The Rangoon Post 10 January 1911
STOLEN FROM THE GARDEN – THE CASE OF THE VANISHING BABY
It is with great sorrow and regret that this correspondent is tasked with reporting the disappearance of a newborn baby girl. The child, Elvira Hatton, just three weeks old, is the daughter of our esteemed member of the justice department, District Magistrate of the Rangoon area, Mr Douglas Hatton, and his wife, Diana. The baby disappeared yesterday, from her pram resting in the shade of a tamarind tree, in the Hattons’ Rangoon garden in Golden Valley. The police are appealing for witnesses to come forward as a matter of the greatest urgency.
As the other girls entered the room, buzzing with energy, Belle glanced at her watch and slipped the cuttings back inside her bag. With five minutes to spare, she settled on an ivory floor-length dress in rayon crêpe, beaded at the neck and waist, and quickly slipped into it. She checked her reflection and appraised her performance look. It had taken her a while to become accustomed to wearing so much make-up; left to her own devices she wore very little and allowed her hair to hang loosely to her shoulders in its natural wave. Now she finished the look with glossy red lipstick and pinned her hair at the sides with two diamanté clips.
A few moments later she stepped on to the stage tingling with excitement and knowing the knot in her stomach would quickly dissolve once she began to sing, exactly as it had the night before.
The first number was enthusiastically received, although she was disappointed at the size of the audience. But it was only a Thursday evening and afterwards in the bar, Gloria, dressed entirely in black satin with a real ruby at her throat, told her the big crowds only turned up at the weekends. When Belle had seen her in town she had mentioned how her brother, who was something high up in the British administration, would be coming specially to hear Belle sing on Saturday. And now she revealed the exciting news she had only hinted at the other day: her brother had contacts in the entertainment world in America, so if Belle played her cards right … well, anything could happen.
‘Really? Do you know who they are? These contacts?’ Belle, unable to conceal the thrill she felt, wondered what the cards might be.
‘Afraid not. But, darling, you were wonderful. The way the orchestra burst into sound, especially the trumpet, and then your voice. I swear your voice is like honey and the way it swings! Fabulous. Everyone up on their feet. And look at you! Eyes sparkling, skin glowing. You’ve found your passion, I’d say.’
Belle tingled with pleasure but only said she was relieved it had gone so well.
‘All one has to do to get on in this world is believe in oneself and if you can’t do that … well, believe in me.’ Gloria laughed and Belle joined in, but as she did so she spotted Rebecca watching with a spiteful look. Belle gave a quick smile, but the other girl frowned before turning away.
‘What?’ Gloria said, noticing.
Belle pulled a non-committal face. ‘The other girls are being a bit tricky. It’s nothing.’
‘They’ll come around.’
‘They think I only got the job because I know you.’
Gloria arched her brows. ‘Maybe I can sort it out?’
‘Honestly, I’d prefer to deal with it myself.’ Belle hesitated before continuing. ‘Actually,’ she eventually said, having decided it was worth a try, ‘there is something you might be able to help me with.’
Gloria gave her a warm smile. ‘Nothing I like better than helping a friend. Fire away.’
‘The thing is, my parents used to live in Burma. I wondered if you might be able to put me in touch with anyone who might have known them.’
‘You didn’t say before!’
‘No.’
‘And their names?’
‘Well, Hatton, of course, like me.’
Gloria’s eyes narrowed barely a touch. ‘Ah yes. I did wonder if the name might be familiar.’
‘Douglas and Diana, they were.’
Gloria looked taken aback. ‘Then you’ve lived here before too? I didn’t realize.’
‘No. This was before I was born. It was extremely sad, actually.’ She paused, uncertain about continuing, but then went on. ‘They lost a baby.’
Gloria gave her a knowing look. ‘There are so many infectious diseases out here.’
‘No. I mean they lost a baby. Literally. It disappeared from their garden here in Rangoon in 1911.’
