Epilogue
Christmas Day
“ What do you think?” said Renee.
Ket Siong had stayed over at her flat the night before, relying on the somewhat thin excuse that Renee might need help finding his place on Christmas Day. They’d said they’d arrive midmorning, so they could help Ma and Ket Hau prepare the lunch, but Ket Siong was regretting that agreement. They were running late.
He’d been imagining a luxuriously slow start to the day, involving a protracted lie-in. Instead, he’d spent the morning sitting on Renee’s bed while she stressed out about what she should wear for two hours straight.
This dress was black, with a pattern of blowsy white roses. It had long sleeves and a square neckline, low enough to reveal an enchanting glimpse of cleavage. Renee smoothed the fabric over her hips.
“It’s nice,” said Ket Siong. Watching the movement of her hands, he wondered if that was something he could offer to help with.
Renee glared at him. “You said that about the last one, too.”
“But they’ve all been nice,” said Ket Siong, bemused. Renee didn’t usually need reassuring about her appearance. “You always look nice.”
“I’m meeting your family for the first time,” said Renee. “ Nice isn’t enough. I need to look right.” She turned back to the mirror, tugging at the dress and grimacing. “I think it’s too low-cut. Can you help me unzip it?”
Ket Siong would happily have assisted with taking the dress the rest of the way off, but the moment he was finished with the zip, Renee vanished into the depths of her wardrobe. When she re-emerged, she was tucking a high-collared cream blouse into a floaty midi skirt in a peachy beige.
This outfit was indeed more demure than the previous one, but somehow it was even sexier. Before Ket Siong could start daydreaming about pulling Renee down onto the bed and reaching up underneath that skirt, she said:
“Your mom loves Stephen, right?”
Ket Siong thought he knew where this was coming from. “She’ll like you, too.”
“No, but,” said Renee. She went to the mirror, pulling her hair back and pinning it up in a chignon. “Does she have any issues with, you know, him and your brother?”
They hadn’t discussed it as a family. Ket Hau had made no further mention of marriage, though he was talking regularly to Stephen now. Ket Siong and Ma were careful to give him space during their calls, but Ket Siong hadn’t noticed any difference in Ma’s manner when she happened to see Stephen on Ket Hau’s phone screen.
She had been very quiet when they’d told her Stephen was alive. “God is good,” she’d said, and crossed herself.
“I don’t know,” said Ket Siong, remembering her face. “She cares about Stephen. I don’t think that would change, just because… She might need some time, that’s all.”
“Right,” said Renee. She applied lipstick to her mouth and turned around. “How do I look?”
She looked fresh and wholesome. It brought the Renee of ten years ago vividly back to Ket Siong. He got up off her bed and took her in his arms.
“You’re beautiful,” he said truthfully. He leaned in for a kiss. She smelt nice, too.
The plan was to sit down to lunch around two p.m. Maybe it didn’t matter if they were late.
Renee gave him a little push.
“Don’t mess me up,” she said. “Oh my God, is that the time? You should’ve told me. Let’s go.”
They took a cab to Ket Siong’s place—a wild extravagance, but unavoidable, since public transport had shut down for the day. Renee didn’t talk much during the drive. She spent most of it on her phone.
“Is something happening at work?” said Ket Siong.
Renee was busy texting in silence.
“Hmm?” she said. “No, Virtu’s closed for the week. It’s just a friend. Aww, that’s cute. Look!”
She tilted her phone screen. Ket Siong was allowed a second to admire the image of Nathalie with her husband and child, beaming in matching Christmas jumpers, before Renee whipped the phone away.
She wasn’t any less jittery once they arrived, though Ma and Ket Hau were suitably welcoming. They relieved her of her coat and settled her on the sofa with a mug of Milo. But Renee kept jumping up, going to the window to gaze out at the street, wandering to the door, inspecting the pictures on the walls and the books on the shelves.
She was waiting for something. But what?
When the doorbell sounded, Renee nearly jumped out of her skin. Then she glanced at Ket Hau—a look of trepidation.
Ket Hau didn’t notice. He was busy setting out drinks on the dining table: orange juice, Ribena, and a bottle of Chardonnay they’d picked up when doing their big Christmas shop at Asda, in case Renee wanted wine.
Ma poked her head out of the kitchen. “What’s that? Are you all expecting anything?”
“Nobody’s going to be delivering on Christmas Day,” said Ket Hau. “Must be Roberta.”
The landlady had come round a couple of weeks ago to complain about the noise. Ket Siong only played the piano during business hours, when the neighbours were most likely to be out of the house, and they’d done all they could by way of soundproofing: hung heavy blackout curtains over the windows; used a draught stopper to seal up the gap under the door. He couldn’t very well be less annoying without cutting down on practice, which he was loath to do. After such a long break from performing, he needed it.
On this point, at least, he had good news. “We can tell her I’m going to start practising at Renee’s place.”
“OK,” said Ket Hau. His brow furrowed. “Wait, do you mean Renee bought you a piano?”
“I couldn’t think of what else to get him for Christmas,” said Renee apologetically. “Ket Siong’s so hard to buy for. Why don’t I get the door? You guys are busy.”
She’d nipped out of the living room and down the stairs leading to the front door before they could say anything.
“Is she always like this?” said Ket Hau.
Ket Siong suppressed the instinct to defend Renee; he knew what his brother meant. “Something’s going on.”
“Like what?” said Ket Hau. He looked up as Renee came up the stairs, and saw who was with her. The blood drained from his face.
