The Missing Sister

by Dinah Jefferies

  ‘It’s for your own safety,’ she says, and leaning over me again, whispers, ‘We had to pump your stomach.’

  ‘I don’t understand. I want to go home. Why can’t I go home?’ Tears fill my eyes and I can’t prevent them from falling and dampening the sheet.

  She purses her lips. ‘You have caused everyone a great deal of trouble, but I imagine you probably will go home.’

  ‘Have I …?

  ‘What?’

  ‘Damaged myself?’

  She shakes her head. ‘The doctor is speaking to your husband now and they will make the decision.’

  ‘Decision?’

  ‘Whether you are safe to return or not.’

  ‘Why wouldn’t I be safe?’

  ‘Mrs Hatton. It’s not for me to say. Now you must rest. Do you need the bedpan?’

  I shake my head even though I do.

  Once she has gone I try to remember and then I have the most constricting feeling in my chest. I gasp, close my eyes and cover my face with my hands. The Veronal pills. And me stuffing them in my mouth as if they were sweets. So many of them. So many.

  My eyes fly open when I hear a tapping on the door and then a doctor walks in followed by Douglas. I am overcome with relief and hold out my arms to my husband, but he stands a few feet away and that confuses me. I look at Douglas and see dark exhausted bruises beneath his eyes.

  I turn my gaze to the doctor. ‘Can I talk to my husband alone?’

  He nods. ‘For a moment or two.’

  As I lie still and silent, I am surprised when Douglas takes my hand and begins to talk rapidly and in not much more than a whisper. ‘We haven’t got long,’ he says. ‘You must tell them it was an accident. You had forgotten how many you had taken. Diana, it is a crime to commit suicide, and anyone who attempts it can be prosecuted and imprisoned. Luckily the doctor has listened to me and understands you were not exactly yourself yesterday, that you had a bad headache and had not slept much. I told him you became confused. Do you understand? You must insist it was an accident.’

  Once we are back at home, Douglas accompanies me up to my room where fresh daffodils have been placed in a vase beside the window. I instantly feel myself relax, though I notice they have taken my mirror away. Do they think I am going to stare myself to death?

  ‘Thank you for organizing the flowers,’ I say, still shaken, and focusing on slow and steady. Slow and steady. Slow and steady.

  He nods, and his face is soft. ‘Mrs Wilkes will bring up a tray soon.’

  ‘I can’t remember,’ I say. ‘What happened?’

  He sighs deeply and bows his head for a moment.

  ‘I know you told the psychiatrist you had been out to the park but we all know it isn’t the truth. You used to spend time in the garden but increasingly you remain up here.’

  I bite my lip.

  ‘I thought if you were to be strong enough to undertake the move to Minster Lovell we ought to try to acclimatize you to the outside world a little.’

  ‘Oh God,’ I say as the memory returns and I squeeze my eyes tightly shut. Sweat gathers on my brow and at the back of my neck. Sticky, damp. The sensation of being crushed beneath this merciless thing robs me entirely of rational thought. I feel hot and terribly dizzy. My chest tightens and it hurts so much I feel I can’t get any air, that I am choking, that I will die. I reach out to Douglas in panic and begin to shake uncontrollably. The panic rises and rises. Overwhelming me. I can no longer hear Douglas although I know he is speaking. His mouth moves as I stare at him. It moves and moves until I want to wail. Then everything blurs.

  Douglas holds me, whispers in my ear soothingly, and I hear him now. ‘It’s all right, Diana, you’re at home. It’s all right.’

  I open my eyes. I really am in my room.

  ‘You’re just remembering how you felt yesterday. You are safe. I’m so sorry for what happened.’

  ‘It’s not your fault.’

  ‘Ah, but it was, and I blame myself. I should have realized how it would affect you. But, you see, you were fine at first when we were in the garden. And then we went out into the park, almost as far as the pond, but that’s when it all went wrong. It was too much too soon. I encouraged you to go further than you were able.’

  ‘And when we came home?’

  ‘Even though it was still the afternoon you went straight to bed. I blame myself for that too. You should have had someone with you.’

