The Sapphire Widow

by Jefferies, Dinah

  While Margo was gone, Louisa attempted to tidy up the mess they’d made. If Margo found nothing the only place left was his office at Hardcastle Gems, though as far as she knew Elliot had never kept anything personal, or domestic, there. But where had the money gone? She was just on the point of coming to the conclusion that everything must be in the bedroom when Margo came back in shaking her head and looking drawn.

  ‘Gosh, that felt awful,’ she said.

  ‘I shouldn’t have asked you to do it.’

  ‘It’s okay.’

  Louisa slumped down in Elliot’s desk chair.

  ‘Come on, Lou. Don’t despair. The money will be somewhere, don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll find it, and the certificates too.’

  Louisa glanced up. ‘I just wish he’d talked to me about what was going on and explained where everything was.’

  There was a short silence.

  ‘What is it?’ Louisa asked when she noticed Margo was frowning and looking a bit uncomfortable.

  ‘I’m sorry about the timing of this, but I need to go back to Colombo tomorrow. My father called earlier. Mother isn’t doing too well and he can’t cope with her on his own. He thinks she needs me.’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘I’m sorry. But I’ll be back as soon as Mum settles down.’

  Louisa shook her head. ‘Take however long you need. I’ll be fine. My most pressing concern right now is that I need to find either the money, or the share certificates. I inherit, of course, but first the repayment of the loan will have to come out of Elliot’s estate: in other words, out of the cash, investments, property or possessions he left behind.’

  ‘A loan?’

  ‘I’m afraid so. He has a significant debt at the bank. God only knows what my father will say.’

  ‘And you knew nothing about it?’

  ‘God, no! Nothing.’

  Then Ashan, with a concerned look on his face, came in to whisper to Louisa that the police inspector wanted to speak with her. She sighed and followed him into the living room.

  13.

  There was only one thing for it and so the next day – a beautiful sunny morning soon after Margo had left at the crack of dawn for Colombo – Louisa set off from Galle Fort in their Triumph Dolomite to drive to Cinnamon Hills. She hoped to be able to recall the route from the time Elliot had taken her there.

  As she drove she went over the inspector’s news. Apparently, the car Elliot had been driving had belonged to Elliot’s sailing partner, Jeremy Pike, who he was supposed to have been out sailing with on the day he died. The inspector didn’t know why Elliot had been driving that car, but it had definitely belonged to Pike. This had been confirmed by Pike’s housekeeper – he himself was away on business. It didn’t make sense to Louisa. If Elliot had wanted to go to Colombo, why hadn’t he just said so? And why hadn’t he taken their own car?

  She carried on thinking as she followed the road.

  Luckily there had been no shipment of rubber so there was just the heavy salty air to contend with, and as she drove around the crescent of Galle Bay, passing its small deserted islands, she glanced out at the larger boats anchored at the southern end of Rumassala Hill. After several miles of coastal road, she turned off to the left and began the climb up to the house at the top with the wonderful views. It was a potholed driveway, more of a track than a road, and she hoped not to get into difficulty.

  She wound down her window and, enjoying the rich cinnamon-scented air and the sweet fragrance of orchids and rhododendrons, couldn’t deny the seductive pull of the place. She heard voices, a shout, maybe that of a child, and then an adult replying, but she carried on past. It was nothing to do with her.

  A little further on, she gasped as searing emptiness pulled at her edges. How would she find a reason to get up, to live, to breathe? And still the living and breathing went on anyway, automatically, without her say-so. It should be me and Elliot, she thought, not just me on my own and now, instead of joy, loneliness and fear twisted inside her. If someone as young and healthy as Elliot could die, then how fragile was her world? How fragile was life itself?

  For a moment she considered turning back, but she had to find out if Elliot’s share certificates were kept here at the plantation. She felt sure they must be – after all they hadn’t been at his work office either, so there was nowhere else to look. If she could settle that one question maybe the others wouldn’t feel so bad. And yet the reason Elliot hadn’t mentioned he was going to Colombo on the day he died still perplexed her. Surely, he’d have no cause to hide that?