Renee ushered the man into the living room. He was looking unnaturally tidy, in a batik shirt and long trousers. His long hair was tied up in a ponytail. In person, he was startlingly thin.
“Hey,” said Stephen. He was holding a tub of Quality Street, and he looked anxious.
Ma came in, carrying a glass dish containing her famous macaroni casserole, saw Stephen, and dropped the dish. It bounced off the side of the sofa and landed casserole-down.
“Stephen!”
“Oh shit!” said Stephen. “Sorry, auntie.” He abandoned the Quality Street and dived for the casserole, scooping it up. “It’s OK. Didn’t even spill, look. Blow off the fluff and it’ll be fine.”
“Give me that!” said Ma. She swiped the baking dish, put it on the table, and flung her arms around him, bursting into tears.
Ket Hau and Ket Siong looked at each other. The last time Ma had hugged Ket Siong was after a triumphant concert he’d done in KL, years ago, and she’d had the excuse of being under the influence of the music—Chopin always made Ma emotional. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her hug Ket Hau.
“I didn’t mean to intrude,” said Stephen, his voice muffled. “Renee invited me—”
“I know it was presumptuous,” said Renee. “But he was going to spend Christmas alone in Geneva and I thought you wouldn’t mind—”
“I can go if you all want to have a family dinner by yourselves—”
“What are you talking about?” said Ma. “You flew in yesterday? How long are you in UK? Until New Year. Where are you staying? Hotel, why are you staying in hotel? Hotel is so expensive. You can stay with us, we have space in the living room.”
This was more an expression of hope than of fact—the living room could barely accommodate the five people in it—but spatial reality was not going to get in the way of a determined Ma.
“The table can go in the corner there and we can put a mattress on the floor by the sofa,” she said. “We can buy air mattress, air mattress is quite comfortable. Auntie Shirley used to have one. We can WhatsApp her and ask what brand to buy. Oh, but the shops are closed. When will they open? Tomorrow? You’re so thin now! Are you eating properly? You cannot just eat Maggi mee, I told you boys it’s not real food. Have you eaten? Come, sit down. Hau, go and get the plate for him.”
Stephen wiped his eyes and said, “Don’t worry, auntie. I can help myself. Where’s the kitchen?”
“You won’t know where everything is,” said Ket Hau. He was perched on the sofa. For a while he’d been bent over, his breathing suspiciously uneven, but his colour was better now and he seemed more or less back to normal. He got up.
“I’ll come with you,” said Stephen.
They went out of the room together. Ma looked at the dining table, sizing up the possibilities.
“We have the macaroni and the drinks,” she said. “The turkey is out already, just needs to rest. Everything else, Hau and Stephen can take out of the oven when it’s ready. We can start eating now. Let them talk by themselves. Oh, thank you, thank you. What’s this?”
“I brought champagne,” said Renee shyly. “And zero-alcohol bubbly, in case anyone’s alcohol-free. Sorry, I should’ve put them in the fridge when I got here, but I forgot.”
“Champagne is perfect,” said Ma. “It’s still cold.” They glanced towards the kitchen.
“I’ll open it in the garden,” said Ket Siong.
Stephen and Ket Hau didn’t take that long. The bubbles were still racing in their glasses of champagne when they came back to the living room, bearing plates heaped with roast turkey, stir-fried vegetables, roast potatoes, curry simmered for many hours till its smells filled the flat, wonderfully rich and savoury and complex, and—
“Is that roti jala?” said Renee, brightening. “Did you make that, auntie? Oh, amazing. You’ve been working so hard.”
“Rendang for Christmas,” said Stephen blissfully. “When the smell of auntie’s rendang hit me, whoof! I was almost going to cry, man.”
“You must pack some and take back with you,” said Ma to Renee. “We have so much, we won’t be able to finish. But Stephen, your hotel, can you get a refund? Tonight you can stay there, then tomorrow we’ll see if the shops are open and we can get the mattress…”
“You want water?” said Renee to Stephen. She scanned the crowded table. “I don’t think there’s a spare glass. Let me get you one.”
Ket Siong went after her. Once they were in the kitchen, well out of sight of the living room, he put a hand on her wrist. She looked around and he pulled her close, kissing her.
Kissing was still new and delicious. When Renee’s mouth opened beneath his, he felt it all the way up his spine, heat licking up his back.
Renee emerged from the kiss flushed, wisps of hair straying out of her bun. Ket Siong smoothed the wisps back, tucking them behind her ear.
“What was that for?” she said.
“I love you,” said Ket Siong.
“I love you, too,” said Renee. Her tone was matter-of-fact, as if this was pre-agreed between them, as if he already knew.
This was true, in a sense, but still. It was the first time Renee had ever said it to him, in so many words.
She didn’t seem to have noticed.
“Come on,” she said. “If we leave your mom to it, she’s going to go off and order that air mattress off Amazon. I’m covering Stephen’s hotel room, it’s fine.”
It was of course necessary to kiss Renee again after that. She permitted the liberty, smiling against his mouth, before nudging him away.
“Keep your hands to yourself, Mr. Yap,” she said, in her most princessy mode. “I’ve got a job to do.”
She flicked a look of challenge at him through her lashes, grabbed a glass out of a cabinet, and turned back to the living room, where—from the sound of it—a heated argument was underway about whether there was or was not space left on anyone’s plate for macaroni casserole. He followed her, smiling.