‘Good God, how shocking!’
‘So, you hadn’t heard about it?’
Gloria seemed to falter, as if suddenly unsure of herself, then she dipped her head and rummaged in her bag for somewhat longer, it seemed to Belle, than was strictly necessary, eventually extracting her cigarette case and a lighter.
‘We-e-ell,’ she said, drawing out the vowel as she lit a cigarette. ‘I wouldn’t have been here then, but you know it does ring a bell. Must have seen it in the paper. My brother, Edward, would probably remember. You’d better ask him.’ There was a tiny waver as she stopped suddenly and scrutinized Belle’s face. ‘Goodness, is that why you’ve tipped up here?’
‘No. It was purely the job. And what happened was so long ago. Twenty-five years, so I didn’t think there’d be any harm in coming.’
Belle decided not to say more about her parents, but she couldn’t escape the memory of rattling around their enormous house with only her mother and Mrs Wilkes for company. And the times she’d hated her mother with such trembling unstoppable rage it had always ended badly. Had even told her mother she wished she was dead.
‘Penny for them,’ Gloria said.
‘Oh, nothing much. Tell me about you.’
‘One thing you need to know about me is that I never tell the truth. On principle.’
Belle laughed.
‘And my one aim in life is to break all the rules.’
‘I always seem to get caught if I do.’
Gloria, mistress of the dazzling smile and the sardonic raised brow, smirked. ‘Oh, I get caught, darling, all the time. The trick is not to care when you are. Bravado, sweetie, that’s the ticket. I simply do not give a fig.’
Belle laughed again, thinking of the bravado she was in fact already so familiar with.
7.
On Saturday night Belle met Edward, Gloria’s brother, who, on first sight, seemed an affable sort of a man. When Gloria introduced them, during the interval, he regarded Belle with dark, glittering eyes, then held out his hand. Though not tall – their eyes were on the same level – she found herself feeling flustered. She couldn’t exactly put it into words, but there was a look about him she’d seen before, something a bit old-fashioned, reminding her of one of her father’s most charming friends. Accustomed to a privileged life, Edward had the resultant presence and confidence, plus, she guessed, an inborn sense of entitlement. His dark hair, greying at the temples – a distinguished feature – and something about his face and the chestnut colour of his eyes reminded her of a glamorous fox. He must be about fifty, she thought. Having taken all that in within an instant, she wondered what he might be observing in her and raised a hand to smooth her wayward hair.
‘So,’ he said. ‘Finally, I have the honour of meeting my sister’s latest protégée. I’m delighted.’
Belle could feel the heat spreading from her chest to her cheeks. Apart from freckles, this was the main disadvantage of her colouring. ‘Pleased to meet you,’ she said, and flapped a hand in front of her face. ‘Gosh, it is hot, isn’t it?’
‘We could try the garden. Or maybe stand closer to the fan, although it’s near the bar and considerably noisier.’
She nodded. ‘I only have half an hour before the next set.’
‘And congratulations on your performance. Simply splendid. The world is your oyster, my dear.’
‘Didn’t I tell you?’ Gloria interjected.
Belle smiled modestly.
While he ordered their drinks, whisky for Gloria and lemonade for Belle, the two women accompanied him to stand beneath the ceiling fan. But the packed hall
, echoing with laughter and raised voices, was reaching a crescendo around the bar.
‘On second thoughts,’ Gloria shouted into Belle’s ear, ‘let’s go outside. We can hardly hear ourselves think here.’
‘Your brother?’
‘Will find us. Anyway, I wanted a word.’
‘Oh?’
As they went into the courtyard, Gloria turned to Belle. ‘I spoke to Fowler about the other girls.’
Belle was horrified, her hand flying to her mouth. Precisely the trouble with being taken under somebody’s wing, she thought. If you weren’t careful they started acting as if they owned you.
‘Don’t be silly. He’s going to keep an eye out, that’s all.’
