The quiet was broken when Spew crawled back into the clearing on his belly, his pink nose covered in earth and carrying something in his mouth.
‘Drop it, Spew!’ she said.
The little dog growled and stood his ground.
‘Come here, you naughty dog, and drop!’
He didn’t obey.
Gwen stood up, caught him by his collar and took hold of one end of the thing. She pulled and saw it was part of a wooden toy. A ship, she thought, a ship with no sail.
The little dog had lost interest in the argument. He wagged his tail and dropped the remainder of the toy at Gwen’s feet.
‘I wonder who this belonged to,’ she said aloud, and grinned at the dogs. ‘No use asking you two, is there?’
Both dogs went back to the spot where Spew had appeared. Gwen followed, thinking that if all this area was cleared, it might be the perfect place for her arbour, and, in order to see more clearly, pulled at a branch heavily laden with some kind of berry. She carried on pulling at the creeper, breaking off small branches and twigs. A pair of secateurs was what she really needed, and some gardening gloves.
She sat back on her haunches, her hands stinging from cuts and scratches. Ready to give up, she decided to come back later, properly equipped.
Spew carried on digging, then barked again. She recognized the excitement in that bark; Spew had found something. She pulled away another layer of overhanging leaves and stooped to look. In front of her, a flat, upright, moss-covered stone leant very slightly to the left. The ground in front of it was rounded and covered with pale forest flowers. She breathed in the damp woody smell around her, and felt hesitant. This looked like a small grave. She looked round when she heard something scurry among the leaves, then, unable to control her curiosity, scratched at the moss, tearing a fingernail in the process.
When she had finished, she traced the letters with her index finger. There was only a name, nothing more. Just THOMAS BENJAMIN, engraved in the stone. No date. No indication of who he had been. He might have been a brother of Laurence’s perhaps, or a visitor’s child, though Laurence had never mentioned a dead child. Other than asking Laurence, there was no way of knowing why Thomas Benjamin had been hidden in this inaccessible place and not buried properly at the church graveyard. And the fact that Laurence had never mentioned anything of the sort made her think he might not be pleased that she had found it.
5
Two days later, at the sound of Laurence’s car pulling up, and despite a trace of anxiety, a pleasant feeling of anticipation ran through her. It had been a cool, misty day, and she’d occupied herself with the household accounts once again. They did not tally, and she couldn’t work out exactly what was wrong, but at least she’d managed to organize a message to be taken to the dhobi, telling him that she wanted to see him the next day. Apart from that, she hadn’t even been able to complete a garden walk, and the lake itself had remained annoyingly hidden behind the mist.
She threw on a tasselled wrap to cover the scratches on her arms, and ran down the corridor, then out through the front door.
Fran was climbing out of the back of the Daimler with an enormous grin on her face. Gwen ran straight to her, wrapped her arms round her and hugged her fiercely. Then she pulled back to scrutinize her cousin.
‘Heavens, Fran, look at you!’
Fran tore off her very nearly brimless cloche hat, yellow with a red felt flower, and did a twirl, pointing to her hair. ‘What do you think?’
Fran’s shiny chestnut hair was shingled at the back, cut in an even sleeker bob than before, and with a long fringe. In the sunlight, the lighter threads in it showed up like gold. She had circled a black outline round her eyes and she wore bright-red lipstick. And from under her fringe, her blue eyes sparkled.
She laughed and spun round again.
The spin showed off her curvaceous figure, loosely enveloped by a sleeveless cotton voile dress. A band of lace at the hem and a rope of jet beads hanging to her waist completed the look. Her gloves, which came to just below her elbows, perfectly matched her yellow dress and her hat.
‘It’s a bit chilly, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘I thought it would be hot.’
‘I have plenty of warm wraps you can borrow. It will be quite a bit cooler when the monsoon comes. They say it’s due any day now. What was it like in Colombo?’
‘Ghastly. Humid as hell. And everybody seems to be so cross. But what an amazing journey. I have never seen anything like it. We must have climbed thousands of feet. And the views from those iron bridges!’
