We met at the ground floor of the Westin Stamford Hotel, by the cluster of lifts that seemed to promise worlds above. She had chosen the Compass Rose on the seventieth floor a place I had never even heard of before her call. When she mentioned it, I couldn’t bring myself to refuse. I needed an excuse to get out, away from the heaviness of my own thoughts. Sharil’s words still pressed against me like a dull ache.
Our conversation had spiraled into one of those endless arguments, circling the same old topics that never found resolution. Not about us, never about us, but about Singapore and Malaysia as if the two of us carried the weight of entire nations on our shoulders. He would start it, of course, going on about how wonderful, how superior Malaysia was.
And I would rise to the bait, pushing back simply because I couldn’t bear to nod in agreement.I told him, half in jest and half in fury, that if he thought so little of Singapore, then why did he keep coming back? Why did he want to marry a Singapore girl if Malaysia had all the answers? What was wrong with Malaysian girls were they not good enough?
From there I ranted on, about politics, about Herzog’s visits, even about the absurd Mandarin orange incident. Looking back, it was almost comical. Two people, stubborn as stones, arguing over borders and pride as though it might change the course of our own small lives.
When Nora called, her voice steady and warm, I said yes without hesitation to this reunion. And now, standing there at the Westin, waiting for the lift to take us up, I felt a curious sense of release. Perhaps this meeting, high above the city, would be different.
Perhaps, away from the tangle of old disputes, I might find a new compass a way of seeing things from above, rather than always fighting at ground level.The doors slid open. We stepped inside. Seventy floors up, a circle was about to begin.
“I didn’t know you were becoming so political,” he said, his eyebrows raised, a touch of disbelief in his voice. I must have startled him more than I thought.
“I’m not,” I replied evenly, “but you’ve made me one.”
It was the truth. I had kept silent for so long, letting him speak, letting him criticize, letting him compare. But there comes a point when silence feels like surrender. I was tired of swallowing words that burned inside me. Not anymore.
In that silence which followed, I thought of his mother, her voice soft with sadness, her eyes shadowed with disappointment and of how surprised he had looked when I reject his proposal.
He wanted answers, demanded to know if there was someone else. But I offered nothing. My silence was my only shield.
No one knew about Suresh. Not really. To my family, he was just a “close friend,” nothing more. They didn’t know how close we had truly become, how much of my heart had already been spoken for. I thought it better to keep it that way, at least for now. When the time was right, I would decide how to move forward.
Until then, I lived between appearances and promises.I agreed to dates, not out of desire but out of duty to keep suspicions at bay, to keep the peace. It was also a promise I had made to Suresh before he left. He told me not to hide myself away, not to deny others the chance to know me.
“It isn’t fair,” he had said, “not when I can’t be certain what the future holds for me in the States. Long distance is difficult. One of us may change.”
But I knew I wouldn’t. My heart was stubborn, immovable. Whatever attention others tried to give me, however genuine or flattering, it fell flat against the certainty I carried. There was only one person for me. And he’s coming back.
The Compass Rose looked impossibly expensive, the kind of place I had only ever seen in glossy magazines. This was my first time stepping into such surroundings, and I felt a little out of place as the waitress guided us toward our table by the window.
“Come on, ladies,” she said, smiling as if she sensed my hesitation. “You’ve all worked hard for the money. Once in a while, pamper yourselves. No guilt feelings.”
She was right, of course. We had worked hard, harder than most would ever know. And here, with a panoramic view of Marina Bay stretching before us, the city glittering beneath the afternoon sun, it was hard to argue.
A full set of English tea waited at the table, tiered trays stacked with delicate sandwiches, scones, and neat little pastries that looked almost too pretty to eat. For once, there was nothing to complain about.
But my body still carried the exhaustion of the ward. These past weeks had been relentless. Every day brought an emergency, and every night ended long after my shift was supposed to be over. I still remembered my first night duty on my feet from 2100 hours until nearly dawn, when I finally staggered out at 0900 the next morning.
I had stayed back to help the housemen stitch up a patient with a severe head injury, already deep in coma.
When I got home, I collapsed fully dressed on the floor, too tired even to make it to the bed. Sleep came first, then a bath, then more sleep. Three straight nights of emergencies could drive anyone to the brink.
On the second night, four military men were wheeled in, all victims of a lorry that skidded and crashed into a drain. Two were transferred to Tan Tock Seng, their injuries too severe for us to handle. By the third night, our High Dependency Unit was overflowing, mostly post-operative cases.
