Now You See Us, page 21
“Water, please,” Cora says.
“Still or sparkling?”
“Just tap water,” Cora says.
“I’ll have the same,” Ma’am Elizabeth says. The waitress nods and approaches Cecilia and Jacqueline. “It’s bright in here, isn’t it?” Ma’am Elizabeth murmurs to Cora. “The lighting could be a bit dimmer.”
Cora agrees. The room is garishly bright and it gives her a slight headache. From the look on Jacqueline’s face, she can tell it’s not the only thing that’s wrong.
“I thought I made it very clear . . .” she says between gritted teeth to one of the waitresses who has bravely returned with a pad for note-taking.
Ma’am Elizabeth leans closer to Cora. “Her fiancé was supposed to take time off work but couldn’t make it. I think she’s feeling stressed.”
“And how are you feeling, ma’am?” Cora asks.
Ma’am Elizabeth looks around. “Fine,” she says. “Pleasant memories so far. We brought the girls swimming at the older Fullerton across the road during their school holidays. I had forgotten about that. Whenever Mr. Lee and I went to the symphony at Victoria Concert Hall, we treated ourselves to a suite. The view of the city from up there is divine.”
Divine. These old European buildings with their domed roofs and high pillars are layered like wedding cakes. As she passed the tour guide in the lobby earlier, she heard him say that this had been the landing point for Singapore’s forefathers. It is no wonder that Tee Wee Gabriel looked at her as if she were there to single-handedly ruin his country’s history. “It’s a beautiful place, ma’am,” Cora says. “I’m glad it brings some good memories for you—”
“Mummy,” Cecilia interrupts. “Was it the Fullerton or the Raffles Hotel where we had Po Po’s eightieth birthday?”
“Raffles,” Ma’am Elizabeth says. “And your eighteenth was at the Shangri-La. Come to think of it, we’ve never had a major celebration in our own home.”
“Of course not,” Jacqueline says irritably. “Garden parties are for small-scale events. All of our celebrations have involved lots of guests.”
“Not everything has to be a networking opportunity, Jac,” Cecilia says.
Ma’am Elizabeth gives her a warning nudge. Cora runs her fingers along the starched edges of the napkin as the waitresses return with platters. “The appetizers, Miss Lee,” Gabriel says, beaming. His smile begins to quiver when Jacqueline takes a bite of the oyster and pronounces it “adequate.” The same goes for the shrimp pâté with truffle oil and gold flakes. “It’s overwhelmingly garlicky,” Jacqueline complains. “People don’t want bad breath at a wedding.”
“Noted,” Gabriel says. “Maybe you’d like to combine the Chinese and Western options? Some couples are doing that these days. We had a wedding last month where we served abalone soup with five-spice pork belly along with a seared salmon in a lemon chive beurre blanc. A real hit. Everybody was happy.”
Jacqueline scowls at him. “Something for everybody is gauche. We wanted to streamline the menu, keep it elegant. The only alternatives I asked for were vegetarian offerings, but I see nothing besides the mushroom duxelles in the appetizer section. Are my vegetarian guests supposed to munch on chopped mushrooms all night like scavengers? And what is this? You’ve spelled mousseline incorrectly.”
“That’s why they call her Mousse-a-lini,” Cecilia stage-whispers to Cora.
“I’m very sorry about this, Miss Lee,” Gabriel says. He looks over his shoulder. “There will be a ten-minute wait before the next course.”
Jacqueline sniffs. “Thank you, I’ll be counting down.”
As Gabriel hurries away, Jacqueline turns to Cecilia and says, “Behave yourself.”
Cecilia pouts and takes another sip of her drink. “I’m fine,” she says. “I’m just in a celebratory mood. You could lighten up.”
“Let’s talk about something else,” Ma’am Elizabeth interjects. “Cecilia, you caught up with some old friends this morning, didn’t you? How’s Dominic Shen doing?”
“He started a company,” Cecilia says. “One of those themed office-share-space things. It’s super-exclusive, though; you have to go through a rigorous selection process just to get in. They have a chef who makes customized meals for all the clients. Oh, and his family’s private getai performance is going to be huge this year.”