‘The views are marvellous but they gave me a headache,’ Gwen said, and turned round to Laurence. ‘How high are we up here, Laurence?’
‘Hello, darling.’ His happy grin and obvious pleasure at seeing her was enough to momentarily wipe away the memory of their last time in bed. He paused for a moment then bent down to help another woman climb out of the front passenger seat.
‘And in answer to your question,’ he said, straightening up, ‘nearly five thousand feet.’
‘It’s his sister,’ Fran whispered, and pulled a face. ‘She was already in Colombo, staying at the Galle Face. We picked her up. Barely said a word to me all the way here.’
The tall woman standing on the gravel on the other side of the car threw back her head and laughed with Laurence about something he’d said.
‘Gwendolyn,’ Laurence called out as he moved towards her. ‘Say hello to my dearest sister, Verity.’
Laurence and his sister came round and Verity held out her hand. Like her brother, she had deep-brown eyes, and the same cleft in the chin. Her face was long and rather sallow, and Gwen couldn’t help think that the Hooper features didn’t sit half so well on a woman. When she leant forward and kissed Gwen’s cheek, Gwen smelt stale scent on her skin.
‘What’s that graze?’ Laurence said, and touched Gwen’s arm.
She smiled. ‘Just where I bumped into a tree. You know me.’
‘Dear Gwendolyn,’ Verity said. ‘I have so been looking forward to meeting you. Laurence has told me everything.’
Gwen smiled again. She knew Laurence and his sister were close, but sincerely hoped Laurence had not told her everything.
‘I am so sorry I missed your wedding. Unforgivable I know, but I was in darkest Africa.’ She gave a little laugh, pursed up her thin lips into a pout, then turned to Laurence. ‘Am I in my old room?’
He grinned and took her arm. ‘Where else?’
She kissed him on the cheek twice. ‘My darling, darling brother, how I have missed you.’ Then they both walked, arm in arm, up the steps and into the house.
‘Oh, Gwendolyn,’ Verity twisted her head and called back. ‘Have one of the servants bring up my bag. The trunk’s not arriving until tomorrow.’
‘Of course,’ Gwen said as she stared after them. A trunk. How long was Laurence’s sister planning on staying?
Fran was watching her face. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘Absolutely marvellous,’ Gwen said, and smiled. Well, it will be marvellous, she thought. ‘But I am so pleased you are here, at last.’
‘I expect to hear everything,’ Fran said, and nudged Gwen. ‘And I do mean everything.’
They both laughed.
The next morning Gwen got up early to catch Laurence at breakfast. Full of anticipation at the prospect of surprising him and finally being able to talk, she smiled and flung open the dining-room door.
‘Oh,’ she said at the sight of Verity tucking into kedgeree, the smell of the fish turning her stomach.
‘Darling,’ Verity said, and patted the chair next to her. ‘Laurence has just left, but this is perfect, we can spend the morning getting to know each other.’
‘That would be nice. Did you sleep well?’
‘Not brilliantly, but I’m the world’s worst sleeper. Though I can see the same can’t be said of your cousin Fran.’
Gwen laughed, but noticed the dark circles round Verity’s eyes that hadn’t
seemed so obvious the day before. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘Fran does like a good long lie-in.’
‘I thought a walk might be a treat, just for the morning. What do you say?’
‘I do have to see the dhobi at half past eleven. I think a couple of Laurence’s better shirts may have gone missing from the laundry.’
‘Oh, we’ll have acres of time before then, darling. Do say you’ll come. I shall be perfectly miserable if you don’t.’
Gwen glanced at Verity. She wasn’t unattractive exactly, but she lacked warmth; the permanent frown lines between her brows might have something to do with that. She must have been aware of them as every now and then she deliberately raised her eyebrows to smooth out the skin. This, unfortunately, rounded her eyes and gave her a slightly owl-like appearance. But apart from the circles under her eyes, this morning she looked brighter, less sallow. The hill country air must suit her, Gwen thought.