One patient was brought in from Johor with acute liver and renal failure, keeping the Staff Nurse occupied the entire shift while I scrambled to manage the rest. I wasn’t even allowed to administer drugs, enrolled nurses weren’t permitted so I could only step aside when injections or medications were needed. Luckily, we had a second-year student nurse with us, wide-eyed and eager, though just as overwhelmed.Now, sitting seventy floors above it all, the contrast was jarring.
Below, there was blood, exhaustion, and the ceaseless rhythm of emergencies. Up here, there was sunlight, porcelain teacups, and the illusion of stillness. I took a sip of tea and looked out at the city.
For the first time in weeks, I let myself breathe. This would be my last week in the ward. I had just received word that I would be transferred to a newly created Hand Surgery Unit, temporarily housed under the Cardio-Thoracic wing.
It felt like a good change a fresh start and for the first time in a long while, I found myself looking forward to a new posting.
The student nurse applications had also been released. My ward nursing officer encouraged me to apply, assuring me that they would recommend me without hesitation.
A few years ago, perhaps, I might have been thrilled at the prospect. But not now. Somewhere along the way, the desire had faded. It wasn’t that nursing had been unkind. On the contrary, nursing had shaped me, steadied me, and given me purpose. It had always been good to me. But something in me was restless, tugging in another direction.
I felt the pull of a different journey, one that reached beyond the ward, beyond the endless rotation of night shifts and emergencies. Maybe it was time to venture out. To seek another path. To make myself whole again.
Nora then reached into her bag, pulled out a folded map of Malaysia, and spread it across the table. The delicate porcelain teacups looked oddly out of place beside the crisscross of roads and towns. I remembered then, this was her plan, the backpacking trip she had mentioned after Pangkor.
Three days later, after checking my schedule, I had called to say I could make it. It meant saving up my days off, hoarding my public holidays, but I was determined to go.
“Okay, here’s the plan,” she began, her voice steady, eyes sparkling with excitement. “We’ll start right at the top Perlis, in Kangar. From there, we’ll head downwards. Maybe make a stop at Pulau Langkawi. Nithya’s already been to Langkawi, so she can be our guide. Then we move into Kedah. Alor Star is the capital, but Sungai Petani is another spot I keep hearing about on the radio not sure what’s there, but we’ll find out.”
We leaned closer as she traced the route southward with her finger.
“Next stop, Penang. After that, we cross to the mainland, to Butterworth, then Bukit Mertajam that’s where the main bus station is. From there, we can catch a bus down to Ipoh.”
She spoke like a seasoned tour guide, and we sat in silence, letting her enthusiasm carry us. It seemed she had thought of everything.
“Hotels?” I asked, breaking the silence.
“Budget hotels,” she replied at once. “I’ve checked the rates affordable and practical. We’ll share a room, all four of us. Safer that way, and cheaper.”
Junita frowned. “But how safe are budget hotels? What if someone comes in while we’re asleep? Do they even have proper security?”
“They’ll be safe enough if we stay together,” she said, grinning. “And besides, one of us will just have to pretend to be a martial arts expert.”
Junita burst into laughter. “And who’s going to be that person, may I ask?”
“We’ll decide when the time comes,” she shot back, her eyes twinkling. “Otherwise, we’re just adventurous nurses from across the border.”
We all laughed at that, the map spread before us, our tea growing cold. For a moment, the weariness of night shifts and wards fell away, replaced by the thrill of the road ahead.
“Our journey,” she concluded, tapping the southern tip of the map, “should end at Pengerang.”
“Pengerang?” Nurhayati leaned forward, brows drawn. “I’ve never even heard of the place. Where is it?”
“Southwest Johor,” she explained, her finger tapping the lower corner of the map. “A small fishing village. There’s a regular bumboat service from Pengerang to Changi. So instead of coming back through the Johor–Singapore Causeway with everyone else, we’ll slip in the other way through the sea. More scenic, more adventurous. We can even stay a night in Pengerang.”
Cheng Mun tilted her head. “Is there even a hotel in Pengerang? Or do you… know someone there?”
She smiled, almost conspiratorial. “Not sure about hotels. But yes I do know someone. An ex-patient of mine from my private nursing days. His family owns a fishing boat. They gave me their address and told me to visit whenever I liked. They’ll be more than happy to host us. And who knows maybe they’ll even take us out fishing.”
