During the flight, Diana took another look through all the documents she had collected, which Mr. Manderley had kindly photocopied for her. Mr. Green was in for a surprise!
By the time the plane touched down in Berlin, she had come to a decision. She would go to England for a while and not only put the facts of her family history in order, but also find out about specialising in English law. During her time away Eva had proved without doubt that she was capable of running the Berlin office excellently. Now the curtain had been drawn back a way to reveal at least some of the mysteries, it was time for her to begin a new life.
Fortunately, Philipp wasn’t in when she got home. She looked thoughtfully up at the façade of the building, a façade that had concealed the demise of her marriage well. But now the end had come. Although some of her heart lay in that house, she didn’t want to stay a moment longer than was necessary. Having shed so much light on her family’s shadows during the previous fortnight, she didn’t want to remain in the shadows herself.
She phoned a fellow student who had specialised in family law and asked for an appointment. He had one available the very next day. Then she phoned Eva and told her she’d be there that afternoon.
As she entered the bedroom to change, she paused. A pair of panties lay on the bed. Nothing special, Diana thought, an ordinary pale-green pair with lace, size S. Since it was unlikely that Philipp had taken to wearing women’s underwear, this must be a trophy from one of his conquests.
The sight would have made her blood boil a few weeks ago, but now she merely smiled, her resolve strengthened, and set about clearing her wardrobe, packing the clothes she wanted to keep into a suitcase. Everything else found its way into a large black bag, which she intended to leave at a charity shop on her way to the hotel.
After stowing the suitcase and bag of clothes in her Mini, she went up to her study. Philipp had placed a few letters on her desk. Some bills, publicity leaflets, and a postcard advertising holidays in India. Diana threw the junk mail in the waste paper bin without a second glance.
Relieved that she had never been a hoarder, she began to fill two large boxes with books, papers, and writing utensils. She also dealt with the bills, as she didn’t want to give Philipp any grounds to complain that she wasn’t paying her share.
Finally, she sat down at the desk and composed a letter to Philipp, explaining that she felt it was time they went their separate ways. For both of them. She told him nothing of her family history, but gave the secrets she had just uncovered as her reason for wanting a new start. After wishing him luck and happiness in his future life, she signed it and tucked the letter into an envelope, which she placed in his study.
As she was carrying the first box downstairs, the phone rang.
She was inclined to ignore it, but its insistent ringing eventually led her to pick up. Mr. Green’s voice reassured her that she had done the right thing.
“I hope you’ve arrived safely in Germany, Miss Diana.”
“Thank you very much, Mr. Green. Things are going very well. I’ve got so much to tell you when we meet again—and you’ve got a thing or two to explain to me.”
Although she couldn’t see him, she could tell he was smiling.
“My aunt had you in on this, didn’t she? You made sure all the clues were placed where I was bound to discover them.”
“How did you find me out?”
“During my stay at the Hill Club Hotel you emailed me a picture that none of my family knew about. The location of Grace’s grave was always a great mystery. Emily must have passed it on to someone—or my grandmother had it in her bag when she arrived. My mother knew nothing of the graveyard where Grace was laid to rest, so it seems that Emily kept the information close to her chest. That means she must have passed it on to you.”
Silence. She was sure he was still smiling.
“I must say that placing the letter under the sarcophagus was a stroke of genius. But that was when I began to suspect you. No one would leave a letter like that lying in a vault.”
“Congratulations, Miss Diana! You’d be a credit to Sherlock Holmes.”
Diana smiled as she remembered that was what Jonathan had called her. What was he doing at that moment? Was he thinking of her, missing her?
“But I didn’t call simply to ask after your health. A gentleman has arrived here asking to talk to you. I told him you’re not here, but he insisted I called you because he has something important to say to you.”
Diana had a suspicion that made her go weak at the knees.
“Thank you, Mr. Green. Please can you put him on?”
When she heard Jonathan’s voice, she turned hot and cold. What was he doing in England? Wasn’t he supposed to be finishing his book?
“I must say this is a magnificent house. After a bit of renovation it would make a lovely home, I’d say. What do you think?”
Diana was unable to catch her breath for a moment. “Actually, I’m intending to come to England for a few days. The office is running fine without me, and I’ve no desire for any further arguments with Philipp. He can have this house and I’ll have Tremayne House.”
“So the divorce is definite?”
“As far as I’m concerned. I’m going to give the papers to my solicitor today.” She didn’t tell him about the knickers on the bed. “Then I’m going to talk to my partner in the practice. I don’t know whether I’ll sell my share or remain as a sleeping partner. But whatever happens I intend to apply to study in the UK.”
“You’re making a new start.”
Diana looked thoughtfully at the fine white thread around her wrist that she’d been given as a good-luck charm at the Tamil wedding. It had survived all her activities and numerous showers, and still lay intact against her skin. “While I was in Sri Lanka I felt as though I were not only on the trail of my history, but also looking for myself. And I think I’ve found myself now. New beginnings can be quite exciting, can’t they?”
“Would your new beginning stretch to you taking on a lodger in Tremayne House?”
