by Rosanna Ley
CHAPTER 42
Rosemary had gone out to get some shopping, but she hardly liked leaving him, especially after this morning’s episode.
She shivered as she arrived at the supermarket car park and parked the hire car in a vacant space. And not just because it was such a cold day. It had stopped raining at least, but now there was a winter bite to the air that reminded her: time was getting on, she had to decide what to do. Seattle was still looming on her horizon. Hers and Alec’s.
Her father had been in the kitchen slumped in the chair, the kettle whistling full pelt. That’s what had woken her, of course. She’d heard the noise and thought for a minute it was a siren, ambulance or police perhaps. Then she’d realised it was coming from the house, to be precise, from the kitchen downstairs.
Rosemary had grabbed her bathrobe, pulled it on and run down there. The kitchen was steamy and she didn’t see him for a moment. Just thought, what the …? And snatching the oven glove from the Aga rail, took the kettle off the heat.
Now, Rosemary got out of the car, plucked her shopping bag from the back seat and went to get a trolley. They had to eat.
As soon as she’d turned around, she’d seen him. ‘Dad? Dad …?’ And her heart had flipped over in much the same way as it had when she’d first arrived at the house and found him out for the count on the bathroom floor. But fortunately, this time he was just asleep, bless him, waking even as she raced into the room, muttering something about ‘holding fire’. How he could have slept through that racket, she had no idea.
‘What are you doing, Dad?’ Fear made her voice sharp and she saw him flinch. ‘Did you put the kettle on?’ she asked in a gentler tone.
‘It was a long, bloody night,’ he said. ‘You can get fed up of marching.’
Ah. So he was back in wartime, was he? ‘So you thought you’d come and make a cup of tea, is that it?’ She took his arm. ‘Let’s get you back to bed.’
He blinked in confusion. But he went with her, like a lamb.
Rosemary picked up a bag of salad and some fresh noodles. Perhaps she should ring the doctor again. Later this morning he’d been so much better though. After he’d freshened up in the bathroom, she’d taken in some coffee and read him out bits from today’s paper. Sometimes they even tackled the crossword, but Rosemary had something else on her mind today. Then they’d chatted about this and that. Not what she wanted to hear about though. She wanted to hear about Burma.
‘I read the letters, Dad,’ she told him. She wanted to confess. And she wanted to know more. ‘The letters you keep in the drawer.’
‘Letters?’ But she saw the understanding touch his eyes.
She nodded.
‘When?’
‘I found them after Mum died.’ She realised that something had shifted inside her, that she wanted to tell him now. ‘I wasn’t snooping. Just tidying up. And then I couldn’t resist reading them. I’m sorry.’
‘Ah.’ He shook his head. ‘I knew there was something.’
Yes, she thought. Something to pull you apart.
‘Perhaps I should have told you about her,’ he said. ‘But it was all so long ago. And I couldn’t, not without upsetting your mother. You are our daughter, love.’
Yes, she was. His coffee cup was rattling in the saucer and Rosemary steadied it for him. ‘You didn’t send any of those letters though,’ she said.
‘No.’
‘Why not, Dad?’
He fixed her with his honest blue gaze. ‘Because I was married to your mother.’
‘But you needed to write them?’ She wanted to understand. Nick was dead, so there was no point in writing to him. Or was there? She had always thought that if only she could communicate with him one last time … Then perhaps it would somehow clear the way for her future. She looked helplessly at her father. Would he realize what she was asking him?
‘I did. It helped, Rosie.’
‘Why did you ever come back here?’ Rosemary whispered. She didn’t want to hound him or upset him when he was so frail. But it was a question she’d wanted to ask for such a long time. She understood how her mother had been and the pressure the families had put on him. But why did he succumb? The way she’d loved Nick she would never have let him go. ‘Why did you come back and marry Mum? When you were still in love with someone else?’
‘Ah, Rosie.’ He looked at her full on. ‘It was Maya’s decision, not mine,’ he said. ‘At least …’ And he seemed to be remembering something. ‘I could have done more. I should have done more.’
