But still, the house was full of relatives and friends who had flown down for the wedding, and it simply wouldn’t do to have her screeching like she’d lost her marbles.

“Amma,” I hissed, when I reached her. I looked around, expecting to see a trembling maid, or some other messenger she was in the process of shooting, but it was just my dad, sitting on the sofa, looking like he was as sick of her as I was.

This was strange. They never yelled at each other. At least, not out in the open like this. Their fights were usually a combination of silent treatment, simmering glares, and passive-aggressive comments spoken aloud to other people.

“You!” she yelled, when she saw me. “You’re the cause of all of this. Lajja naddha?” Aren’t you ashamed? “This is all your mess.”

“What?” I asked. I looked to my dad.

“What’s going on? Fiona, are you okay?” It was Aunty Geetha, who had flown in from the Gold Coast in Australia. She’d been staying in one of the guest rooms. Great, just what we needed right now.

“Of course I’m not okay, you know—”

“Fiona.” My father stood up, his voice booming over hers. “I think we should go upstairs, hmm? To my office?”

“I can’t bel—”

“Now!” And he stood up. “Geetha, please excuse us. It seems we have some family matters to attend to.” Aunty Geetha was left with her eyes bulging and mouth open. She’ll be on the phone the very second we leave.

The door to Laura’s room banged shut as we made our way upstairs, so she probably overheard the whole thing also. What the hell was my mother thinking? We’ve spent years making sure we kept up appearances, and then she just decides to fly off the handle like this?

“Thaththa, what on earth’s going on?” I tried to keep my voice level. There’s nothing that my father hated more than emotional outbursts, which is probably why he has more regard for his chauffeur than his wife.

“Sit down, both of you.”

We did as he asked, my mother quiet now but still looking like she was about to explode.

“I got a call today from your mother’s friend, Josephina. You remember her, don’t you?” He was speaking directly to me, so I nodded.

“She seemed quite aghast with some information she had received. Information about Spencer.”

“Spencer?” My pulse quickened. What the hell could it be? Had news about his company’s bankruptcy spread so quickly?

“Yes, about his family.”

“His family? Thaththa, I’ve told you, his parents are both dead.”

“It doesn’t appear that way, Duwa.”

“What?”

“Josephina had apparently been delivered some information anonymously”—he eyed my mother—“which I don’t quite believe, but still, she said she called me directly and had her driver drop these off.” He patted to a plain white envelope sitting on his desk. “She said I must have already known about it,” he snorted, “but that she was doing the honorable thing by coming to me first.”