  At the top of the drive, she pulled up and noticed Leo McNairn’s motorbike parked in the same place it had been before. She felt a momentary doubt, but as she stepped out of the car and he appeared in the doorway, she reminded herself he had come to Elliot’s funeral and been kind.

  ‘Mrs Reeve,’ he said, and she noticed the flecks of lighter colour in his red hair. ‘How are you?’

  She shrugged. ‘Well, you know … but do please call me Louisa.’

  ‘I’m so sorry about your husband. It must be terribly hard for you. Is there anything I can do?’

  She hesitated for a moment. ‘There is. I need to ask you a question.’

  He smiled and there was genuine warmth in his eyes. ‘Of course. But come inside. It’s too humid to talk out here.’

  They went up a staircase and into a living room, and then through a metal door to a veranda. It had a dark wooden-beamed roof, walls painted in ochre, a floor tiled in terracotta, and it overlooked a jungle of palm trees. Hanging from the roof were baskets of pale green ferns, and the view beyond them was startling.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ she said, staring down the hill over treetops to the bay of clear blue water.

  He indicated she should sit.

  A faded chaise longue was pushed to one end of the veranda, along with several chairs and a low coffee table covered in books. After Leo called the houseboy to clear the table and bring some tea, they made themselves comfortable in two worn rattan armchairs.

  ‘Too damn close when there is no breeze.’

  ‘But it can’t always be this bad? Up here, I mean.’

  He nodded. ‘You’re right. It’s all down to the time of day. So much better for the workers just before nightfall and soon after sunrise. It’s pleasantest then and perhaps more importantly, most productive.’

  She twisted her head for a moment to listen to the noise coming from the uncleared vegetation behind the house.

  ‘Monkeys,’ he said, seeing her look. ‘North of here is still all jungle.’

  She plumped up a cushion and waved an arm across the view to the sea. ‘You must love it here.’

  ‘I do, though at first I was reluctant to take it on.’

  ‘Why was that?’

  He puckered his chin and gave a slight shake of his head. ‘It’s a huge commitment.’

  ‘But this view is very soothing, don’t you think?’

  She glanced at his handsome tanned face with dark eyes that still seemed to reflect something of the sky. Dressed casually in shorts and an old threadbare shirt, he wasn’t a man who cared about his appearance, or who wasted words, and as they sat in silence for a few moments she became aware of conflicting feelings. He was someone who it was impossible to ignore, and she was surprised by how much she wanted to soak up the unexpected comfort she felt in his presence. It had been the same at the funeral when his condolences had almost made her cry.

  The boy arrived and the noise of rattling teacups broke the silence.

  Leo poured, then leaning back in his chair with his arms resting on the sides, he gazed at her. ‘So? Tell me. What can I do for you?’

  She took a breath, wondering how much to say, and noticed his eyes, fixed intently on her, as he waited.

  ‘The thing is,’ she said. ‘Well, it’s a bit awkward, but I wondered if Elliot’s share certificates are here. I can’t seem to lay my hands on them.’

  ‘Share certificates?�
�

  ‘Yes. I’m awfully sorry, but I think I’m going to have to sell.’

  He frowned.

  ‘I’m talking about Elliot’s share certificates in the plantation. He owns shares here, doesn’t he?’

  Leo shook his head and, surprised by the hesitancy in him, she watched as he glanced around the veranda and then stared at the ground before looking at her. ‘I don’t understand, I –’

  She interrupted. ‘Elliot told me about them. It’s why he used to come here, isn’t it? For planning meetings. To get the plantation back on its feet.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Louisa, but Elliot has never owned shares here.’

  Stunned by this wholly unexpected news, she couldn’t take in his words. ‘What do you mean?’

  He looked as confused as she felt and scratching his chin, frowned.

