by H. Y. Hanna
“Well, I’m just doing some background research,” said Toran cautiously. “I’ve heard a lot of rumours about Sanctum Bona Dea, but I’m not sure that there’s been any justifiable—”
“Murder!” Mr Gopal thundered, shaking his fist. “They murdered our daughter! Is that not justifiable enough?”
“Do you have proof of that?” asked Toran.
The other man sagged a little. “No proof. But I know. In my heart. They murdered our Desi.”
“I’m sorry,” said Toran quietly. “I know it must be terrible for you to have to relive this, but can you tell me a bit more about what happened? I understand that Desi’s body was discovered near the Changi Point Ferry Terminal, where it had washed ashore. The police reports said that she had drowned. Had you reported her missing?”
“No, she was not living with us then. She was staying at that place,” Mr Gopal spat. “That witch’s place. Sanctum Bona Dea. It was bad enough when they stole her from us, but at least we thought she was safe there. But when the police called us…” He turned away suddenly, unable to go on.
Toran waited a moment for the man to collect himself, then he asked gently, “How long had your daughter been at Sanctum Bona Dea?”
“Six months.” Mrs Gopal spoke up for the first time. “At first, we thought it was a good thing. She had been very down, you know, since she left her last job. We told her we didn’t mind—that she could stay here with us as long as she liked, while she decided what she wanted to do—but she just seemed to be so lost. Her friends were all moving on with their careers or getting married and having children and she felt left behind. Then one day, she came to me and she was smiling again. She told me she had found a retreat—a place especially for women. They would help her heal and find her true path in life.” Mrs Gopal shook her head. “But after that she started changing. She seemed to withdraw from us, become very distant. She was spending more and more time at the retreat. At first it was just for a weekend—then it became a few days, then a week. And when she did come home, her behaviour was strange and upsetting. She would stay in her room all the time, and when we tried to go in there to talk to her, she would slam the door in our faces and say we were invading her privacy.” She shook her head in bewilderment. “It was as if my daughter was replaced by somebody else. Finally, a few weeks after this all started, she moved out for good and went to live at the retreat full time.”
“It was that witch,” hissed Mr Gopal. “She filled Desi’s head with nonsense.”
“Do you mean the leader of Sanctum Bona Dea—the Matronae?” asked Toran.
“Is that what she calls herself?” sneered Mr Gopal. “Her real name is Tanya Silver. She was a gynaecologist who used to practise in the United States, but lost her licence due to malpractice.”
Toran raised an eyebrow. “I hadn’t heard that before.”
“She keeps her past well hidden,” said Mr Gopal. “But we have relatives in the States. Doctors. And they knew her—there was talk in medical circles.”
“Did you have any contact with Desi after she moved to the retreat?”
“Only once. A few days before they found her body. We were contacted by one of the ferrymen on Pulau Ubin. He said she had given him a message to pass on to us.”
“A message?” Toran leaned forwards.
“It was a note.” Mrs Gopal spoke up again. “It just said: ‘Mumma, I’m scared. I want to come home’.” Her eyes filled with tears. “We went to the retreat immediately, but they would not let us in. They said that Desi was fine and did not want to speak to us. So in the end, we came home.” Her mouth wobbled. “I keep wondering now if we had done something different…”
“I’m sure you did everything you could in that situation, Mrs Gopal,” said Toran gently.
“Maybe if we had called the police—”
“The problem is, it’s not against the law to join a retreat. Your daughter was an adult and of her right mind.” Toran hesitated, then said, keeping his voice carefully neutral, “Actually, the reports I read suggested that Desi might have been suffering a relapse of a psychological disorder, which may have contributed towards—”
“Lies!” shouted Mr Gopal. “A bunch of lies! Yes, Desi had a short period of depression when she was in her teens, but that was years ago and she was successfully treated for it. There was nothing wrong with her mind, other than what the witch put in there! They did something to our baby girl—that Sanctum Bona Dea—but they just don’t want to admit it. So they propagate all these lies about her… They said she left the retreat two days before her body was found, but that’s a lie too! Why didn’t she call us? She would have called us as soon as she got out. She sent us that note, after all! And where would she have gone? Singapore is a small place and we have many friends and family here who know Desi—somebody would have seen her or recognised her. No…” He wagged his finger. “She never left Sanctum Bona Dea. They killed her there and then got rid of her body.”
