Chapter 4
4
Ket Siong allowed himself a backward glance as he was leaving the room. Renee had wandered over to look at the sketches, her hair falling across her face as she bent her head. She was obviously eavesdropping on the fashionable white-haired women’s conversation. She bit her lip to suppress a smile, that dimple coming and going in her cheek.
Renee had always been like this: alive to the people around her, perpetually ready to delight in their idiosyncrasies. He had to force himself to turn away.
He managed to track Alicia down in a stark white room. Glass compartments covered the walls from floor to ceiling, containing headless mannequins arrayed in white. Alicia was talking to a woman, a very trendy young person with pink hair.
Whatever they were talking about, it was clear it was important to Alicia. She kept glancing sideways at her companion, her hands flying periodically to her hair—twirling a strand around her finger, tucking it behind her ear.
This made Ket Siong feel a little better about his intention to abandon her. He attempted to catch her attention.
This proved more difficult than expected. Staring at her while walking past faux-casually did not work, though Ket Siong passed Alicia twice without looking away from her. He would have done it a third time, except a middle-aged woman in a floral dress noticed him. She gave him a flattening look of disapproval.
It wasn’t part of Ket Siong’s plan to have security called on him. He waited till the watchful floral woman had moved away, then tried his luck hissing and jerking his head—agonisingly aware, all the while, of the fact Renee was waiting by that ivory ballgown, all too capable of inviting the next attractive man she saw out for a drink, or being so invited.
It was evident that Alicia had spotted him, but was determined not to respond. She continued to pretend she didn’t see him even when he approached close enough that he was right behind her interlocutor.
“You all right, Alicia?” said the pink-haired girl.
“Yes! Fine!” said Alicia. “Just got distracted by that gorgeous jacket— no, not behind you . Right here!”
She put a hand on the girl’s shoulder, steering her to look at the display. While the girl was busy inspecting it, Alicia made a vigorous shooing motion at Ket Siong behind her back.
Loath as he was to intrude, Ket Siong felt it necessary to draw a line. He was not accustomed to being treated like a wayward chicken, especially by someone so much younger.
“Alicia, have you got a moment?” he said.
Alicia’s friend jumped, understandably startled to realise he was there. Alicia glared at him.
“I’ll be back in a sec,” she told her friend.
“What’s wrong?” said Ket Siong, when he’d finally succeeded in pulling Alicia aside.
“Ket,” she said, “do you know what ‘cockblocking’ means?”
“Oh,” said Ket Siong.
Fortunately, Alicia simmered down upon hearing his news. He did not mention Renee’s invitation for her to join them.
“Who is this person you’ve run into?” said Alicia, intrigued. “Is it a woman?” She glanced back at her friend, adding, “Or a man? Or other? I mean…”
“An old friend,” said Ket Siong, who knew perfectly well what she meant. “Will you be OK getting home?”
“Yes.” But Alicia was avoiding his eyes in a way that suggested home might not be her destination that evening.
It was her brother who was Ket Siong’s student, not Alicia. Still, he’d escorted her here. That gave him some responsibility for her.
“Do you know her well?” he said, glancing at the girl she’d been speaking to. The girl was eyeing Ket Siong suspiciously. “You’ve got my number. Text me if you need anything.”
“I’ll be fine ,” said Alicia. “You go. Have fun.”
Renee kept browsing through the displays while Ket Siong was gone. The exhibition was staggering, wonderful. She was glad she’d come, even if nothing came of the encouraging chat she’d had with the Selfridges buying manager. Here were sketches from the hand of Christian Dior himself, right beneath her nose. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to look into the mind of one of the greatest designers of all time.
Yet she was finding it difficult to focus, her mind wandering after Ket Siong. Would he come back alone, or with his friend?
“Friend” covered a lot of ground. Renee had been friends with Ket Siong, once upon a time.
If he brought his friend along, Renee would be able to tell what the precise nature of their relationship was. Not that it was any of her business. But it was the sort of thing that would interest her best friend, Nathalie.
“Eh, hello, hello!” said a voice behind her, making her jump. “I didn’t know you’re here.”
An older Chinese man in a moderately ill-fitting suit beamed at Renee, a glass of bubbly in his hand. She recognised him at once, but it took her a moment before his name came to her.
