age kid with long, messy shoulder-length brown hair, dressed in tight black jeans, steel-tipped black boots, and a black tuxedo jacket. A Chinese man in a pinstripe suit and a blond middle-aged lady in a black dress with a pale green shawl draped around her shoulders emerged next, followed by a cute fair-haired girl of about twelve.
“Stranger and stranger,” Peik Lin said.