  The memory returns. Douglas had left me. I was happy to be alone and as I lay in bed staring at the four walls I felt as if I’d become the keeper of the past and it was time to let it go. All the emotion, the regret, the lost hopes and the dreams. Everything. When I closed my eyes, I saw the faces of those who had gone before me and then, when the past melted away, an extraordinary calm came over me. I’d been told what to do. It was time to allow myself to fall through the hole in my life and leave the pain behind. And so I decided to take the pills. I was smiling, happy. I’d finally made a choice.

  ‘Mrs Wilkes was worried,’ Douglas was saying. ‘She couldn’t rouse you when she brought up your supper.’

  ‘I thought it would be best for everyone. I’m so sorry for the trouble, Douglas.’

  He pats my hand. ‘I have sent Simone a telegram asking her to come and stay with you until you are well enough to move to the village. I’ve already exchanged on the cottage, so it will be ready, all furnished and waiting for you.’

  I focus on his eyes. ‘I’m still going there?’

  ‘I think it’s for the best, don’t you?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ I say and my mind wanders.

  ‘I won’t force you, but the alternative is to employ a nurse to look after you day and night here, and you’ve already said you don’t want that. I am terribly worried about how all this is going to affect Annabelle.’

  I drag my attention back to him. ‘Do you know when Simone will come?’

  ‘No, but I emphasized the urgency.’

  I hope he’ll let me stay until I feel stronger. I don’t say it, but I know he’s read my mind when he speaks.

  ‘Don’t worry. There’s no rush.’

  I look at him with blurry eyes. ‘It was as if a voice told me I had to do it.’

  His brow furrows although I am not sure if it is with concern or anger.

  ‘Precisely why you cannot be left alone and why I cannot be sure some “voice” will not tell you to hurt Annabelle. What might tomorrow bring if you don’t go?’

  I avert my gaze. It’s a serious question and the truth of it bites into me, but I wish I had not mentioned the voice. Had I really felt so lost I couldn’t envisage any way back? So lacking in hope, so broken by the past? Or had it been the voice taking its chance? I have yet to accept the voice might be me.

  27.

  As Belle left the stage at the end of her set she’d been planning to read Simone’s letter again and then have an early night, but when she walked outside for a breath of air she found Edward waiting for her.

  ‘Walk with me?’ he said and gave her one of his seductive smiles. ‘It’s a wonderful evening. And I have good news.’

  She glanced up at the sky, midnight blue and scattered with stars, the air so surprisingly cool after such a blistering day, and she heard the night birds flitting from tree to tree.

  ‘Of course,’ she said.

  ‘You look very beautiful tonight. Lovely dress.’

  ‘Thank you. It’s the second one I’ve had made up in the Chinese quarter.’

  He stopped walking and put a hand on her arm to halt her too. ‘Really? It can be dangerous there. Their secret societies cause us no end of problems. The place is riddled with money lenders and even the Chinese themselves dare not report the atrocities.’

  ‘Gloria said it might be tricky there, but I went with one of the girls.’

  ‘I avoid the place like the plague. Rather too cut-throat for me.’

  ‘So, you never go there?’ she asked, recalling how she had seen him
there with the red-haired woman who had looked so uncannily familiar.

  ‘Not if I can help it. On another note, I’ve been wondering if you’ve come to any conclusion?’

  ‘About?’

  ‘Your mother. The baby. What happened. All of it, I suppose.’

  Well, I don’t think my mother was guilty, she thought but did not say. ‘Not really,’ she replied. ‘I think I’m just going to get on with my life.’

  He smiled but she caught something else in his look. And she wondered why she had lied. ‘Mind you,’ she added, ‘I did hear a story about a baby heard crying in or near the hotel at the time.’

  ‘Who from?’

  ‘The doorman mentioned it.’

  ‘That old tale.’

  ‘So, you know about it?’

  ‘I have heard it before.’

  Belle thought it a little odd. The doorman had said his father hadn’t reported it to the authorities, but then again there would have been gossip. Maybe Edward had caught a whiff of it?

  ‘Ah well. It was so long ago,’ she said. ‘People get muddled up, don’t they?’

