by Rosanna Ley
Her grandfather raised his white eyebrows. ‘In what way, “not really”, my dear?’
Eva sighed. ‘In the way that means I’m not working there any more.’ It had all been rather strange. It wasn’t the first time she’d noticed something odd about the shipment of antiques arriving from a dealer in the Far East. She’d questioned it before and been fobbed off by her boss, Colin Jones. The shipment didn’t go through the usual channels – it was whisked into the office rather than the warehouse and then a few days later it would mysteriously disappear. ‘It goes to a private buyer,’ Colin had said when she asked about it. ‘Nothing for you to worry about. The deal’s already done.’
When people told her there was nothing to worry about, Eva usually started worrying. She got the bit between her teeth and then waited for an opportunity to find out more. This time, she had managed to get a closer look at the stuff – it was supposed to be teak wood artefacts and she knew all about teak from Grandpa and from her studies. And it was supposed to be antique. But when she sneaked into the office at lunchtime and opened up a few boxes …
‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’ Colin Jones was standing in the doorway, hands on hips, all jowls and fury.
‘I was just curious.’ Eva tried to stand her ground. ‘I’m interested in teak and—’
‘Do you know what curiosity did?’ He glared at her. ‘It killed the fucking cat.’
And apparently it did more than that because two hours later Eva had her marching orders. ‘You can’t not give me any notice,’ she’d said. She knew her rights.
‘I’ll pay you.’ And he pulled out a wad of notes. ‘Three months do you?’
Was she being paid to keep quiet? Eva dithered. She didn’t like that idea. But did she want to stay here if there was something dodgy going on? Or did she want to pay the rent and consider what to do next without Colin Jones breathing down her neck? She shrugged, took the money and left the building. She’d always known Colin was rough – just not quite that rough. But she wasn’t going to take this lying down. Just wait till Max heard about it – he’d know what to do.
So she’d scooted round to Max’s place where he worked from home as a criminal lawyer – she knew he wasn’t in court this afternoon, he’d said something about working on a particularly tricky case. And …
‘There are plenty more jobs, Eva,’ her grandfather said. He was looking very thoughtful. ‘Why don’t you take some time to think about what you really want to do. What you’ve been trained for.’
‘I know. I will.’ He was right – of course he was right. She needed to recapture that dream – the dream that had inspired her to do her degree in the first place, the dream that had more to do with the scent of teak and the history of past lives than sorting and managing auction catalogues. It was no good just curling into a ball and hoping it all went away. It wouldn’t. As Grandpa said, it was time for a reappraisal of what she wanted to do with her life. And it was long overdue. At thirty-three years old weren’t you supposed to have your life mapped out? Weren’t you supposed to at least have some plan? You weren’t supposed – were you? – to feel so absolutely lost?
‘And I have a suggestion,’ he said. He leaned forwards and adjusted the cushion in his chair. ‘I don’t want to take advantage of your situation, my dear. But it is, what you might say, fortuitous.’
‘Fortuitous?’ She’d like to know how losing her job could be fortuitous. And no doubt he was going to tell her. Her grandfather was old and frail – he was ninety-five, for heaven’s sake – but his mind was razor sharp; it always had been.
‘There’s something that needs to be done,’ he murmured, still deep in thought. ‘And perhaps, now that you have terminated your current employment …’
That was one way of putting it, she thought.
‘Yes.’ He rubbed his hands together in satisfaction. ‘The more I think about it, the more I know for sure. You, my dear Eva, are the perfect person to do this for me.’ He nodded with conviction. ‘It will kill several birds, as they say, with one stone.’
‘Oh, Grandpa …’ Suddenly, Eva wanted to cry. He had such faith in her and what had she done to deserve it? And now he was going to ask her to come back home and look after him. She’d do it – of course she’d do it, if he needed her. She was an only child and her mother lived such a long way away. But …
‘I’ll pay you for your time,’ he said. ‘And your expenses. And it will give you the perfect opportunity to think about what to do next.’
Eva took his hand. His skin felt paper-thin; it was white and threaded with blue veins and liver spots. ‘What is it you want me to do?’ she asked him gently.
‘I’m old,’ he said. ‘No one can live for ever. But there’s something I should have done long ago. Something …’
‘Yes, Grandpa?’ This didn’t sound much like being a carer.
‘Get the chinthe,’ he whispered.
