The Tea Planter’s Wife

by Jefferies, Dinah

  The tension grew, and Gwen, seeing that Laurence was irritated, was not surprised at the sharp tone of his voice when he spoke.

  ‘Might? What do you mean? Just tell us what the glitch is, man,’ he said.

  Moore, glancing at each one, pulled a series of faces, as if he was going over what to say in his head. ‘Well, the thing is, we’ve heard from our contact in another agency. Unfortunately another brand has bought up all the space we were going to advise you to take out.’

  ‘Brand of what?’ Christina asked.

  The man glanced at his feet before cracking his knuckles and speaking. ‘Tea … I’m afraid, it’s tea.’

  Gwen’s shoulders drooped. She’d known it was all too good to be true.

  ‘There will be room for Hooper’s in the marketplace. I do believe that. There are, after all, plenty of smaller companies selling tea. But this means we’ll have to go later with our launch.’

  ‘And let them get the edge on us?’ Laurence said, rubbing his chin.

  The man did not smile, just swallowed awkwardly.

  ‘If we want to rival Lipton, it’s all about getting there first,’ Christina said. ‘I thought I made that clear at the outset.’

  ‘I do understand,’ Moore said, attempting a smile. ‘Unfortunately, we aren’t party to everything that the other agencies are doing. We do our best.’

  ‘It had better not be one of your own people who gave the other agency the nod about our plans,’ Christina said, tight-lipped.

  Gwen stood up. ‘It is immaterial. Whoever told whom, we will not be going second with this.’

  Christina attempted to interrupt.

  Gwen held up a hand to stop her. ‘Let me finish. We will not be going second. We will be going first. If you can arrange for our advertisements to go out in December, instead of the New Year, we still have a deal. If not, the whole thing is off.’

  Laurence was grinning at her and Christina was staring, open-mouthed.

  In the brief pause, Moore scanned all their faces.

  ‘Well?’ Gwen said, trying to ignore the butterflies taking flight in her stomach.

  ‘Give me until tonight. Where will you be?’

  The mood that evening was not as celebratory as they had planned. Christina had delayed the meeting with their solicitor, who had been none too pleased. All the contracts had been rushed through in double-quick time and were now languishing on his desk waiting to be signed. She’d managed to play down the delay; the last thing they needed now was investors getting cold feet. But they all knew that if Moore didn’t come through and the launch of the campaign had to be delayed, they would lose an important advantage against their competitor.

  Gwen, wearing her new evening dress, was in a quiet mood as Christina led them to the Stork Club on East 51st Street. Cab Calloway was playing later and, as a newly converted lover of jazz, Laurence brightened up as they made their way through the throng of people. As they reached the tables, Christina nodded at a woman in a floral satin gown.

  ‘Who was that?’ Gwen asked when they had passed.

  ‘Oh, just one of the Vanderbilts. Nothing but money and glamour here, honey.’

  It was the intermission, and Christina, dressed in black satin and with her blonde hair shining, sashayed up to one of three musicians sitting at a table at the back and kissed him, leaving a red lipstick mark on his cheek.

  ‘Shuffle up, fellas,’ she said. ‘These are friends of mine over from Ceylon.’

  A bar tender brought them a tray with several glasses of beer on it.

  ‘It’s weak stuff, less than three point two per cent alcohol,’ Christina said, and winked at the barman. ‘Any chance of livening it up?’

  Gwen listened as Christina chatted to her friends, and when the beer came back, discreetly fortified with vodka, she spluttered over her first sip.

  ‘Prohibition is set to end soon,’ Christina whispered. ‘That awful beer is an interim measure.’

  As Gwen took another sip, the butterflies in her stomach had not subsided. Christina, however, managed to appear light-hearted and vivacious, no matter what was going on in her life, and Gwen sensed she hardly knew her at all. Here, in New York, she seemed more wholly American than she had in Ceylon. At first Gwen had been overawed, then jealous of the smooth way she had attempted to captivate Laurence, and then, with the loss of value in Laurence’s shares, she’d been angry. Now that the anger had blunted a little, she was surprised to find she genuinely admired Christina’s spirit and determination. It must have taken courage for her to come back to them with this new idea, after things had gone so badly wrong before.

