The Girl from Lace Island

by Joanna Rees

  She could hear the gruff voices of the workers as they woke up in the makeshift barracks where they slept. Soon they would demand their morning chai and the sticky rice Leila made. Then the day’s heroin harvest would begin.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  Cochin, present day

  All the bravado Jess had felt in Miami Airport had deserted her by the time she arrived, nearly twenty-four stress-filled hours later, into the suffocating heat of Cochin. She felt wrung out and exhausted, her terror that she might be being followed having made any kind of sleep impossible. Not that she could possibly imagine sleeping with all the questions churning round and round in her head.

  And now, the most relevant question of all made her almost ask the cab driver to turn round and take her back to the airport. What the hell was Suresh going to say when she turned up unannounced?

  The driver was talking loudly on a mobile phone, waving at her to get out. Gripping the business card Suresh had given her, Jess stepped out of the air-conditioned cab into the wall of heat on the Cochin street. The noise of the honking horns and the bicycle bells made her jump as the traffic swerved round the cab. Fumbling, she paid the driver, and still talking on his phone, he sped off, completely oblivious to the turmoil she was feeling.

  Disorientated, Jess stood staring across the wide pavement to the white building in front of her with its wrought-iron balconies. She looked again at the card in her hand. This must be it: Suresh’s office.

  People bustled past her, mopeds zooming, lorries honking, a waft of cinnamon coming on the hot breeze, someone chanting prayers, the high-pitched voice of a woman singing loudly blaring from the speaker on the front of a multicoloured bus. She watched it, full of passengers holding on, the sound distorting as it passed her.

  Jess had never felt culture shock so profound as she felt now. And after all the anguish she’d gone through since she’d left Miami, she felt her nerve deserting her. If someone so much as pushed her, she might crumble into dust.

  Suresh would think she was mad, surely? She couldn’t just turn up like this without warning him first. But without her phone, it had been impossible to call ahead.

  Maybe she should find a hotel, she thought, trying to stop the trembling feeling inside her. Maybe she should settle in, clean up and then call Suresh and arrange a meeting at his office. He might not even be in Cochin, she thought, amazed at the kind of assumptions her panic had inspired. He might be away on business. Or with Kareena. It was the weekend, after all.

  ‘Think, Jess,’ she said out loud, but getting here had taken all her strength and it was as if her feet couldn’t move.

  And that’s when she saw a man coming down the pavement towards her. He was wearing a cream linen suit and carrying a leather satchel, and was talking on a mobile phone. She watched him pause in the street, ending the call. And at that moment, everything stopped.

  Because it was him. Suresh. Her dear Suresh. And the sight of him made Jess gasp.

  She watched him glance in her direction and do a double-take. Then he slowly took off his sunglasses as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. A moment later, he was running towards her.

  ‘Jess?’ he said, gripping her arm. ‘Is it really you?’

  She nodded mutely, too overwhelmed to speak.

  ‘What is it? What’s happened?’ he asked. ‘Aren’t you getting married?’

  It was only now, seeing Suresh’s friendly face, that she felt the magnitude of what had happened. She felt her knees trembling and Suresh frowned and put his arms round her, pulling her into a hug that was so exactly what she needed she cried out a great sob of anguish.

  ‘Come,’ Suresh said. ‘I have my car down here. I was going home anyway. You must come.’

  She nodded, trying to pull herself together. With his arm still round her shoulder, he escorted her along the road and down an alleyway between the buildings. At the back was a car park, and she heard an electronic beep as he unlocked a smart navy-blue BMW. She climbed into the passenger seat and he turned on the engine.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, her voice cracking. ‘I’m so sorry to turn up like this. I can explain.’

  Suresh put his arm round the headrest of her seat and reversed, looking at her with concern, until he’d pulled out of the car park.

  ‘There will be cooler air in a moment,’ he said, fiddling with the dials on the dashboard. Jess nodded and sat with her handbag in her lap, her chin wobbling, fat tears rolling unbidden down her face. She could sense Suresh’s confusion. He reached past her and opened the glove compartment as he drove, pulling out a box of tissues. ‘Here,’ he said.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, wiping her eyes. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what else to do. Where else to go.’