“Bigger than last year? I can still hear those high erhu notes.”
“They’re pulling out all the stops because they’re in competition with his uncle’s family in Taiwan,” Cecilia says. “Cora, have you ever been to a getai performance? They have these outdoor singing concerts in the middle of Hungry Ghost Festival to please the spirits.”
“I’ve seen them,” Cora says. She has walked past the makeshift stages and the long rows of red chairs as singers in puffy tulle skirts and sequined bodices crooned along with the band. The first time she ever saw one, she thought it was an outdoor wedding, and she wondered why the front row of seats was empty. “Don’t stare,” an elderly man warned her. “That is where the ghosts are sitting.”
“I don’t know if Dominic was kidding, but he said his father was thinking of patenting a particular mooncake flavour: adzuki beans and dark chocolate with rose essence. It doesn’t sound bad. Do you know about the Mooncake Festival, Cora?” Cecilia asks.
“Of course she does,” Jacqueline answers. “She lived here for years, didn’t you, Cora?”
Cora nods. She doesn’t understand why Jacqueline’s question sounds so pointed.
“That’s right, I forgot,” says Cecilia. “You worked for the Gomezes. Why did I think you were fresh from the Philippines?”
“She took a long break,” Jacqueline says before Cora can answer. “We hired her straight from Manila.”
Ma’am Elizabeth is oblivious to the change in mood at the table and to Cora’s trembling hands. She continues speculating about Cecilia’s friend. “Surely his father is bankrolling a portion of his start-up, if not the whole thing. He bought Dominic’s sister an apartment in the Hamilton, didn’t he?”
“How did you know that? I thought you don’t really hang around with them.”
“I read about it in the paper,” Ma’am Elizabeth says. “It was a record bid. That’s the building on Scotts Road where you drive your car into an elevator. It brings your car up to your apartment so you can keep an eye on it from behind a glass wall.”
“Clever invention,” Cecilia says sarcastically. “People must have an eye on their Porsches at all times for security reasons.”
“That building has more security than an airport,” Ma’am Elizabeth replies. “People want to drool over their Porsches instead of talking to their families.”
“Excuse me, what is that?” Jacqueline’s voice snaps everybody’s attention to her again. Cora looks up from her napkin to see a screen slowly descending from the ceiling. Gabriel hustles back to the table. Despite the air-conditioning, a sheen of sweat makes the bright lights reflect off his forehead.
“The screen, Miss Lee.”
“Yes, I’m aware it’s a screen. What is it doing here? Are we broadcasting my nuptials live? Is this the World Cup?”
“I had a conversation with our in-house wedding-planning consultant, who said you might want to show some childhood videos of the two of you. A background slideshow will tie the whole theme together,” Gabriel says.
“The theme,” Jacqueline repeats. The word makes razor blades of her lips. “And what exactly is this theme?”
“Eternal love?” Gabriel squeaks.
Cecilia is hiding her face in her hands, but she cannot fully muffle her laughter. Ma’am Elizabeth begins to say some soothing words to Jacqueline, but the damage only gets worse: Gabriel, fumbling with the remote control to retract the screen, instead triggers a loop of automatic channel flipping. The screen turns from black to blue to the earsplitting roar of the No Signal channel.
“Just turn it off,” Jacqueline says through gritted teeth.
“I’m trying,” Gabriel says. He mutes the speakers. Now a silent drama is flashing across the screen; it involves a sword fight and a half-naked woman on a horse. “Oh, goody, I haven’t seen this season yet,” Cecilia chirps.
Jacqueline pushes her chair back and storms out of the banquet hall. “Let her,” Ma’am Elizabeth says, grabbing Cecilia’s elbow as she rises to follow Jacqueline. “She can get some fresh air on the terrace and start over. And stop being so flippant, will you? This is important to your sister.”
“You’re always taking her side,” Cecilia says with a pout.
“That’s not true.”
“You didn’t say anything when she told me off this afternoon for gaining too much weight for the bridesmaid’s dress.”
