AUNTY CLARA HAS BEEN OBLIVIOUS TO THE COMMOTION going on behind the scenes and is quite uninterested in the will or her dead sister’s valuables. But when Francis invites her to be his ally in claiming the jewellery Theresa has left to me and my cousin Josephine, he awakens a dormant Kwa spirit in Clara. She decides she suddenly cares very much about the jewels after all.
Unaware of our parents’ plan, David and I meet in the executive lounge on the thirty-sixth floor of the Shangri-La Hotel. He and his boyfriend, Sam, are staying here. David and I air-kiss before he guides me to an armchair in the corner and orders drinks. I welcome the chair’s embrace after a long day with Tessie and Letty; we were visiting safety deposit boxes to collect Aunty’s precious gems, which involved a lot of security checks and paperwork. When we returned to the condo, Brigit was not back from market, so I carefully stashed the jewels high up in Aunty’s study.
‘Mimi,’ David says, ‘what do you intend to do with the jewels?’
‘The executors just said I could deal with the distribution.’
He sits upright and orders more drinks. ‘Mimi, you cannot keep the jewellery to yourself. There is no inventory, and you can’t find the photos or Aunty’s letter of wishes.’
I nod in agreement.
‘Your father and my mother are going to want to take control of the situation, and that could mean a big mess.’
‘Yes, it could.’
‘So, we need a plan, and we need to make it happen as quickly as possible.’
First we call Josephine in London. David and his sister talk for a while, then Jo tells me, ‘Mimi, I’m very happy for David to represent me and for you both to decide what we each should have. Aunty did always say she wanted me to have the Russian emeralds, which she said once belonged to the Tzar. I hope that will be okay?’ I remember that Aunty had always said that, and she’d promised me her eternity rings, so we agree and hang up.
David and I decide to go through the jewellery piece by piece. Apart from the emeralds and eternity rings, we’ll take turns choosing from remaining items. Simple.
‘We trust you implicitly, Brigit,’ I assure her as she sobs on the other end of the phone line. ‘You can do this. It’s okay.’ She reluctantly agrees to bring the jewels to the hotel right away.
Half an hour later, she calls me from the foyer to announce her arrival.
Brigit puts down the concierge phone, sweating. She is carrying hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of irreplaceable, highly sentimental jewellery. The pressure is so intense, she is close to fainting and cannot wait to hand the bags over to me.
Then something very unexpected happens, beyond any of the catastrophic scenarios Brigit thought of on her way here. The enormous foyer appeared almost empty when she arrived, with just doormen, receptionists and a couple over there on the lounge – Francis!
He strides over, quicker than she can find an escape route. ‘Brigit, what are you doing here?’
She looks around desperately, clasping the bags so tightly to her sides she might seriously have a heart attack. ‘Oh, Mr Kwa, I just came to see your daughter, Mimi. She will be down in a minute.’ He squints and eyes the bags in her white-knuckled grip. Her heart pounds, and sweat pours from her forehead despite the air conditioning.
Francis takes Brigit’s shaking arm with a firm grip and guides her to the seat where Karen is waiting. ‘Look who’s here, Karen. It’s Brigit. And what have we got here?’ He gestures to the bags Brigit is clinging to for dear life.
Just then, I step out of the elevator with a spring in my step. I go left and stride into the foyer near the safety deposit box desk, the word Cashier printed in gold on its suspended sign. A hotel staff member greets me, but instead of smiling back I stop dead in my tracks.
Brigit is sitting on a striped satin settee with my father and Karen; two bags are on the chair between them. She looks tense. They all do.
They haven’t seen me. My heart bursting out of my chest, I use the cashier’s phone to call up to David, who soon appears beside me with his game face on.
As I walk with my cousin under a dozen chandeliers towards the settee, Dad sees us and stands up, a grim look on his face.
‘Uncle Francis,’ David says, ‘what a wonderful surprise to see you. Why don’t you join us in the executive lounge for a drink? First we’ll go upstairs to invite my mother, of course. You must have come to see her. Yes?’
