Chapter 27
27
Renee was working when she saw the notification. A new blog post had been published on the Hornbill Gazette .
She clicked on the link because she felt in need of distraction. Her supplier for Virtu at Home—a family-run studio in Japan that had taken long searching to find—was folding, after the sudden passing of the patriarch. Forget about rolling out the line at Chinese New Year. She might not get to do it at all. It was a crushing blow.
At least sales in the run-up to Christmas were robust, but it was always a crunch getting orders out and everything done before Virtu closed for the break. Shutting the office from Christmas Eve through to the new year was something she’d introduced as a well-being measure, but it made the weeks before wildly stressful. Chinese New Year was bearing down on them, too—it was in late January next year, earlier than usual—and their New Year womenswear collection had to be perfect. It was their mainstay, vital for cash flow.
At least Renee had had three weeks of relative peace since the Freshview pitch to focus on Virtu’s problems. They were waiting to hear about the outcome of the pitch, though they should be getting the news any day now. Freshview had said it would take three or four weeks.
In the meantime, Su Khoon had taken himself off to Europe, where he was travelling with his family. They were due to return to London next week, and Dad was flying in from Singapore to join them for a few days. He’d made it clear the reason he was coming was to tell Renee and Su Khoon in person about his choice of CEO—the assumption was that Freshview would have announced their choice by then. But the plan was also to have a big family get-together to celebrate Renee’s birthday.
That was something to look forward to. They’d booked a nice restaurant—Renee was particularly fond of Yauatcha’s patisserie—but she was considering whether she might invent a bout of stomach flu to get out of the meal.
Dad, Su Khoon, and his family were going to travel back to Singapore together afterwards. With a lesser man, one might be inclined to wonder whether the fact Dad had elected to share a plane with Su Khoon and Jessie for thirteen hours indicated he was leaning towards choosing Su Khoon.
But Renee had decided not to read too much into the choice. She was avoiding thinking about the Chahaya leadership contest as much as she could. It was a topic that only led her down dead ends.
It didn’t occur to her, as the Hornbill Gazette update loaded, that its contents were unlikely to be soothing, given the reason she’d subscribed in the first place. It had been years since the Gazette had blogged about Ensengei or Freshview. Even the Facebook post mentioning Stephen’s disappearance dated from seven months ago. Renee didn’t expect to see anything relevant to her in the new post.
The Gazette began by apologising for its silence in recent months, before offering an explanation:
We have been busy working on a piece, to be published shortly in one of the UK’s major broadsheets, detailing a shocking corruption scandal implicating the highest levels of the state and federal government. The main players will be familiar to those who have followed Sarawak’s woes over the years. They include a prominent company, run by one of the premier’s cronies, whose rapacious exploitation of Sarawak’s resources and flagrant disregard of the law have been covered in this blog before. The article will also present, for the first time, a full account of the enforced disappearance of a local activist, with proof of the complicity of corporate interests and state forces. As always in Malaysia, money works hand in hand with politics to serve the powerful.
Renee read the post over again, pressure gathering in her chest.
There was no reason to think the Gazette was talking about Freshview. If there was one thing she’d learnt from reading through the blog’s archives, it was that prominent companies run by political cronies abounded in Malaysia. The post could be about any number of shady businesses.
If not for the detail of the disappeared activist. There weren’t that many of those.
Renee’s throat closed up, her heart banging against her ribs. She got up and staggered to her kitchen, fumbled for a glass of water, and drank it down.
She had been working so hard not to worry about the Freshview deal—though it had struck her a couple of weeks ago that she had the resources to do more than Google obsessively for evidence of what Ket Siong had told her. She’d reached out to the enquiry agents she’d hired a few years back when her brothers had engineered their campaign to sabotage her and Virtu.
The agency had said they would see what they could find out. So far, they hadn’t come up with anything she hadn’t already read about online. They’d said they were investigating a potential lead in Switzerland, of all places, but there hadn’t been an update on that yet.
If they found anything… but until they did, until there was some concrete evidence she could show her family, there was nothing Renee could do. The pitch was done. Their proposal was going through Freshview’s corporate machinery. Freshview would decide what they decided.