‘The chinthe?’ Perhaps his mind was wandering. But Eva knew what he was referring to. The dark and shiny decorative teak chinthe – a sort of mythical lion-like creature, which always stood on her grandfather’s bedside table – had been a feature of Eva’s childhood, a feature of the stories he used to tell her, about Burma and his life there, working in teak forestry, and then fighting in the war against the Japanese.
Eva had grown up in Dorset, sandwiched between her mother’s flat and her grandparents’ yellow-bricked, rambling house; between the gentleness of her grandfather’s care and the brittle grief of Rosemary, her mother. Her father had died when she was only seven years old and Eva could barely remember him, barely remember how her mother had once been – laughing, carefree and warm. When he died – of a stroke, sudden and cruel – Eva’s life had changed out of all recognition; she supposed all their lives had changed. But it was her mother who for years had seemed unable to cope with the grief of losing her husband, unable to move on.
Rosemary Gatsby was a legal secretary and she immediately went from part-time work to full-time in order to make ends meet. The care of Eva fell mainly to her grandparents. Eva often felt now that this had been a relief to Rosemary. That her kind of grieving had made it almost impossible to give her only child the love that Eva needed. Perhaps she was scared, perhaps she associated love with being hurt again. Eva didn’t know. She was too young – then – to understand, but she’d had a long, long time to think about it ever since.
Eva’s grandmother Helen had been rather delicate, often tired and disliking noise and disruption. But her grandfather … He had picked her up from school and taken her on outings down to Chesil Beach and the Dorset sandstone cliffs, or off for muddy walks in the Vale. In the evenings they’d sat here in this kitchen and he’d made them mugs of hot chocolate and told her such stories. Tales of dark wood and darker mysteries. Of a land of scorching heat and drenching monsoons, of green paddy fields and golden temples, of wide lakes and steamy jungles. Those stories had wound their way into Eva’s heart until they had become almost a part of her.
Eva got to her feet and went to fetch her grandfather’s beloved chinthe from the bedroom. It symbolised his time in Burma, she supposed. She picked it up, looked for a moment into its red glass eyes. It was small and delicately carved and looked a bit like a wild lion with a jagged tasselled mane and a fierce snarling face. It had a sturdy body and was made of the rich burnished teak that her grandfather used to work with back in the days before the war; when he lived in the teak camps with elephants, sending the great logs that had been felled tumbling into the Irrawaddy River.
‘Here he is, Grandpa.’ She put the chinthe on the kitchen table in front of him. Her grandfather stared at the little animal for a few moments and then looked back at Eva. ‘And that boyfriend of yours?’ he asked. ‘Are the two of you still …’ he hesitated, ‘involved?’
Eva shook her head. She’d always known Grandpa didn’t much like Max. And as usual, he had turned out to be right. Fortunately, they hadn’t got round to living toget
her although they had given each other the key to their flat. Fortunately, because Max’s tricky afternoon case had turned out to be young and blonde with legs like a giraffe. And it hadn’t involved a lot of paperwork either.
‘So you’re free,’ her grandfather said.
‘I suppose I am.’ Eva tried not to feel desolate. Being free again could be a positive thing. So, she hadn’t yet met a man she wanted to spend her life with. Was that so bad? At least now there was nothing and no one stopping her from doing what she wanted to do – recapturing that dream. And if she was honest … Max was older, charming, sophisticated. He had been great at taking her out to dinner, buying her gorgeous presents, surprising her with a weekend in Rome or Paris. Which was all very nice and Eva had enjoyed it for almost two years. But … She ran her finger across the jagged mane of the chinthe; he was a proud animal – she’d always liked him despite his apparent ferocity. It wasn’t really love, was it? Part of her had always known that. ‘What do you want me to do, Grandpa?’ she asked again.
‘I can’t go to my grave without telling you one last story, Eva,’ he said.
‘A story?’ She didn’t like him talking about going to his grave, but Eva wriggled in the chair and made herself more comfortable.
‘It’s what you might call a personal quest.’ He paused. ‘Because there’s something I need to know.’
Eva waited, intrigued. And then to her horror his blue eyes filled with tears. ‘Grandpa?’
‘There’s someone I want you to look for,’ he said. ‘A task I need you to undertake.’ He picked up the little chinthe and held it gently in his hand. ‘There’s a promise I made many years ago that now, I need to keep.’
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Acknowledgements
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