‘If he says anything it will only make things worse.’
Gloria reached out a hand just as Edward appeared with a waiter in tow. ‘Sorry to interrupt girl talk.’ He paused, then gently laughed. ‘Now, my dear, don’t let Gloria interfere – because she will, you know.’
The smile on his sister’s face slipped ever so slightly and Belle wondered if she’d spotted a touch of animosity between the pair. Perhaps these two don’t always get on, she thought, though it could be normal for brothers and sisters. She didn’t know.
‘Come on, sis,’ Edward was saying. ‘Have a drink.’
While they sipped their drinks, Belle observed the siblings and particularly Edward. His slim build was more athletic than skinny, and he had elegant hands. He smiled at her – he was quick to smile – but had he read her mind? Something about his eyes too. Seductive eyes, drawing you closer than you might wish to be. She could even imagine wishing to be close, despite the age gap. Or – remembering her affair with Nicholas, who’d been the producer of her last show and also older than her – she almost could. Edward nodded greetings to various friends, emphatically, in the same way Gloria had.
‘You seem to know everyone,’ Belle said.
‘I suppose so,’ he concurred. ‘Now, listen, Gloria tells me you’d like to meet people who might have known your parents.’
Belle nodded.
He glanced up at a spot above her head before looking right into her eyes. She felt disconcerted. When she’d met Nicholas, she had felt the same way, with a kind of tingling in the pit of her stomach. Although they’d been together for the best part of a year, they had lived separately, and she had still wanted to travel, see the world. So, when he’d wanted her to settle down and become his wife, she’d turned him down. She knew most girls would have given their eye teeth for such a match, but her father had brought her up to be independent-minded and she valued that. With Nicholas she’d have ended up thinking what he thought, believing what he believed. Though if she was honest, it wasn’t only that: she really hadn’t loved him enough. So, when the show came to an end, Belle had walked out of his life. Any earlier and she might have risked her job.
‘Is there a Mrs de Clemente?’ she asked, the words slipping out before she could stop herself. Oh God, why had she said that?
He blinked for a second in surprise. ‘Well, actually, yes. There’s Gloria, of course, who has reverted to her maiden name since her marriage ended –’
Gloria grinned as she butted in. ‘Causes no end of confusion as you can imagine when newcomers conclude I am Edward’s wife.’
Edward raised his brows as if to say that causing confusion had been Gloria’s aim all along. ‘And there’s my wife who lives in England with my children.’
Now, as Gloria looked on in amusement, Belle stuttered a reply, fully aware her cheeks had turned beetroot.
‘Don’t let my brother fluster you, child. He only does it to entertain himself.’
Edward shook his head. ‘Belle, my dear, you will discover that my sister, who is, of course, a fine woman in many ways, can be a touch fanciful.’
Gloria sighed. ‘Believe that and you’ll believe anything.’
‘Anyway, what were we talking about?’ he said.
Belle stepped in. ‘People who might have known my parents.’
‘Ah yes, Gloria mentioned.’
‘So, do you think there’s anyone?’
‘Well, it was so long ago, many of the older folk have retired and gone back to Britain.’
She gave him her warmest smile. ‘I’d love it if you could find out.’
He nodded. ‘Do my best.’
‘Just a thought, but were you here yourself in 1911?’
‘I must have been but could have only recently arrived back. I imagine it must have been a rum do. I’d been working in London but then a job offer over here in the military police wasn’t something I could refuse.’
‘And you still work for them?’
He twisted his mouth to one side. ‘Not exactly.’
‘Enough,’ Gloria said, interrupting. ‘What you need are friends. Lots and lots of friends. There’s a party soon at the swimming club. Why not come as my guest when you’ve finished here?’
‘I’d love to,’ Belle said. ‘Won’t it be too late though?’
Gloria laughed. ‘How old are you, Belle? Twenty-one? Twenty-two?’