Her heart was pounding so loudly that she feared she was getting tinnitus.
“What did you say?”
“Let’s just say I’ve got plans to spend a while in England. I can just as easily finish my book here—and at the same time I can submit it to British publishers. Would it be possible to stay with you for a while?”
Diana had to summon all her self-control not to shriek like an excited teenager. She pinched the back of her hand to steady herself before replying, “I think we have a room free. I’ll tell Mr. Green that he should get it ready.”
Three days later, Jonathan picked her up at Heathrow Airport. Diana had sorted out the most important things and could now look forward to her new future.
“I’ve missed you so much,” she whispered into his ear after they had kissed passionately.
“But we were only apart for a few days,” he replied, a mischievous gleam in his eye.
“An eternity!” Diana said as she took his arm.
Later, as they were sitting in the kitchen being treated to Mr. Green’s tea and cakes, they spread out the results of their research on the long table that was notched with the cuts of centuries of kitchen knives. “Sit down, Mr. Green,” Diana said after watching the butler bustling around for a while. Of course he would never admit that he was burning to hear all about it. “Since you’ve played a not insubstantial part in the story, you ought to hear what we’ve discovered.”
Once Mr. Green had obeyed, Diana and Jonathan took turns to tell him what they had found out, the horrifying and surprising alike. Mr. Green listened, his expression impassive as though he had known it all for a long while, but when they came to the madman Cahill’s diary, a thoughtful frown creased his brow.
“I wonder how much Mrs. Woodhouse knew of that? She knew that her mother had lived on the plantation until she was twelve. When Mrs. Woodhouse confided the secret to me, she spoke of a secret surrounding her great-aunt Grace,
events that took place in Ceylon.”
Mr. Green took a sip from his teacup. “I wonder if Mistress Daphne deliberately took most of what she knew to the grave with her, since I find it hard to believe that Mistress Victoria would have told her nothing about Grace and her illegitimate child.”
“Not everyone reveals all they know, not even on their deathbed,” Jonathan said thoughtfully. “Sometimes they simply don’t want certain things to come to light, especially if they could be harmful for the family or the person themselves.”
“It wasn’t incumbent on Emily to find out the whole truth, since she wasn’t the last of the Tremayne line,” Diana replied. “But even if she had, I’m sure she would have coped with it. Emily was very strong.”
“She was.”
An inner ray of sunshine falling on a shred of memory of Emily brought a smile to Diana’s face.
“But I think we still have some unfinished business.” Mr. Green rose and left the kitchen.
Diana gave Jonathan an enquiring look.
“Could he have kept a few clues from you?”
“I wouldn’t put it past him. He was very good at drip-feeding his information.”
Mr. Green returned with a brown envelope and said, “The photo I emailed to you was just one of three. When I didn’t receive a reply from you, I assumed you were preoccupied with other things.”
“Or we could have been kidnapped.”
“I’m sure something like that would have made the news, so I didn’t worry. You’ve given me plenty of evidence in the past that you’re quite capable of looking after yourself.”
With a smile, he opened the envelope and took out two black-and-white photos. The first showed a gravestone, the other the painting of Victoria and Grace as children.
Diana looked enquiringly at the butler. “Do you know what these mean?”
Mr. Green shook his head. “No, how would I? Your aunt told me nothing about the background, but simply gave me the clues and instructed me to mete them out gradually. But if I may make an observation, since the grave obviously isn’t in Britain, you should begin with the painting.”
“You mean I should take it down?” Diana shot a questioning look at Jonathan, who feigned innocence.
“Why not? I think the piece of wall beneath it could do with seeing some daylight.”
Her heart thumping, she left the kitchen, followed by Jonathan and Mr. Green. As she stood in front of the painting, which had so skilfully captured that intimate moment between two sisters and their mother, her hands were shaking so much that at first she couldn’t bring herself to touch it. What would she find here? Some more drawings? She hesitated. What else was left to be revealed?
“Don’t worry, Diana. It’s only the truth, waiting for you to discover it,” her aunt seemed to be whispering in her ear. Then it was as though someone else’s hands were helping her to move her own. The hands of Grace, Victoria, and Emily. She carefully slipped her fingers beneath the heavy frame, then removed the picture.
The first thing she saw was an old newspaper article, so age-worn from the time spent in its hiding place that it drifted to the floor like a feather.
Jonathan picked it up and read, “Calypso in distress—German freighter comes to the aid of an English mail ship.”
“Calypso?” Diana said. The name rang a bell with her. Wasn’t that the ship Cahill had referred to in his account? She’d have to check.
As she and Jonathan turned the painting around, she saw in the old stretcher beneath the canvas a white sheet of paper, which on closer inspection turned out to be a sheet of drawing card of the kind used for pastels and etchings.
With her pulse beating throughout her body, she turned the card over and her hand flew to her mouth.
“This is the angel’s face!”
The lifelike drawing was signed with the same butterfly she had found on the window frame in Vannattuppūcci, which was mentioned in Victoria’s confession. There were also the initials V. T.
“Victoria must have drawn this, but how . . .”
It suddenly dawned on her. The angel was not the model for the drawing, but rather, the drawing was the model for the angel!
