The Tea Planter's Wife

by Dinah Jefferies

  ‘I’ll decide what is enough, thank you very much, and I’ll also decide who I choose to befriend.’

  He unfolded his arms and held out a hand. ‘Don’t shout, Gwen. Do you want Pru to hear?’

  ‘I don’t give a damn if she does. Though if you bothered to look back you’d see she’s already looking very uncomfortable.’ Her lip trembled, and she jutted out her chin. ‘And also if you cared to look you’d see your sainted sister has got back in the boat with Mr Ravasinghe, as well as Christina, and Mr Ravasinghe is checking their ankles for leeches. There’s obviously something about him that women like!’

  And no longer trying to control her anger, she stormed off as best as her size allowed.

  She smarted for days but they didn’t speak of the episode again, at least not then; Gwen, because she didn’t want to upset herself – her heart had raced abominably after their argument – and Laurence because he was pig-headed. The silences between them grew longer and her eyes stung with unshed tears. Neither apologized and Laurence continued to brood. She hadn’t really meant to hurt him so badly with her parting shot, but it was clear she had, and relations between them suffered, which was exactly the opposite of what Gwen really wanted. It was bad enough that Verity was there again, without now also feeling cut off from Laurence. She longed to touch the cleft in his chin and make him smile again but was too stubborn to do it.

  One gloomy evening, with the arrival of the migrating Himalayan blue and yellow pitta bird, the purple sky of the autumn monsoon took over their lives. Everything seemed to be damp. Drawers wouldn’t open, and if they did you couldn’t close them. Doors suddenly didn’t fit. The ground was muddy, insects were multiplying, and on the few occasions that Gwen ventured into the garden, the air was white.

  The rain dragged on into December, but once it had ended, Gwen was too heavily pregnant to stray far from the house. Doctor Partridge visited again, and still diagnosed that twins were likely, but also said he couldn’t be certain.

  After ten weeks in the boot room, the puppies, five of them, had been allowed to scamper about the rest of the house. Gwen, unable to see her feet for the size of her bump, spent her life frightened she’d step on them. Either that or one of the bundles of fur would trip her up. But when Laurence suggested they might live in an outhouse, she shook her head. Homes had been found for four of them, and they’d be going soon, but her special favourite, the runt of the litter, was still unwanted.

  One morning she answered a phone call from Christina.

  ‘Can you tell Laurence that he left some papers here last time he was over,’ the woman said in a breezy voice.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘At my place, of course.’

  ‘Very well. Was there anything else?’

  ‘Get him to call me, will you, or he could just drop by and pick them up.’

  Later, when Gwen mentioned that Christina had phoned, Laurence looked surprised.

  ‘What did she want?’

  ‘Papers. She said you’d left some papers at her house.’

  ‘I haven’t been at her house.’

  ‘She said the last time you were over.’

  ‘But that was when I signed the agreements on the investments, months ago. I’ve already got everything I need.’

  Gwen frowned. Either he wasn’t telling the truth or Christina was still playing games.

  By the time January arrived, when Gwen was just into her ninth month, she stood on the front step of her home at dawn and glanced over towards the bushes where a thrush was whistling. She shivered, feeling lonely. A cool day was on its way, and the trees and bushes sparkled with dew.

  ‘Now make sure you wrap up this evening. The temperature can drop, as you know.’ Laurence gave her a kiss on the cheek and took a step away.

  ‘Do you have to go to Colombo?’ she said, holding on to his arm and wanting more from him.

  His face softened as he turned back to her. ‘I know the timing isn’t good, but you still have a couple of weeks to go. My agent wants to talk finance.’

  ‘But, Laurence, couldn’t you send McGregor?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Gwen. I really have no choice.’

  She let go of his arm and stared at the ground, struggling to control her tears.

  He tipped up her chin so that she had to look at him. ‘Hey, I’ll only be gone two or three days. And you won’t be alone. Verity will look after you.’

  Gwen’s shoulders drooped as he got into the car, rolled up the window and switched on the ignition. The car spluttered a couple of times, so a houseboy cranked the engine and she hoped for a minute that it might not start, but then it burst into life and Laurence waved as he drove past her and roared up the hill.