It wasn’t likely they’d decide for Chahaya, anyway, after that debacle at lunch. Andrew had accepted Renee’s apology with oily condescension, but the incident would hardly have endeared Chahaya to him. And if Chahaya lost the pitch, then there was nothing to worry about. Su Khoon would blame Renee; Dad would be scathing about her emotional incontinence; Su Beng would saunter into the top job to which he had been born; and they would all go back to their lives.
Renee wasn’t going to lose it over a deal that would probably never be signed.
She sat back down at her desk. It was only three o’clock. If she buckled down, she should be able to get four or five solid hours of work in before clocking off for the evening.
But for once, work proved ineffective as a distraction. Her concentration was shot. Every time her mind drifted back to that Hornbill Gazette post, her chest started hurting, darkness crowding at the edge of her vision.
When she found herself rereading a draft press release for the Chinese New Year collection for the third time, Renee made a snap decision.
She’d go for a run. She hadn’t been exercising much of late. That must be why she was like this, so jangled and nervy that merely reading a blog post had sent her into a spiral.
She’d burn off her restlessness, get out of her head, and come back refreshed, ready to tackle her inbox. Things would seem less bad then.
The sun was low in the sky by the time Renee set off, heading for her usual route in Hyde Park. It would be dark soon, but so long as she stuck to the main paths, with their rows of lampposts, she’d be all right.
It was a clear, crisp day. There would be frost on the grass in the morning. Her breath steamed in the air. She let the movement take over: the steady beat of her heart; the thud of her trainers on the path; the rhythm of her legs.
It didn’t take long for her to get winded—she was out of shape. Too much work and worry, not enough physical exertion. But she pushed through, relishing the burn in her chest and the ache in her muscles.
The lamps were coming on along the path when her phone, strapped to her arm, started buzzing. The ringtone interrupted the true crime podcast she’d been half listening to—a recommendation from Nathalie, who had ghoulish tastes in nonfiction. Renee glanced at the screen.
It was Su Khoon.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“They’ve gone for us,” said Su Khoon, without precursor.
Renee was already slowing down. She came to an abrupt stop.
“What?” she said, though she already knew what he meant. What else could he be talking about?
“We got the deal.” Su Khoon’s voice was exultant. “I’ve told Dad. He wants to have a call tomorrow morning. Can you come over to the house? Penny’s looking at flights for me, I should be in London by tonight.”
There was a fair amount of background noise on the line. He must be in a café or something. Maybe that was why his voice sounded like it was coming from so far away. The syllables landed against Renee’s ears, weightless, deprived of meaning.
“You’re coming back?” she said.
“What’s that? Yes,” said Su Khoon. “There’s some kind of lag, you’re taking forever to come through. Yeah, might as well get to work. I’ve seen enough of lakes. I’ll see you at eight a.m. tomorrow? I’m going to ring the lawyers now, get them to clear conflicts, all that.”
“Right,” said Renee.
“Bye,” said Su Khoon. “Good work. We got there!”
He rang off, to Renee’s distant relief. He probably hadn’t heard her breathing change, though she could hear herself, hoarse and laboured.
No matter how hard she fought to breathe, it wasn’t enough. The pressure in her chest was crushing, her heart in a vice. Her vision narrowed.
She crumpled over onto the path, gasping for air. Pain sparked in her knee as the tarmac scraped the skin off through the thin fabric of her leggings. She thumped her fist against her chest as if that might shift the obstruction, her other hand scrabbling for purchase on the path.
Dread shook her in its jaws. It felt like she was going to die.
It took a while for the voice to penetrate.
“Are you all right?” A man’s voice. Then it said, shocked, “Renee?”
It came to Renee that she knew the person speaking. It was Ket Siong.
She choked out, “Panic attack.”
She’d had them before, though not in a while. This was probably a recurrence, and not that she was dying, bad as it felt.
She was remotely conscious of Ket Siong hovering, not quite touching her.
“How can I help?” he said.
Let me crawl in a hole and die, was what Renee would have said, if she could. She shook her head, or tried to.
Either none of this got through, or Ket Siong wasn’t inclined to respect her wishes, for once.
“Come on,” he said.