“Cecilia, I can’t get involved in your squabbles. You aren’t children anymore.”
Cora decides this is a good time to excuse herself to go to the bathroom. Walking across the banquet hall, she feels the chill of the air-conditioning raising the hairs on her arms. It was a mistake to come here, to accept the wedding invitation at all. She wonders if she can pretend to be ill and take a taxi home, but the thought of Ma’am Elizabeth’s concerned face makes her feel too guilty.
Then Cecilia shrieks. It is such a piercing sound that Cora is convinced that Jacqueline has returned and tackled her to the ground, but as she turns around, her eye catches on the huge screen and she gasps. On a news channel, filling up an entire wall of this glittering banquet room, is Mrs. Fann Poh Choo.
Dressed in a navy-blue blazer, she appears more official, more frightening, than Cora remembers. The caption at the bottom of the screen reads breaking news: SAGE New Leadership Are Members of Singapore Megachurch.
“What the hell?” Cecilia says. Ma’am Elizabeth looks a little pale as well. Another caption flashes across the screen: Fann Poh Choo, New President, Outlines New Plans for Organization. Gabriel dives to the floor and belly-crawls to the back of the screen. It looks as if he is trying to hide behind Mrs. Fann’s gigantic head, but Cora sees him yanking a cord, and a moment later, there is a pop and the screen goes blank.
As Cecilia and Elizabeth explode with chatter, Cora hurries away to the bathroom. In a stall, she tries to process what she just saw. She pulls out her phone and sends Donita a message: Just saw your ma’am on the news! There is no reply from Donita but she can’t expect one. If Mrs. Fann has a new title, Cora can only imagine what Donita must be tasked with. Cora looks up SAGE online. The headlines pop up like thought bubbles.
“Will Original SAGE Leaders Fight Back?”
“Society for the Advancement of Gender Equality Was Taking Singapore Astray, New Leadership Says.”
“Sex Education Programme to Undergo ‘Significant Revisions’: Fann Poh Choo, New SAGE President.”
Cora taps the last link to open the article. Mrs. Fann stares, unsmiling. A gold cross glints against her skin.
The Society for the Advancement of Gender Equality will no longer run its comprehensive sex education programme in schools, says the new leadership.
The decision was announced in a press conference with new president Fann Poh Choo and vice president Dr. Lena Teo. The women were elected in the SAGE annual general meeting on Tuesday evening; the organization saw a surge in new members just before the election.
During the conference, the new leadership downplayed accusations that they had orchestrated a coup to bring their religious views into an organization that has been secular and accessible to all women in Singapore since its founding in 1989. Although all members of the new leadership have been identified as members of the Rising Star Church on East Coast Road, Fann repeatedly stated: “This is not some kind of hijacking. We are doing this out of love and concern for our young people.”
Fann outlined the committee’s plans for a new sex education plan that “removes condoning of homosexuality or gender fluidity, as many Singaporean parents have concerns about these elements indoctrinating our children.” SAGE’s current sex education programme describes same-sex relationships as being “as healthy and normal as heterosexual relationships, as long as they are consensual.” Facilitators have also been known to ask students for their preferred gender pronouns at the start of their sessions.
“We cannot be complacent about the corruption of our Asian way of life,” Fann said. “This is a battle we are fighting for morality and for the sake of our family values.”
Former SAGE president Nadya Hashim and vice president Ang Jia Ying have released a statement about their shocking ousting. “The church carried out a covert membership drive to bring in voters to sway the election in their favour. It’s clear that there is an agenda to corrupt our children’s education with their religious teachings. What else will they do?”
There has been no word on whether the former committee would contest the election, but Hashim said, “Our lawyers are looking into the legalities of the matter.”
Meanwhile, the new SAGE leaders are acting quickly. A newsletter explaining SAGE’s new mission was sent to educators who previously participated in the sex education workshop. It urged them to discard old materials, which included guides on condom usage and a cartoon chart called “Is It Consensual?” They will be replaced by materials from Family Matters, a Texas publisher that promotes abstinence-based sex education.