The table buzzed with a new excitement. The trip was no longer just towns and bus rides. Now it carried the promise of hidden villages, fishing boats, and salt on the air.
“So, we’ll end at Changi,” Nurhayati said, smiling now at the thought. “How nice. A proper ending. We can eat at the hawker centre I miss the chicken rice there. Maybe even stop by the Changi Hostel. I wonder who’s staying there now.”
She paused, her smile faltering as if tugged by a half-forgotten memory. Her gaze drifted past us, out the wide windows where the city sparkled below. Then, almost hesitantly, she added, “Since we’re on the topic of Changi… there’s something I’ve wanted to ask you. For a long time.”
The laughter at the table ebbed into silence. Even the clatter of cutlery around us seemed distant. We waited. After block study, both she and Nurhayati were posted to Changi Hospital. Nurhayati confessed she had never known her before that. When she first arrived and was told that N would be her roommate, panic set in.
She had already heard the stories the whispers that floated around, mostly from the same girls who had been expelled from the Alexandra hostel. Curious, I once asked her directly: Why did you kick those two girls out of the hostel? She didn’t answer me. Instead, she tilted her head and asked, almost out of nowhere, “You’ve heard about leeches?”
“I think so,” I replied cautiously. “But not that much.” Her eyes held mine, steady and unreadable. “They’re bloodsucking creatures. Parasites. They feed on human blood, on animals, even on the carcasses of other leeches. And once they’re done, once they’ve had their fill, they crawl back into some dark crevice and wait… wait until it’s digested. Then they come out again, ready to feed all over.”
She stopped there, as if the explanation was complete. Up till today, I’ve been trying to figure out what the two girls and the leeches had in common. But she never said more. She refused to elaborate, leaving me with nothing but that strange, unsettling image.
“What is it you wanted to ask me?” she said, holding her cup of tea delicately between her fingers.
“Changi Hostel… our room.” Nurhayati hesitated, her eyes flickering between us. “Did you ever at any time feel anything? You know… strange?”
At once all of us turned to her, curious.
“Ah! Our room, eh?” she chuckled, settling back in her chair. “You see, girls, Nurhayati and I shared the same cubicle. But we weren’t really roommates. I had a single room, while Nurhayati shared the double room next door. Both rooms were attached we shared the same toilet, bathroom, and kitchen.”
“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOh!” the others chorused dramatically, and Nurhayati wasted no time jabbing her finger in her direction.
“You know what’s so irritating about her? She likes to lock herself in that room of hers. All the time! Sometimes at night, in complete darkness. I’d have to knock and knock before she’d open the door.”
“Maybe she was just sleeping?” Cheng Mun suggested.
“No!” Nurhayati shook her head vigorously. “From seven o’clock onwards, like clockwork, she would lock herself in. And when I wanted to talk about something serious something difficult she wouldn’t come out.”
Rolling her eyes, she answered back, half amused, half annoyed. “I was in my own room, minding my own business. Why do you have to knock all the time? You have your room, I have mine. I didn’t disturb you, so why disturb me?”
The table erupted in laughter. For a moment it was hard to tell whether they were teasing or actually arguing.
“Okay, okay,” Nurhayati finally said, raising her hand. “That’s not what I wanted to ask. I really want to know… did you ever feel anything in Changi Hostel?”
“Feeling like what?”
“You know… strange. As if there was somebody else staying with us. Someone we couldn’t see.”
The laughter ebbed away. She went quiet, sipping her tea slowly, deliberately, before taking a small bite of cake. We leaned in, waiting.
“Yes,” she said at last, her voice low. “Not sure what it was. But maybe… there was something else at Changi Hostel besides the three of us.”
“What do you mean by that?”She set her cup down and looked at us, her tone suddenly serious.
“Look, I kept this from you and Suhaila for a reason. I didn’t want to frighten you girls you scare so easily. And when I locked myself in my room, you wouldn’t stop knocking, wouldn’t give me any peace…” She trailed off.
“And…?” we all pressed, almost in unison, our voices rising together.
“My first night at Changi Hostel,” she began slowly, her voice softer now, as though drawing us in. “You and Suhaila hadn’t moved in yet. I was alone. I couldn’t sleep at all, so I stayed up reading on my bed. Then, after a while, my eyes grew heavy. I thought I’d just close them for a short rest.”