He raised her to her feet, his touch light but decisive, and walked her to a bench. The wool of his coat was scratchy against her arm. She could feel the solid warmth of him through it.
She collapsed onto the bench. Ket Siong moved the arm that had been holding her up, letting her fold over onto herself.
“I’m going to count,” he said. “Try to focus on my voice.”
He started counting, unexpectedly, in Mandarin. “Yi. Er. San. Si. Wu…”
Renee’s Mandarin wasn’t great, despite the Chinese for Business course she’d taken a few years ago. But numbers she could follow.
“Liu. Qi. Ba. Jiu. Shi.”
More than the numbers, it was his voice she clung to—deep, gentle, infinitely familiar. She followed the thread of it until her breathing evened out and her chest unlocked, her heartbeat slowing.
When she could feel all her limbs again, she said, “Sorry.” Her voice came out as a croak. Her mouth was dry.
“Here.” Ket Siong held out a water bottle, then paused. “I’ve drunk from it. But I could get you…” He looked around.
It was properly dark now. They were by the Serpentine, its waters illuminated by the yellow glow of the night sky, reflecting the million lights of London. Trees made irregular patches of shadow on the mirrored surface.
During the day, there were booths where Ket Siong could have bankrupted himself to buy a bottle of mineral water. They’d be closed now.
A hush lay over the park. There was no one around, for once. It felt like they were the only two people in the world.
“It’s OK,” said Renee, and took a swig from his bottle. She felt drained and trembly, light-headed.
She handed the bottle back to him. “Thanks.”
Ket Siong put it away in his messenger bag. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” said Renee, and burst into tears.
She wasn’t planning on doing that, or on explaining herself. The moment she was able to pull herself together, she was going to get out of here, hide away in her flat, and never show her face to the world again.
Except Ket Siong put his arm around her, as naturally as though it was a thing they did. She found herself leaning into his warmth, talking.
“We won the deal,” she said. “With Freshview.”
“I thought you wanted the deal.”
“That was before you told me—before I knew—” Renee’s voice hitched. She drew her arm across her eyes. “I don’t know what to do. The pitch was bad enough. Virtu’s a mess. If I have to work on nailing the deal down, I’ll never get to launch Virtu at Home, and our CNY collection is fucked. But I’m stuck. Freshview’s made their choice, and now you hate me, and Chahaya’s going to be partnering with the company that killed your friend—”
“That’s not right,” said Ket Siong. “I don’t hate you.” He paused. “And Stephen’s alive. We found him.”
“What?” Ket Siong was blurry; her eyes were still full of tears. Renee blinked, scrubbing them. “You found him? How? Where has he been?”
“He’s in Geneva,” said Ket Siong. “It’s a long story.”
Renee hadn’t been in a state to notice much about him till now. His face was too close for her to be able to make out his expression. She pulled away so she could look at him. He withdrew the arm he’d put around her, clearing his throat.
He looked different, in some indefinable way. There was something new about him, but also something familiar. He was more like the Ket Siong she’d known when they were students. Freer, less sad.
She found herself missing the warmth of his arm around her. It took her a moment to process what he’d said.
“Wait,” she said. “ Stephen’s the lead in Switzerland?”
Ket Siong’s forehead furrowed. “The lead…?” His eyes widened. “You hired the PI firm that contacted Stephen.”
Renee looked away. “It’s not that I didn’t believe you. I tried to read up online, but it was hard to piece it all together. I thought if I had more information… I don’t know, I thought it’d help me figure out what to do. But it’s too late now.”
Hopelessness bore down on her again, the sense of being trapped with no way out. She shivered, her breathing speeding up.
Panic rose in her. She couldn’t break down again, not in front of Ket Siong. Renee opened her mouth to give some kind of excuse, lay the ground for an escape.
But Ket Siong spoke first. “You shouldn’t stay out here in the cold. You were running?”
Renee nodded, though it had to be obvious. She was in running leggings and an ancient, pilling T-shirt, near-translucent from the washes it had been through. Her hair was a mess, and the state of her face didn’t bear thinking of. She must be looking like a complete wreck.
