The Missing Sister

by Dinah Jefferies

  ‘Pleased to meet you, Mr Rivers,’ she said, holding out a hand.

  ‘Clayton, please.’ He gave her a dazzling smile. ‘How about you and I make for a quiet table over there?’

  They left Edward at the bar and settled themselves at the corner table. Clayton Rivers went on to say he was from Sydney and was currently travelling to all the top hotels and theatres in the East on the hunt for new acts to represent. As Edward, an old friend from his London days, had praised Belle so effusively, he’d felt obliged to make a slight detour. Hadn’t been disappointed either and would be prepared to accept her on to his books with all the usual terms and conditions, if she was interested.

  Belle felt elated to hear all this and, listening intently, nodded as he explained that the paperwork would clarify all the details, although it wouldn’t come through for a couple of weeks or so. The only condition was that she’d have to be in Sydney at the end of the following week to audition for an understudy role in a successful musical for a sixth-month run.

  ‘No promises,’ he said. ‘You realize there will be others auditioning too, but … you’re good. Very good. It costs, but Imperial Airways will get you there in three days with a stop at Singapore and Perth.’

  Apparently, the star of the show was struggling with personal and health issues and although she hadn’t given up the role just yet, a breach of her contract was very much on the cards. The current understudy had got herself caught out, by which Belle understood the girl was pregnant, and already showing, so time was of the essence, Clayton explained.

  Belle nodded eagerly, at the same time feeling an undercurrent of hesitancy. Having an agent on her side would mean she’d be considered for jobs she might never have heard about, so why dither?

  ‘Could I have a couple of days to think about it?’ she eventually came out with.

  He raised his brows in surprise. ‘Really? You need to think?’

  ‘I have some things I need to sort out, that’s all.’

  It wasn’t exactly true. She felt torn about leaving Oliver precisely when they were truly getting to know each other, and also her house in Golden Valley, in all its faded glory, was playing on her mind. The house was a potent link to the past, to her parents’ past, and although the way she’d felt so at home there didn’t really make sense, it had felt like a part of her. And what of Elvira? There was still the story of the white baby seen travelling upriver with a Burmese couple to investigate. True, her missing sister hadn’t been at the front of her mind lately, but would Belle ever come back to Burma if she left now? Would she ever know the truth about what had happened? She took a long, slow breath. This was a terrific opportunity. How could she even consider turning it down?

  She glanced across at Edward, who’d been joined by Gloria, and when she saw who was with them she hesitated. It was the red-haired woman, the one she had seen with Edward, and she was smiling across at Belle. She stared at the woman with questions spinning in her head. Who was she? And why did Belle feel as if she knew her? Could it be anything more than her resemblance to Diana?

  ‘Shall we join the others?’ Clayton said.

  As they approached the bar Gloria beckoned Belle forward. ‘Come and meet Susannah.’

  The other woman smiled and, in a moment of understanding, Belle realized the apparent familiarity was exactly as she’d previously thought: the woman did resemble her mother, who of course was no longer alive. When the woman spoke, Belle was surprised by a strong Scottish accent. And, though well preserved, with only a network of fine facial lines, she was older than Belle had first thought. Her upright posture and modern dress had, from a distance, given the impression of a younger woman but, face to face, she must clearly be in her late fifties. If Belle had harboured even a shadow of suspicion that she might have been Elvira, which of course she had not, not really, it was now quickly dispelled. The woman’s age made it impossible. Belle shook her hand.

  ‘I tracked Harry down the night of the regatta,’ Gloria was saying, ‘God, it seems ages ago, but when I looked for you you’d vanished. You never did say where and I’ve barely seen you since the races.’

  ‘Oh,’ Belle said, thinking rapidly and remembering how she’d made her escape with Oliver. ‘I had a headache that night so headed home. And since then … well, I’ve been rather busy.’

  Narrowing her eyes, Gloria gave her a funny look.

  Belle felt her colour rising. ‘Sorry, I did look for you at the regatta to say.’