‘Twenty-three.’
‘Well, you’ve a lot to learn.’
‘What my sister means is that because of the heat our social activity tends to start – and go on – later than at home.’ Edward touched her on the arm. ‘It would be nice to see you again.’
While he and Gloria turned to hail a friend, Belle continued to watch them from the corner of her eye, but then her father came to mind, perhaps because they’d been talking of the time when her parents had lived in Burma. She could see him so clearly, the sparkle in his eyes when he saw her, the set of his jaw when he was concentrating on a book. He was a good man but there had always been something inflexible about him, even then, and she had learnt not to argue.
She noticed Gloria was looking at her with a quizzical expression.
Belle pulled herself together and pasted a smile on her face. ‘Simply remembering,’ she muttered.
‘I never remember. Make a point of it. Life is to be enjoyed and I damn well intend to.’
Belle laughed but then grew serious. ‘What happened to your husband?’
‘Who says I remember?’
‘But you know?’
‘Like I said …’ And then she let out a long peal of laughter, her eyes glittering with mischief. ‘I’ll make a deal with you. Promise you’ll come along to the pool party and I promise to reveal my sordid history.’
Belle laughed too. ‘How can I possibly refuse?’
Later, on her own in her shared bedroom, Belle was still thinking about her father. She recalled the time she had been about to tap on his study door when she heard raised voices. With her mind in turmoil she’d stood completely still, listening to her parents arguing.
‘What are emotions?’ she heard him say. ‘Nothing but something you make up. There is no reason to be so out of control.’
At this point her mother must have hurled something across the room because Belle heard an almighty crash and then her mother weeping.
Her father carried on speaking but in a louder voice. ‘It’s a product of your own mind, Diana. Why can’t you see it?’
Belle didn’t believe he’d said it to be cruel; it was simply the way he’d learnt to cope with the world.
She let the memory fade and changed into her favourite Liberty lawn nightdress, ready for bed. Rebecca still hadn’t turned up and had last been seen propping up the bar along with one of the band members. Despite a decision not to look again, Belle took the opportunity to flip open her notebook to the back where she had slipped in a second newspaper clipping. She reached out a hand to catch it as it fluttered out and then stared at the words.
The Rangoon Post 15 January 1911
MOTHER ACCUSED – THE CASE OF THE VANISHING BABY
In an unprecedented move, Mrs Diana Hatton has been taken into police custody for questioning in connection with the disappearance of her baby daughter, Elvira. Furthermore, t
his correspondent has received information from an undisclosed source that Mrs Hatton had been acting in a suspicious manner prior to the child’s disappearance. According to our sources there are worrying indications that she will shortly be charged with murder. More details will no doubt be forthcoming, and The Rangoon Post will always be first with the news.
Belle wished she’d never found the damned newspaper cuttings and was annoyed with herself for bringing them with her. She didn’t want to think about why her parents had concealed what had happened. Nor did she dare consider how the loss must have affected her mother. She simply could not. Because if she did … well, she might have to reconfigure her entire childhood. She shook her head. This wouldn’t do. She was here for one reason only: to sing. Of course, she was curious, who wouldn’t be, but she absolutely was not going to dwell on the past. The world was her oyster, that’s what Edward had said, and she was going to make the most of it.
8.
Diana, Cheltenham, 1921
When they accused me my world split apart, just as if an axe had cleaved right through it. The day of the fire, a storm had been closing in. I’d fallen asleep in the summer house at the bottom of the garden. Whatever it was that Roger, Simone’s husband and our doctor, had given me, it was strong enough to sedate me. Anyway, I must have accidentally knocked over the oil lamp. I don’t know how. But I remember waking and feeling drowsy before falling asleep again. Maybe I stood for a moment before? Maybe I knocked over the lamp then? I don’t recall. I do, however, remember the smoke and Douglas dragging me out of there. Just in time, they said.
The Missing Sister Page 3