Low Teck Wee of Freshview Industries, of course. The last time she’d seen him was years ago, when they were sat at the same table at the wedding of the son of an Indonesian magnate. Dad had taken Renee along because Low had two daughters, but Dad’s attempt at multigenerational networking had flopped. A black cloud hung over the Low party; there had evidently been some family quarrel. Despite Renee’s overtures, Clarissa and Charmaine Low had spent the entire dinner absorbed in their phones, pointedly ignoring everyone else.
The last time Dad had mentioned Freshview to her was this morning, when he’d rung to talk about stepping down from Chahaya.
“Low Teck Wee’s company is investing in a project in London. Converting a factory site into housing and commercial units,” Dad said. “Big development. Did you hear of it? We want to get involved. Maybe you can help.”
What a coincidence. Fate seemed to be working overtime on Renee’s case today.
“Su—Su—you’re called what again?” said Low Teck Wee. “Su Yin?”
“Su Ren,” said Renee. “How are you, Uncle Low?”
“Good,” said Low. His face was already magenta, though the glass he held was only half-empty. “How is your father? I went golfing with him, must be two months ago now. After that, came to UK to see my daughters and do some business. I’m going back to Malaysia next week.”
“He’s well,” said Renee. “Busy as always.” Her father wasn’t planning on announcing his retirement until he’d decided who was taking over from him. “Are you enjoying the evening?”
“Ah, this kind of thing is not for old men like me,” said Low. “Charmaine is interested, so I came. Otherwise, who knows, she will be bringing some young man along, isn’t it?” He twinkled at her. “What about you? You’re here by yourself, or you have a friend?”
Renee knew what was coming next. She tensed.
Sure enough, Low added, “You know, Andrew got married last year. To the girl—can’t remember her name—the Delima Corp daughter. You remember my nephew Andrew?”
Even without that call with Dad, Renee would have been reluctant to offend Low. He’d always been kind to her and was not to be held accountable for anything his relatives did.
But it took an effort to muster a smile. She could feel how tight it was.
“Of course,” she said. “I heard he married Felicia Handoko. They seem like a great match.”
“Felicia, correct,” said Low. “Very nice girl. Not so pretty as you, of course. So when is your turn?”
Why were older Chinese people so nosy? Was Renee going to start interrogating all the younger people she vaguely knew about their relationship status the moment she hit fifty?
She’d better not let him see Ket Siong. The first thing Uncle Low would do would be to tell her father. Maybe Dad would assume it was Jason Uncle Low had seen her with, but he didn’t approve of Jason, believing he was not the kind of man to settle down and have a family.
Turned out Dad was right on that count. Renee hadn’t mentioned the breakup to him. She hadn’t wanted to divert him from what he’d rung to talk about—matters far more important than the fact her jerk boyfriend had dumped her that morning.
“I’m here on business,” she said. “You know I run a fashion company.”
Low had obviously forgotten, if he’d ever known, but he brightened at the reminder. “Yes, yes. I must ask Charmaine to talk to you. She’s studying business management at Westminster University, but she also wants to go into this area.” He waved at the exquisitely gowned mannequins staring facelessly down at them. “You have WhatsApp? What’s your number?”
Renee readily surrendered her digits and asked for Charmaine Low’s number in return, promising she’d get in touch. She would have done this in any case—she was all for supporting aspiring female entrepreneurs, even if they had been somewhat uncouth at a wedding banquet when they were fifteen. But any opportunity to get in Low Teck Wee’s good books was doubly valuable at the moment.
Nevertheless, she was relieved to see him off before Ket Siong reappeared. Ket Siong looked a little flustered. He was unaccompanied.
“Sorry I made you wait,” he said.
“Oh, don’t worry. I was chatting to someone else, so I didn’t notice the time,” said Renee. That was half-true, which was not as bad as a complete lie. “Is your friend not coming?”
“She has other plans,” said Ket Siong.
Probably she was no more than a friend, then. That meant less gossip to convey to Nathalie. She would be disappointed—or no, she would be pleased, given the circumstances in which Renee and Ket Siong had parted ten years ago. Renee could imagine Nathalie sniffing, Of course he does not have a girlfriend. I cursed him to be alone forever.
Renee found that she was a little pleased Ket Siong’s friend wasn’t coming for drinks. It wasn’t that she cared whether he had a girlfriend or not. It had all been so long ago, and so much had happened since. But it would be nice to be able to catch up, just the two of them.