Toran stared at him. The man’s vehemence was convincing. He felt a sudden chill of fear for Leah and Angela. What had they gotten themselves into?
“Have you gone to the police with your suspicions?” he asked.
Mr Gopal shrugged helplessly. “Yes, but they do not listen to us. According to the autopsy, Desi died by drowning. There was no sign of a struggle—so they think she somehow fell into the water. But where? And how? They have no answers. But they are not interested. Because of her past history and maybe because they know that she was at the retreat—which the police think is just a group of silly women gossiping together—they’re very quick to put the blame on mental illness.”
He looked at Toran earnestly. “Please… you are the first person who has taken what happened to Desi seriously. Help us. Find out the truth about Sanctum Bona Dea and help us get justice for our daughter’s death.”
Toran held his gaze for a second, then gave a curt nod. He rose from his seat. “Thank you for speaking to me.” He moved towards the living room doorway, pausing by a framed photo on the mantelpiece. “Is this your daughter?”
“Yes,” said Mrs Gopal, coming over and picking the picture up lovingly. “That was taken last year, on her twenty-seventh birthday.”
The photo showed a pretty girl with caramel skin and big, brown eyes, laughing at the camera. She was wearing a party hat and had her arm around another girl—a pretty, blue-eyed blonde—who was waving a balloon.
“That was her best friend, Marlene. They were at school together and did everything together.”
Toran thought of the life and laughter that sparkled in Desi’s eyes in the photograph and then thought of her cold, lifeless body being hauled out of the water by the ferry terminal. He felt anger fill him again, together with a determination to find out if she had been killed and make sure her murderer was brought to justice. He also felt another chill of fear for Leah and Angela. As soon as he got out of here, he thought, he would call Leah. Just to hear her voice. Just to make sure that she was all right.
At the front door, Toran shook hands with the Indian couple and thanked them again, then walked thoughtfully towards the lift. But just as the lift doors were about to close, he heard the sound of running feet. Quickly, Toran hit the “OPEN” button on the panel and the doors slid open again to show Mrs Gopal standing there.
She threw a look over her shoulder, then said in a hurried whisper, “I didn’t want to say this in front of my husband because he is so angry already. But Desi’s best friend, Marlene—she also went to the retreat. It was Marlene, actually, who told Desi about Sanctum Bona Dea. My husband never liked Marlene—he always said she was a bad influence on our daughter. He would be furious if he knew that Marlene was the one who introduced Desi—and now Desi is dead, while Marlene is still alive.”
“Marlene is still at the retreat?” asked Toran quickly.
“I don’t know. I guess she must be. But you can speak to her parents. This is their address.” She thrust a piece of paper at him. “T
hey might be able to give you some more information.” She stepped closer, putting a hand on the lift doors to stop them closing. “I know nothing can bring my daughter back, Mr James. But if it is true that the retreat is a dangerous place for young women, then if we can expose it and help to save others, at least, Desi’s death will not have been in vain.”
She stepped back and took her hand away from the lift doors. As they slid shut, Toran saw her turn and walk slowly back to her apartment. He felt a rush of admiration for this dignified woman who still managed to find the strength in the midst of her grief to think of others.
CHAPTER 17
It had been a long, uncomfortable night. Hot, sweaty, and itchy from her mosquito bites, Leah had tossed and turned in the narrow bed, dreaming fitfully of Toran, Angela, rotting corpses, and huge, purple-scaled snakes slithering through the water. She awoke with a start and sat up in bed, breathing fast. From the weak light showing through the windows, it looked like it was just before dawn. She thought she had heard dogs barking, but now there was nothing. Perhaps that was part of her dream too. She peered through the veils of the mosquito netting around her bed. There was no movement in the other beds. Everybody was still asleep.