‘All right,’ she said. ‘We can’t have you being miserable, but I’ll only go on condition that I’m back in time to see the dhobi before lunch. And I’ll have to change my shoes.’
‘I promise. Now come and sit down. This kedgeree is divine. Or you might try the buffalo curd with jaggery. It’s the syrup they extract from kithul trees.’
‘I know.’
‘Of course you do.’
Gwen glanced at the bowl of buffalo curd. It looked rather like clotted cream with brown treacle drizzled over it. ‘Not today. Just toast for me.’
‘Well, no wonder you’re so tiny, if that’s all you eat!’
Gwen smiled, but felt slightly unsettled by her sister-in-law who was now drumming her fingers on the table with a nervous kind of urgency. The prospect of a walk with her was not really what Gwen had planned for the morning, especially as straight after lunch they’d all be going to Nuwara Eliya, and she still hadn’t packed her case.
When she went to change into her walking shoes, she found Naveena tidying her bedroom.
‘You are walking with the sister, Lady.’
‘Indeed.’
For a moment Naveena looked as if she wanted to speak, but did not, and simply handed Gwen her shoes.
Once out in the early sunshine, Gwen felt more enthusiastic about the outing. It was a glorious morning and still cool, although the mists were burning off rapidly. You could see for miles and only small white clouds flecked the sky. In the trees the birds were singing and the air smelt sweet.
‘We’ll head down to the lake and then walk on round it for a while. I’ll lead the way. Does that suit you?’ said Verity.
‘Absolutely. I really don’t know anything about the walks yet.’
Verity smiled and linked arms with her.
Gwen gazed at the nearest tea-covered hills, bright green and shining in the sun. Intrigued by the women’s fingers flying over the tips as they picked, she pointed at the pathways zigzagging between them and travelling upwards to the top.
‘I wouldn’t mind walking along those paths. I’d love to see the pickers close up.’
Verity frowned. ‘Pluckers, darling, not pickers. But no, not today. You might fall in one of the irrigation channels. I have a better idea. We’ll branch off from the lakeside in a minute and head towards my favourite woods. They’re absolutely magical. Laurence and I used to play hide and seek there in the summer holidays.’
‘Did you both go to boarding school in England?’
‘Oh yes, though not at the same time. I was at Malvern. Laurence is much older than me. Of course, you know that.’
Gwen nodded, and they continued to walk on the path round the lake for about half an hour. The lake was calm in the centre and very dark. At the edge it rippled white against the rocky banks, where grey birds with white breasts and cinnamon bellies stretched their wings and preened.
‘Water hens,’ Verity said. ‘Here’s where we turn off.’ She pointed at a track.
The woods were sparse at first, but as they went deeper, the air was chock-full of smells and the sound of creatures shifting about. Gwen stopped to listen.
‘It’s just lizards,’ Verity said. ‘And birds, of course, and maybe the odd tree snake. Nothing to worry about, I promise. It’s a bit wild and woolly, but keep up with me and you’ll be fine. Single file now. You follow.’
Gwen reached out to touch the branches of a stumpy tree, but the leaves pricked her and she quickly withdrew her hand. The woods felt wilder than anything she had known before, though not in a threatening way. She rather liked the feeling it gave her of a bygone time. Twigs cracked underfoot and the air seemed to be tinged with green in the damp spots where the sun did not reach.
Verity smiled. ‘If there’s anything you need to know, do just ask. I’m sure you’re going to fit in wonderfully well.’
‘Thank you,’ Gwen said. ‘There is something. I wondered about the storeroom keys. There are two sets. Should I keep them both?’
‘No, that would be an awful fag for you. Give one set to the appu. Then he doesn’t have to bother you for every little thing.’ She pointed to some violet flowers at the edge of the path. ‘Aren’t they lovely! I wish I’d brought a basket.’
‘Maybe next time.’
‘Put one in your hair,’ Verity said and bent down to pick one of the flowers. ‘Here, I’ll do it for you.’