Renee kept up a steady patter of small talk as they moved through the remaining rooms of the exhibition, making their way to the exit. But she was a little distracted, glancing around every other moment for Low Teck Wee. The event was approaching its close; there were fewer people to hide among.
She relaxed once they were out on the broad, tree-lined pavement, the entrance to the museum well behind them. She hadn’t spotted Low on the way out, and the likelihood they’d run into him now they’d left the building was low. He wouldn’t be walking. He’d either have a private car complete with chauffeur, or he’d get a taxi.
“Can you give me a sec?” she said to Ket Siong. She whipped a pair of ballet flats out of her bag, set them on the ground and reached down to take off her black patent heels, wobbling on one leg. “My place isn’t that far from here. Couldn’t bring myself to pay for a cab just so I could wear my Louboutins.”
She should have found a wall to steady herself against, or a bike stand. With her trench coat and Prada tote slung over one arm, it was hard to keep her balance. But before she could tip over, Ket Siong took her hand, relieving her of her bag and coat at the same time.
The touch of his hand, warm and dry, sent an electric shock up her spine. She jerked back, but he was already letting go, now she had both feet on the ground.
She completed the changeover from heels to flats with her head bowed, her face burning. At least it was dark, both of them bathed in the orange glow from the streetlights.
When she stole a glance at him, she was startled for a moment at the new distance between them—he loomed over her.
Ket Siong was gazing down at his hand, as if it had surprised him. He stepped back, clearing his throat.
“You’re still staying at your great-aunt’s flat?” he said.
Of course, Ket Siong had been to the flat before. “Same one, yeah.” Renee glanced along the road. It was an unexpectedly balmy night, the kind you got sometimes in the autumn. The evening breeze on her face was soft, a last breath of summer. “We’ll end up at Gloucester Road if we keep walking in this direction. Is that OK for you? Where do you live?”
“Edmonton.”
“Oh.” Renee was pretty sure she’d seen the name “Edmonton” on the front of a bus before, but that was as far as her knowledge went.
Ket Siong smiled slightly. “Either way is fine.”
His fingers brushed hers when he gave her back her coat and bag, but Renee was braced for contact this time. It only made her feel a little shivery.
Ket Siong flexed his hand and slipped it into his pocket, throwing a look over his shoulder at the museum. “Is everything all right?”
What Ket Siong said was always a lot less than what he meant.
Renee grimaced. “I was being weird, right? Sorry about that. I bumped into a friend of my dad’s in there.” She hesitated.
Andrew Yeoh’s uncle, she could say. Ket Siong would remember Andrew. But she didn’t feel inclined to bring him up. That came with too many associations with the day they’d last seen each other—even now, probably the worst day of her life.
“He’s from Sarawak, too,” she said instead. “Or maybe Sabah? His name’s Low Teck Wee, he’s this timber tycoon.”
Ket Siong was quiet for a moment. Renee had forgotten how he did this—paused to think before he spoke, sometimes for long enough that you thought perhaps he hadn’t heard you. He was the only person she’d ever known to do that.
“I’ve heard of him,” he said.
“I didn’t want him to see me leaving with a strange man,” said Renee. They started walking again. She was absurdly conscious of him, despite the decorous distance between them. “Next thing you know, Uncle Low will be mentioning it to my dad over golf, and Dad’ll be on the phone wanting to know why I haven’t brought you to dinner.” She rolled her eyes. “Asian parents. You know.”
“But I’m not a strange man,” objected Ket Siong.
That made Renee smile.
It should have been awkward running into Ket Siong again, after everything that had passed between them. But it was surprisingly easy to fall back into their old rhythm, as though they’d never fallen out of touch and Ket Siong was still one of her best friends.
The call with Dad had helped, taking the sting out of her breakup with Jason. Finding out she was in the running to take over the family business was big enough news to overshadow almost anything else that could happen. Renee was already thinking of her life as divided into before and after Dad’s revelation, the humiliation of the morning comfortingly sealed away behind the excitement of his call.
Her father had made no promises, and he hadn’t tried to flatter her.