She paused, setting her cup down.“That was when I heard it. Knocking at my door. And then… the door opened by itself.”
We leaned in. No one spoke. “I heard a woman’s voice. Felt her standing at the foot of my bed. She laughed a strange, hollow laugh and said, ‘You are here now…’ I was terrified. Tried to open my eyes, but I couldn’t. I remembered what an elderly lady once taught me: if such a thing ever happens, don’t be afraid. Recite a verse, she said, and speak to it. So I did. Not aloud, but in my mind. I told her, I have done no harm, no evil to anyone. I am here for training, for only six months. After that, I’ll leave this room. I know you have been staying here, but I seek your permission to share the space. Please allow me to stay. I like this room I feel at peace here.”
Her voice remained calm, matter-of-fact. “I told her she could stay in the other room the one you girls rarely used, except when you had morning duty the next day. I promised not to tell anyone. And then… she moved. Into your room.”
She nodded at Nurhayati. “She sat on the sofa chair by the window, where you can see the wards. That’s where she stayed. For the whole six months of our posting.”
The table had fallen into absolute silence. You could have heard a pin drop.
“At first I thought it was just my imagination. But sometimes, while I studied late into the night, I heard her footsteps slow, deliberate pacing up and down the staircase. When you girls weren’t around, I would close my door. Gave her privacy. So I wouldn’t disturb her when I went to the toilet or kitchen.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, as if recalling it in detail.
“But then my family came to visit during the holidays. They stayed in the girls’ room your room. My sister started having nightmares every night. She was restless, crying in her sleep. My mother… she woke one night and saw her.”We all stared at her in disbelief.“
She didn’t tell me at first. Only after they left, back at home. My mother said, ‘There are four of you in that hostel. Not three.’” I whispered, “You mean… you actually saw her?” “Yes.” my mother nodded.
“She described her exactly as I had seen her in my mind. An old-fashioned nurse, in the ancient British uniform, with a head scarf. Sitting on the sofa chair. Facing the window.
”No one moved. No one spoke. Even the clatter of cutlery in the restaurant seemed far away. She leaned back, almost relieved, and said quietly, “So it’s not my wild imagination. Whatever that is… it’s there. Staying with us.”
The words lingered in the air, heavy, unsettling. For a moment none of us dared breathe. Then Cheng Mun gave a nervous laugh, trying to cut the tension.
“Aiyo, you all ah, scaring me until I don’t dare go toilet alone already.”
Nurhayati crossed her arms, still unconvinced. “I don’t know… ghost stories always sound real when you tell them. But why would a spirit want to stay in a hostel of all places?”
“Maybe she never left,” someone whispered.
We looked at each other, uncertain whether to laugh or shiver.
The Compass Rose, with its glittering view of Marina Bay, suddenly felt far away from the cramped hostel, its narrow staircases, its shadowed corners. Yet for a moment, it was as if we were back there again listening for footsteps in the dark, wondering who else was sharing the room with us.
“No wonder,” Nurhayati said, shaking her head. “All those times I kept asking you if you felt anything, and you kept denying it. All the while, you knew something was there.”
She gave a small smile, almost apologetic. “Would it have helped if I told you the truth? Why put you girls under unnecessary stress? After all, she never harmed anyone. Just… her presence. It’s her place, really. We were only using it temporarily.”
“Wow,” Junita breathed, wide-eyed. “You think she’s still there?” Cheng Mun asked, half-whispering. She shrugged, her tone casual, though her eyes betrayed something more.
“Not sure. Maybe. Who knows?” Then, leaning back with a sly smile, she added, “Since we’ll be passing through Changi after this trip… maybe we can stop by and take a look.”
The table went quiet again. We glanced at one another, half-thrilled, half-dreading the thought. The tea had long gone cold, but in that moment the Compass Rose didn’t feel like a glittering high-rise anymore. It felt like the shadow of Changi Hostel had followed us up seventy floors, settling right there at our table.
“Okay, back to our trip,” Junita said, breaking the silence. “How are we going up there? Bus? Flight?”
“There are a few ways,” she replied. “We could take a bus straight from Singapore but it’ll take about fifteen hours to reach our starting point. By then, we’ll be half-dead with fatigue. Not worth it. So, alternative plan: we fly from Senai Airport to Penang, then take a bus up to Kedah. Much faster. From Singapore, we can catch the MAS coach, ten dollars only. I’ll check which hotel it stops at slipped my mind. Flight reservations we can do by phone and collect the tickets directly at Senai.”
