Years later, I found out that Aunty Katherine had committed suicide in that house. She had apparently hanged herself from the rafters in the living room, and her ghost still roamed around the area. The house had since been abandoned and it lay in complete ruin. I remembered that afternoon and how happy Mother and Aunty Katherine had been. I never knew what happened to the Ambassador, but I often wondered what had driven Aunty Katherine to hang herself. Was it because he was having an affair? Or perhaps she was the one who had been unfaithful. I wondered what happened to all those beautiful things in the house. All the curtains, and plates and silverware, was it all left in the house? Or did the little bald man pack it all up and have it shipped to where he was going next?

One day I decided to go and look for that house, to see if it was still standing. I drove past the construction site on Jalan Bukit Tunku, found the street sign for Jalan Syers and drove along a gravel road until I came to the house. There were two other similar ones, all in a row. Then I saw a large, orange sign by the road.

Property of Keretapi Tanah Melayu (KTM). Scheduled for demolition. Property Developer –TMF Sdn Bhd.

My heart sank. Omar and Fairman’s company was going to demolish those beautiful houses. The land was owned by the national railway company, so there was no way it could be bought. Or saved.

I parked my car and wandered up the road. The old angsana trees were still there. All three houses had long been abandoned. And I saw that scavengers had been around. Windows had been taken, old fixtures on the doors, hinges, old black bakelite switches missing. The Burmese teak floorboards had been ripped out. I walked into the hallway and heard a flutter of feathers. Pigeons had roosted in the roof. Light pierced from a gaping hole, shadows flitted in between the rafters and green mould charted out archipelagos on the walls. I walked in and felt a shiver.

I walked in and out of the dining room, into the vast kitchen which still had shelves intact, the old ceramic sink was still there, probably too heavy to cart off single-handedly. The servants quarters were more dilapidated, with wooden slats falling off, and holes in the concrete floors. That is where the Indian housekeeper used to live with her son. What happened to them?