Leah sighed and lay back down again, crossing her arms behind her head and staring up at the ceiling. It had been a frustrating day yesterday. She had sat through the mind-numbing guided meditation all afternoon, suffered a tour of the compound by the manically grinning Crystal, stoically eaten her way through an early dinner where, once again, she was the envy of starving women around her, and then spent a fruitless couple of hours trying to engage some of the other members in conversation. With the exception of Fay, they all seemed to blank her out.
And everywhere she went, there was no sign of Angela. Leah had experienced a momentary wave of panic. Was Angela not at Sanctum Bona Dea after all? No, she had to be. She was seen arriving. So she had to be here, somewhere. Maybe tomorrow, Leah decided, she could try asking about Angela discreetly.
Finally, Leah had come to bed early. She hadn’t thought that she would sleep—she had only intended to lie on her bed while turning things over in her mind—but she must have been more exhausted than she realised. The next time she had opened her eyes, the room was pitch dark and filled with sleeping women. It must have been the middle of the night. Someone had kindly opened up her mosquito net and covered her bed. Sighing, Leah had turned over and gone back to sleep.
Now, she sat up again, grimacing as she realised that she was still fully dressed in the sarong kebaya outfit from yesterday. She longed for a hot shower. Lifting the mosquito net, Leah slipped out and stood up, stretching. Then, as quietly as she could, she grabbed her towel and a clean change of underwear before padding across the room to the outer doorway. Like the dining hall, the floor here was covered with rush matting and the small area next to the front entrance had a cupboard with cubicles for shoes.
As she walked past the beds, Leah surreptitiously scanned the sleeping forms. It was hard to see in the dim light and through the mosquito netting, but she didn’t recognise any of the women as Angela. She did note that a few of the beds were empty, although the individual chest of drawers next to them had items on them, so it seemed that some members were temporarily sleeping elsewhere. And she noticed that Crystal wasn’t here either.
There were probably special sleeping privileges as well, to reward certain members, Leah thought wryly as she came out of the dormitory hut. She stretched again and imagined a separate hut with cool air-conditioning, soft beds with Egyptian cotton sheets and feather pillows, deep tubs filled with scented bubble bath…
“Good morning.”
Leah jumped. She found herself facing Crystal’s dazzling smile again. The blonde woman looked as fresh and bright-eyed as yesterday, despite the early hour. Leah wondered if Crystal didn’t sleep—maybe she just walked into a cupboard and switched off, then switched back on again the next morning. The thought made her hide a grin.
“Did you sleep well?”
“So-so,” said Leah, truthfully. She scratched at her neck. “It was a bit hot. I’m not used to the Singapore weather, especially with no air-conditioning.”
“Yes, and I see that you’ve had a few mozzie bites,” said Crystal, leaning forwards to peer at Leah’s neck. “I’ll get you some cream for that. And if you go to the Pharmacy afterwards, you can get some insect repellent.”
“Thank you,” said Leah, feeling a bit ashamed of her uncharitable thoughts earlier.
“Oh—and you’ll find a fresh set of sarong kebaya in the cupboard next to the laundry basket in the communal bathroom. They are divided by size.” Crystal turned to go, adding over her shoulder, “Make sure you’re not late for breakfast. The Matronae is joining us this morning.”
By the time Leah got to the bathrooms, there were a few other members there already, wandering around nude, between the showers, the sinks, and the changing area. Leah was slightly taken aback. She wasn’t normally that prudish, but walking around naked in front of a bunch of strange women didn’t really appeal. Keeping her eyes averted, she wrapped her towel tightly around her as she undressed and hurriedly found a shower cubicle. The water was lukewarm at best, but it was heaven to wash away the sweat and grime from yesterday, and at least the warm weather meant that she didn’t really feel cold.
By the time Leah was seating herself at the tables in the dining hall, her hair still damp around her shoulders, she was feeling much better. She was also hungry and looking forward to a hearty breakfast. So it was a shock to find a bowl of thin gruel placed in front of her.
