I spin round. ‘No, I don’t see. You can’t stop her seeing her mother. I won’t move from this spot and if you force me out I’ll fight it in the courts.’
‘You’re not thinking straight.’
I can’t help snorting. ‘That’s exactly what you used to say if I disagreed with you on anything. Anything at all. You haven’t changed, but I have. And for the first time in years I am thinking clearly. It’s you who is not.’
He shakes his head and I can see his inflexibility growing stronger. How stubborn he is. I’d almost forgotten.
‘You’ve been away for six years. You would lose your case and, anyway, think of the effect on Annabelle.’
I glare at him and raise my voice, though I know of old if I shout at him it will only make things worse. ‘I won’t be bullied. If you refuse to allow me to see her, I’ll write to her at school! You can’t stop me doing that.’
He almost laughs. ‘Really, Diana, think how she would feel. And I can easily get the school to intercept her mail if it is in her best interests. And it is. You must see that it is.’
‘No, I don’t see. She’s my daughter, Douglas. I’ve already lost one daughter.’
‘We both lost Elvira,’ he says more quietly but I won’t respond to that.
‘How could you make me agree never to see my child when I was so ill? It was utterly unfeeling.’
He’s speaking fast now, animated, becoming angry, something he hates to be. ‘Listen to me. It wasn’t meant to be cruel. I thought it was for the best and I still do. Can you not imagine the distress when Annabelle is told her dead mother suddenly isn’t so dead? It’s taken so long for her to have become as settled as she is now.’
I feel my eyes heat up but then I straighten my back. I absolutely will not cry in front of him. ‘And that’s your final word?’
He nods. ‘I’m delighted you’re feeling so much better, believe me, but I’m afraid it has to be, at least while she is still a child. I’m sorry, Diana.’
I feel his tension as he carries on as he has always carried on, but the words I want to say die in my mouth. I think long and hard before I speak, remembering how it felt during the last few years I was living here. How trapped I’d been, going crazy all alone in my room. How disturbing it had been for our daughter. What an awful mess we all were in. Eventually I reach the conclusion that Douglas might be right. It hurts so much. I feel a stone lodging in my chest, twisting and turning and crushing my breath. I chew the inside of my cheek in the unlikely hope that this lesser pain will stave off the overwhelming sorrow I know will come. I do not know how I will ever bear it, but I cannot cause my daughter any more distress. She’s been through enough, we all have, and, terrible, terrible thought though it is, maybe I really must relinquish my role as her mother.
‘Diana?’ he says.
‘Well, I really am not the woman I used to be,’ is all I eventually come out with. It doesn’t go anywhere near articulating everything I’ve been thinking but it is true. I want to say we all change, don’t we, become different from how we were, maybe even from day to day. I am different and glad of it, but Douglas can’t see it. He wants everything to stay the same.
Instead of saying that, I nod, close to tears. ‘I will accept your decision … for now, at least. But there is something I still need to ask.’
He places a hand on my arm and the physical contact brings on a storm of memories.
‘Douglas, why did you have an affair while I was pregnant with Elvira? I never understood. We loved each other, didn’t we?’
He looks ashamed, as if I’ve caught him out, his face blanching and his lips tightening in shock. He trembles as he speaks. ‘You … you were expecting our child. I didn’t want … well, you know.’
‘You didn’t want to touch me? That’s what you’re saying?’
‘I didn’t want to hurt you … or the baby.’
‘And yet you did in a far worse way. You should have told me how you felt. You never told me how you felt.’
‘I didn’t know how,’ he whispers.
But I am not finished. ‘I always believed it was my fault. Something I’d done wrong. I carried that burden for years.’
He doesn’t answer but he deflates further and won’t meet my eyes.
‘But it wasn’t my fault, was it?’
He shakes his head and then he looks at me with such anguish in his eyes. ‘I’m sorry. It shouldn’t have happened. Not at all. I was arrogant enough to believe if I … if I met my needs elsewhere it would be better for you.’
‘And yet you broke my heart. Why do you think I became so dejected?’
A short silence as I watch him struggle.
‘And you still blame me for my illness?’ I say, suddenly numb with grief.
He speaks softly when he replies. ‘Not blame, Diana, not for that. Pity. That’s what I felt … What I still feel.’
‘Pity?’
‘And an abiding sense of loss.’
I think about it. ‘We both lost, didn’t we?’
He nods slowly and as I witness the immense weight of sadness in his eyes my anger dissolves a little.
‘Do you blame me for Elvira? Do you still think it was something to do with me?’
He shakes his head. ‘No, I never believed that.’
‘Do you remember nothing of how we once were?’ I say. ‘Do you remember us?’
His eyes soften still further and I see something of the man I used to love but I know he won’t change his mind about Annabelle.
‘Of course, you must know I do,’ he says. ‘But now I am sure you will place our daughter’s needs above your own, as I must too.’
He touches my cheek, oh so gently, and I see his eyes are moist. I decide I must bide my time. Maybe one day, when she’s older, I will see my girl.
‘Have you a photograph of her as she is now?’