“You’ve done well, but your company cannot compare to something like Chahaya,” he’d said on the phone, earlier that day. “People will look at you and think, who is this young girl trying to come in and give orders? If Su Beng and Su Khoon knew how to behave themselves, I wouldn’t be looking elsewhere. But your brothers…”
Dad let out a breath, not quite a sigh. “Their lives have been too easy. At least you don’t take things for granted. And you are also my child. It’s only fair I give all three of you a chance. It’s whether you want to or not.”
There had been no doubt in his voice that Renee would want to.
And she did. To take over Chahaya would be a challenge on a new scale, a huge level-up in terms of money, influence, and visibility. Renee knew her dad was right that most people would assume she wasn’t up to the job—and she knew she could do it, tough as it would be. She would never have a better chance to prove her mettle to everyone who had ever doubted her. Including, most importantly, her family.
Ket Siong’s voice brought her back to the present. “Renee?”
They were passing the Natural History Museum now, its grand pointy Victorian fa?ade lit up in the night. The gilt details on the ornate railings surrounding the museum gleamed under the street lamps. On Renee’s other side—where Ket Siong had taken up position, with unfussy courtesy—the road was busy with traffic, cars grunting and roaring bad-temperedly along its length. An electric bus hummed as it heaved its bulk away from the stop.
There was something so familiar about this, strolling along a London street in the evening with Ket Siong by her side. He’d always insisted on walking her home if they were out after dark.
She glanced up at him. He looked a little anxious.
“You’re not a strange man,” said Renee gently. The connection they’d had, and the way it had ended, seemed both very close and far away.
At the time Renee had blamed herself for misreading the signs, overstepping the boundaries of their friendship. It was easier, then, than thinking ill of Ket Siong.
Looking back now, she felt a surge of compassion for both of them, Ket Siong as well as herself. Sure, he’d broken her heart, but girls were always falling for Ket Siong back then and he’d never known how to handle it. Why should she have been any different?
She had wondered over the years if he was gay and that was why things had gone wrong when she’d fallen for him. But she wasn’t wearing a blouse under her jacket, and there was something about the way Ket Siong’s eyes were carefully avoiding her neckline that made her think that wasn’t it.
Was he with anyone now? It seemed impossible he could be single. As far as Renee could tell, he hadn’t changed in the past ten years, except to grow into himself.
As a boy, he had been coltish and beautiful. As a man… well. He’d broadened out surprisingly, but what made him so attractive was something more than that—a quiet confidence in the way he moved in the world, free of swagger. A certainty of his own power that made his gentleness all the more compelling.
Ket Siong raised his eyebrows. She was staring. Renee looked away, heat rising in her cheeks.
Let’s not make a fool of yourself again , Renee.
“But Uncle Low doesn’t know that,” she continued. “Best to be careful.”
“Is he close to your family?”
“Not really,” said Renee. “But the business community back home is pretty small. Everyone knows everyone. You know how it is. I have to keep my nose clean. No salacious rumours about me picking up men at galleries. There’s a lot going on with my family right now.”
She laughed, though the back of her neck prickled with an unpleasant sense of exposure. Talking about her family was like picking at a fresh scab. The old tangle of ugly feeling knotted in her stomach, anxiety and resentment and self-loathing twisting together.
Ket Siong said, “Yes?”
An invitation to elaborate, if she wanted to, but not a demand.
Renee hesitated, but Ket Siong knew what her family was like. She used to tell him everything. Even if their friendship was a thing of the past, she knew she could trust him to keep her secrets.
“I can tell you about it once we’re settled somewhere,” she said.
Worry carved lines into Ket Siong’s forehead, but he didn’t say anything. Only nodded.
In one regard, Ket Siong hadn’t changed. For all his quietness, he was so much more present than anyone else. When his intent gaze rested on you, you felt like you were the only person in the world.
But he was like that with everyone, Renee reminded herself. It was just how he was. If only she had realised that back then, she could have saved herself some considerable heartache.
And yet, would it have helped? It wasn’t like she’d fallen for Ket Siong because she thought he liked her back. She’d loved him because he wasn’t like anyone else she knew.
It was a good thing Renee had long since decided there were better things for her than love. Better, not because they were more important, but because they were attainable. What had happened that morning with Jason had confirmed that fact.
Perhaps this time she could be the friend Ket Siong wanted, and no more. It wasn’t like he’d ever demanded anything of her. He was the only person she’d ever loved of whom this was true. It was the greatest gift he’d given her—and the worst blow he’d dealt.