“Sounds reasonable enough,” Junita nodded.
Then, with a mischievous grin, I leaned in. “Want to hear the latest news? I just had my regular bilateral talks with my Malaysian counterpart. Their proposal for merger has been rejected.”
N burst out laughing. “You did, eh? After all these years they’re still clinging to this merger idea?”
“What merger?” Nurhayati asked, puzzled.
“You don’t know?” Nora teased. “Our friend here is the official liaison officer, appointed by the Minister of Foreign Affairs, attached specially to our Nursing Department.”
“We got such post meh?” Cheng Mun cut in, eyebrows raised.
“They created it just for her,” came the quick reply, and the whole table laughed.
“Anyway, merger with Malaysia?” Cheng Mun’s tone grew serious. “Never. It will never happen.”
“Exactly,” Nora said, laughing.
“That’s what I told them. But they’re so stubborn.” I replied
“They argue that since Singapore is deprived of natural resources, it’s only practical we merge. They’ll provide all the support we need.”
“They said that?” Nurhayati gasped.
“Yes.”Cheng Mun shook her head.
“No way. We’ve moved too far ahead, economically, educationally. To even think of merger now is blasphemy.”
“I agree,” Nora said. “We’re like two ships sailing in different directions, even though we share the same waters. Irritating, really.” She laughed so hard tears gathered in her eyes.
“So I told my counterpart: fine, debate policies with me if you want. But merger talk is out, finished, done!” I continued.
By then, Junita and Nurhayati were completely lost. Seeing their blank faces, she patiently explained the whole inside joke. When it clicked, the girls threw their heads back in a long, exaggerated, “Ooooooooooooooh!” before bursting into laughter.
“You don’t know,” Nora added between giggles, “our friend here can argue from Bumiputra Policy to the Water Treaty. You should hear her debates makes us proud to be Singaporean. Her views are so respected, they have to send a liaison officer to consult her before Malaysia approves anything.”
“Let’s toast!”
“For what? With tea?”
“Yes lah, tea also can.” She raised her cup high, face solemn for once. “To Singapore — long live Singapore!”And before we knew it, we were all on our feet, laughing, cups raised, pretending to belt out Majulah Singapura seventy floors above the city.
“They’ll throw us out from here and ban us from ever coming again,” Cheng Mun whispered, glancing around the elegant restaurant.
“We’re too noisy.”We all laughed, but it was true. Cheng Mun, always the practical one. She was from Toa Payoh Hospital, a registered nurse like my ex-roommate. After her posting at Woodbridge Hospital, she had been selected for the student nurse training. All of us came from the same PAN batch, yet each of us had ended up in such different corners of the system.
Something tugged at my memory. “Eh, Cheng Mun, you and Junita were posted to Toa Payoh after block, right?”
“Yes, about fifteen of us. Why?”
“You stayed in the hostel?”
“Yes.” I leaned forward. “You heard anything… about the fourth floor?”
She frowned. “Fourth floor?”
“Yes… any sightings of the white figure? The lady in white?” Junita shook her head. “Nope. Never heard anything.”
Cheng Mun tilted her head, thinking. “Though, now that you mention it… during dinner once, a senior enrolled nurse said there used to be talk about it. But she claimed it was your group’s fault. Said one of the girls in your batch started the whole commotion. Before you all came, there was no such problem. And she also said… your group was the noisiest, naughtiest one.”
“Really?” I raised my eyebrows.“That’s what they told us.”
“Ya lah,” I said, pointing to my ex-roommate across the table. “She and Nurjahan quarrelled all the time. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, never any peace. Always at each other’s throats.”
“She was irritating!” my ex-roommate protested. “Nurjahan, with her ‘I’m holier than thou’ attitude it got under my skin. I had to do something about it.”
The table dissolved into laughter, but I pressed on. “So nobody actually saw the white figure on the fourth floor?”
“Nothing of that sort,” Cheng Mun insisted.All this while, she hadn’t been paying much attention. She was scribbling notes on the map instead, her expression unreadable. Then suddenly, without looking up, she spoke.“I told you girls before, didn’t I? Forget about it. Don’t take it seriously. But no you and the others couldn’t leave it alone.”