  ‘Did you, darling?’ Gloria paused, clearly not taken in by the lie. ‘Well, never mind now. Harry went off to the wilds soon after the regatta, so there was no point bringing up the subject again, but he’s back now, and he and I will be at the Golden Eagle at eleven for an early lunch tomorrow. It’s the bar I took you to when you first arrived. You remember it?’

  Belle nodded but couldn’t help feeling she’d been caught out. Now, wanting to get away, she muttered something about having had a long day but she’d see her in the morning, then bid them all goodnight.

  30.

  Harry Osborne turned out to be a serious man fluent in Burmese, whose job it was to survey the country and compile a report for the government detailing land use and activity in the far reaches of Burma. An overly neat, sandy-haired man with wire spectacles continually slipping down his nose, he seemed oddly out of place in the bar, quietly sipping a lemonade and refusing Gloria’s offers of alcohol.

  A strong scent of incense emanating from the corner of the room made Belle’s eyes smart and she began to cough. After she’d recovered and explained her quest to discover the truth about her sister, Harry nodded slowly, glancing about him as if to ensure no one could overhear.

  Then Gloria spoke. ‘Harry knows everybody in the villages en route. The Burmese, I mean. If anyone saw anything he’ll be the one to winkle it out of them. Nobody better and it’s enormous luck he’s about to set off. I’ll let Harry explain.’ She flashed him a smile.

  ‘If you wish to accompany me to Mandalay …’ he said, speaking in such hushed tones Belle was forced to lean so close they were practically nose to nose and she could even smell the fish on his breath.

  ‘I leave in three days,’ he continued, ‘and won’t return for ten months. After Mandalay I go north-west, you see, up to the rugged border between the mountains and the Chindwin River. I’m sure I can arrange useful meetings for you in Mandalay. Maybe even with the District Commissioner. Give me a day or two and I’ll come up with a plan.’

  Belle gulped. Three days. She’d have to decide quickly. Now that she’d finally met Harry and the river trip had become more real, the story of the white baby, seen with a Burmese couple on the riverboat, was tempting her to go. And if Harry really could persuade a top official to see her, there might be a chance of getting near to the truth – or at least turning up some kind of lead. It was a long shot, naturally, but if luck was on her side, she could possibly meet someone who’d seen them.

  ‘How long does it take to go upriver?’

  ‘Two weeks.’

  ‘Two weeks!’ She had naively been hoping for a couple of days, which would still leave her time to get to Sydney.

  He gave her a wearied look. ‘And then the train back to Rangoon isn’t always fast either, can be over twenty hours unless there are floods, in which case it’s anybody’s guess. In fact, if you plan to come back by train you’ll need to be ready well before the monsoon comes.’

  ‘And when is that?’

  ‘At the beginning of June usually.’

  So enough time before the rains at least, although it was undeniable this whole trip might result in a complete waste of time: a red herring that would cost her the chance of acquiring an agent.

  Obviously noticing her hesitancy, Gloria stepped in. ‘Darling, you should seriously go. It’ll be perfectly safe, although Harry, poor thing, might not hang on to his head.’

  Not understanding, Belle frowned.

  ‘He’s hoping to reach Nagaland. The Naga are i
nfamous headhunters.’ She let out a peal of laughter that, Belle noticed, Harry didn’t share.

  ‘Actually, Gloria, I’m slightly more worried about the tigers,’ he said, ‘and as far as the Naga are concerned, I’m only there to survey the land, although we do need to know if there’s a chance some of them might be persuaded to join our military.’

  During all this Belle had been thinking, and not about headhunters or tigers either. ‘What about Clayton Rivers?’ she said, giving Gloria an anxious look. ‘He won’t wait.’

  ‘From what I hear, it’s only an understudy role. There will be other better chances. Maybe he’ll still represent you at a later date?’

  ‘He insisted that I have to be in Sydney at the end of next week.’

