"Are you sure you don't need a rest? You look a bit peaky still."
"Steve I'm fine! I'm pregnant, not ill! Besides, I've been resting for the last God knows how many hours on that plane. Let's go and explore. We might meet some of the other guests. You never know who might be staying here."
Sliding her feet back into her sandals, she rose from her armchair and gave him a big smile. "This place definitely has the look of a Somerset Maugham play, don't you think?" she said, mimicking a perfect upper-class accent. "I wonder if there's an exciting history connected to it."
Matching her accent, Steve replied with his own smile. Both being good actors, it was a game they regularly played. "There's bound to be. It's well over a hundred years old, and I read in the guide over there on the desk that the Chalcot family have lived here since before the turn of the twentieth century. Apparently, they own or owned vast tracts of land, mostly given over to rubber and some fruit - might be pineapple, but I could be wrong."
"Really? Chalcot does ring a bell," Di replied, raising her eyebrows with interest.
"Well, I suppose it would. The last Chalcot was a life peer I believe, and the lady who now owns this place is an 'Honourable'."
"I told you! I bet they have some good stories to tell."
"Di! Haven't you had enough excitement recently? I would have thought two murders in our home village were too many for anyone. Apart from my business meeting tomorrow, we're here for a holiday. We both need a rest and Malaysia seemed far enough away for us to forget the dramas of Agios Mamas."
"Of course. Don't fuss so. I'm not looking for excitement, trouble or otherwise. I was just saying."
Steve gave her his 'old-fashioned' look which Di knew well. He didn't have to say any more. He could read her like a book.
"Come on then. Let's go downstairs. I'm dying for a cuppa."
~~~~~
The lounge held a commanding view overlooking a lawn which sloped towards a naturally wooded area. Through open doors, they could see flower beds bordering a pathway leading to a building situated some distance away. Squinting against the sun, Diana decided that in England, this building would have been declared a folly or at best a summer house.
Everywhere she looked, she was astounded at the vividness of the colours around her. Coming from Cyprus, they were used to a climate that was hot and dry. During the long summer months, plants mostly withered and died, leaving dusty dormant bushes and gasping wilting trees waiting for the life-giving winter rains. Here in Malaysia, a tropical monsoon climate created a fresh and colourful landscape. Huge hibiscus flowers in red, pink and yellow were arrayed with tall, stately lilies and flags. The trees were clothed in liana and hung with terracotta pots, each containing an orchid plant. Di was astonished at the variety in colour, shape and size of each flowering plant.
"Come and sit down, darling. The tea is here." Steve spoke from behind her.
Turning, Di walked back into the room, a delighted look upon her face.
"This place is just gorgeous. Have you seen all the orchids? I'd forgotten how beautiful the flowers are here. Did you know orchids represent the largest flower family in the plant kingdom?"
"No I didn't. How do you know that?" He passed a cup over to her.
Before she could answer, Di's attention was caught by a figure entering the lounge from the hallway. The woman's age was indeterminate and difficult to guess. She could have been anywhere between forty and late fifties. Small in height, she was almost skeletally thin and her mousey-coloured hair was cut short and straight. A pair of spectacles dangled around her neck, attached to a silver chain. She was dressed in a short-sleeved, white aertex shirt and slacks cut to mid-calf length. Catching sight of Diana and Steve, she paused and then as if changing her mind walked over to where they sat.
"Mr and Mrs Rivers, I believe. I'm Miss Chalcot, how do you do? Welcome to Kebun Pertama. I do hope you enjoy your stay here with us." Her voice was clipped and controlled. They would have expected nothing less from an 'Honourable'.
Steve immediately stood up to shake their hostess' hand, realising this was the owner of the hotel.
"How do you do?"
Diana took the outstretched hand in turn and wondered at the iciness of it. She found herself staring into a pair of grey, appraising eyes.
"Mrs Rivers, I've read your books."
