by Joanna Rees
‘Would the last remaining passengers for flight VE326 to London please make their way to gate six,’ the tannoy blasted above them.
‘That’s me. I’ve got to go,’ Jess said, overwhelmed by his confession.
She leant up and kissed him, laughing at how crazy all this was.
He held her face. ‘Jess, I mean it. This is the worst proposal of all time, and I will do better, I promise, but I love you. I want you to be my wife. Will you? Will you marry me?’
‘Yes,’ she laughed. ‘Yes. Of course I will.’
He picked her up and twirled her round in a hug; then he kissed her deeply. ‘Promise me you mean it.’
‘I mean it,’ she said, smiling at him. ‘Now let me go. I have to catch this flight.’
‘You’re still going?’ He sounded astonished.
‘I’ve got to go,’ she said, happy tears springing to her eyes.
‘Then call me as soon as you land.’
‘I love you,’ she called out, then turned and shouted it out as loudly as she could, making the passengers around her stop and stare. ‘I love you.’
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Lace Island, 1990
It was Maliba’s birthday and there was music coming from across the lagoon. From where she was standing behind the treeline in the forest, Leila could see candles flickering near the lagoon’s edge, and fireflies danced. Parva and her friend were performing their traditional folk dances, their hands flicking against the fire, the bells on their ankles and wrists chiming. Looking at the scene, Leila couldn’t believe that everyone was so happy.
Everyone except Leila. After everything she’d overheard in Bibi’s room, she hadn’t been able to think straight. Just when she’d thought her life couldn’t get any worse, it had. Because Bibi was in serious trouble, and Chan was to blame.
It was so difficult to process: the thought that her whole childhood had been one long act. When Chan had come home each time from Cochin bearing gifts, had Bibi known all along he’d been with another woman?
The thought made Leila sick to her core.
Why had Bibi put up with it for so long? How could she even bear to look at him? What was worse was that she’d held it together for Leila’s sake all this time. Leila would never have wanted her mother to compromise herself like that for her.
The whole thing was such a mess, and now Bibi was up to her neck in debt. Leila had been so worried about her own problems, so consumed by what had happened with Adam, but overhearing Bibi talking in her office had focused her mind. It was killing her mother to know how she was letting everyone on Lace Island down, and Leila knew that she had to park her own self-pity and find a way to help Bibi. She had to tell her that she knew the truth about Chan.
But first, she needed to get her facts straight. She needed to go to Bibi with proper evidence to show what Chan was up to. Because it was clear that whatever it was, Bibi had no idea. What’s more, Leila was pretty sure it was something illegal. If she could only catch Chan, then Leila could get the police involved, have Chan arrested. There would be a scandal, of course, which Bibi would hate, but once it had died down, she would be free.
Which is why Leila crept determinedly now through the silver trees, placing her feet softly on the dry forest floor. The night was warm, the hot breeze blowing in off the ocean, the clouds scudding across the blue-black sky. All around her, the forest seemed alive with sound, including the party in the lagoon.
From up here by the lighthouse, she could see down to the coast. The tide was high and rolling breakers crashed on the shore, as if presaging the rough seas that would soon be here when the monsoon broke. She glanced across at the reef, a silver line of surf breaking in a streak across the dark water.
She froze for a moment, hearing voices up ahead coming out of the lighthouse. She crept closer now. Chan was standing talking to Shang.
‘As soon as the next shipment from Laos gets here, I’ll send word. Then one of the container ships will get near enough and we’ll send out a boat to it. Adam says the route will take it into New Orleans.’
Adam. Leila’s heart froze at the sound of his name coming so warmly from Chan’s lips. It was just as she’d thought: Adam was involved with Chan and Shang. Whatever they were doing, Adam was involved and covering for them.
Leila waited until the tuk-tuk had disappeared with Chan and Shang down the rutted path and crept towards the lighthouse. She fumbled with the torch in her pocket.