He walks across to the bureau and pulls out a folder, then withdraws a single photograph and hands it to me. Now I really struggle to hold back the tears as I hunger for my daughter. She has become the spitting image of me at the same age. I trace the outline of her face with my fingertips. ‘Can I keep this, please?’
He hesitates for a second, then agrees.
I turn to leave but pause and hold out my hand. ‘Goodbye, Douglas,’ I say, and I don’t know why but the poignant look in his eyes tells me I will never see my husband again.
50.
Belle glanced at Oliver. ‘Did you find an address for the nanny?’
He grinned. ‘What do you think?’
She laughed. ‘You did?’
‘Come on.’ He held out a hand. ‘Better get back to the flat. It’s looking like rain.’
‘Shouldn’t we look for her now?’
‘It’s getting dark. We’re both tired and her business is in Chinatown, not a great place to be at night. First thing tomorrow. To be honest, I need a shower and I’m sure you must too.’
Belle felt damp inside her dress and, yes, she’d kill for a shower but … ‘Shouldn’t we get a move on?’ she said. ‘If she does know anything, someone might get to her before we do.’
‘True. A bite to eat first?’
She agreed, so after a rickshaw ride to Chinatown they entered a small dimly lit restaurant bursting with Chinese folk.
‘Always a good sign when a place is jam-packed with locals,’ he said as they were seated at the last available table.
‘I hope the service isn’t too slow.’
‘Relax. We have time and the Licensing Office is already closed so nobody will find out we know where she is.’
‘Edward told me he knew I’d been making enquiries.’
‘The Land Registry may have let him know.’
‘Why would they?’
‘A man like Edward has informants everywhere. But remember, apart from the familial connection we have no reason to link him to the bomb or to Elvira’s disappearance.’
She thought for a moment. ‘Except for what Harry told
us about the Rangoon Intelligence Unit.’
‘True. But a lot of people could be responsible, not only Edward.’
‘Why are you defending him?’
‘I’m not. I’m just saying we don’t know.’
They stopped talking and listened instead to the sound of Chinese voices and the clang and clatter springing from the kitchen. Suddenly hungrier than before, Belle’s mouth watered at the fragrant aroma of Chinese spices. She was glancing around the room at the other customers when a sudden burst of rainfall followed by thunder grabbed everyone’s attention. All heads automatically swivelled in the direction of the window where the restaurant lights had turned a solid sheet of rain to red and gold.
‘The monsoon,’ Oliver said, and she could hear the relief in his voice. ‘First rain of the season. Wonderful.’
She felt the wonder too. The gathering humidity had become intolerable and though rain made some things more difficult they needed the respite from the heat.
When they had finished their meal, Oliver borrowed an umbrella from the proprietor with promises to return it the following day.
The world outside had dissolved in the deluge, the rain discharging a thousand scents and odours into the air, some, like the fragrant flowers cascading from window boxes, enjoyable, others less attractive. Perhaps rancid oil and something sour from overflowing drains. The torrent obliterated anything they might otherwise have been able to see and, despite the umbrella, within a few minutes they were soaked. Oliver had a reasonable idea of where they were headed and kept glancing at doorways and into alleyways to identify their exact whereabouts. They spotted the shine of a car’s headlights as it came crawling up the street and he pulled her back into a dark doorway until it had passed. Soon after, they reached an area where the shops were still lit up like hazy beacons shining through the wall of glistening rain.
‘Let’s ask,’ he said as they eventually stood outside a newsagent’s shop. ‘I think this is it. I’m pretty sure I’ve been here before, although it’s not a woman who runs it. I know the guy.’
He held on to Belle’s arm, then opened the door. They both went inside, shaking the wet from their hair.
Oliver explained who they were looking for and the man stared at him coldly. ‘Like I say the other man, she gone. I do not know where.’
‘Come on, you know who I am. We are not the government and I believe the old lady might be in danger. We can help.’
The man looked confused.
‘At least tell me what the other man who came looked like.’
‘Tall man. Eurasian.’
Belle and Oliver exchanged looks.
‘But other man with him. Older, British. Not too tall. Slim, grey hair coming here.’ He pointed to his temples. ‘He was boss, in charge.’
‘Could it really be Edward?’ Belle whispered, but then thought of the many British men who might fit a similar description.
‘Look,’ Oliver was saying, ‘we are here to help the lady. Not cause trouble.’
The man shook his head but was looking increasingly worried and Belle wondered what to say next. ‘Are you certain you don’t know where she is?’ she came out with.
‘She give me the shop. All legal.’
Belle smiled at him and spoke gently. ‘We’re not bothered about that.’
He narrowed his eyes. ‘So, what you want?’
‘To talk. Are you a relative?’
He opened his mouth but just as Belle felt they were beginning to get somewhere he asked them to leave. She felt utterly despondent. There was nobody else who might know and now it looked like they’d never find out who had buried the baby, or why they had buried it at number twenty-one, or even who the child had been. She didn’t want to admit it but in her deepest being she felt certain it had to have been her sister.
But right then, an old lady slipped through from the back. The man quickly gestured she should go back inside but Oliver was ahead of him.
‘Liu Lin?’ he asked, and the woman nodded without seeming to consider first. ‘You used to be a nanny?’