"Oh." Diana felt a little nonplussed by Miss Chalcot's statement, not expecting it.
"Don't look so worried. I said 'books'. If I hadn't enjoyed the first, I certainly would not have bothered with the others."
"Thank you," Di mumbled.
"Yes, very entertaining. I can see why your style has been likened to a modern day Agatha Christie, although they contain a bit more sex I suppose. But you set a splendid scene and portray your characters well. You've invented some wonderful murders, and yet you do not dwell too much upon the blood and gore as some contemporary fiction does nowadays, thereby letting the readers use their own imagination. What are you working on at the moment, another mystery thriller for your series?"
For once, Diana was taken aback and found herself taking a breath. This woman's manner was so direct, almost intimidating.
"I-I've just finished a novel set in Cyprus and I haven't yet begun anything else," she stammered.
"Do you have a story in mind?"
"Um, nothing concrete, just a few ideas I've had playing around in my head for some time but nothing that's really grabbed my attention."
"Good. So you're doing nothing at the moment?" Again, Di felt like she was under interrogation and gave a slight shake of her head.
"Then you might be interested in looking through some old papers of mine."
"Oh. Well yes, yes of course." Di's heart sank. She had met so many people who thought they 'had a book in them'. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred most of the stuff was unprintable.
Miss Chalcot obviously thought the matter was concluded, as she gave them a nod and left the lounge.
Sitting back down, Steve gave Di a wicked grin. "Well, that's curtailed you, my love."
"Yeah, nothing I like more than reading other people's masterpieces." She gave a sigh. "I could hardly have been rude and said 'no', could I?"
Chuckling at the sour look upon her face, Steve indicated their drinks. "Come on, finish your tea and we'll have a swim. The pool looks very inviting and there's a Jacuzzi somewhere here too. It will get rid of all your aches and pains from the flight."
"Sounds good to me. Spa baths also massage swollen legs, and I could do with a little help there. What time is your business appointment tomorrow?"
"Ten o'clock. Why? Do you want to come into KL with me?"
"No thanks. I think I'll just relax for a day or so. We've got over three glorious weeks - plenty of time to explore the city."
"Fine, I'll ask where the best shops are located, as I expect you'll want to replace half your wardrobe while we're here." He gave her a grin.
"Only half? Ha ha! Prices are bound to be reasonable and Cyprus is not the best place for clothes shopping. Yes, I'll be happy to spend a day or so looking."
This time, Steve gave a laugh. "You name me one woman who 'just looks'. I foresee my wallet being much lighter at the end of this holiday."
Chapter 2
Steve left for KL after breakfasting with Diana on their shady veranda. Despite the relative coolness of the morning, she could already feel the humidity rising.
Di tidied their room and slipped into her bathing costume. The longer than usual top covered her stomach and her bump was barely noticeable. After filling her beach bag with the necessities for a quiet swim followed by a read in the shade, Di left the room and walked down to the pool.
The clear, turquoise-coloured water looked enticing and she was soon doing some easy breaststroke laps of the pool. Recognising the other guests from last night in the dining room, Di exchanged pleasantries while she swam. She had learned that their hotel was only half full, which accounted for the space and
quietness about the place. Cool and refreshed, Di dried herself off and sat down with her e-reader for a morning of peaceful relaxation.
She had started a new novel on the flight but had only read two chapters. The story so far was far-fetched; the main character had begun to irritate her. She wondered if she was actually going to finish it. The writer had a good reputation, but Di felt she was trying too hard. There was just too much happening for the story to ring true. Di's mind wandered and putting the reader down, she examined her surroundings.
The hotel had begun life as a family home for the wealthy Chalcot family from England. The large house occupied a prominent position in the middle of the estate, and Di supposed the family money came from the rubber which was always in demand. Now the estate had diversified, like so many other businesses, with a hotel.