  One of the band got up and Christina came to sit by Gwen.

  ‘I’m so glad we’ve buried the hatchet,’ she said and squeezed Gwen’s hand.

  ‘The hatchet?’

  ‘Come on, you must have known I was deadly jealous when Laurence came back from England with the news that he’d married you.’

  ‘You were jealous of me?’

  ‘Who wouldn’t be? You’re beautiful, Gwen, and in that lovely natural way men adore.’

  Gwen shook her head.

  ‘Of course, I had hoped Laurence would be happy with you as the mother of his children and me as his mistress.’

  ‘You thought that?’ Gwen’s breath caught in her throat. ‘Did he give you that impression?’

  Christina laughed. ‘Not at all, though it wasn’t for want of trying on my part.’

  ‘Did he ever … I mean, did you both ever –’

  ‘After you were married?’

  Gwen nodded.

  ‘Not really, though we came close once. At that first ball in Nuwara Eliya.’

  Gwen bit her lip and dug her nails into the fleshy part of her palm. She would not cry.

  Christina reached out a hand. ‘Darling. Not that close. Just a kiss.’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘It’s long been over. I promise. You really never had anything to worry about, though I admit I wanted you to think you had.’

  ‘Why did you?’

  ‘It was fun, I suppose, and I’m a bad loser. But believe me when I say I care about both of you now.’

  Gwen frowned very slightly.

  ‘I do, truly. Anyway, I now have a bit of a thing with that rather delicious bass player.’ She inclined her head in the direction of the man she had kissed on the cheek.

  Gwen laughed and Christina laughed with her. Ashamed that she had ever doubted Laurence, but overjoyed to hear that he really had not been tempted, Gwen felt more relaxed than she had in days.

  Just as the musicians were standing up and gathering their instruments to continue the set, the bass player came across to Christina. She grinned and he bent down to kiss her on the lips. Then, as the band members joked together, Gwen caught a glimpse of Mr Moore heading their way, too far off for her to be able to see if he was smiling. Christina had noticed his arrival too, and reached out a hand. Gwen took it and was surprised how tightly Christina gripped. It clearly mattered as much to her as it did to them. They both kept their eyes on Moore as he advanced, ducking and diving through the jumbled knots of drinkers and dancers.

  That night their love-making was powerful and largely silent. Afterwards, Laurence looked at Gwen with so much appreciation in his eyes that she wondered how she could ever have imagined he might have still wanted Christina. When she tried to add up the small and large tokens of his love throughout the years – the jade necklace he’d given her for her birthday, the beautiful silk painting from India and the dozens of small but thoughtful kindnesses – she saw the sum could never be totalled. Grateful for every single moment, she kissed him repeatedly.

  ‘What’s brought this on?’

  ‘I’m a very lucky woman, that’s all.’

  ‘The luck’s all mine.’

  She smiled. ‘We’re both very lucky,’ she said, then got up to go to the bathroom.

  It had been a good night after all. Thank goodness the news had been positive, she
thought as she ran the water to rinse her face. It turned out that Moore had managed to shift some of his other clients’ advertising for December, and though the splash they would make might be a fraction reduced, it would still be enough, just. And they would repeat the whole show in February, sandwiching their competitor between the two promotions.

  After turning off the tap, she dabbed herself dry, then heard the phone ring in their bedroom. The bathroom door was very slightly ajar so she knew that Laurence had already picked up.

  ‘You know what I told you.’ He spoke in a low but audible voice. ‘Why is it so very important to talk now? I thought we’d reached an understanding.’

  There was silence while the other person was speaking, then Laurence was speaking again.

  ‘My dear, you know I love you. Please don’t cry. I care very much. But that’s just not going to happen. Those days are over. I’ve already explained how it has to be.’

  Another short silence, though Gwen could hear her heart thumping in suspense.

  ‘Very well, I’ll see what I can do. Of course I love you. But you really must stop all this.’