“Ya lah, we were curious only,” I admitted. “One night, one of the girls swore she heard something. We went up, and yes we heard it too. A woman crying. The sound came from that room. But when we opened the door, it was empty. Nobody there. I still don’t know where the crying came from.”
She finally looked up, her voice sharp but calm. “And what did she do? Did she come knocking at your doors? Did she chase after you? No. She just sat there, minding her own business. It was you girls who disturbed her. And of course, the story grew bigger and bigger until it was exaggerated beyond recognition.”
“But what about the accident?” Junita asked, eyes wide. “The guy who fell from the window? Isn’t she the cause?”
“She didn’t push him,” came the reply, firm. “She just stood at the corridor. He panicked, slipped, and fell. He had no business being there in the first place.”
The table went quiet.“So the whole thing… it just died down after our group left the hostel?” I asked.
“That’s what the senior enrolled nurse told us,” Cheng Mun nodded. I glanced at her, but she had already lost interest in the conversation. She was studying the menu now, as if we’d been talking about nothing more than hospital gossip.
“You know,” she said lightly, almost to herself, “we really should come here more often. A place like this… perfect to unwind. Their dinner menu looks good too.”
“Ya, the prices here also look really good,” someone remarked, flipping the menu. “But if we come too often, we’ll go bankrupt.”I grinned, seizing my chance.
“Now you! Yes, you!” I pointed straight at her. “Who are you going out with these days, huh? Don’t think we don’t know. Somebody said they saw you with an Indian guy.”
Payback time. She hated talking about her private life, but this was the perfect chance to corner her.
We all leaned in, eyes sparkling, waiting.
She gave a dramatic sigh. “Aiya. You know the guy, Nithya. Remember that officer’s party we went to when we were at Toa Payoh?”
“Which one?” I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t tell me it’s the one who drove us back?”
“Nope.”
“Then it must be that Chinese fellow with the sunny spectacles. Wah, but he looked so Chinese.”
She shook her head, half smiling.
“Nope.”
“Then who?”
She hesitated just long enough for us to lean closer. Then she dropped it:
“The one sitting at the back. With you. That night.”
For a moment, I just blinked. And then it hit me. That guy.
I burst out laughing. Loud. Too loud. The kind of laughter that comes from deep in your belly, rolling out uncontrollably. Because it had never once crossed my mind that those two would ever cross paths, let alone end up together.
That night, they’d stayed as far apart as possible, barely even looked at each other. And now here she was, casually admitting she was going out with him.
I laughed until my sides ached, tears springing to my eyes.
“Why is she laughing?” Cheng Mun whispered, baffled, glancing between us.
Her only answer was a shrug. “Don’t know. Better not disturb her. Let’s just give her space. She’ll laugh until her heart is content, then we see.”
Still giggling, I pressed on. “So, tell us! How did all this happen? I know it wasn’t Toa Payoh or Woodbridge. So where?”
“Changi Hospital,” she replied, cool as ever. “We met again at Changi Village Hawker Centre. Don’t believe me? Ask Nurhayati.”
All eyes turned to Nurhayati.
“Really?”Nurhayati nodded, looking amused. “Ya. The guys from the commando unit.”
“Commando unit?!” Junita gasped, eyes wide. The table erupted into chaos teasing, laughter, and mock disbelief. Even seventy floors above the city, in the refined elegance of Compass Rose, we were back to being the noisy, mischievous girls from hostel days.
“OOOOOOO, that one!” Nurhayati said, her eyes lighting up.
“We were having dinner at Changi Village Hawker Centre when suddenly this Chinese guy introduced himself as Steven came up to our table and said hello to her. Claimed they were from the same school and all that. Next thing we knew, his four friends showed up and joined us.”
She paused, smirking. “But you know what the funniest part was?”
“What?” we chorused.“We’d been chatting for almost an hour, all friendly-friend. Then she suddenly excused herself to buy another drink. The moment she left, that Steven fellow turned to me and asked, ‘I know this sounds strange, but what’s her name?’”
The whole table exploded with laughter.
“Can you imagine?” Nurhayati continued. “I stared at him and said, ‘Eh! Aren’t you her schoolmate? You two talk like you’ve known each other forever.’ And he just goes, ‘Ya lah, she is my schoolmate. I know her. But I forgot her name.’”
We were practically falling out of our chairs.“… And this Indian guy was part of that group?” I asked Nurhayati once I caught my breath.
“Yes,” she replied, grinning.I turned to her. “You mean to tell me they already knew each other then?”