Beyond the pool, Di could see a building which resembled an English summer house. Built in brick and glass it was topped with a green-tiled roof which matched that of the main house. Despite its obvious English beginnings, the green tiles definitely gave an oriental feel to the place.
Restless with her tedious and unreadable book (she had now decided), Di thought she would go for a walk and explore more of the grounds. The day was heating up fast and she was glad she had remembered to bring her straw sunhat. She had suffered from sunstroke before, and Steve would be annoyed if she was careless again.
Following a gravel path meandering between neat flower-beds, she eventually arrived at the summer house. A shallow flight of steps led to a small patio with a large brick barbeque in one corner, and at the back of this paved area there was a pair of closed glass doors. Trying the door handle, she found they were unlocked. Inside, she saw a row of wooden table and chairs neatly stacked against a side wall, suggesting that the place was used as a function room for parties and private lunches.
"My father built this place on a whim. He really wanted a folly, but the local architect and builders couldn't or wouldn't understand what he was aiming for, so he ended up with this. We use it for wedding breakfasts or birthday parties, but mostly it's ignored. No air conditioning you see. I suppose I could get round to having it fitted, but it's hardly worth the bother."
Turning, Diana met those grey, appraising eyes again. She was standing just inside the doorway and Di couldn't understand how she had failed to hear her footsteps on the gravel outside.
"I think it's lovely. I've always fancied a place like this, but we haven't the room and like you, I doubt we'd use it enough to justify the expense."
"Oh, Father didn't worry about expense. If he wanted something, he just took or bought it."
Di couldn't help recognising the touch of bitterness in Miss Chalcot's voice. She felt a frisson of excitement well up within her. She just knew there was some mystery concerning this family and place. "About those papers you mentioned yesterday, would you like me to take a look sometime?"
"Yes please. When would be convenient? I realise this is a holiday for you but--"
Much more interested than twenty-four hours ago, Di interrupted her, "How about now?"
~~~~~
Diana was surprised on entering Miss Chalcot's private study; the room was out of keeping with the rest of the light and airy house. It was dark and sombre, more masculine than feminine. Old English hunting prints adorned the walls, together with a collection of photographs which Di supposed were family portraits. An enormous desk took up almost the entire right-hand wall with a huge chair behind it. Set into another wall were French windows which led to a partitioned balcony. Because of the sloping lawn, this part of the building was higher than the rest and the balcony was set some feet from the ground, not high enough to deter determined intruders, but enough to give a lofty view of the grounds.
Casting an eye round the study, she noticed a photograph of a beautiful blonde woman in her wedding gown, while another portrayed a tall brunette with striking good looks. Amongst these, there were various poses of children at different stages in their lives. Di couldn't discern how many there were or to whom they belonged and she didn't know her hostess well enough to comment or ask.
Ignoring Diana's obvious interest in her family portraits, Miss Chalcot indicated Diana should join her at her desk. "Here you'll find some interesting reading no doubt," she said, casting a hand over a pile of slim, leather-bound volumes lying on the polished wood.
Diana turned from the photographs and walked over to join her. Picking a book up at random, she flicked open the pages exclaiming, "Why, it's a diary!"
"They all are," Miss Chalcot agreed drily.
Diana looked up at her words. "So what exactly would you like me to do with them?" she asked. She turned over another page, noting the small, neat handwriting. "Are they yours?"
"Um no, not really, mostly they're my mother's. I would like you to write them into a book. It doesn't have to be a biography. In fact, I'd prefer it to be written as a novel. Can you do that?"
"Ye-es. It depends on the content and whether it catches my interest."
"Oh, you'll find it interesting enough. There's plenty to get your teeth into."
"But why? Forgive me, but why me? Why don't you do it yourself?"
There was a pause. Miss Chalcot looked away, and Diana noticed a spasm cross her face before she replied.
"Because I don't have time. When I recognised your name on the booking form, I took it as a sign. I knew you for an acclaimed author of repute and considered you the best person for recording our story."
