Tom was a couple of inches taller than her and had a round, jovial face. He was a good-looking man with his shaggy, dark blonde hair and dimpled cheeks. Dressed in a bright pink polo shirt and cream shorts, he looked relaxed and a few drinks into being rather merry. He came over and kissed her politely on both cheeks.
‘Right back at you, Tom!’ She smiled brightly, warming to him instantly, as Jenny had said she would. ‘And thanks so much for having me stay, it’s so kind of you both.’
Out in the hallway, a toilet flushed and a door opened and closed. They had just sat down on the sofa and were talking about Annabel’s journey when a taller figure came into the room.
‘Annabel, this is our friend . . . ’ Tom began.
Annabel looked up at the handsome, dark-haired newcomer and gave a small gasp. ‘James!’ she finished for him.
His brow furrowed as he gazed down at her. There was a long pause before he replied, ‘Annabel? Annabel Penrose?’
She looked up at him. ‘Yes! Wow, long time no see!’
‘You two old friends?’ Tom beamed, leaning back on the sofa, clearly enjoying the surprise reunion.
‘Yes!’ Annabel said.
‘Not really,’ James said at the exact same time. ‘Well,’ he continued, a little awkwardly, ‘we knew each other a long time ago.’
‘We were both at Trinity, at Oxford,’ Annabel explained. She stood up and stepped forward to greet him. She leaned in to kiss his cheek but instantly felt clumsy when he offered his hand instead. She moved back and shook it, horribly aware of the awkwardness between them.
It had always been like this with James, all those years ago in Oxford. She had never figured out how to be around him or what she had ever done to make him so ill-at-ease. Fourteen years had passed since they had left university and nothing had changed. She forced a smile and mumbled something about it being good to see him again, but inside her stomach sank. It was going to be a long evening.
Emma reappeared, announcing that dinner was ready and they moved across the room to the dining table. Gloria had cooked a beef noodle stir fry and it was delicious. Annabel thought how lucky Emma and Tom were to have a domestic helper who not only seemed lovely and friendly, but was also a great cook. What a different way of life it was, being an expat out here. Back home, only wealthy families could afford full-time, live-in domestic help, but here, Emma had explained, it was the norm.
Their hosts were good company and the wine and the conversation both flowed easily. Emma chatted about her teaching role at the international school and how the twins were getting on in their first year of kindergarten, and Tom regaled them with tales from a recent stag weekend in Bangkok with some of his work colleagues. Annabel found herself wide-eyed and roaring with laughter as she heard about a late-night visit to a ‘ping pong bar’ in the red light district and the various talents of the scantily-clad performers. She laughed even harder at Tom’s attempts to defend himself against Emma’s raised eyebrow of mock disapproval. ‘What was I meant to do, darling?’ he asked his wife. ‘Ihadto go with them, my love, I didn’t have a choice!’
In contrast, James was a closed book. He resisted Annabel’s attempts to draw him into conversation, giving short answers when she asked him where he worked – the British High Commission – and how long he’d been here – five years. He asked nothing in return. She noticed that he talked a little more freely with their hosts, but there was still a certain level of restraint. In the end, she gave up worrying; Emma had said that he’d been through a tough time recently, so maybe he just had things on his mind and it was nothing personal. She relaxed and focused her attention on the meal and her hosts. She would have loved to have taken Tom up on his multiple offers to top up her wine glass, but feared that any more alcohol would have her nodding off face down in her noodles.
‘So, Annabel, I’m intrigued to hear more about this family research you’re doing,’ Tom said over dessert of tropical fruit. ‘Emma told me your grandmother lived here before the war?’
‘Yes, it’s all been a bit of a surprise to be honest. Dotty – that’s my granny – passed away recently. When I was goingthrough her things, I found out that when she was younger she lived here in Singapore. It was before she married my grandfather and none of us knew anything about it. There’s a lady I’d like to meet to find out more, her grandmother worked as a housemaid at Dotty’s family home and they kept in touch for years. The grandmother passed away, but I have a feeling that her granddaughter – Julia – will be able to tell me more about it. The trouble is, I don’t have an address for her and the usual online searches haven’t been much help. I thought I might start at a public library, see if I can look at the census records or something?’
‘Oh, don’t worry about any of that!’ Tom grinned confidently, ‘If you want to find someone in Singapore, James here is your man!’ He turned to his friend. ‘You must have a contact through the High Com who could help with a bit of detective work?’
‘Well, I’m not sure . . . ’ James began uneasily.
‘I wouldn’t want to . . . ’ Annabel said at the same time.
Emma looked between the two of them, a curious expression on her face. Her eyes narrowed, as if sensing the unease between them. ‘It would be great if you could, James,’ she said. ‘I’m sure Annabel would be grateful. What do we know about this Julia woman, Annie?’ She smiled encouragingly at her guest.
A lump formed again in Annabel’s throat. Emma’s use of the word ‘we’ and the pet version of her name showed a new bond that she suddenly felt grateful for. Every fibre of her body was exhausted and she was feeling a very long way from home and everything that was familiar to her.
She smiled. ‘Julia Chan. Her grandmother was called Ah Ling Wong and she lived somewhere called . . . ’ she paused, trying to remember it, ‘Ang Mo Kio?’ The others all nodded, recognising the name of a local residential district.
‘Ah Ling was 93 in 2010, which made her two years older than Dotty. So, given that our grandmothers were a similar age, Julia can’t be too far off my age, maybe a bit older?’
‘She’ll definitely be older.’ Annabel was surprised to hear James speak up. Given his standoffish manner this evening, she was surprised that he’d been listening to her at all, never mind helping figure out ages. ‘Typically, Asian women had children younger than Europeans, so she’ll be older,’ he added, his tone matter-of-fact.
‘See?’ Tom grinned at Annabel in a told-you-say way, ‘I told you James would be the one to help!’
‘I can’t make any promises, but I’ll see what I can do,’ James muttered in reply.
Annabel was relieved when Emma got up to clear the table soon after – Gloria having finished her duties for the evening – and announced it was time to call it a night; they all had work the next day. James fiddled with his phone for a minute, then announced that his taxi was on its way. He shook Tom’s hand, kissed Emma’s cheek and gave Annabel a brief nod, saying that it had been nice to see her again. Then he was gone.
Annabel stood up and started collecting the glasses, but was soon stopped by Emma. ‘Go to bed! You must be exhausted. And here, take these,’ she handed her a glass of chilled water and a plastic container of melatonin tablets. ‘We’ll try to be quiet in the morning; I just hope the kids don’t disturb you too much! Gloria will be around, so she can help if you want to do anything or go anywhere. And you’ve got my number, just message me if you need anything. Sleep well!’ Emma hugged her tight and Annabel wished her good night.
As she made her way to her room, Annabel heard the conversation continue as Emma and Tom cleared the last fewthings from the table. ‘What was up with James tonight?’ she heard Emma ask her husband. ‘I’ve never known him so quiet; he wasn’t himself at all.’ But then their voices became muffled as they disappeared into the kitchen and Annabel didn’t catch the reply.