Francis straightens up to a stature befitting an ‘executive’.
Brigit steps towards me and thrusts both bags into my arms – live bombs. She is still trembling.
‘And, Karen,’ says David, ‘of course you must join us too.’ His tall, imposing figure stoops to coral the elders. He gives me a nod as they walk off to the lifts.
‘I’m so sorry, Brigit.’ I hug her. ‘I had no idea Dad would be here.’
Brigit sobs uncontrollably; how she has any tears left, I don’t know. ‘I was so frightened, Mimi. I was really so frightened.’
While David walks ahead and gives Francis and Karen a personal tour of the hotel – recounting facts about artworks, the building and Manila in general – I say goodbye to Brigit and head to a different lift well in order to beat the others to the executive lounge.
At a table near the corner, Sam is the only guest there, tapping away on his laptop. As I approach, he looks up and smiles a broad, charismatic smile. I slide two bags under his table, where they’re concealed by a floor-length white cloth, and he grins and nods knowingly, a Cheshire cat. Like most people, he finds the Kwa family both perplexing and entertaining.
Soon, we’re joined by David, Aunty Clara, Dad and Karen, and the five of us sit at another table while Sam keeps working. For the next couple of hours, David and I speak loudly to our elders about nothing much. We gloss over the few indirect mutterings from Francis and Clara about ‘family jewellery’ and bags belonging to ‘the family’. We exchange fond memories of Theresa, and David carefully drops obvious hints into the conversation, such as, ‘Aunty Theresa would really want her wishes to be honoured, wouldn’t she?’
I nod in furious agreement.
David continues, ‘Uncle Francis and Mother, she truly wanted to save you both any headache to do with her estate. It’s such a complicated process to apply for probate and to administer a will. And there’s all that longwinded and expensive talk with lawyers and government departments.’ He yawns dramatically. ‘Oh, what a bore. Aunty Theresa thought better to let the younger ones take care of the hard work while you two can relax. Right?’
I’m the only one nodding. Sam keeps tapping away at his computer. Karen sips her twelfth cup of Chinese tea, not having said a single thing this entire time; I wonder what on earth she must think of all this.
It’s late. David indicates he’s ready for bed with more dramatic yawning and stretching. We’ve drunk and small-talked the old siblings under the table, and we breathe a sigh of relief as Clara, Francis and Karen leave.
Sam looks up from his laptop and smiles. ‘Can I stop standing guard now? I really need to go to the bathroom.’
In David and Sam’s hotel room, we lay out Aunty’s jewels on the bedspread. David has another brilliant idea, but before he’s able to share it the phone rings.
It’s Clara. ‘David, David, where are the jewels?’
David takes a very deep breath. ‘Mother, don’t worry, they are all very secure. In fact, they’re locked up in the safe downstairs at reception under my and Mimi’s joint names so only we can access it. So it is all very safe. Just have a good night’s rest, and we’ll speak tomorrow.’
David gestures for Sam to pour more wine, and his eyes roll in my direction as his mother continues ranting in his ear.
‘Yes, Mother dear, Mimi has gone home. We thought we would sort out the jewels tomorrow when we are fresh . . . Ohhhh, you would like to be there to sort through them? Right. But Theresa said they are for Josephine and Mimi to share, so they must be the ones to do it . . . Yes, I understand that you and Francis are older, but Jo and Mimi are adults now, they are not children . . . Yes, Mother, I realise that Josephine is your child, but she is not “a” child . . . Yes, Mother, but Jo has asked me to sort out her share . . . Yes, Mummy, you are right, you should be there when we sort it all out. Okay, I’ll call you when Mimi gets here in the morning. Okay? . . . Alright, Mother. Very tired now.’ Dramatic yawn. ‘Good night.’
Clara keeps talking as David hangs up, his clever idea now solidified.
‘We will allocate the real rings and necklaces, brooches and pearls to you and Jo, Mimi, and leave just enough costume jewellery for Mother to go through with you that she will be convinced of her inclusion. We will re-stage this event again in the morning, for her benefit.’