Ket Siong, of course, looked great. He had on the same charcoal-grey coat he’d been wearing the last time she’d seen him, the evening before the pitch to Freshview, though this time he was wearing a green hoodie under it. She’d registered all of this before she realised he was shrugging off his coat.
“No, no,” said Renee. “I’m all gross and sweaty. I don’t want to stink up your coat.”
In fact the sweat had dried on her skin. Any warmth generated by her run was long gone. She clasped her hands, noticing for the first time that they were freezing.
Ket Siong paid no attention to her protests. He draped his coat over her shoulders. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”
“I’m fine,” said Renee feebly, but it would have taken far more energy than she had to resist Ket Siong in this mood. The moral force of his concern was irresistible.
Without quite knowing how it happened, she found herself scudding along the path, with him beside her. It was like she was being borne along in the wake of a large ship. Ket Siong wasn’t even touching her.
Renee glanced up at him. “Do you know where we’re going?”
It was harder to navigate now darkness had fallen. Around them, the amber glow of the streetlights picked out trees and benches and patches of grass, casting them in sharp relief. Beyond, the surrounding parkland fell away into mystery.
This didn’t seem to worry Ket Siong. “I’ve been to your place before.”
It felt weirdly natural being with him like this, despite how they’d last parted. In a way, it always felt natural being with Ket Siong. Maybe that was why it hadn’t occurred to Renee before to wonder how he’d happened to stumble on her.
“What were you doing here?” she said. “When you found me, I mean.”
There was a brief pause. Ket Siong said, “I was on a walk.”
Renee had been expecting him to say he’d been teaching a class nearby, or had been meeting a friend. She blinked. “Really?”
It would have taken Ket Siong an hour to get here from Edmonton. It was an odd place to choose for a stroll.
Ket Siong seemed aware of this. He looked a little embarrassed. “I’ve been coming here a lot. I was hoping I’d bump into you.” He paused. “I would have texted, but you weren’t receiving my messages.”
“I blocked your number,” admitted Renee.
“I thought so.” He gave her a sidelong look, his brows knitted. “I know you said you didn’t want to see me again. But I wanted to apologise, for what happened last time. It wasn’t fair to you.”
“Oh, Ket Siong, no.” Renee touched his arm. “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have flown off the handle like that. I knew I was in the wrong. I was just so mixed up, with everything going on.”
Ket Siong’s eyes dropped to her hand where it was resting on his bicep. Renee had reached out without thinking, but she was suddenly conscious of the muscle under her palm. They had been closer less than ten minutes ago, her head resting on his chest, but this touch felt more intimate, somehow. As though she’d transgressed a boundary.
She lifted her hand, heat flooding her face.
But Ket Siong caught her hand in his. His eyes were fixed on her. The look in them made Renee’s heart start beating wildly. He opened his mouth.
At this pivotal moment, Renee’s body elected to let out an enormous sneeze. This was followed by two more sneezes, equally seismic, in rapid succession.
“We’d better get indoors,” said Ket Siong.
This was disappointing, but less crushing than it might have been, because he forgot to let go of her hand.
Perhaps it was just that he needed it to tow her along. Renee had to work to keep up with Ket Siong’s pace. By the time they arrived at her building, she had warmed up.
He slowed to a stop in the foyer, releasing her. Renee put her hand in her coat pocket before remembering it wasn’t her coat. She took it off, fumbling a little with the buttons.
Dragan was on holiday. The reception desk was manned by a haughty-looking blonde woman Renee didn’t recognise. She eyed them without interest before turning back to her computer screen.
Renee passed Ket Siong’s coat back to him. “Thanks.” A thought struck her. “I could get it dry-cleaned.”
“No need,” said Ket Siong. He glanced at the glass door that separated the foyer from the residents-only parts of the building. He looked uncertain, now they were here. “You’ve got my number. You could let me know, when… if you’re ready to speak.”
“Ket Siong,” said Renee. “I’m ready now. Do you want to come up?”
Ket Siong’s ears were pink. Presumably he, too, was thinking about what had happened the last time he’d accepted that invitation. “Do you want me to?”
“I wouldn’t ask if not. But I need a shower,” said Renee. “Sorry. Can you wait until I’m done? Or do you have somewhere else to get to?”
“I can wait,” said Ket Siong.