I have been in a complete state of shock during the next two days. All I could think of was the upcoming arrival to Singapore of Mark Fitzwilliam and his wife. The formal dinner at the Moretti residence he was supposed to attend this Saturday was fast approaching.
I had a moment of rest in my room before going back to my never ending chores. I was sitting on my tiny bed looking at the formal black uniform dress hanging on the opposite wall, the dress Signora gave me during our meeting two days ago, and I was trying to think how I was going to act as a Filipina maid in front of Mark and his new wife. Do I know her? Has she met me as Julia? Would they recognize me? God! I felt so miserable and uncomfortable. How could I let myself be so badly cornered? Or, deep down, as professor Caprio was telling me, was I really craving for that sort of exposure and humiliation?
At that moment Signora entered my room without knocking in her customary abrupt and busy fashion, carrying a package in her hands. I stood up immediately and greeted her with a formal curtsey. She has hardly ever visited my quarters so it must have been something really important.