She nodded again cautiously. ‘A long time ago.’
‘I think we need to talk.’
The man spoke to her in a Chinese dialect, but she waved whatever he had said away.
‘I’ll speak with you. Upstairs.’
They followed the old lady up a narrow staircase. At the top she pulled aside a curtain and then pushed a section of the wooden wall behind it. They went through what was clearly a secret door into what had to be the next house.
‘My sister’s house,’ she said by way of explanation. ‘Dead. Mine now and my brother has the shop. I am hiding here.’
She indicated they were to sit on cushions on the floor.
‘What is it you wish to speak about?’ she said, once they were settled.
Belle spoke first. ‘I want to know if the baby who was buried in the garden of George de Clemente’s house, where you used to work, is my sister.’
Liu Lin stared at her for a long time.
‘Please, if you know anything?’ Belle pleaded.
‘Who was your sister?’
‘My parents, Diana and Douglas Hatton, lived two doors away in Golden Valley. Their baby, my sister, a little girl called Elvira, vanished from the garden in 1911.’
The old woman shook her head. ‘It was not her.’
‘Then who?’
‘They gave me money never to say.’
‘Who? Please tell us.’
‘The body in the garden of the de Clemente house was my mistress’s child. Born without breath.’
Belle frowned. ‘But why did it have to be a secret?’
Liu Lin bit her lip and paled.
‘People must have known her baby had not lived.’
‘Only me. I knew. The baby was a little early and I assisted with the birth. Mr de Clemente was still on his way back from Shan States and arrived three days later.’
‘So?’
‘Mrs de Clemente had gone crazy, told me I would be dismissed if I told anyone. She refused to accept the baby was dead, would not let me near, would not let me arrange a funeral, would not let anyone in her room. Just me. No one in the house knew the baby was dead. I told them everything was fine and Mrs de Clemente needed her privacy. A day later when she heard the Hatton baby crying and crying …’
The woman paused but Belle, mesmerized by the story, and feeling a lump in her throat, knew what was coming next.
‘She slipped into the garden of number twenty-three, from a path that ran behind all the gardens, picked up the baby girl and brought her home. That night she told me to bury her own baby in the wild part of our garden where nobody went.’
‘Oh, dear God,’ Belle exclaimed as the truth of it sank in.
‘I dug a hole and covered the ground with branches and leaves. I had to wait until the servants had gone home or were asleep.’
‘Didn’t anyone make the connection when Elvira went missing?’ Oliver asked.
‘No, because nobody but me knew Mrs de Clemente’s own baby had been born dead.’
‘What about a doctor?’
‘She forced me not to call a doctor.’
‘And what about her husband? Did she tell him the truth?’
‘No.’
‘He knew nothing about it?’
‘When the police began searching for the missing baby I got scared and told him what had happened. I thought he would insist his wife give the baby back, but he said no. They would leave Rangoon instead. The scandal if people know his wife had stolen a baby would ruin him.’
‘So, they went to Kalaw?’
‘I went with them. They told everyone it was for a holiday but after a week passed we all came back to Rangoon at night. They paid me a lot of money never to speak of what had happened and then they secretly headed out of the country by car. I believe they were going in the direction of Thailand. Certainly they were never seen in Burma again. They said I’d die if I spoke and so I bought the
shop and the two houses, one for my sister, one for me and my brother.’
Oliver looked incredulous. ‘And you didn’t think how the Hattons must have felt? You did not think to go to the police?’
‘I tried to tell Mrs de Clemente it was wrong, but she yelled at me, and Mr de Clemente, he was worse. He threatened my family. I was scared.’
‘They must have needed help to get away?’
‘We came back to Rangoon from Kalaw in one car and then we met Mr de Clemente’s nephew at the Strand Hotel.’
‘Edward de Clemente,’ Belle said in a very low voice, feeling sick.
‘Yes, Mr Edward. He often used to come to the house for dinner. His uncle helped him with his career.’
‘I bet he did,’ Oliver said, his voice deliberately curt.
‘This nephew had another car waiting ready for them.’
‘So, my baby sister went with them and my poor mother was accused of hurting her own child.’
‘I am sorry.’
‘Why reveal all this to us now?’
‘I am ill. It was a terrible thing. I do not wish to go to my grave with it still on my conscience.’
‘Did Edward de Clemente threaten you?’
She nodded. ‘He threatened my brother.’
‘Recently?’
‘A few months ago. I stayed up here, but I heard my brother tell him I had gone to China. This Edward de Clemente told my brother if people come asking questions to let him know or there will be big trouble.’
‘Why didn’t you leave then?’
‘I planned to.’
‘And your brother, he’d go with you?’
‘Yes, but first I had to sell the houses. Without money, where would we go? I knew if we stayed we both might be killed. But I have not found a buyer yet and, as I said, I am ill.’
Oliver put a hand on her shoulder and spoke gently. ‘Are you prepared to say all this to the police?’
The woman closed her eyes and didn’t reply for a few moments but then she agreed.
Oliver gave her an encouraging smile. ‘It would be best if you and your brother come with us and stay in a safe place until you have made a statement to the police.’
The Missing Sister Page 26