She knew it was risky, but she didn’t care. She was not going to let down Bibi. She was going to get in there, come what may. She stared up at the dirty window. If she could only smash it and force her way in, she’d get the proof of what Shang was storing in there and make a plan.
When Leila arrived breathlessly back down at the beach party, more people were round the fire and the music was louder, as sparks flew into the black night. Victor and his friends were drumming out beats, and people were singing. Maliba was in the middle of it all, clapping her hands. Leila went to her and kissed her, wishing her a happy birthday.
Maliba held her face in her very old, crinkled hands. ‘Come and see me tomorrow. We must talk,’ she whispered.
‘I will,’ Leila said, wanting to break away and look for Rasa, but Maliba held her close. She shut her eyes for a moment, breathing in, as if she were sucking in all of Leila’s memories.
‘Is something wrong?’ Maliba said, her hooded eyes dark with concern.
Leila felt the words bubbling up. She longed to blurt out everything to Maliba, to purge herself of all her worries, to tell her about Rasa and Adam and Bibi and Chan, but she couldn’t. Not here. Not at her birthday party. She looked past Maliba to the crowd round the fire. There was only one person she needed now.
‘Have you seen Rasa? I’m looking for him.’
‘Ah, Rasa,’ Maliba said, as if it were obvious Leila was thinking of him. ‘Not tonight.’
‘Hey,’ one of the women from the village called out. She stumbled towards Maliba and Leila, still dancing. ‘Come and join in.’
She grabbed Maliba and Leila watched, standing back from the crowd, wondering what to do. She’d been convinced Rasa would be here.
Now Vijay, Rasa’s father, came over. He looked different off duty, out of his brown suit. His cheeks were rosy with good humour.
‘I thought that was you,’ he said, smiling. ‘Maliba told me you have a problem and I should help fix it,’ he said, nudging her in a jovial way. ‘Is it true?’
Leila nodded.
‘I will if I can, but if it’s to do with my son . . .’ He held up his hands and then smiled at Leila, and in that moment, Leila knew she could trust him. He was a policeman and Rasa’s father. Someone she’d known all her life. Someone who was firmly on Bibi’s side. If anyone could help, it would be Vijay. Without Rasa, he was the next best thing.
She pulled Vijay away from the noise of the party and sat down next to him on a log on the beach, away from the fire.
‘I found something,’ she began.
‘Found something?’ he asked. ‘What did you find?’
‘In the lighthouse,’ she said. ‘There’s boxes.’
‘Boxes?’
‘There’s a man. Lee Shang he’s called. Rasa knows about him.’
‘Well, I’ve never heard of him.’
Leila shifted, turning to Vijay, forcing him to take her seriously. ‘He’s storing drugs there. He and Chan are going to ship them to America.’
Vijay’s happy expression faded. ‘Miss Leila,’ he said, fixing her with a stare, ‘this is Lace Island. Nothing like that happens here.’
‘I’m telling the truth. You’ve got to believe me.’
‘Does Bibi know?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Are you sure it’s drugs?’
‘I’m not entirely sure, but it’s so secretive. I . . . I went to check. Here . . .’ She delved into her pocket and thrust her silk scarf at him.
He frowned and unwrapped it.
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‘It’s white powder. Bags and bags of it. I managed to get some.’
Vijay tipped it towards the glow of the fire. Then he put his finger in his mouth and dabbed it in the powder. He licked it; then he put it on his tongue, recoiling at the taste. His face clouded.
‘Do you know what it is?’ Leila urged. ‘Will you do something?’
Vijay took a deep breath in, as though the weight of the world were now on his shoulders. He looked up at the star-filled sky, as if asking for guidance. ‘Yes. I will,’ he said. ‘But you must not worry your mother with this until I have discovered the truth. I mean it, Leila. Otherwise you could both be in a lot of danger.’
Leila nodded. She should feel relief that she’d told Vijay, but instead she felt her fear growing.
‘You did the right thing to tell me,’ he assured her. ‘Does anyone else know about this?’
‘Only Rasa. Where is he, anyway?’