  Not knowing how to behave in these circumstances she hoped at least to hide her shock, but she felt so disoriented everything seemed to be spinning. Elliot had told her about the shares. Had explained it all to her. When her hands began trembling in her lap she got to her feet and went to lean on the railings, pressing her palms down hard on the wood.

  She swallowed and attempted to speak but the words failed to come out, only a strangled sound halfway between a moan and a cough. She felt as if all the parts of her had become separated from each other, and she had no idea how to put herself together again. Like Humpty Dumpty, she thought. At least he’d had all the king’s horses and all the king’s men. She turned to face Leo.

  ‘That can’t be right. Are you sure?’

  ‘I’m afraid so. I own the plantation outright. There are no shares.’

  She remained where she was for a few moments. ‘He has left you some money in a deposit account. Why would he leave you money?’

  He glanced away before replying, and she got the distinct impression he had wanted to say something but had then thought better of it. Now the atmosphere between them had changed – had somehow become more charged.

  ‘I don’t know,’ was all he said.

  She frowned. ‘I don’t understand any of this. Why would he come here so often then? Or was he even really here? Why would he tell me he had shares?’

  Leo shook his head.

  In the short silence that followed she stared at her feet. ‘Well, I should be going. The money’s not much but I’ll see you get it.’

  His replies hadn’t helped Louisa understand where Elliot had really been when he’d said he was at Cinnamon Hills, and she longed to know why he had lied to her. Elliot’s sudden death had marked her and now, to find out the man she had loved so much, who she would have trusted with her life, had been lying to her – and not just about going sailing. She felt a rush of heat and then a sense of rising panic. If she could not believe in what she thought they’d had, if she could not believe in the truth of the past, then what could she believe in?

  She glanced at him. ‘Where is your cousin?’

  ‘She lives in the old bungalow halfway down the hill. She’s an artist.’ He got to his feet. ‘Louisa, I’m sorry.’

  She took a deep breath but didn’t speak.

  He moved a step away. ‘Come on, I’ll show you out, but please’ – and he turned to gaze at her – ‘do let me know if there’s anything I can do.’

  She followed him and at the bottom of the stairs he held out his hand.

  After shaking it, she took one last look at him then sat in her car and began the drive down. After a few minutes, she pulled up and left the car, wanting to take a closer look at the plantation. Treading carefully, she followed a path winding between the cinnamon trees, or bushes as they appeared to be, and soon found herself not quite halfway down the hill. A trail of ferocious-looking ants crossed her path and a striped squirrel raced up one of the trees. Startled by a loud crash she glanced around. She couldn’t see what had made the noise but imagined it must be one of the elephants routinely used to clear land by uprooting trees and then moving the logs. She stood still for a moment. As a drift of butterflies passed overhead, the smell of the trees and the shady magic of the place lifted her mood a little. There was such a sense of timelessness here, otherworldliness even; if not exactly lessening her worries it made her feel strangely peaceful. But then, in a small clearing, she stumbled across a red-haired woman leaning against the trunk of a huge tree; her eyes were closed and from her blotchy complexion she looked as if she had been crying.

  Louisa wished for invisibility and didn’t know whether to tiptoe away or to speak. The woman was obviously distressed – she didn’t look as if she’d even brushed what was very wild hair and her clothes seemed thrown together. Louisa wasn’t sure she was even dressed in day clothes as she wore a kind of robe that might have been a dressing gown.

  ‘Is there anything I can do?’ Louisa said as she took a step forward.

  The woman’s eyes flew open. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Louisa Reeve.’

  The woman stared at her feet.

  ‘You must be Leo’s cousin. What a wonderful place to live. You are –’

  But the woman turned on her heels and began threading her way through the trees and away from the clearing. As Louisa returned to her car a flock of at least twenty bright green parakeets with red beaks and rose-red collars fluttered from one tree to the next. Consumed by such a muddle of emotions, she watched them. And, although she wondered why the woman had been so distressed in such idyllic surroundings, she felt again that sensation of bitter-sweetness. Why? What was it about the place that got under her skin? She dwelt on what Leo had said: Elliot had no shares. No shares. But was Leo telling the truth and, if not, how would she ever find out?

