‘How are you, my dear?’ he asked, rising from his corner and walking over to her with a distinct stoop.
‘I’m fine. Thanks for asking, Mr Bashar.’
‘Do you want anything in particular?’
‘I think we’ll just flick through some of the papers.’
‘Well, recent newspapers are over there on the table, local and from Colombo. If you want to go any further back, older ones are filed in drawers according to date.’
Louisa made herself comfortable and began to search the papers.
‘Are you looking for something special?’ Margo asked.
Louisa shook her head. ‘Not really. But I was fascinated by the cinnamon plantation we went to see the other day, and I’d like to understand more about cinnamon production in the area. You should have seen it, Margo. The views are amazing and the air is drenched with this gorgeous smell.’
‘No wonder Elliot has invested in it and likes working there.’
‘And yet there was something not quite right.’
Margo didn’t pick up on her sister-in-law’s misgivings. ‘I’m sure there will be lots to read up on cinnamon here.’
They passed a pleasant hour in the cool of the old building flicking through the papers and magazines. Suddenly Louisa paused. ‘Gosh! I didn’t expect this. It’s an article about Cinnamon Hills. That’s the very one we went to see. Elliot’s there now, in fact, but should be back later today. He’s been away a lot lately,’ she added a little sadly.
‘Maybe you give him too much rope.’
Louisa shrugged and looked down at the year-old article in a local newspaper.
‘It says here, Leo McNairn took over Cinnamon Hills when his grandfather died some years back. The place had become quite run down and Leo is breathing new life into it. It also mentions he lives there with his cousin. I met Leo when we were there – but not her and I’m not sure why, but my hunch is she might be a bit of a recluse. There’s a picture of Leo but none of her. Look.’ She held up the paper.
‘Oooh, he’s quite a catch, wouldn’t you say.’
Louisa grinned. ‘I wouldn’t know.’
‘Oh, come off it. I know you are devoted to Elliot but you can look at other men.’
‘Well, if you like the dishevelled sweaty look.’
‘Just how I do like them.’
Louisa laughed. ‘Really?’
‘Why not? More manly.’
‘Was your man in London …’
‘Manly?’
‘Yes.’
Margo winked. ‘Very. William was a landscape gardener working mainly in Kent. Anyway, if you’ve found what you want let’s call it a day. I’ve had enough of being cooped up inside.’
Elliot had returned in time for supper and the three of them were having a coffee at the end of a meal which had consisted of roast goat masquerading as lamb, followed by mango mousse. The lamps were lit and the evening was calm.
‘Honestly, Elliot,’ Margo was saying. ‘Do you think you should leave Louisa alone so much? You’re so often away or out sailing.’
‘Louisa is fine.’
‘Yes but –’
‘Margo, come on, you know I have matters to attend to. I can’t just sit at home playing nursemaid.’
‘She’s not herself yet. Women who have … you know.’
He held up a hand to silence her. ‘No one is more aware of the situation than I am. Louisa is fine. She’s strong and independent. Sometimes too independent.’
Louisa raised an eyebrow.
‘You still need to be here more,’ Margo continued.
He shook his head. ‘Louisa has her father, and our mother was here until recently, and now you’re here.’
‘Fat lot of use Mother is where Louisa is concerned. Maybe she doesn’t mean to be unkind, but I’m surprised you encouraged her to stay so long. Anyway, it’s you Louisa needs.’
He frowned. ‘Has she complained?’
‘You know she never would.’
Louisa spoke up. ‘For heaven’s sake, I am in the room. Please, both of you stop this bickering. I can take care of myself, Margo. I don’t need nannying.’
‘But I still think …’ Margo carried on.
Louisa scraped back her chair and smiled as she stood. She’d seen these spats between Elliot and Margo before. ‘Well, I’ll leave you two to slug it out. I’m having an early night. Don’t forget that tomorrow we’ll need to take care of the last-minute planning for our anniversary party.’
10.
