Ah Singapore, not a place that holds great memories for my family. In 1942, Singapore fell to the Japanese Imperial Army and my Great Uncle Harry was captured, tortured and abused by a bunch of barbarians. Some 75 years later, I feel like history is repeating itself….
After falling ill and being confined to quarters (and the bathroom) with dysentery for 36 hours, I’m awoken to a knock at my hotel room door. It’s Athena. And she is beside herself. She recounts the tale of dinner the night before with the girls. Victoria had ridiculed the Levendi donation to her product launch, belittled her status as a homemaker, culminating with Victoria violently throwing a starched napkin in her face.
“Why is she so horrible? Why is she so mean?” Athena pleaded
“It’s simple” I explained as I vomited in a nearby wastepaper basket “You have everything she wants; a beautiful family, a loving husband, stunning home, talent and a banging body”
But Athena, being Athena is certain she is somehow to blame for Victoria’s reprehensible behaviour, even if it was because of some past-life misdemeanour. There’s nothing more for me to say, I give her a cuddle and then vomit highly-sugared black tea out my nose.
Still shaky, I gingerly join Matty and Melissa for a shopping session at Marina Bay Sands. If anyone is likely to give me an accurate account of last night’s melodrama, it will be these two, who are honest, kind and without agenda.
Mauling a $300 g-string at La Perla, I’m surprised that the girls start quizzing me about my involvement in Lizziebuttrose-gate.
I tell them plainly that Lizzie is an old friend who phoned me a few hours before Victoria’s product launch. Assuming Athena and I would be there, she was excited about catching up. I explained to Lizzie that I would rather stick shards of bamboo under my fingernails than attend a D-list event at a hair salon, but that Athena was upset as she had been uninvited and felt her generosity and largesse had been taken advantage of.
But I am disturbed that the moral compass of the group clearly needs some serious re-calibration. Surely the villain of the piece here is Victoria and her sidekick Joh Bailey?
What was worse, Lizzie calmly telling Victoria a few home truths (to which that witch responded with profanity in front of her guests) or Victoria and her cahoots greedily getting their grubby mitts on a bespoke Levendi piece, rubbishing the Levendi brand and starting the bidding at a paltry $50 ?
And we’re off to lunch with the rest of the gang. I’m still pissed off at Krissy. The last time I saw her was at Matty’s Persian Party. I had apologised for some of the things I had said to her and had hoped that in the spirit of charity and goodwill, she would finally admit to making very cruel comments about the parlous state of my marriage (you can view those comments, made to Nicole, in episodes 4 and 5.
But no, Krissy refuses to own up to her bitchy, backstabbing behaviour. Nicole, lacking all intestinal fortitude also cries “Krissy NEVER SAID ANYTHING about your marriage” I turn to Athena who also denies it ! “Judas ! Et Tu Brute !” — without the benefit of yet seeing and hearing Krissy in episodes 4 and 5, I have no evidence that Krissy had said those things. I can’t believe what is happening! Nicole and Athena have thrown me under a bus and I look like the villain!
Since insincerity and dishonesty has clearly become de-rigeur in this group, I take a leaf out of my companions’ book and feign an apology to Krissy.
The rest of the trip I spend trying to restrain my anger at Athena.
How could she repeatedly report the things Krissy had said about me and now deny them? Was it possible that Krissy hadn’t said those things? Was Athena trying to divide and conquer? Was being a part of a bunch of basic bitches more important than a long and loving friendship?
The final night, Krissy relishes in making me feel uneasy. I’ve always believed that intimate relations should be between you and your partner and that it is not a topic for the dinner table. So much to my discomfort and chagrin, Krissy starts rattling off a laundry list of lovers from around the world, ranking them by prowess. The United Nations of Vaginas indeed. At this point, I’d almost welcome the Japanese Imperial Army.