‘Maya knew how it was back here in England?’ Rosemary guessed. She could picture them all, waiting for his homecoming. His mother, Helen’s mother, anyone else who was left of the family when the war was over. Everybody wanting him to marry Helen.
He nodded. ‘She knew most things.’ And smiled.
‘She thought it was your destiny,’ Rosemary murmured.
He folded the newspaper she’d left on the bed, smoothing it with his gnarled old hands. ‘She let me go.’ He exhaled with some difficulty and she saw him wince with pain.
And you didn’t want to let everyone down.
‘But you never forgot her.’ She patted his hand.
‘No, I never forgot her.’ His eyes seemed to glaze over, as if he’d slipped back to the past once again. ‘It’s like that with love sometimes. I think you know that, Rosie.’
Rosemary looked away, beyond him and out of the window. The days were getting so short now, she hated that, longed for the stretched out days of summer. ‘I do, yes,’ she said.
He came back to her then, just for a moment, and he held out his arms.
She curled into them, like a child, eyes closed, feeling her father’s frail warmth, feeling his comfort. It still didn’t take much to make her think of Nick. And Alec knew that too. Did he also know that she had never been able to give herself to him in the way she had so carelessly given herself to Nick? Of course he did. He had said as much, he had said that he would take what was left. Just like her mother had … But she knew that something had changed for Alec. It wasn’t just her going away. It had been building, in her, in him. And sooner or later there would be an explosion, or as near as Alec would ever come to an explosion. And why not? It was hardly fair. Seattle, she realised, was that explosion.
‘First love … It takes some beating,’ her father said. Gently, he stroked her hair.
Rosemary nodded. She swallowed. He was right. First love took some beating. ‘Hard on number two though,’ she said.
‘I reckon so.’ But his voice was faint and she realised he was drifting off again. Back to sleep or back to the past. The two seemed entwined into each and every day.
‘Hard on number two,’ she murmured. She eased herself off the bed without disturbing him. Smoothed the quilt. Touched his hand. And left him to it.
*
At the supermarket, Rosemary paid for her purchases and wheeled the trolley out to the car. She wound her cashmere scarf more closely around her neck. All these years she’d blamed him. And yet … How much better was she?
CHAPTER 43
‘Ssh, lady!’ The man swore, pushed past her and was gone, racing towards the stairs.
What the hell? ‘Hey!’ Eva yelled after his retreating back. ‘Stop that man! He’s a thief! He’s—’ But no one was listening; no one was around. And the man was already out of sight.
Eva ran over to the phone, quickly dialled reception. Her hands were shaking. The phone seemed to ring and ring.
At last someone answered. ‘There was a man,’ she said. ‘He was in my room. I walked in and … He should be there any second. He’ll be coming down the stairs or in the lift or—’
‘Excuse me, madam,’ The girl on reception spoke slowly and clearly as if Eva were either deaf or insane. ‘Please repeat?’
Eva repeated. But she knew it was useless. By the time she got the message through, he’d be long gone.
‘Was anything taken?’ the girl asked her. ‘Valuables? Jewe
llery? Money?’ Her voice was friendly, but not overly concerned.
‘I don’t know.’ Eva sat down on the bed. She felt … violated. She looked around at the disarray in the room. Fortunately, she carried all her money with her, and she’d been wearing her pearls and her diamond daisy ring. But … Who would have done this? Hadn’t she been assured that there was very little crime in Myanmar, and especially against tourists? And how had he got into her room?
‘Please check,’ the girl said. ‘I will send someone up. Please answer the door.’
The door, Eva saw, was still wide open. ‘Yes. Thank you.’ She got to her feet, hung up and strode over to the door. Slammed it shut and locked it. Leaned on the back of it, trying to control her breathing. When she saw him, she hadn’t had time to be scared. But now, she couldn’t stop shaking.
After a few minutes there was a frantic hammering on the door.