On the morning of their wedding anniversary on 26 February, Elliot brought her breakfast in bed, with the most perfect red rose in a tiny glass vase. He had been away for a couple of days again but now he was back and seemed pleased with himself.
‘You spoil me,’ she said.
‘Shove up a bit and I’ll put the tray on your lap.’
She shuffled up to a sitting position.
‘You’re very beautiful in the mornings,’ he said and ran his fingers through her blonde curls. ‘I’m a lucky man.’
‘Because my hair’s all over the place?’
He smiled. ‘No. Because you are so good for me. I hope I am for you.’
She poured them both a coffee and, after they had drunk it, he took the tray from her and placed it on the floor. ‘I have something better than breakfast for you.’
As he removed his dressing gown she saw he was naked underneath. He slid into bed with her and kissed her firmly on the lips. She loved to feel his body close to hers like this and hugged him tightly.
‘I love you,’ she softly said.
‘As I do you. Are you ready for this?’ he whispered in her ear.
She nodded. ‘Of course. But it isn’t the first time since …’
‘I know, but I like to be sure.’ He ran comforting fingers through her curls.
She had missed this intimacy and now, being this way with him, she felt the bond between them growing stronger again. They had always enjoyed a healthy sex life, although over the years it was their friendship she had grown to value most. She loved how he would tease her and then laugh, until she finally joined in, realizing he was joking. And if, at times, he was less than perfect, well, that was normal in any relationship, wasn’t it? She had her own faults. Maybe at times she was a little detached – perhaps a little too absorbed in her own inner space. She’d always enjoyed her own company and liked nothing better than allowing her thoughts to wander in the peace and quiet of her home. Perhaps she wasn’t as easy to live with as she hoped she was?
He was gentle now, stroking her where she wanted him to, and feeling the thrill of surrender, she found herself responding with more passion than she could have imagined. Afterwards they lay side by side, their legs tangled in the sheets.
‘Are you okay?’ he said as he lifted her hand and kissed her fingertips.
She smiled. ‘Do you think we might have made another baby?’
‘My darling girl. Maybe. In any case we will try again until we do. Hopefully it won’t be too long.’
‘What if it happens again?’
‘Let’s not tempt fate. We’ll face whatever happens together.’
‘I know.’ She paused, thinking of the day ahead. ‘Anyway, I have to be up. Time and tide and all that. There’s a great deal to do before the party this evening.’
‘You have remembered I’m sailing with Jeremy Pike today? We’re racing the latest dinghy he’s had sent over from Britain. I’ll be skipper to him as mate. We’re trying out the technique of trapezing again. It didn’t go so well last time.’
‘Well, stay safe. It is a little bit windy.’
‘I’m sure it’ll be fine,’ he said. ‘The wind won’t last.’
‘Don’t worry about today, you’d only get in the way, and Margo is going to lend a hand. Everything is under control.’
Louisa spent the day checking everything was all set for the evening. She and Margo fixed some bunting at the front of the house and placed lotus flowers, swathes
of jasmine and water lilies in every room. The housekeeper had offered to see to the flowers but it was something Louisa enjoyed doing herself. She also ensured incense fragranced with cinnamon and sandalwood sweetened the air in the garden, and hoped the wind wouldn’t blow out the citronella candles.
The kitchen was a hive of activity all day, with Cook losing his temper at one of the houseboys, while Camille, the French girl, stayed well clear. Ashan, with his placid sensible nature, was the only one who knew how to calm the cook, but today even he kept his distance.
When it was time, Louisa had a good long soak in the bath and then dressed in a silver floor-length gown, with a rope of pearls around her neck and matching earrings. She heard the melodious call to prayer and by six o’clock when Elliot wasn’t back she began to fret. He was cutting it fine if he was to get spruced up in time for the start of the party at seven.
There was a knock at the door and Margo came in. She wore a red, shin-length dress, in a shiny satin fabric that set off her green eyes and dark hair beautifully.
‘I thought I might pin up your hair,’ she said.
‘Thank you. Whenever I try to get it under control the pins just slide out.’