  14.

  It was Elliot who had given structure to her life, Elliot who had given it meaning. She still imagined his sleeping body lying beside her, and when she opened her eyes in the morning and her gaze settled on his empty side of the bed, there was always a painful shiver of shock that he was gone. Since his death there had been times when Louisa simply forgot to breathe and she would find herself suddenly gasping for air. Breathe, she would command herself, breathe. But that didn’t help and she’d double over after a few minutes clutching her tight chest and sucking at air, as if sucking at life itself. Even if he had lied about the shares, surely there must have been a sound reason.

  As her thoughts spiralled, she longed to be with someone who had gone through a loss and come out the other side. While her father was comforting to be around, and she knew he understood, he rarely spoke of Louisa’s mother’s death. What she needed was another woman who had felt the same rising panic, the same sleepless nights, the same painful disconnection. Louisa didn’t know what she wanted to say exactly – just that she wanted the relief of being able to talk. Gwen had not lost her husband, but she had lost a child. One was neither worse nor better than the other. They were different, but Gwen seemed like the one person who might genuinely understand that she felt as if the large stone lodged in her chest would remain there and that her heart would never open again. At that point she called her friend to see if the invitation to visit the tea plantation still stood. Gwen assured her it did and so a few days later Louisa began the long drive to the hilly tea country.

  She hadn’t driven so far before on her own, and despite Gwen’s detailed directions was still a touch unsure of the route, but right now anything was better than staying at home. After leaving Galle she drove through the rainforest and noticed how heavily the area was being logged. Then she passed alongside the Gin Ganga River where gaggles of barely dressed children played at rolling stones in front of a large police station, but when she reached the crossing point, she hesitated. The narrow bridge over the river was supported by concrete pillars, but at its sides had only some flimsy-looking steel railings.

  When her hands began to tremble she stopped the car and got out. She gazed down into the rushing river and then looked up at air shimmering with flying creatures and, hearing the noises of animals in the underg
rowth, she took deep breaths. Birds were screeching overhead and apart from several pariah dogs which lay dozily at the edges of the road, the whole place was teeming with life. Yet when she thought of driving again, fear whipped through her, and she prayed for the courage to continue the journey.

  As she negotiated the bridge she gripped the steering wheel, but all went well and she drove on, bypassing several rubber estates, to the point where she turned off on to a more minor road, just past a temple. Glancing out, she saw a group of yellow-robed monks sitting on a step, one of them smoking some kind of pipe. A little later, she turned off again and eventually, after crossing a second river, started climbing through a densely forested region. There the road wound up a mountain pass. Though Gwen had warned her the drive was gruelling and would take the better part of a day, she had to admit to a feeling of excitement, despite the tiredness and hunger. It was all so new and she found, to her surprise, she was enjoying it. She pulled up just after another temple, which had to be about the halfway point, and decided to take a break and eat the sandwiches Camille had prepared for her.

  While she ate, a group of purple-faced monkeys eyed her silently, and as the enormity of what she was doing fizzed through her, she laughed. If only Elliot could see her now.

  When she had finished she drove on, climbing the many hills on the way to Hatton. Once she had taken another turning, she eventually arrived at the top of the hill overlooking the Hooper tea plantation, and the view took her breath away. A row of tulip trees lined the driveway below her, and she could see the plantation house was built in an L shape. She stopped the car to get out and gaze down at the shimmering lake. The place was truly gorgeous and she felt a slight stirring of hope. Perhaps this really was the right place to be?

  At the bottom of the drive she parked up and as she got out of the car Gwen came running out of the house in an instant, ringlets flying in every direction.

  ‘Louisa, I am so happy you made it. Was the drive absolutely awful? You must be exhausted.’