  Gloria snorted. ‘Don’t believe everything you hear, especially if it’s anything to do with my brother. Mark my words, it will come to nothing. I’ve seen this sort of thing before. Anyway, I’m fairly sure Edward may be able to persuade Clayton to take you on regardless. The man owes him.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Edward lent him money some time ago when Clayton was finding his feet in the entertainment world.’

  Belle puffed out her cheeks and glanced at Harry Osborne, who was staring morosely into his empty glass. She could see there was something indefinably sad about him. But what was she going to do? Take up his offer or take up Clayton Rivers’ offer?

  An hour later that morning, Belle called at Oliver’s apartment. A few minutes passed before he answered her knock, so when he finally did, she was about to leave. He looked the worse for wear, with tousled hair and shadows under his beautiful, dark-lashed eyes. Clearly, he’d just tumbled out of bed and, wearing only a towel wrapped round his waist, he stretched and yawned.

  ‘What happened to you last night?’ he said, his voice gravelly, and she winced at the coolness of his tone.

  ‘Am I keeping you up?’ she said, trying not to stare openly at his naked torso, where his belly button was revealed plus the hint of a curl of hair beneath it. Her emotions pitched and rolled, his golden skin tugged at her heart and she reached out to touch him. But then, spotting what looked like lipstick smeared on his neck, she froze.

  He frowned. ‘As you can see, I’m not exactly in a state to receive visitors.’

  ‘All right,’ she said, feeling confused and wondering if he had a woman concealed in his apartment. ‘I’ll see you another time then.’

  He put a hand on her arm as she made a move to leave. ‘Sorry. Come in. I’ll jump in the shower, then make some coffee, if you don’t mind waiting.’

  She followed him in and didn’t speak for a moment as she stood at the kitchen door and watched him make the coffee.

  ‘I thought you were having a shower first,’ she said.

  He turned his head to look at her. ‘You’re right, I was.’ He handed her a cup of what was clearly strong coffee and drank his own in one swift gulp. ‘I won’t be long.’

  ‘Take your time. I’m not in a rush. I wanted to explain about last night.’

  He nodded, then walked through the living room to his bathroom. She listened to the grind and creak of plumbing and the sound of water flowing. She could have phoned but had been dying to see him in person, and now the sight of that lipstick bothered her. Although she tried to rally innocent reasons for its alarming bright-pink presence on his neck, she failed miserably. What did it signal? Or, rather, who did it signal? She tried concentrating on the pale sitting room, taking in the rattan furniture, the emerald-coloured silk cushions and beautiful blue and green Persian rugs, just as before. After placing her empty cup on the polished coffee table, she rooted around in his pile of magazines, then stepped over to look at the view of tall trees again.

  ‘Nice view, isn’t it?’ he said, and she spun round, not having heard him come back in. Pale beneath his tan, he hadn’t shaved, the shadow of stubble on his chin still showing.

  ‘I wanted to explain.’

  He shrugged. ‘It really doesn’t matter.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘But it does. I am sorry. Something last minute happened.’

  ‘Obviously something important,’ he said in an unusually reserved tone of voice.

  ‘Well, yes.’

  He reached out a hand. ‘Come on. Let’s sit down. I’m absolutely bushed.’

  ‘Heavy night?’ she asked, flinging down the magazine.

  ‘Yeah. I bumped into an old friend.’

  As they sat on the sofa, she spoke, sounding bolder than she felt. ‘A woman?’

  His blue eyes widened. ‘How did you know?’

  She lifted her chin and gave him a peevish look. ‘The lipstick on your neck. A bit of a giveaway, I think, don’t you?’

  Instead of retaliating, he simply laughed. ‘Jealous?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  Aware that suspicion had flooded her face and annoyed with herself for her petulance, she quickly rose to her feet. ‘I’d better go.’

  ‘You haven’t explained why you stood me up.’

  ‘Oh, it was nothing much, merely an international theatrical agent Edward had brought to meet me! You know, the sort of thing that happens every day … Anyway, I’ll …’

  ‘If you wish to leave, be my guest.’ He turned up his palms and shrugged.