‘I think if we give you a couple of waves at the front and pin up the back it’ll look lovely.’
As Margo worked, Louisa continued to worry. ‘I’m just a bit annoyed Elliot is still not back.’
‘He’ll turn up at the eleventh hour. He always does. And he’ll roll in with five minutes to spare, change in a rush and then emerge looking like a Hollywood star.’
Louisa sighed. Margo was right but it didn’t pacify her. He wasn’t always reliable, but at least he could have tried to be on time for this.
The two women went through to the kitchen where Cook poured them a glass of champagne and by seven o’clock they were both feeling a little merrier.
‘I’d better stay in the main entrance hall now,’ Louisa muttered, ‘but I wish Elliot would hurry up. It really is too bad.’
The first to arrive were two rubber planters and their wives. Louisa passed the time chatting about the price of rubber and then a few more couples turned up. So it went on for another half-hour. But there was still no sign of Elliot. Louisa had hired a string quartet to play and now they began tuning up as people mingled. Gwen and her husband hadn’t appeared, though Louisa hadn’t expected them to; it was such a long journey from their tea plantation.
A few of the locals had graced them with their presence. The Burgher lawyer, Mr Derek Muller, and his wife; the old librarian, Mr Bashar; plus Edward Russell, their family doctor. Her father had already arrived, of course, and a few other friends too.
A little later, and the house was full. Margo found Louisa staring at her watch. ‘We need to serve the food, don’t you think?’ Margo said.
Louisa nodded. ‘Fine wedding anniversary this has turned out to be. But yes, could you tell Ashan, please. I’ll just make a short announcement.’
She asked the quartet to stop playing and then she rang a little hand bell. The room hushed and those who had been outside came in to see what was going on.
‘I’d like to thank you all for coming. Unfortunately, my husband has been unavoidably delayed, but please, eat, drink and enjoy yourselves.’ She indicated the music was to start up again and soon the sound of it and gentle chatter filled the room.
At nine o’clock there was a rap at the front door. Ashan answered it and a now worried Louisa watched from the doorway of the living room as Police Inspector Roberts, with his usual thatch of wiry hair and red complexion, entered the hall. But the grim expression on his face suggested he had come from the Southern Provincial Head Office with some bad news. Her mouth went dry and she held on to the door frame.
Margo stepped forward. ‘What has happened?’ she said.
The officer glanced at Margo but then focused on Louisa. ‘Mrs Reeve.’
Louisa took a few steps towards him.
‘Is there somewhere quieter we can go?’ he asked.
‘Just tell me. Is Elliot all right?’
Margo held out an arm. ‘Let’s go into your sewing room, Louisa.’
The three went upstairs into the sewing room, Louisa rushing ahead with any number of possible scenarios chasing through her mind, and anxiety hammering at her heart. She could barely wait for the man to speak.
‘Now,’ Louisa said, feeling increasingly worried. ‘Please.’
He cleared his throat. ‘I’m very sorry to have to tell you that your husband, Mr Elliot Reeve, met with a fatal accident this afternoon.’
Margo and Louisa just stared at each other in disbelief. A chasm opened in front of Louisa.
‘What do you mean?’ Margo said.
‘He died, Miss. I am so sorry. My sincerest condolences.’
Louisa felt a rush of anger. What on earth was he saying? She could hear the man’s voice but none of his words were making sense. ‘Could you say that again?’
‘I’m afraid your husband died this afternoon.’
No. This wasn’t possible. Though it was warm, she felt herself shiver. ‘Died? How? How could he have died?’
‘A sailing accident?’ Margo asked in a tight voice. ‘Is that what you mean?’
Roberts shook his head.
‘But he went sailing today with his friend, Jeremy Pike, didn’t he, Louisa?’
As Louisa nodded the officer spoke again. ‘I’m afraid he died in a car crash on his way to Colombo.’
Louisa shook her head. ‘No. That’s impossible. He wasn’t going to Colombo today.’
‘I’m so sorry, Madam. The car, a 1928 Vauxhall, was a complete write-off.’
