After a while, she got up and washed her face. According to her phone, she’d only been sobbing for ten minutes. It could have been an hour, for all she could tell. The universe seemed to have come off its hinges. Everything felt unreal.
She returned to her sofa, with her laptop this time, and typedStephen Ensengei Freshviewinto the search bar.
Freshview’s PR team had evidently been at work. She had to wade through several pages’ worth of corporate guff before she started turning up reports on the local community’s campaign against logging in Ensengei.
It did seem Freshview had overseen a project clearing forest to make way for oil palm plantations in Sarawak, but it wasn’t obvious from the reports that this had been on a gazetted forest reserve. Freshview denied it. They’d had all the necessary permits, according to their spokespeople, and a court of law had agreed with them.
Even the extent to which the local community disapproved wasn’t clear. Against the pictures of villagers protesting, there was an interview with a village headman who enthused about the project. Everyone had been compensated for their land and wouldbe moved into better houses, he said, with access to schools and hospitals—all the benefits of development. It was a great opportunity for the village.
It was hard to know what to think. Cutting down rainforest was definitely not the kind of enterprise Renee wanted to get involved in—but she wasn’t going to be involved in anything like that. The factory redevelopment Chahaya was pitching for was going to create jobs, build sorely needed new homes, regenerate an entire neglected part of London. Even if Freshview’s money hadn’t all been made in pursuits she could approve of, wasn’t that a good use of those resources?
Stephen Jembu was mentioned in a few of the articles as a campaigner. Searching his name confirmed this was Ket Siong’s Stephen. There were various local news articles and social media posts on his disappearance, all using the same image of Stephen. A stocky curly-haired man in his thirties, dressed for a hike, standing against a backdrop of greenery. He was squinting a little in the sun and smiling, an attractive web of wrinkles radiating out from the corner of each eye.
Renee spent a long time looking at him.
The articles told her less than Ket Siong had. While they set out what had happened to Stephen Jembu, they were frustratingly silent on the how and why. There was nothing linking his disappearance to Freshview, except a solitary Facebook post by some outfit called theHornbill Gazette. Even that only raised questions; it didn’t provide any answers.
It transpired theHornbill Gazettehad written a lot about deforestation in Ensengei, including a couple of blog posts about Stephen. Before Renee could read them, the app she’d set to switch off her Internet connection at bedtime kicked in.
She tore herself away from her laptop, her mind whirling. She showered and changed and collapsed on her bed.
She should text Ket Siong. And say what?I couldn’t find any evidence of what you told me.If what Ket Siong believed was true—ifFreshview was complicit in some way in the horrific loss of his friend—they would have covered it up. Renee wasn’t going to stumble across a smoking gun through a Google search.
She rolled over and picked up her phone off her bedside table, opening WhatsApp. Ket Siong hadn’t messaged. Not that she wanted him to message.
She shouldn’t have let him pay for dinner. On an impulse, Renee searched for the restaurant menu, totted up the cost of her dinner, and sent the amount to him by bank transfer.
It didn’t make her feel any better. She lay awake for a long time, sleep evading her.
The next morning Renee was puffy-eyed and pale, but it was nothing some concealer and blush wouldn’t hide. She put on her Dior trouser suit and her Louboutin heels.
It was only when she looked at herself in the mirror that she remembered she’d worn almost the same outfit to the V&A reception where she’d run into Ket Siong. The only difference was the addition of a mother-of-pearl silk blouse under the jacket, and a pair of diamond stud earrings.
That was rough. Renee breathed shallowly through her nose, her eyes stinging. Her reflection looked wild-eyed and bereft.
She’d felt sosafewith Ket Siong. She’d told him things she’d never told anyone else, even Nathalie. All the while he’d been privately sitting in judgment of her and her choices. She’d shown him the most defenceless part of herself—the lonely little girl who could never stop chasing affection—and she had been weighed and found wanting.
He’s right,said a voice at the back of her head, ruthless.Nobody loves you, because you don’t deserve it. You never have.
Suddenly the jacket itched unbearably; the shoes pinched. Renee tore off her outfit, kicking off the heels.
She was not going to go to pieces over Yap Ket Siong again.If there were proof of what he’d told her the night before… But there wasn’t. No one even shared Ket Siong’s suspicions of Freshview, except some fringe blogger with a goofy name.
Yet he expected Renee to blow up her life and relationship with her family on his say-so. Because she was pathetic when it came to him, desperate for his good opinion, and on some level he knew that.
What was the difference between Ket Siong and her family, at the end of the day? They all wanted her to put them before herself. That was her greatest crime, the one none of these men could get over—Renee always acted for herself.
It wasn’t like she could trust anyone else to be in her corner. Her family had taught her that. As had Ket Siong, in his own way. She’d come too far to let any of them bring her down.
Do well today, and her life could change. She might, in a matter of a few months’ time, be heading up a business whose turnover dwarfed the GDP of some countries. She’d have her father’s approval, the respect of her family, access to money and power beyond most people’s wildest dreams.
Next to that, what was yet another man she’d disappointed? She’d always known love was a dead end for her.
Nathalie texted while Renee was in the cab heading to Freshview’s offices.
Big day today! Feeling OK? Good luck!
Yeah, thanks.