  ‘I will.’ But she didn’t move. Instead, to her horror, her eyes began to sting, and as the tears sprang out, she angrily brushed them away with the back of her hand. He was instantly by her side, wrapping his arms around her and holding her to him. She felt his heart beating against her chest and heard him whispering in her ear.

  ‘Come on, honey, let’s not quarrel. I simply got drunk with an old friend. There’s nothing going on, I swear.’

  She pulled away and sniffed. ‘And the lipstick?’

  ‘A peck aimed for the cheek but must have landed on my neck as we parted. Nothing more. I was pissed you’d stood me up and drank more than I’d intended.’

  ‘Old friend or old girlfriend?’

  He scratched the back of his neck. ‘The latter. Over years ago. Happily married now.’

  His sincere look, completely without guile, reassured her. Knowing she’d overreacted, she nodded. After all, they hadn’t promised anything to each other, hadn’t even publicly acknowledged they were a couple. She had no right to be upset. He was a free agent and so was she. It had been a bad start to the day, but they could get over it.

  She ran a thumb across her chin and rubbed it, still wavering over what to do about the river trip. ‘I have a decision to make,’ she said. ‘I did want to discuss it …’

  ‘Well, you can.’

  They both sat down again and, while he held her hand, she explained it.

  ‘Do you trust Edward?’ he asked, looking unconvinced. ‘Is this agent kosher?’

  ‘Why wouldn’t he be?’

  ‘Look, I don’t want to put the dampeners on it, but in my experience, Edward can be tricky.’

  ‘In what way?’

  A shadow passed across Oliver’s face. ‘I have no proof, but the word is he has interfered in the due process of the law more than once.’

  She stiffened slightly, her mind overactive. ‘But that doesn’t mean the agent isn’t legitimate. Anyway, how do you know about Edward?’

  He gave her a lopsided smile. ‘A good journalist never reveals his sources,’ he said drily.

  ‘What exactly does he do? His job, I mean.’

  ‘Well, the story is he’s a powerful advisor to the Police Commissioner.’

  ‘You don’t believe it?’

  His shrug was non-committal.

  ‘So, what are you telling me?’

  ‘He’s been the brains behind a number of shady dealings. He and others have silenced more than one of my stories when it suited them to do so, and people who have challenged him have disappeared. He, like many others, is unprincipled when it comes to preserving British power and dignity.’

  Belle frowned. This wasn’t the Edward she’d g
ot to know. He’d only ever been helpful and kind. In fact, she’d become quite fond of him.

  ‘In any case, surely finding out what happened to your sister is the most important thing?’

  ‘Well, yes. Maybe. But –’

  He interrupted her. ‘And what did you make of Harry Osborne?’

  ‘Do you know him?’

  ‘I know of him. He’s a regular kind of guy, I hear, highly regarded in his field.’

  ‘I quite liked him, although he’s a little quiet.’

  Oliver grinned, and his eyes lit up. ‘It’s the quiet ones you have to watch.’

  ‘Well, I can’t accuse you of being one of them.’ She poked him in the chest as he pulled a face. ‘Are any Americans truly quiet?’

  He laughed but then grew serious. ‘This white baby on the boat is the first decent clue you’ve had. And if you can get to Mandalay there might be more to find out there, especially if you’re able to talk to a top official, chief of police, someone like that.’

  He was voicing exactly her own thoughts but it was still a tough choice to have to make. If she went on the river trip she wouldn’t be able to meet Mr Rivers’ deadline. It was as simple as that, and although Gloria had suggested there might be other opportunities, was she right?

  With a look of excitement, and rising to his feet, Oliver began to pace the room. ‘Just think! If we stick with it and something comes of this – if you find out what happened, maybe even find Elvira alive – what a wonderful story it will make. Imagine the headlines: Beautiful young Englishwoman solves the case of the vanishing baby. Nightclub singer solves the mystery. It would be the story of the year. Might even go international or – get this – maybe it could become a film. Our fortunes would be made!’