Miraculously, Papa had started to come around. He started calling me once a week, then once every two days, then once a day. For months, I refused to go to see him, simply because I couldn’t deal with the state of the house. The maid still came to clean and do his laundry but during the rest of the week, piles of plates accumulated on the hallway outside his study, glasses with Milo stains and rings of mould piled up in the sink, unwashed laundry stood almost stiffly to attention, the grass was uncut, the water in the swimming pool resembled tepid tea with loose leaves. I was sure there were frogs spawning in the pool, along with thousands of sacs of squirming mosquito larvae. It depressed me. I had no idea what he did in his room all day, all week, all month. He just read and read. Pored over books on history, religion, theory. Then one day he said this.

Del, I am going to write a book.

Really? Oh Papa, I think that’s a great idea. What’s it about?

History.

Of…?

Well, it’s early days yet…but we shall see.

My father was going to become a writer. I thought it was wonderful. He was energised about the thought that he was going to be a grandfather. He started by taking the car out more, going to the club, hanging out with his old law buddies, talking late into the night over whisky. He started dressing properly again, in tailored shirts and leather brogues; he made an effort, more than he had made in years. His eyes sparkled again and once after I was ready to leave, he reached out for me and gave me a gentle hug.

Your mother, she would have been so happy…so, so happy, Del.

I hugged him back tightly, my belly pressing into him, my heart leaping for joy. How the eminent birth of my child had transformed my father. How the years of sadness had fallen away, and given us the possibility of new life again.

I should not have driven that night but I did.

Sumi needed to talk about the state of her relationship with Fairman and we decided to meet at a café in Bangsar. I was two weeks away from my due date but I wanted to see her, wanted to carry on the way I had been throughout the pregnancy. Being active was part of the plan, right until the baby was on her way out.

The café was crowded and full of boisterous teenagers eating cake and drinking sparkling wine. It was a trendy-looking French-fusion bistro which specialised in desserts, with comfy leather seats, chrome and marble furniture and Art Nouveau prints on the walls. The teens looked like they were back from summer holidays. Rich kids with fancy handphones, coloured hair and new accents.

We found a quiet table in a corner and as I tried to sit down, Sumi remarked, Jesus, you’re huge!