  They continued to walk in step with each other along Phayre Street where the air was scented with night stocks and the dappled light of daytime had been replaced by trees standing stark and black against the starlit sky.

  ‘I do have something for you, but if you’re not going to pursue it, perhaps – well …’ He paused. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Now you’ve made me curious.’

  He laughed. ‘Curiosity killed the cat.’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘Am I the cat?’

  ‘You’ve got the green eyes.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘I found a police report about a white baby having been seen with a Burmese couple.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘On a steamer going up the Irrawaddy river to Mandalay. It’s probably another something and nothing story.’

  ‘Intriguing. Did the police follow it up?’

  He shook his head. ‘They had closed the case. There had been too many red herrings, I guess, and there would have been other more pressing calls on their time. Just as there are now.’

  ‘What do you mean? What’s happening now?’

  ‘Unrest is bubbling up. A shooting in the Indian quarter last night. Two men and a woman killed. It’s only a matter of time.’

  ‘Until?’

  ‘Until it becomes unsafe for all of us.’

  ‘I thought you said you had good news.’

  ‘That’s something else, but really I wonder if a trip up the Irrawaddy might be a jolly sound idea. It may not be too safe here in Rangoon for a woman alone and, you never know, you might be able to pick up a clue or two about the white baby seen on the riverboat.’

  ‘But it was so long ago. Surely nobody will remember?’

  ‘Maybe not, but it might be worth a try.’

  ‘Are you proposing to come with me?’

  He laughed. ‘Sadly no, although, well … you must know how fond I have become of you.’

  She didn’t know what to say and cast about for a way to change the subject. After a short silence he spoke.

  ‘I’m sorry. I’ve embarrassed you.’

  ‘You haven’t. It’s fine.’ She paused and put a hand on his arm as she went over their previous talk in her mind. ‘I wanted to ask you something.’

  ‘Fire away.’

  ‘The story you told me about the motorcycle man, the one who was killed in an accident. The man who was to have been arrested.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Was it true?’

  She couldn’t see his face as they walked beneath a tree but noticed a hint of hesitation. ‘Look, I can’t lie to you – the truth is, I wanted to make you feel better.’

  ‘So, it wasn’t true?’

  ‘Not exactly. You were troubled by what your mother might have done.’

  ‘You lied?’

  ‘I worried it might become an obsession, and I didn’t want to see you ruin your best chances for a great career. And, as I said, I’m very fond of you and I thought you might get hurt.’

  ‘And this story about the white baby?’

  ‘That’s true all right. I can show you the report. But, look, I still haven’t told you the good news.’

  ‘Which is?’ she asked, realizing he had adroitly steered the conversation in a different direction.

  ‘There’s a man I’d like you to meet. A theatrical agent who may have a proposition for you. He’s dropping by Rangoon on his way back to Australia. Not sure of the date yet but it won’t be too long. Maybe a few weeks.’

  On her next night off, Belle joined Gloria and some of her friends for an evening regatta at the Royal Lakes. The entire place was enchantingly lit by thousands of brightly coloured Chinese lanterns and Belle watched as a procession of illuminated boats made its way past, then wound in and out of the many little bays. The British were gathered at Gossip Point where the best view was to be had and Belle was telling Gloria about Edward’s idea that she should take a steamer up the Irrawaddy.

  Gloria’s deep-set dark eyes brightened as she clapped her hands. ‘What a splendid idea – but I wouldn’t go alone.’

  ‘I was thinking of asking Oliver Donohue.’

  As Gloria waved her hand in a dismissive gesture, Belle focused on her friend’s chiselled cheekbones and haughty expression. There was something else too. Maybe a touch of wariness?

  ‘Darling, haven’t I told you before? He’s only ever after a story. Utterly ruthless actually and you really cannot trust him.’

  Belle frowned. ‘I thought he was relatively nice.’

  ‘Nice! Such a damning word, but I assure you he is a dangerous man and about as far from nice as you can get.’

  The noise from a terrific blaze of fireworks startled Belle and she turned from Gloria and stared, wide-eyed. The fireworks crackled and boomed and then, as suddenly as the show had begun, it had ended.