Cora is so absorbed in reading the news that she doesn’t at first register the sounds outside the door—the clip of stilettos, the water running. Those shoes, seen through the gap under the door, are Jacqueline’s. She drops her phone back into her purse and flushes the toilet to collect herself before coming out of the stall.
Jacqueline is prodding at the skin beneath her eyes with her index and middle fingers. Whatever bags she’s trying to annihilate don’t exist—her skin is flawless, and under these softer lights in the bathroom, her sternness is diminished.
“What a terrible mess this food tasting is,” Jacqueline says.
A mess? This hotel is a fortress of gleaming silverware and dizzyingly high ceilings. The platters were filled with dishes so exquisitely rich and beautiful that they could be jewels.
“It will be okay, Miss Jacqueline,” Cora says. “There’s still time to make all the changes you want.”
Jacqueline pinches the bridge of her nose and takes a deep breath. “Time—people always think we can just wait, wait, wait, and, miraculously, everything falls into place.” She turns to face Cora. “Life doesn’t work like that. Somebody has to be making sure of things. Doing the legwork. Ensuring that instructions are properly followed.”
“Of course, Miss Jacqueline, but also you must try to enjoy—”
“Do you need to be managed, Cora?”
Taken aback, Cora stares at Jacqueline, trying to understand what she’s saying. “Excuse me?”
“Does my mother follow you around telling you to do things?”
“Never,” Cora says. “I take initiative.”
“I’ve noticed,” Jacqueline says. “You’ve had a lot of initiatives around the house lately. Changing the decor, reviving the old recipes. I see you’ve really brought the place to life.”
Is she drunk? Cora wonders as Jacqueline steps towards her. “Miss Jacqueline,” she begins. Jacqueline’s appraisal of Cora is cold and steely.
“I thought we had an agreement,” Jacqueline says. “I asked you to talk to my mother about the family business. To put it in her mind, make her think it’s a good idea. Her idea. What have you done instead, Cora? Made our house more comfortable so she can stay a hermit forever.”
“Whatever Ma’am Elizabeth wants is her choice. I cannot make her do anything,” Cora says. Her voice trembles.
“Of course you can. Be convincing. I paid you, didn’t I? She values your opinion. You’re behaving like a helpless maid now, but look at this.” Jacqueline makes a long sweep in the air from Cora’s head to her toes. “All dressed up, sitting at the table. It comes with responsibility, you understand? You don’t just get to play dress-up and come to our parties without doing the work.”
Cora wishes she had her wedding invitation so she could hand it back to Jacqueline. I didn’t ask for this, she thinks. “Miss Jacqueline, if you feel I don’t belong here, I can leave,” she says. She’s proud of herself for staring Jacqueline squarely in the eye as she says this. It has an effect. A ripple of uncertainty crosses Jacqueline’s face as Cora sweeps past her, tucking her purse under her arm.
“I’ve spoken to your previous employers,” Jacqueline says.
Cora freezes in the wide powder-room foyer. She sees her startled reflection in the mirror and Jacqueline behind her, arms crossed over her chest.
“The Calverts,” Jacqueline continues. “I believe the Merry Maids agency got in touch with my mother as well, but she wasn’t very responsive, so Belinda Quek asked me about it in church last Sunday. She has to keep her paperwork in order these days since some girl from Myanmar complained that she was forced to work in the family’s catering business.”
Cora swallows. “Ma’am, I can explain,” she says. In front of her are two plump velvet chaises, facing each other. She imagines the absurdity of sitting down with Jacqueline in this hotel bathroom so she can detail her escape from Manila.
Jacqueline removes a compact from her purse and takes her time patting her cheekbones, turning to her own mirror as she does this. Cora turns around to watch and wait. “All they said was that you betrayed their trust. I suppose they wanted to be gracious, so they didn’t say much more.”
Cora’s breath catches. She feels relief and guilt at the same time. Gracious, yes—the Calverts could have told Jacqueline what Cora did. But it would have been embarrassing for them too.