  Gwen hugged herself.

  ‘Yes, as soon as possible. I promise.’

  Gwen doubled over. She had been completely taken in by Christina.

  32

  On board the ship, Gwen had finally plucked up the courage to speak to Laurence about the phone call, but he had muttered something inconsequential about work and turned away. She desperately wanted him to admit that Christina was still obsessed with him and had felt bitterly hurt that he couldn’t be honest, but a row at sea with no way to get away from each other was not a good idea. And then, when almost the first thing that happened after they got home was that Verity turned up smelling of tobacco, alcohol and stale scent, everything else was swept aside.

  The butler had opened the door to her and hadn’t been able to prevent her stumbling into the sitting room where Laurence and Gwen were relaxing the day after their long journey ended. They’d already found out from McGregor that she’d flouted Laurence’s instructions, and had regularly arrived the worse for wear and stayed at the house for a night or two at a time. She had a key after all, and by the time he, McGregor, had found out about it, she’d gone off again.

  At the sight of his sister looking so unkempt, Laurence stood up. With his jaw working to control his distress, he asked what was going on. Verity collapsed into a chair and, her arms clasped round her knees and her head bent, she began to cry.

  Gwen went to her and knelt beside the chair. ‘Tell us what the matter is.’

  ‘I can’t,’ she groaned. ‘I’ve made such a mess of things.’

  Gwen held out a hand to comfort her, but Verity pushed it away.

  ‘Is it Alexander? Maybe we can help.’

  ‘Nobody can help.’

  Laurence looked uncomfortable. ‘I don’t understand. Why did you marry him if he doesn’t make you happy? He’s a decent chap.’

  She groaned again, this time with a note of real desolation. ‘It’s not him … not him … you don’t understand.’

  He frowned. ‘What then? What is wrong?’

  ‘Please tell us, Verity,’ Gwen said. ‘How can we help if you don’t say?’

  Verity muttered something and began to sob again. Gwen and Laurence exchanged worried looks. While Laurence continued to look uncertain, Gwen decided to take the lead and did her best to encourage her sister-in-law to speak. ‘Come on, darling, surely it can’t be that bad?’

  There was no reply in the long stretch of silence that followed.

  Gwen stood up to look out of the window at the lake, and in the silence thought about her sister-in-law. She’d lost her parents, true, but so had Fran, and they couldn’t have been more different. Fran was full of life and ready to take on the world, but Verity was moody and very insecure. Now it seemed that whatever the indefinable thing had been, it was coming to a head. She twisted back when she heard Verity speak in a voice choked with emotion.

  ‘What was that?’ Laurence demanded. ‘What did you say about Hugh?’

  Verity looked up and bit her lip. ‘I am really sorry.’

  She looked so pale Gwen felt sorry for her, but she hadn’t heard Verity’s words, and judging by the look on Laurence’s face, he had. He marched over to her and pulled her up, holding both her arms.

  ‘Say that again, Verity. Say it so that Gwen can hear.’

  He let go and Verity slumped back into the chair with her head in her hands. When she didn’t speak, Laurence forced her up again.

  ‘Say it. Say it,’ he growled, turning red in the face.

  She looked at him for a moment, then with fluttering hand movements tried to hide her face.

  ‘My God, you will say it or I will shake it out of you!’

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’

  Gwen took a step forward. ‘For what?’

  Verity hung her head. ‘It’s been driving me out of my mind. I can’t forgive myself. I love him, you see. You have to believe that.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Gwen said. ‘Is this about Savi Ravasinghe? Have you done something to him?’

  Verity looked up sharply.

  ‘What is it, Verity? You’re scaring me.’

  ‘Tell her,’ Laurence ordered.

  There was a pause, while Verity mumbled.

  ‘Louder.’

  ‘Very well,’ she said, raising her voice to a shout and emphasizing each word. ‘I did not take Hugh for his diphtheria vaccination!’

  Gwen frowned. ‘Of course you did. Don’t you remember? I had a terrible headache so you went.’

  Verity shook her head. ‘You’re not listening.’