‘Didn’t he tell you? He’s gone to the mainland. He’ll be back on the next ferry, I expect.’
Leila felt winded. What could Rasa be doing in Cochin apart from getting away from her?
‘Come and dance,’ Parva called, but Leila shook her head, refusing. She was in no mood to dance. Not now.
‘Leave this with me,’ Vijay told her, holding her arm. ‘And promise me – don’t tell anyone. Not a word.’
Leila nodded, watching him go until he was a silhouette against the fire. Secrets, she thought, so many secrets. When will this all stop?
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Kerala, present day
Jess leant her elbows on the edge of the open car window as the rickety white ambassador taxi climbed slowly up the pot-holed road. She breathed in the hot air, looking at the brown hillside, which was covered in terraces of green tea plants, the women and children dressed in colourful clothes as they picked the leaves, the sky above an azure blue. No wonder they called this place ‘God’s Own Country’, she thought.
‘Not far now,’ her driver informed her. He was a funny guy and had entertained her all the way from Cochin Airport; she was looking forward to tipping him generously. He was certainly very proud of his taxi, which was bedecked inside with plastic flowers and hanging Hindu gods. He sang along now with the high-pitched singer on the radio, making Jess laugh.
Despite reading the guidebook and talking to the crew on the plane, nothing had prepared Jess for the assault to her senses as soon as they’d arrived in India. Just the noise, the people, the colours . . . the sheer life on display . . . it was magical. She watched now as an elephant lumbered along the side of the road, pulling what looked like newly cut telephone poles out of a grassy ditch.
If only Blaise were here to enjoy this too. She wished he could share this with her, especially as it was all so unexpected. It felt doubly cruel to be apart now, after what he’d said at the airport, especially as she’d assumed that she would be on a flight to India, stay the night at the airport and fly straight back to London. But then she’d been offered a stopover and now she had three whole days to soak up the glory of this place . . . alone.
On the flight to Cochin, a kind American lady had given her a tip-off and a voucher for an Ayurvedic spa in the foothills of the Western Ghats, just a few hours’ drive from Cochin. The woman had insisted that Jess must take up her offer. She’d told her that the yoga overlooking the lake, the massages and the food were absolutely heavenly. With a three-day stopover and time to kill, Jess hadn’t been able to refuse. And, boy, was she glad she hadn’t. She needed to calm down. Catch her breath. To stop this giddy feeling that had been racing through her since Blaise had proposed.
There was something about this place. As if just the smell of the air filled her soul with happiness and a kind of wonder she’d never experienced before. As the car climbed through the tea plantation, she waved to the kids running through the trees.
The taxi crunched into a lower gear as they finally turned off the main road and along a bumpy, winding lane until a low stone building with a red tiled roof, almost entirely covered in bright pink bougainvillea, came into view.
The taxi stopped and Jess stepped out, butterflies dancing in the balmy air. An elderly bald man with a cloth dhoti greeted her with a low bow and put a wreath of fresh flowers round her neck and pressed a cup of delicious-smelling herbal tea into her hand.
Once she’d paid Varsi, her driver, promising him solemnly that he could drive her back to the airport in a few days’ time, Jess went inside, through the low door to a courtyard with a fountain. A very pretty Indian lady in a red-and-gold sari greeted Jess like a long-lost friend, before showing her through the lush gardens to her teak bungalow overlooking the lake.
Left alone, Jess did a slow twirl and grinned, taking in the thick beams of the room and the very comfortable-looking four-poster bed. Hot and sweaty from her journey, she opened the door to the bathroom. But to her surprise, it was outdoors, the leaves of a banana tree hanging down from the bluest of skies above. She’d never been anywhere so exotic or sensual.
Stripping off and stepping under the water, she thought about the last shower she’d had, in the yacht with Blaise. It felt like ages ago, but it had only been yesterday.
Blaise, she thought. Her fiancé.