  ‘What has happened, Jess?’ Suresh said, looking at her, then in the rear-view mirror and swerving onto the highway. He expertly weaved into a faster lane and soon they were travelling at some speed, the city flashing below them.

  Jess tried to compose herself. Then, in a tumbling jumble of words, she told him the main facts. About the wedding and what she’d overheard Blaise saying.

  ‘Wait,’ Suresh said, holding up his hand, his eyes wide as they met hers. ‘You heard him say that he’d deliberately found you? And the whole thing was a set-up?’

  Jess nodded, relieved that Suresh was almost as shocked as she had been. ‘And the thing is, I’ve been going over and over it and I can only assume that I must have some kind of connection to Lace Island,’ she said. ‘That’s why Blaise found me. That’s why he made me sign that prenuptial agreement saying what was mine was his. And I’m so confused, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry to barge in on you like this.’

  ‘Stop apologizing,’ Suresh said, shaking his head, trying to take in everything she’d said. ‘It’s fine. My apartment is close now. Here we are,’ he added, indicating off the highway.

  They drove past several large hoardings and then into a modern-looking residential area. Jess looked at the patch of grass under the steel legs of the hoardings, a mangy dog staring back at her. A man selling tea from a cart watched their car speed past.

  ‘What about Kareena?’ Jess asked.

  ‘She’s at the network this weekend.’

  Jess nodded, not sure what to make of the way he’d said it. Or how easily he’d agreed to let her come to his apartment. All she knew was how glad she was that she didn’t have to deal with Kareena right now, or explain herself.

  Instead, she told Suresh about swapping her wedding dress in Miami Airport for the clothes she was wearing.

  ‘That will be some story for the bride’s mother to tell,’ Suresh said, with a friendly laugh. ‘She certainly got a bargain.’

  It was only now that she realized how little she had in the whole world. Not that she really needed anything, but all her clothes, her make-up, everything was in the hotel room in Miami. She didn’t care, though, she realized. None of it mattered.

  She looks like a gold-digger. I could see it straight away.

  I bombarded her with flowers, gifts, clothes. Stuff she could brag about with the cabin crew. Threw budget at it.

  Jess felt another shiver of fury run through her as Suresh indicated and turned off the road by a block of high-rise apartments into an underground car park. How wrong Blaise had been. It had never been about the money. Hadn’t he known her at all?

  Jess thought back to that awful meeting a few weeks ago with his family at the Dorchester. How on earth had he explained to his mother what he was doing? Were they all in on it? They must have been. Or had they even been his real family? Maybe they’d been actors, Jess realized now.

  Because now she thought back to Blaise after they’d gone, the way he’d been – as if he was having a crisis of confidence. You’re a good person. That’s what he’d said. Maybe that was the only honest thing he ever had said to her.

  Because she was a good person, and he . . . he . . . he was a lousy, manipulative, cheating—

  ‘It’s not mu
ch,’ Suresh apologized as he parked in a space, interrupting her internal rant. He got out of the car, and Jess did too, the doors echoing in the gloomy concrete space as they shut them. She walked with Suresh to a stairwell, and he nodded to the guard, who was reading a newspaper.

  ‘This will set tongues wagging,’ Suresh said in a whisper as he pressed the button for the lift. ‘Everyone knows everyone’s business in this building.’

  ‘I don’t want to cause any problems for you,’ Jess said. ‘Or Kareena.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ he said with a reassuring smile, but Jess wondered whether it really was fine as they stepped inside the lift. She could see the curious face of the guard staring at her and Suresh.

  ‘Please prepare yourself. My apartment isn’t very grand. And this damned lift . . .’ he said, jabbing the button on the control panel. Slowly, the doors closed.

  ‘You have no idea how grateful I am. I had nowhere else to turn.’

  Suresh gave her arm an awkward squeeze.