“Wait,” said Leah, grabbing the arm of the girl who was serving. “There must be a mistake.”
“No, no mistake,” said the girl. “You are Leah Fisher, yes? That is your breakfast.”
“But…” Leah looked around. The other women around her were staring at her, some with smug satisfaction. “Look, I’m not trying to lose weight or anything. I mean, I am… who doesn’t want to lose a few pounds?” Leah gave a little laugh. “But I just… I’d like to eat normally, okay? No fad diets for me.”
The girl looked at her blankly. “That is your breakfast,” she repeated.
“But—”
“Just eat it,” hissed an older woman next to Leah. “Keep quiet and eat it if you know what’s good for you.”
Leah stared at her. Then she shrugged and picked up her spoon. She would speak to Crystal later, she decided. She was sure there was some mix-up. In the meantime, it wouldn’t kill her to have oatmeal—or whatever this was—for one meal.
In fact, there was a tiny part of her that actually felt relieved. She felt pleased, in a way, that she was now like the other members. Now they wouldn’t stare and envy her, now she wouldn’t be different and outcast…. Leah frowned. Since when did she care about being outcast from this group? And how could she be grateful for something so unpleasant, just so she could be like everyone else? When had she started thinking it was more important to be part of the group than to be yourself?
She took a mouthful of the watery gruel and tried to find something in it to chew. It tasted like shredded cardboard boiled in weak milk. As she ate, Leah scanned the room again. She saw Fay sitting a few spaces down on her left but no Angela. Where was she? Leah thought in frustration.
She had barely scooped the last dregs of gruel into her mouth when there was a commotion by the doorway. A minute later, everyone stood up. Leah hurriedly followed suit and peered over the heads of the women around her to see what was happening.
A tall woman sauntered into the dining hall. She was wearing a long, purple robe in a similar shade to the outfits worn by all the members, except that hers looked more like a cross between a sarong kebaya and a Roman toga. Her brownish-blonde hair was caught up in style that mimicked the line drawing on the Sanctum Bona Dea sign and her bare arms were covered with gold bangles. So many of them that there was a constant jingle of metal as she walked. She crossed the room and mounted a dais at
the opposite end, sitting down on an enormous wicker fan-back chair that was draped with silk sheets.
“Ave Matronae! Ave Matronae!” chanted all the women around Leah.
“Salve,” said the Matronae. She had a deep, throaty voice—like a woman who smoked too many cigarettes. “It is good to see you all. And a warm welcome to new members.”
Leah saw the Matronae catch her eye and give her a welcoming smile. She blinked in surprise. Even from across the room, the woman’s charm was palpable, reaching out to her like the smell of freshly baked bread on a sunny day. Leah found herself smiling back before she realised what she was doing.
“As always, it gives me great pleasure to meet with you and guide you in the ways of Bona Dea, the supreme goddess!” the Matronae said, raising an arm majestically. “Come! Join me in revering her! Together, we shall embrace mighty sisterhood!”
“Embrace mighty sisterhood!” chanted all the women around Leah.
“Partake in elemental self-care!”
“Partake in elemental self-care!”
“Release the bonds that restrain you and seize the freedom and the power!”
“Seize the freedom and the power!”
The Matronae stood up. She had both arms raised to the sky now and her pale blue eyes glowed with fervour. Leah noticed that several women around the room, including Fay, were staring at her, entranced. Their mouths were open and they were swaying slightly from side to side.
“Remember, your old lifestyles were poisonous to your health and vitality,” the Matronae intoned. “I was once just like you, my sisters, but then I found the true path through the feminine guidance of the goddess, Bona Dea. And once I began to detox emotionally, spiritually, and physically, I realised that I had to combine the life-giving effects of change with the healing power of womanly friendship. This was the only way to unlock the divine knowledge within.”
She stepped forwards, to the edge of the dais. “I have created Sanctum Bona Dea just for you, my sisters. Here, you will learn how to nurture your spirit, to purge the negative elements of life, and harness your goddess energy to heal toxic relationships. Here, you will finally be able to offload your burdens and release the chains in your life.”