  ‘Well, I wasn’t expecting that. What’s the occasion?’

  ‘Don’t you know?’

  Belle shook her head.

  ‘It’s the Governor’s birthday. Now, about that boat trip. I know just the person who should accompany you. Harry Osborne. He’s a governmental surveyor and what he doesn’t know isn’t worth knowing.’ She looked right and left. ‘He’ll be here somewhere. Don’t move. I’ll have a little look see.’

  Belle glanced around for Edward, wondering if he had any news about the agent he’d mentioned. If he wasn’t arriving for a few weeks she’d still have time to take the steamer up the Irrawaddy to Mandalay and be back in time, if she went at all.

  She stood on her own and surveyed the gleaming faces. At first the sheen looked glamorous but then it dawned on her it was mainly down to sweat. Feeling a little self-conscious, she moved away from the lanterns into a dimmer light. Although she recognized some of the men and women clustered in knots around her, she felt excluded and without the confidence to break in to one of the groups. Ridiculous thought, as so many of these people would have heard her sing – though maybe that was precisely the issue.

  ‘Penny for them?’

  She recognized Oliver’s American accent immediately and felt herself blushing with pleasure. Stupid really. But thank goodness he couldn’t see her face in the gloom.

  ‘All alone?’

  ‘I’m waiting for Gloria.’

  ‘Heaven forbid! That’s a fine reason to allow me to steal you away from this joint.’

  She laughed. ‘Where to?’

  He stepped closer. ‘Anywhere not swarming with the British.’

  ‘I’m British,’ she said, but with her heart beating riotously against her ribs she didn’t feel it. Instead she had become a wild new thing. Unruly, unrestricted, uncontrolled. Time, my girl, to be mad and bad. She paused, remembering her mother. Perhaps not mad, but bad. That would do. Who cares what these people think of Oliver, I like him and that’s what matters, she told herself.

 
‘Yes, you’re British all right, but I suspect you are not one of them. You, my dear, are cute as a bug’s ear.’

  She laughed. ‘Is that your idea of a compliment?’

  He pulled back and narrowed his eyes to better study her face. ‘Coming? I know you want to.’

  It was a disarmingly intimate moment. She glanced over at the direction Gloria had melted into and, despite the reservations the woman had shared about Oliver, she instantly made up her mind. She allowed him to grab her hand and they left the lakes in a run, laughing like children, and weaving between the astonished British matrons and their stuffy husbands.

  Once away from the crowds, breathless and exhilarated, Belle came to a stop, doubling over and clutching her side. ‘Wait,’ she called out. ‘I’ve got a stitch.’

  ‘Dawdler,’ he said with a laugh.

  ‘Not fair. I’m wearing heels.’

  ‘Take them off then, take everything off!’

  She laughed. ‘And get myself locked up.’

  ‘On a night like this I’d join you.’

  ‘In jail or in taking everything off?’

  ‘Which do you think?’

  She straightened up. He was right. An intoxicating night, balmy, scented, and with a gentle breeze caressing her bare arms, parting her lips and tempting her to touch his warm skin. Burmese nights are irresistible, she thought. It’s as if all rational thought drains away: the stars sparkle in their thousands, the moon seems golden rather than silver, and the air fills with mysterious sounds. Best of all is the cool. The wonderful, glorious cool. She wondered what he might be like as a lover. Her lover. Pictured their legs entwined in white rumpled sheets, heat and sweat and warm skin gluing them together. Then she told herself not to be so stupid. She wasn’t here to fall in love. It would be better if they were to remain friends. Fellow conspirators. No, not that. Fellow detectives.

  As they began walking again, slowly now, he raised her hand to his mouth and kissed each of her fingers one by one. She didn’t say a word but leant towards him and, with her mouth against his, pressed herself close. His skin smelt masculine, of lemon and sandalwood soap, though most of all he smelt of himself. As they kissed, she blamed it on the extraordinary soft air of the night. And when sweat ran down between her breasts, there was nothing she could do about it, except give in to this wonderful tingling feeling of being fully alive … So much for remaining just friends.