She gave us that sinister smile the one we all knew too well by now.
“Yeap.”
“And that night they pretended it was the first time they met?”
“What a great pretender you are!” I pointed at her, while the rest of us burst into another round of laughter. She only made silly faces at us, puffing her cheeks and crossing her eyes until we laughed even harder.
“Steven?” Junita said suddenly, squinting. “From our school?”
“Yes,” N confirmed. “The one who used to be school runner and referee for the inter-house hockey tournament.”
Junita slapped the table, laughing so hard she could barely talk. “Out of all the people in the world, why must it be him?”
“Why not?” Cheng Mun asked innocently, completely puzzled. Which only made us laugh louder. “If you really want to know,” Junita leaned forward conspiratorially, “our friend here was actually the hockey captain for our house Team. And you know what she did?”
“What?” we all chimed in, eager. “During the inter-house hockey tournament in the middle of the match, just before the second half , she walked out, laid her hockey stick on the ground, sat herself down right there on the field… and refused to play.”
“She did what!?”
“Yes!” Junita nodded vigorously, eyes wide for emphasis. “Not only that she instigated the other teams to join her protest. In the end, the whole tournament had to be cancelled and rescheduled a week later. With a brand new referee.”
The table roared with laughter.
“But he was unfair and biased!” she defended herself, her hands waving in mock indignation. “His girlfriend was on the other team playing against us and it was so obvious. I warned him after the first bad call: You’re not being fair. But he refused to listen. So I did what was right. I told the other teams, Look, if he can do this to us, what makes you think he won’t do the same to you? And they all agreed. They joined me. He was furious with me.”
“I bet!” Nurhayati grinned. “No wonder he never remembered your name!”
The table howled.“Maybe at the hawker centre,” Junita added between laughs, “he must have told his friends, ‘Eh, I know that girl she’s my schoolmate.’ And his friends probably teased him: ‘Steven, be a good soldier, go and say hello to your ex-schoolmate for us.’”
Cheng Mun jumped in, clutching her cup dramatically. “He must have been cursing inside, Oh no, not that girl again! Of all the girls in the world, why her? The one who staged a mutiny against me and now I have to go and say hello?”
We erupted in another wave of laughter, the kind that left our stomachs aching, our voices carrying too loudly across the refined Compass Rose dining room.
“Ya lah!” we all laughed until our sides hurt.
“Then what happened next?”
“Nothing,” she shrugged. “We went back to our hostel, and they went back to their camp. That’s all.”
“Come onnnnnn!” Junita leaned forward, eyes twinkling. “We know there’s more. Tell us!”She sighed, as though giving in.
“Okay, okay. As you know, the commando unit is just beside Changi Hospital, Block B where the wards are. Their camp was on the hilltop and from up there, they could see the wards. One evening, just before dinner time, he came down to the ward to say hello. Said he’d seen me earlier that afternoon walking from the hostel toward the ward, guessed I must be on afternoon duty.”
“Wah!!!!” we squealed together. “He’s been observing her from up there!” She ignored our giggles, carrying on. “That same evening, I’d cooked dinner for four. But these girls” she jabbed a finger at Nurhayati, who raised her hands in mock innocence “said they were staying in, then suddenly changed their minds and went home. I hate wasting food. What was I to do with all that curry?”
“And our hero comes to the rescue!” Junita teased, her laughter bubbling.
“Suddenly I remembered the food,” she continued with a sly grin. “So I asked him casually if he ate chicken curry.”
“Aiyoooo!” Cheng Mun exclaimed, slapping the table. “You asked a commando that? As if he’d say no!”
“He said he was only in Changi camp for training. So I invited him to the hostel lounge for dinner.”
We erupted into cheers and teasing.
“Ah-ha!” I wagged my finger at her, laughing. “See, girls, this is why you must all learn to cook. Didn’t the old folks always say, ‘To win a man’s heart is through his stomach’? Now you see proof right here.”
“So,” Junita leaned in, eyes gleaming, “what curry powder did you use, huh?”
She lifted her chin with mock pride. “Baba Curry Powder.”
That was it. The table dissolved into chaos.“Her secret weapon!” I shouted between fits of laughter. “Curry Chicken with Baba Curry Powder!”
It was a riot. Even seventy floors above Singapore, with Marina Bay glittering at our feet, it felt like we were back in the hostel lounge again noisy, mischievous, and alive with the joy of being young.