  His apartment was simple but elegant, with bright purple-and-green flowery wallpaper in each room and black modern furniture. The effect was rather stylish, and she saw how house-proud he was, falling over himself to clear things away.

  In the small bathroom, Suresh explained the complexities of the water system, but Jess didn’t care. It was a shower. She felt awful borrowing what was almost certainly Kareena’s shampoo and body wash, and her clean cotton robe, but Suresh was insistent that she treat this as her home.

  As she stood in the shower, feeling safe for the first time since being in Miami, Jess tried to make sense of everything that had happened, but it was as if months’, years’ worth of emotions had been crammed into just a few days. In another, parallel universe, right now she would have been on her honeymoon with Blaise. He’d suggested Venice and she’d accepted willingly, awed by his romantic gesture. Now she wondered if that had been one big lie too. Maybe once they’d been legally married, he’d have turned on her straight away. Would he really have gone through the charade and expense of a honeymoon? Was he even who he said he was at all? If the apartment in New York had been hired, what else had been fake? She thought of the engagement ring she had put in the pocket of her rucksack on the flight to Paris. Was that a real diamond? Probably not. Blaise had saved the real diamonds for Porscha.

  She shook her head, still reeling from the level of his deception. Had they been laughing at her behind her back the whole time when she’d been in Ibiza? The thought made her furious. Perhaps Tilly’s offer of friendship had been a set-up too?

  In one sense, she felt relieved, she realized. Because a little voice inside her all along had told her that Blaise was too good to be true. That a dream man like him wasn’t possible for a girl like her, but it hurt. Man, it hurt to be so wrong.

  She should have listened to her gut instinct. Because when she didn’t, that’s when things had always gone wrong, and now where did she stand?

  She growled, her impotent rage growing. If only she had more answers.

  Should she have stayed? she wondered, as she dried herself. Had she left too soon? Perhaps she should have challenged Blaise and demanded to know the truth. But a liar like him would never have told her the truth, she reminded herself. No, it was much better that she’d got away.

  She’ll be disposed of.

  She shuddered, terrified by how much danger she’d been in. How much she might still be in. She had to work out why Blaise had done what he’d done and why she’d been chosen before they found her.

  Suresh was cooking when she found him in the kitchen, and he’d changed out of his suit into some long cotton trousers and a loose cotton shirt. He was chopping up ginger on a wooden board, a large pestle and mortar on the worktop in front of him, filled with spices.

  ‘That smells good,’ she said, peering into the bubbling curry in the saucepan on the stove. A rice steamer was chugging, and there was a bowl of freshly chopped salad and chapattis on the table. She was touched that he’d already rustled up all of this for her.

  ‘I thought you must be hungry. When was the last time you ate anything?’ he asked.

  ‘I can’t remember,’ she said, with a small smile.

  It was like her life was split into two. Then and now.

  ‘You want a beer?’ he asked, opening the fridge, and she nodded.

  She watched as Suresh poured her beer into a glass, and then she chinked glasses with him.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, staring into his eyes.

  ‘What are friends for,’ he said, turning away quickly. ‘Ah. It’s almost time.’

  ‘Time for what?’

  ‘Pass me the remote.’

  He flapped his hand at the table and Jess passed him the black remote control. He pressed it at the TV on a bracket on the wall in the top corner and with some loud intro music it flickered onto the news.

  ‘There she is,’ Suresh said, smiling over at Jess.

  She watched the screen and saw Kareena on it, talking direct to camera. She looked amazing, Jess thought, her make-up heavy but perfect, her hair perfect too. She was wearing a light blue suit and looked like a woman who was very definitely in control.

  ‘Wow,’ Jess said, feeling more deflated than she could cope with. She looked at Suresh, his eyes shining with pride.

  ‘She’d kill me if I missed it,’ he explained. ‘She’s just been promoted.’

  ‘Good for her. She looks incredible.’

  ‘I tell her that, but she doesn’t believe it.’ He glanced across at Jess. ‘But between you and me, this is absolutely the best bit,’ he said, pressing the mute button at the TV.