Eva flinched. She had made a cursory check of her stuff and even put most of it back in the chest of drawers. Nothing seemed to be missing. ‘Who is it?’ She could hear the tremor in her voice. Once more she felt the sensation of being alone.
‘It’s me, Ramon. Eva, are you OK?’
Ramon. Relief flooded through her at the sound of his voice. In that moment, he certainly didn’t feel like the enemy. She unlocked the door and was immediately wrapped in his arms.
‘What happened, Eva?’ He sounded angry.
‘There was a man.’ Her voice was muffled into his shoulder. She took a deep breath. And a step away. She was unhurt. She had to regain control of her emotions.
‘What man?’
‘I don’t know what man …’
Ramon spoke rapidly in Burmese to one of the hotel staff now hovering behind him. ‘You need some brandy,’ he said. ‘And water.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Come. Sit down.’ He took her arm and led her over to the bed. ‘Tell me what happened.’
She sat down and began to explain.
His expression grew darker and darker as he paced the room. A boy came back with a bottle of brandy and Ramon poured a generous measure into a glass. He handed it to her. ‘But you are not hurt?’ he asked. ‘He did not touch you?’ His hand rested on her arm.
‘No, no.’ In fact he had run away like a rat up a drainpipe. No one had been hurt, or even threatened. Someone had been ransacking her room, but that was all. Eva sipped the brandy. It slipped down her throat like a flame. She supposed she was just suffering from the shock of it.
Ramon turned on the bedside lamp and flicked the switch of the main light off so that the room was suffused with a warmer glow. Eva was grateful. Her eyes were hurting. ‘Do you want me to call the police?’ he asked.
‘No.’ She didn’t want to involve the police. What was the point if nothing had been taken?
He swore softly. ‘They will not get away with this.’
And how did he propose to find out who they were? A thought occurred to her. ‘But what are you still doing here?’ The brandy had revived her somewhat. Hadn’t Ramon driven home after he’d dropped her off at the hotel? How had he even known there was anything wrong? Eva didn’t like the direction in which her thoughts were heading. He wouldn’t have had anything to do with this, would he?
He took the glass from her and refilled it. ‘I was still outside in the car. Thinking.’
Eva nodded. She knew very well what he’d been thinking about. That kiss.
‘And I was about to drive off when I saw a man running fast out of the hotel.’ He handed the glass back to her.
She frowned. ‘But why did you think he was anything to do with me?’
‘I did not. Not at first.’ He sighed. ‘And then …’
‘And then?’ She swirled the rich amber liquid around in the bottom of the glass. The scent of the brandy was strong, but somehow reassuring.
‘I thought I recognised him.’ He looked across at her. His eyes seemed to gleam in the light of the bedside lamp.
Eva’s throat went dry. ‘Who was he?’ But already, she thought she knew.
‘I think it was one of Khan Li’s men. One of those he asks to do his dirty work when he wants to keep his own hands clean.’ Ramon went into the bathroom and emerged with a glass tumbler. ‘May I?’
She nodded and he poured himself a brandy from the bottle the hotel had provided.
Eva recalled her conversation with Khan Li. So he had taken the bait, after all. She supposed it would have been simple to find out where she was staying. But what had he been trying to discover by having her room searched? The name of her rich client who owned a certain Burmese decorative and jewelled teak chinthe perhaps? Or something else? The chinthe itself?
‘Eva …’ Ramon came and sat down on the bed beside her. He seemed to be considering how to continue. ‘I have told you these men are dangerous, yes?’
She nodded. ‘Yes, I know.’ And she knew that she should have been more careful. It had been too risky to go there alone, foolish to think that she could get the better of someone like Khan Li.
‘And I am aware you do not fully trust me.’
She made no answer to this. There wasn’t much she could say.
‘But you must now tell me exactly what happened when you went to Li’s showroom.’
Eva considered this. If he was as in league with Li’s as she suspected, then it would be very easy for him to find out anyway. And even if she couldn’t completely trust him … She couldn’t believe he meant her harm.