  ‘But, Verity –’

  ‘I did not take him. Don’t you see? I did not take him! I did not.’

  As Verity began to sob, Gwen felt the blood drain from her face. ‘But you said you had,’ she said in a low voice.

  ‘I went to Pru Bertram’s and took Hugh along. There were some friends there. We had quite a lot to drink and I forgot.’

  Laurence let go of his sister and, with a push, drove her away, almost as if to prevent himself from striking her. Then he curled his hand into a fist and slammed it into the back of a sofa.

  She clutched at his arm.

  He pushed her away again. ‘Get off. I can’t even bear to look at you.’

  ‘Please don’t say that. Please, Laurence.’

  Gwen felt her breathing start to become rapid and shallow. Could it be true? The room seemed to blur, became featureless as the formless shapes of Laurence and his sister melted into their surroundings. She shook her head.

  ‘Why didn’t you say? He could have gone another time,’ Laurence was saying.

  Verity began chewing her nails. ‘I was scared. You’d have been cross with me. You’d both have been so cross.’

  Gwen stood motionless, choking with rage. In the stunned silence while nobody spoke, she knew she’d have to hold back or she would regret it. But even while the storm raged in her head she noticed a terrible look in Laurence’s eyes.

  ‘You’re telling me my son nearly died because you got drunk?’ he said in an icy voice.

  He stared at his sister as she began to cry again.

  ‘So rather than tell us the truth, you put Hugh’s life at risk. You know how dangerous these diseases are.’

  ‘I know. I know. I thought he’d be all right. He was, wasn’t he? I am sorry. I’m really sorry.’

  ‘Why are you telling us now?’

  ‘I’ve never been able to get it out of my head. I haven’t been able to sleep because of it. And then, when I looked at the sick native girl, it reminded me so much of when Hugh was sick … I couldn’t bear it.’

  Gwen glared at her. ‘You couldn’t bear it? You!? Have you any idea what it feels like to lose a child?’

  Then, provoked beyond reason, she lost all effort at restraint and charged at her sister-in-law. With ragged, hopeless fists she started to poun
d on the girl’s back. Verity doubled over, shielding her head with her arms. Gwen let her fists fall to her sides and began to heave silently until the loud gulping sobs finally erupted. Laurence instantly came to her side, and she allowed him to lead her away. As she sat down on the sofa and began rocking back and forth, he rang the bell for help.

  Another thought now dominated Gwen’s whole being. After a few moments, she glanced up. ‘My prescription, Verity, was it you who altered it?’

  Suddenly Verity was shouting and crying at the same time. ‘You didn’t belong here. It was my home. I didn’t want you here.’

  Laurence froze, his face a picture of anguish. ‘You could have killed her,’ he said, his voice not much more than a whisper. And then Gwen screwed up her eyes and heard Laurence tell his sister to get out of the house, and never to expect another penny.

  The second thing happened a week later, by which time they had already endured a trying seven days. It was almost the end of October now, and soon the rain would start. Laurence had spent long hours walking the dogs, returning very late, and Gwen resented his ability to escape the feeling of doom in the house. For her part, yes, she had wanted Verity gone, but not like this; and she was far too distraught to say I told you so. Despite her anger, she felt pity for her sister-in-law, and in all the turmoil and worry about what would happen to Verity now, she had not found it in her heart to confront Laurence again about the phone call she’d overheard in New York. She comforted herself with the knowledge that it would be some time before they saw Christina again.

  Doctor Partridge stood at the window in the silent nursery, gazing out at the lake.

  ‘It’s a beautiful view,’ he said, and walked towards her where she sat in the chair beside the bed, holding Liyoni’s hand and waiting for his diagnosis. She had called him the moment she noticed that Liyoni’s posture had changed, but he’d been away from home and this was the first chance he’d had to call.

  He lifted both Liyoni’s arms and when he let go they seemed to flop. The same happened with her legs. He tested her knee and ankle reflexes. There was little or no response. He coughed, turned to face Gwen, then signalled that she should come to the window. Gwen got up, glancing back at Liyoni who was still staring at the ceiling.