"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?
Eddie looked around the corner to see if any of the maids were skulking nearby. There were so many goddamn maids everywhere, no one had any privacy to steal a thing in this house. That's when he heard the slow, deep moan. Ooaahhh!!! Ooooaaaahhh! It was coming from a door halfway down the hallway that had been left slightly ajar. Eddie quickly realized it was the suite where his cousin Adam and Piya Aakara were staying. He knew that Thais could be kinky, but would they really leave the door ajar like this while they were having their morning nooky? Anyone coming down this corridor could hear them. Then again, if that sexy Piya was his wife, he'd ride her into next week and not give a damn if the whole house could hear.
Eddie crept closer to the door, and a woman's voice could be heard giggling. Suddenly, another guttural voice could be heard moaning over the first one. Gwaahhh! Gwaahhh! Wait a minute, there were two guys in the room. And then the second male voice moaned, Oh yeah, right there! Go deeper! Gwaaaaahhh! Eddie's eyes widened as he recognized that voice. It was his brother, Alistair. What the fucky fuck was happening? Was Alistair having a ménage à trois with his Thai cousins right under his grandmother's roof, while she lay dying? The sacrilege! Whenever he came to visit his grandmother, he always had the common decency of checking his latest mistress in to the Shangri-La Hotel nearby. He would never think of sleeping with anyone that wasn't his wife in his dear Ah Ma's house.
Eddie barged into the room in a self-righteous fit. "WHAT IN GOD'S NAME DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DO-" he began, and then he stopped in surprise. Piya was seated on the chaise lounge sipping her morning cappuccino, coolly elegant in a sleeveless kelly green silk faille top with matching faille pencil pants from Rosie Assoulin. Eddie swung around and discovered the most curious sight. Sitting at the foot of the silver-enameled four-poster bed was Alistair, stripped to the waist, and leaning over him was Uncle Taksin, digging his elbows deep into Alistair's shoulders. Adam lay facedown naked on the bed while his mother straddled his thighs, massaging his lower back with coconut oil.