So she told him, every so often taking a sip of the sweet mellow liquid that had done its job of calming her down and was now making her feel pleasantly woozy.
By the time she’d finished, Ramon was shaking his head in disbelief. ‘I cannot believe that you said these things to Li, Eva,’ he said. ‘You were foolish. But also brave.’
She shrugged.
‘And did you tell him the name of your hotel?’
‘Of course not!’ She wasn’t entirely stupid.
‘So tell me this,’ Ramon said. ‘Why did you stop trusting me?’ He got up from the bed and now knelt beside her, his green eyes pleading. He had to be genuine, she thought. No one could be that good an actor.
‘I saw a crate in the truck outside your warehouse,’ she said. At least she should give him the right to reply. ‘It was being sent to the Bristol Antiques Emporium.’
He frowned. ‘But that is the company you work for, isn’t it?’
She nodded.
‘Impossible.’ He got to his feet. ‘I know the name of every company we deal with. You weren’t well. You must have imagined it.’
She watched him as he stood at the window, saw him flick back his dark hair with that irritated gesture of his hand.
‘I didn’t imagine it,’ she said.
‘But why did you not mention this before?’ He turned around to face her. ‘I could have shown you your mistake.’
She shook her head. There was no mistake and nothing would convince her otherwise. ‘Because of the logo I saw under your company’s stamp,’ she whispered. ‘It wasn’t your crate.’
He shook his head. ‘Eva, it has been a long and difficult evening,’ he said. ‘There has been …’ He spread his hands, ‘a revelation. And now a man has entered and ransacked your room.’ He smiled. ‘You have drunk a lot of brandy …’
She got to her feet. ‘It was a blue-and-gold peacock insignia,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t mistaken, I wasn’t seeing things and I certainly wasn’t drunk.’
He came closer, put his hands on her shoulders. ‘A blue-and-gold peacock, you say?’
She nodded.
Abruptly, his hands dropped to his sides. He muttered something in his own language that she couldn’t understand. ‘It is late. You must be exhausted.’ He turned from her, went over to the door. ‘Get some sleep, Eva,’ he said, more gently. He opened it. ‘We will talk again in the morning.’
Eva felt a sliver of fear returning and he seemed to sense it. ‘He will not come back,’ he said. ‘I
will have a word with reception on the way out. For one thing, I want to know how he got into your room. After I go, make sure you lock the door from the inside. You will be quite safe for now.’
‘And tomorrow?’ She realised she wouldn’t feel safe here anymore.
He put his finger to his lips. ‘We will talk tomorrow,’ he said. ‘You must not worry. I will pick you up at midday.’
She nodded. ‘Alright.’ She was exhausted, it had been a long day and she could hardly think straight. She wanted to trust him, she wanted to rest her head on his shoulder and close her eyes. And when they talked tomorrow, she would, somehow, make him tell her everything.
CHAPTER 44
Maya lay in her bed that night but she did not sleep. It would come; it always came, she must be patient.
She had relived so much of the war sitting at the restaurant table tonight, and now she recalled that one experience which she had talked of to no one. It had happened in the hospital when Cho Suu Kyi was still a baby …
Upper Burma, 1943
Maya had jumped with surprise. She had been doing some sorting in the hospital storeroom and had not expected to be disturbed.
The man who strode into the room as if he owned it was immaculately dressed in the uniform of a Japanese officer. His boots were polished and rose to his thighs and he carried a large sword at his side, one hand resting on the hilt.
‘Can I help you?’ she asked. But her mind went into over-drive. She was thinking, as she always was, of Cho Suu Kyi.
‘Show me what food you have,’ he said stiffly. He had arrived with one other soldier this afternoon. She guessed that they were an advance party, sent ahead to reconnoitre the area. So far they had been civil to herself and Matron Annie and even to the inmates of the hospital. But they had also been guarded. And she didn’t trust them.