Inside the lead Mercedes escorting the funeral cortege from Tyersall Park to the cathedral, Harry Leong was staring out the window, trying to ignore the incessant chatter that came from his wife, Felicity, arguing over last-minute details with her sister Victoria.
“No, we have to let the president of Singapore speak first. That follows official protocol,” Victoria said.
“But then the Sultan of Borneo will be terribly insulted. Royalty should always come before elected officials,” Felicity argued back.
“Rubbish, this is our country, and our president has precedence. You only care about the sultan because of all the Leong plantations in Borneo.”
“I care about him not urinating all over the pulpit at St. Andrew’s. His Majesty is an elderly diabetic with a weak bladder. He should get to have the first word. Besides, he knew Mummy even before the president was born.”
“Reverend Bo Lor Yong is going to have the first word. He’s going to read the blessing.”
“WHAT? You invited Bo Lor Yong too? How many pastors are going to be at this funeral?” Felicity asked incredulously.
“Only three. Reverend Bo will deliver the blessing, Bishop See will give the sermon, and Pastor Tony Chi will say the closing prayer.”
“What a pity. Is it too late to ask Tony to deliver the sermon? He’s so much better than that See Bei Sien,” Felicity scoffed.
Harry Leong groaned. “Can you speak softer? You two are giving me a migraine. If I knew you were going to argue all the way, I would have ridden in Astrid’s car.”
“You know your security won’t let you ride with her. She doesn’t have bulletproof windows,” Felicity said.
—
In the Jaguar XJL (which was not bulletproof) following behind them, Eleanor Young sat scrutinizing her son’s face intently. “I think next week I should make an appointment for you to see my dermatologist. Those puffy lines under your eyes…I’m not happy with them. Dr. Teo can do wonders with his laser.”
“Mum, it’s fine. I just didn’t get much sleep last night,” Nick said.
“He was up all night writing his tribute to Ah Ma,” Rachel explained.
“Why did it take all night?” Eleanor asked.
“It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to write, Mum. You try condensing Ah Ma’s entire life into a thousand words.”
Rachel squeezed Nick’s hand encouragingly. She knew how much he had struggled over his speech, working on it until the wee hours and getting out of bed several times after that to make a change or add another anecdote.
Eleanor kept prodding. “Why should there be a word limit?”
“Auntie Victoria insisted that I only have five minutes for my speech. And that’s about a thousand words.”
“Five minutes? What nonsense! You were her closest grandson, and the only Young. You should be allowed to speak as long as you wish!”
“Apparently there are going to be a lot of speeches, so I’m just toeing the party line,” Nick said. “It’s fine, Mum. I’m very happy with my speech now.”
“Oh my. Who is that woman in the car beside us?” Rachel suddenly asked. Everyone turned to look into the Rolls that was trying to overtake them, where there was a woman wearing a black hat with a dramatic black veil draped over her face.
“Looks like Marlene Dietrich,” Philip chuckled as he drove.
“Aiyah, Philip! Pay attention to the road!” Eleanor yelled. “Actually, it does look like Marlene Dietrich. I wonder which sultan’s wife that could be?”
Peering over, Nick laughed. “That’s no sultana. That’s Fiona Tung behind that getup.”
—
In the backseat of the Rolls-Royce Phantom—the only Rolls in the stately procession of cars—Fiona fidgeted with her hat uncomfortably. “I don’t know why you made me wear this ridiculous veil. I can’t see out of it, and I can hardly breathe.”
Eddie snorted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Kalliste can breathe just fine in hers, can’t you?”
Eddie’s tween daughter was wearing a hat and veil identical to her mother’s, and she stared straight ahead, not answering her father.