She wondered again what had happened after he’d left her at the airport. Had he gone back and told everyone at the yacht about their amazing news? She smiled to herself, thinking of their reactions. She already knew that Tilly was delighted. She’d texted her when she’d got to Heathrow and she’d replied straight away with a gushy text, begging Jess to let her be her bridesmaid. It felt to Jess as if the future she’d dreamt about really was rushing towards her, faster than she could comprehend. She longed for someone to share it all with.
After her long shower and wrapped in a huge, fluffy white towel, she sat on the bed and called Blaise, despite the fact that the time difference meant it was the middle of the night: she couldn’t bear putting off calling him any longer.
‘So how’s India?’ he said.
Amazing. But it would be so much better if you were here. I’ve got three days at a spa. For free. And it’s so lovely here. You should see my outdoor bathroom.’
‘Well, you’ve got to come back soon. We need to get a ring. We’ve been engaged for . . .’ he paused, doing a calculation, ‘thirty-one hours and you still don’t have a ring.’
Jess hadn’t even thought about a ring.
‘You’ve still got time to hop on a plane and join me,’ she said, trying to sound as enticing as she could. ‘We could get one here. And I looked on the map. We’re quite near Lace Island. We could go check it out.’
‘No,’ Blaise said harshly. ‘I mean, I want to take you there,’ he said, though he sounded uncertain. ‘But when we have a decent amount of time. Just you and me. Don’t even dare think about going there alone. It’s undeveloped and dangerous and—’
‘OK.’
‘Promise me you won’t.’
‘I promise.’
There was a moment’s silence. She picked at the edge of the towel, disappointed that he didn’t want to join her. She knew it had been a crazy idea, but if he could only see this place, he’d be as entranced as she was, wouldn’t he?
‘So . . . how’s Miami?’ she asked, changing the subject.
‘I’m a bit tied up at work,’ he said, with a sigh. ‘I’ve got lots on. After our holiday, I’m so behind.’
She bit her lip, hearing the slight rebuke in his tone. She knew it would sound petulant to demand more of him when they’d just had a week together in Ibiza. What was so important, though? The Lace Island deal? She longed to know more. She thought of how close she’d felt to him in Ibiza and how distant he seemed now.
‘You sound tired.’
‘It’s two in the morning.’
Jess heard a muffled laugh. It sounded like a woman.
‘What was that?’
‘Nothing. Just the TV. I’ll turn it off,’ Blaise said. She heard
something shutting and then there was silence.
‘I shouldn’t have called so late.’
‘You can always call me. Whenever you like. I like hearing your voice.’
‘You know what I did today before we left Heathrow?’ she said, turning round on the bed, glancing at her new purchases. ‘I know it’s girlie, and I’ve never even thought about doing this before, but I was so excited I couldn’t help myself. I bought three bridal magazines.’
She stared at their covers and the picture-perfect brides. She couldn’t actually believe now that she’d bought them. She’d thought they’d be exciting, but she couldn’t relate to a ‘perfect’ wedding in an English stately home. In fact, having flicked through them, she was more confused than ever about what she really wanted. Certainly nothing that was contained in the glossy pages. Doing it all properly – as the magazines implied she should – seemed so formal and so stressful. Not to mention expensive. But it was all the decisions that seemed so overwhelming to Jess. Choosing cutlery and china for her wedding list. Where on earth would she start? How could she possibly work out what she and Blaise needed for their married life together?
‘Oh?’ Blaise sounded surprised.
‘Well, I guess we should start discussing it, right? When, where, all that stuff.’
‘What did you have in mind?’ Blaise asked, before going on quickly, ‘And don’t say on a beach. I can’t stand those beachy weddings. I’ve been to too many where the weather ruins everything.’
Jess forced down her disappointment. Not only that he’d been to so many weddings already, when she hadn’t been to any, but that she was going to have to persuade him into her dream wedding. Having a simple ceremony on a beach felt like the only way to bypass all the fuss.
‘What about on Lace Island?’ she suggested. ‘You said it was like paradise. We could get married there.’
Blaise seemed to consider this for a moment. ‘It’ll be ages before it’s even halfway ready.’