"I appreciate that. I am flattered you consider me worthy. But this is about you. I think if you write it, with your family name and everything, it will sell better."
"I'm neither interested in selling nor marketing it, and I've just told you I haven't the time."
"I understand, time is precious and I'm busy too..." Di's voice trailed away as she caught the stricken look on Miss Chalcot's face.
"You don't understand." Again there was a pause. "I'll pay you handsomely. I just don't have time, full stop. Perhaps not even a month."
Shaken, Diana felt a shock pass through her as she realised what she was saying.
"I have untreatable pancreatic cancer, and the doctors and surgeons have done all they can. This is important to me. I have this yearning for the complete family history to be recorded accurately and put in order. It should have been done years ago. I should have done it, but I let the years slip by and want to put things straight while there is still time."
Diana didn't know what to say. She was embarrassed by her earlier reticence to help the woman. "I'm very sorry. That's such awful bad luck. An uncle of mine had the same and he lived for four years after the treatment, maybe you--"
"Maybe. But for now they've told me to expect the worst. I was stupid and delayed seeking medical help when I had the first symptoms. Now I'm to pay for my stupidity. It is nobody's fault but my own, and I'm prepared for my death, but first I have to put one or two things straight."
Realising Miss Chalcot had made up her mind; Diana knew she would take no advice from a stranger. Diana recognised her as being strong-willed, stubborn and used to having her own way.
"Okay. So if I take this project on, am I to understand that you want me to make a story from your family's history?"
"No, I want you to take it from my mother's entry into the Chalcot family when she married my father up to the final diary entry. You'll soon get the gist."
"May I ask? Are there any other members of your family still living?"
Again, there was a brief pause. "I have a sister. She lives in England."
"I see." Diana did. From Miss Chalcot's terse reply, Diana guessed there was some bad feeling between them, and as she obviously wasn't going to say anything else at that time, Diana had to ignore it.
"Well, I'd better make a start. I'll read through the diaries and give it some thought."
"We haven't discussed your fee yet."
It was Diana's turn to pause while she thought. "Let me have a read-throug
h first. If I like the idea and consider I have the makings of a creditable novel, then we'll talk about it."
Diana felt she had to keep control of the situation. Miss Chalcot was educated and strong-minded. It would be all too easy for her to completely dictate terms on her home turf. Diana was her own woman and would not let herself be bullied. She didn't need the work, but she was interested enough to read about this mysterious woman and her life.
She had a sudden premonition that these diaries were likely to wake some sleeping dragons……………………...
Click to buy “Children of the Plantation” from Amazon
Excerpt from “The Surgeon’s Blade” by Faith Mortimer
The Surgeon’s Blade
Prologue
Playing this game was a major enjoyment. It had been played many times before, and this time, it was proving even more of a thrill.
The watcher spotted her immediately. She was seated at a table for two, and from the number of times she had glanced at her watch, it was obvious she had been stood up by her date. The watcher was cautious by nature and covertly observed the woman from a chosen seat which was half-hidden in the shadows behind a potted palm. She was one of those women in their thirties who looked attractive in a quiet, unassuming way and could have been stunning if she had spent more time over her hairstyle and make-up. Her dress was an off-the-rail model, most probably from one of the departmental stores and in a different colour would have enhanced her appeal. Unfortunately, the dull fabric did nothing for her hair and skin colouring.
The watcher had seen her many times around the hospital and knew who she was. She came across as confident and sure of herself as far as her work was concerned.
She now sat alone and forlorn, casting wistful glances at those couples who sat with bent heads sharing a whisper and promise of the night to come. Minutes later, she answered a call on her mobile phone with nervous girlish pleasure, but her face paled in distress as she replaced it into her evening bag. The watcher knew instantly how easy it was going to be and smiling coldly, raised a glass with a slight movement in her direction and offered a silent toast.
The Bamboo Mirror Page 10