She threaded the flower through one of Gwen’s escaped ringlets and then stood back. ‘There. Perfectly lovely. It matches your eyes. Shall we go on?’
They walked on, Verity chatting and seeming so pleased to be out with her that Gwen relaxed and lost all track of time. The smell of the lake was long gone when she suddenly remembered her meeting with the dhobi.
‘Oh Lord. I had forgotten. Verity, we must turn back.’ She began to turn round.
‘Of course, but don’t go back the way we came. It’ll take ages. There’s a short cut just along here. Laurence and I used to use it all the time. It’ll get you back much sooner.’ Verity pointed at the path and then took a step in the other direction.
‘Aren’t you coming?’
‘I think I’ll go back the long way, if you don’t mind. It’s such a beautiful morning and I’m not pushed for time. See that track? Just go down it for about fifty yards and then turn right, where there’s a little crossroads. There’s a fig tree in the middle. You can’t miss it.’
‘Thank you.’
Verity gave her a beaming smile. ‘It’ll take you straight home. Just follow your nose. See you back at the house.’
Gwen walked on in the direction Verity had indicated, then turned where the fig tree grew in the middle of a small open patch. She had really enjoyed the morning and came to the conclusion that her sister-in-law was a lot friendlier than she had first thought. She was glad. It would be lovely if the two of them became good friends.
She walked on, expecting to soon see the glittering water of the lake, but after some distance she noticed the path was disappearing deeper and deeper into the woods. Large boulders blocked her way and now even the birdsong had stopped. She looked about her, but a sense of direction had never been her strong point.
A little further on, the path sloped steeply downwards. That couldn’t be right. She glanced back and saw that she’d been heading slowly downwards for some time, when, to get back to the house, she felt sure she needed to be heading upwards.
She sat on a mossy boulder, ran her fingers through her hair and wiped away the line of sweat, then decided to turn back and retrace her steps. She wasn’t frightened, she was annoyed with herself for getting lost, and the trouble was that the further she went, the less she recognized the path. A drooping branch caught in her hair, and when she pulled it out, her hair tumbled from its clip. A little further on she tripped and fell on her bottom, ripping her new cotton voile dress.
With grazed hands, she picked the leaves from her clothes, but when she stood, the backs of her thighs were stinging. She twisted round to check them and saw the normally pale skin was bright red. Something had bitten he
r. She glanced around and noticed swarming ants just where she’d been sitting.
At least it was a bright sunny day. She started moving again and, after several wrong turns, eventually found the fig tree. It meant going the long way round and she had no option but to make a beeline for the path she and Verity had originally taken. She would be late, very late.
When she emerged at the lake, her heart lifted at the sight of her new home in the distance. She ran back, not caring about the state of her hair and clothes. Nearing the house, she saw Laurence pacing up and down at the edge of the lake, using his hand to shield his eyes from the afternoon sun. He saw her and stood still, watching as she ran up to him.
She was so pleased to see him, she felt her chest might burst with happiness.
‘Nice walk?’ he said, looking serious, then, with his mouth turning up further on one side and his eyebrows very slightly raised, he grinned.
‘Don’t tease. I got lost.’
‘What am I to do with you?’
‘I didn’t mean to get lost.’ She scratched the back of her legs. ‘I bloody well got bitten too.’
‘By what?’
She pulled a face. ‘Just ants.’
‘There are no “just ants” in Ceylon. But, seriously, I would never forgive myself if you were to get hurt. Promise me you’ll take more care.’
She arranged her face to look suitably solemn but, unable to maintain it, broke into a grin and they both ended up laughing.
‘You sound like my father.’
‘Sometimes I feel like him.’ He pulled her closer. ‘Except for this.’
The kiss was long and deep.
At that moment Verity came out. ‘Oh, there you are,’ she called out breezily. ‘Sorry to interrupt. I’ve been back for ages. We were terribly worried.’
‘But I took the path you said. I got bitten by ants.’
‘Did you take the path to the right? You remember, at the fig tree.’
The Tea Planter's Wife Page 6