‘But that’s not even our car! We have a newish Triumph Dolomite. Are you sure it was my husband?’
‘There was identification on the body.’
‘I …’ Louisa began, but the words died in her mouth.
‘If there’s anything I can do,’ the policeman was saying.
‘I must know if it’s really him,’ Louisa finally said, now feeling icily cold.
This was a nightmare. Surely she’d wake up any minute now and find out it wasn’t real. Because it could not be real. Elliot wasn’t someone who could die young. He was too full of life. No, it was quite impossible. She and Margo stared at each other as if begging for a different outcome. Not this. Please. Not this.
‘When can I see him?’ Louisa demanded, trying to maintain control. ‘You must have made a mistake.’
‘I wouldn’t advise it tonight. I would be grateful if you could formally identify the body, though tomorrow will do. Or maybe Mr Hardcastle could. The body … He’s … well, he’s a bit of a mess. Let them tidy him up.’
‘I don’t want him tidied up!’ Her voice rose sharply. ‘I want to see my husband now! Where is he?’
‘In the mortuary, Madam.’
‘Right.’ She turned to Margo and her face contorted. ‘Please. Tell me this isn’t real, Margo.’
As Margo took a deep breath, Louisa turned at the sound of her father entering the room. He frowned and glanced at the policeman.
‘I’m afraid there’s been a fatality, Sir,’ the inspector said.
‘It’s Elliot, Dad. They’re saying …’
Jonathan went straight to her and attempted to hold her close, but she took a step back and shook her head. She couldn’t allow him to hold her. Not now. She needed to find the strength to take this in. She tried to explain, stuttering her reasons, but the scrambled words choked her. All she could do was shake her head again. Part of her wanted to sink into her father’s arms, but the other part knew she must do this without him. If she did not she might never stand on her own two feet.
Although she appeared calm on the outside, inside she could hear herself screaming. Elliot dead. Elliot dead. Suddenly she began to tremble. She clutched at Margo, who was looking white and pinched. ‘You’ll come with me, Margo, won’t you? I have to see for myself.’
Margo swallowed, visibly shaken.
‘Are you sure? I don’t know if I can. We could wait till tomorrow, like the Inspector says.’
Tears sprang from Louisa’s eyes. She brushed them away angrily. She would not believe this until she saw him with her own eyes. ‘No. We have to go now.’
‘I’ll get Ashan to take care of the guests,’ her father said. ‘He’ll know what to say. But, darling, I’m coming with you too.’
‘No. Please stay here. Tell Ashan not to say what has happened unless he has to.’
Her father gazed at her. ‘Louisa …’
‘Really, Dad, I’d rather you stayed here.’
The inspector drove them to the mortuary. There, they waited in an ante-room while the body was being laid out in a small chapel of rest. A feeling of terrible anticipation flooded through Louisa, and then horror at the awful randomness of sudden events that could change your life for ever. She felt frightened, though surely the most frightening thing had already happened. Surely nothing could ever frighten her again. There would be no fear, just an endless straight line through life with no bumps and thumps, no twists and turns. Nothing. A life without Elliot.
Just before they were asked to go through, Louisa’s heart pumped so hard she felt as if it was about to burst from her chest. Then, as she went in, she saw Elliot laid out on a trolley with a sheet covering his body but not his face. She heard Margo gasp and she froze as the shock hit her in the stomach, lodging like a rock behind her ribs. How could she bear to look on her husband’s lifeless face?
After a few moments, she gathered her courage and took a few steps towards him. She glanced at his face. It looked all wrong, doughy and grey. Her breath caught but she forced herself to touch his forehead. It was unmarked, but when she pulled down the sheet a little she saw his neck had been lacerated and blood was congealed all around the wound. She felt a rush of heat and an intense burst of nausea. She closed her eyes, willing herself to hold on. When it passed, she looked at him again but she didn’t have the means to process the pain. To see him destroyed like this when he had been so whole, so handsome, so alive. How did people cope?
The Sapphire Widow Page 6