“Could it be . . . could it be that this man is Vikrama?”
She looked around at Jonathan, who was examining the drawing closely.
“It’s very possible—this man clearly has Indian features.”
“But he has a beard here, and the angel . . .”
“I’ve never seen a bearded angel,” Mr. Green said. “But it’s extremely probable that Mrs. Woodhouse could have used artistic licence to shave him.”
“So it would mean that Vikrama is watching over Beatrice?”
“It’s a lovely thought, isn’t it?”
“Yes, beautiful.”
“And a lovely way of making amends for the fact that Beatrice was denied eternal rest with her ancestors, because Daphne took her grandfather’s side and saw Grace as he did: an outcast.”
EPILOGUE
Poland, 2009
It had taken a while for them to locate the cemetery where the grave was supposed to be. The first photo sent by Mr. Green, the final clue, had not been a great help, since the war and six further decades had changed the face of the landscape. The little village cemetery had almost faded into oblivion. The village itself had been more or less destroyed during the war, in the fighting between the Germans and the Poles, and had subsequently been abandoned. Fortunately, the graves had not been touched, either out of superstition or in the knowledge that the dead had no further claims to make.
Diana took in the entrance gates, their metalwork long since vanished, leaving only rusty hinges behind as evidence. The massive stone pillars rose from the ground like a giant’s fingers.
As there was no one left to care for the hedge, it had grown rampant, enclosing everything like the legend of the Sleeping Beauty.
The gravestone leaned crookedly, and there was a small hollow of sunken earth over the grave. After so many years, the wood of the coffin must have rotted away.
Diana stood on the overgrown pathway and reached backwards. Jonathan’s hand found hers and held it tight—warm and strong.
Mr. Green’s second photo had shown the grave itself, but was too unclear to make out any details. Only one feature could be discerned—a kind of medallion set into the middle of the gravestone.
Despite its age, it gleamed mysteriously through the ivy as though beckoning to her to find it at last.
After clearing away the tendrils of ivy, Diana stood with her head to one side and read:
HERE LIE IN PEACE
SEA CAPTAIN FRIEDRICH SÖDERMANN
1 JULY 1860–4 MAY 1918
V. GRACE SÖDERMANN NÉE TREMAYNE
25 DECEMBER 1868–19 DECEMBER 1931
“V?” Diana wondered.
“V,” Jonathan repeated in amazement. “It can’t be.”
“What?”
“In Sri Lanka it’s the custom to use the first letter of your father’s name in front of your own. As soon as a woman marries, she loses her father’s initial and takes the initial of her husband as a sign of the bond.”
A storm of emotion seemed to rush through Diana’s veins. Her heart raced and her mouth was dry as Jonathan’s words raged through her mind.
“She was married to Vikrama?”
“If the gravestone is to be believed, yes,” Jonathan replied. “At the very least, she must have felt a strong bond with him and have known about the custom.”
Diana sank back on her heels. She stared into space for several long moments.
Grace had been married to Vikrama, according to Tamil custom.
Had her husband known about it? If so, how had he been able to live with taking second place? How could he have borne the idea that Grace was only waiting for Vikrama to find his way to her one day? Diana supposed that Grace must have told Helena the whole story, and she ensured that her mother’s name was recorded here with the V, in death at leas
t, if not in life.
And how must it have been for Victoria when she found out that Vikrama had disappeared? Was that why she had hidden the mementos, such as the travel guide, the blue gemstone, the photo, and the wedding horoscope in the secret compartment?
Diana reached out to touch the medallion on the gravestone, which turned out to be a locket. Time had left its mark, and she noticed it was slightly loose.
“Have you got a knife with you?” she asked Jonathan, without really knowing what she wanted with it. She didn’t want to take the locket away, unless it was obvious Grace would have wanted one of her descendants to have it.
“Here you are,” Jonathan said, handing her a small penknife. The blade made it easy to ease the locket from the stone. Why hadn’t anyone done so before? Had the war spread a cloak of forgetfulness over this place?
No sooner did she have the locket in her hand than she saw a rolled-up piece of paper in the hollow it had left behind. Her hand trembling, she took it and unrolled it. Foreign characters! The same characters as those on the palm leaf, which she had handed over to Michael, telling him of her error.
There was also a small note, key points written out in a delicate hand. Diana recognised Grace’s handwriting.
“This must be a copy of the palm leaf,” she said as she jumped to her feet. “The one she wrote about in her notebook!”
“Perhaps it’s simply her own wedding horoscope,” Jonathan suggested, but Diana’s enthusiasm was unstoppable.
“No, I’m sure this is a transcription of the palm leaf, otherwise she would have had the original.”
Diana tried in vain to order her thoughts, which whirled like a hurricane through her mind. Her eyes fell on the weathered locket.
“Perhaps there’s a picture of them both in here.” Diana felt like someone who had lost her mind, but Jonathan accepted her mania with a smile. As he opened the locket with the penknife, they found themselves looking at the face of a beautiful Indian woman, who looked remarkably similar to the portrait of Vikrama.
“This must be his mother.”
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