  Jess laughed, but she felt guilty. She couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

  ‘It’s good to see that smile at last,’ he said.

  ‘I feel like I’ve been run over.’

  ‘Well, emotionally, you have. Some food will make you feel better, though. I promise. It’s Mummy’s recipe. She always gave me this when I was feeling sad.’

  She smiled, liking the way he said ‘Mummy’. As if his mum was part of him. Someone who had the power to make him feel happy, no matter what.

  He now served up two plates of delicious-smelling vegetable dhal and turmeric rice, and brought them over to the table, carefully placing a plate in front of Jess, whose mouth started watering instantly.

  ‘Eat, eat,’ he urged, and Jess wanted to cry with gratitude.

  After she’d complimented Suresh profusely on his home cooking, he started talking urgently.

  ‘So, while you were in the shower, I got busy. My assistant just called from the office. I hope you don’t mind, but I had to explain what had happened.’

  She wondered what else she’d disrupted by suddenly turning up in Suresh’s life.

  ‘Anyway, she’s done some digging around. One of our partners, many years ago, was vaguely involved with the affairs of Lace Island, so she’d heard of it.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Lace Island is privately owned. Or was. Bibi, as everyone called her, died in the fire, but if her descendants are alive, then they will have inherited Lace Island.’

  ‘Descendants?’

  ‘She had a daughter, Leila. And if she’s alive, then Lace Island would belong to her, and then – according to the land laws – to her daughter.’

  Jess remembered Blaise’s face now when she’d asked him in London if he was buying Lace Island and he’d said, ‘It’s complicated.’

  Leila stared at Suresh, this information sinking in. ‘Do you think . . . ?’ she began, feeling her mouth go dry at the possibility. ‘Do you think that means I’m . . .’

  ‘. . . related to Leila or Bibi?’ Suresh said, finishing the sentence for her. He shrugged. ‘Maybe. Maybe that’s the answer. Maybe that’s what all this means. Maybe that’s why they found you. Whoever “they” are.’

  Leila blew out a breath, something trembling deep inside her. Fear? Anticipation? Hope? She couldn’t tell. She only knew she’d never fel
t anything like this in her life. As if a door to the truth that she’d been banging on for so long was finally creaking open.

  ‘Do you think she’s still alive? Leila, I mean?’

  ‘Who knows? What I do know is that Lace Island pays above and beyond its revenues in tax, so there must be people on it. But strangely, my assistant says that the files on it are blocked. I called my friend in the police department. He says there are no accessible files on the computers in the police department either. Someone, somewhere is making sure it stays completely off the radar.’

  Jess pushed her hair back from her face, too overwhelmed to eat for a moment.

  ‘I think I need to go to Lace Island,’ she said. ‘See what is there. Who is there. That’s the only way I can start to put this puzzle together.’

  ‘I agree,’ Suresh said, shovelling rice into his chapatti with his fingers. ‘We’ll leave in the morning.’

  ‘You’ll come with me?’

  ‘You think I’d let you go alone? We’ll take my friend’s boat. It’s a good day’s sailing, but I’ve looked at the weather. If we leave first thing, we can make it there by nightfall.’

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  Lace Island, present day

  It was late, and after a grubby day in the fields, the workers sat in the makeshift canteen, with its wooden benches and corrugated-iron roof, passing the opium pipe round, one of them leering at Leila as she cleared away their dirty metal supper plates. She knew if they could, they’d touch her, but she kept her eyes downcast, like the slave she was. Instead, she clanked their plates to show her displeasure, before taking them up the concrete steps to the kitchen.

  Chan had told her once to smoke with the workers, that it would dull her memories, but Leila used her denial as a small means of defiance. It was only tiny acts of rebellion like this that had kept her going all these years.

  On her way back to the table for the next lot of plates, she picked up a nushtar from the ground outside the kitchen door. It was one of the small knives used for slicing the poppy heads, its tiny sharp blades just millimetres apart. Leila chucked it in the rough wooden box with the others.