  As she watched the car slip out of sight, she brushed away tears that continued to drip. Things had not been properly resolved since they’d exchanged cross words the day Mr Ravasinghe had turned up with the watercolour, and even now a shadow still hung between them. That day had been a turning point of sorts. They had been polite with each other, but he remained a bit aloof and, although he shared her bed, he wasn’t keen to make love. He said it was for the sake of the babies, but she missed the intimacy and felt very alone.

  The one time they had made love was a couple of weeks before he left. She’d known there was only one way to bring him round so one night when he was sitting on the bed, she’d kissed him gently across the base of his neck while stroking his shoulders and then running her fingers down his spine. After that she got into bed with her back to him. He curled up behind her and she could feel how much he wanted her.

  ‘You are sure it’s safe?’ she said.

  ‘There is a way.’

  He helped her turn over on to her knees with her hands on the pillow taking the rest of her weight.

  ‘Just tell me if it hurts,’ he said as he knelt behind her.

  She was still amazed by what happened when they were together, and now he was so gentle that the sensations were even more intense. Maybe it was the pregnancy that had tipped her into another level of being a woman. Whatever it was, when it was over she fell asleep quickly and slept more soundly than she had in days. After that, things between them had lightened, though not completely, and when she’d asked what was the matter, he’d said nothing was wrong. She hoped very much it wasn’t anything to do with Christina.

  Now that he was gone, she missed him and wished she’d made more of an effort. She walked round the house to look at the lake. It was almost completely still, deep purple at the nearer edge, with a wide silvery streak in the middle. The lake always lifted her mood. She listened to the regular beat of a woodpecker for a minute or two, and glanced up as an eagle flew above the house.

  ‘Can you hear them, my little ones?’ she said, and put a hand on her tummy. Then she quickly went indoors to warm up by the log fire. She had planned to carry on with her needlepoint, but felt drowsy, and fell into a stupor in that semi-sleep way that is so seductive, but leaves you more tired than you were. She was vaguely aware of Naveena tiptoeing in and out, and the butler bringing tea and biscuits, but could not rouse herself enough to pick up her cup. It was only when Verity came in and coughed that Gwen came round.

  ‘Oh, darling, you are awake.’

  Gwen blinked.

  ‘Look, I’m awfully sorry about this, but an old friend is throwing a party in Nuwara Eliya tonight. It’s only one night. I’ll be back tomorrow, or the day after at the latest, I promise. Will you be all right? I have missed so much this year.’

  Gwen yawned. ‘Of course, you must go. I have Naveena, and we have Doctor Partridge’s phone number in Hatton. Go and enjoy yourself.’

  ‘I’ll just take Spew for a trot by the lake, and then I’ll be off. I’ll say goodbye now.’ She came across and kissed Gwen’s cheek. ‘If you like, I can deliver the puppies to their new homes at the same time.’

  Gwen thanked her and watched as she left the room. It was true, by staying at home to keep her company, Verity had missed
several seasonal dances. She had gone to the New Year Ball at the Grand in Nuwara, but that was all. Normally they would all have attended, Laurence said, but Gwen was too far advanced in her pregnancy. It was only fair that Verity should have a chance to let her hair down before the babies came. In any case, how would she find a husband if she never got out?

  Gwen felt big and clumsy. It was awkward getting out of a chair now, but she struggled up to go to the window. Laurence’s departure and the chillier weather had left her feeling homesick. Not only did she miss her parents but Fran too, though Fran’s frequent letters kept her abreast of things. Fran had barely mentioned Savi in her letters, but had hinted at a new romantic attachment, and Gwen sincerely hoped her cousin had found somebody to love her.

  She glanced out at the garden. It was very still, and although she was so alone, it felt as if the whole earth was waiting with her. She spotted a large antlered sambhur moving between the trees. It must have come down from the cloud forests in the highlands of Horton Plains and lost its way. Laurence had promised a trip to Horton Plains, a forest wreathed in lilac mists that hung between gnarled squat trees with rounded tops. To Gwen it sounded magical and reminded her of Caroline’s mural in the nursery. And with that thought she decided to go and check that everything was completely ready in there.

  2

  THE SECRET

  10

  The mural had cleaned up beautifully, and Gwen was pleased she had decided to keep it, rather than paint it over. The colours might not be as bright as they once were, but the purple highlands were clear, the silvery blue lakes seemed to shine as if they were real, and luckily they hadn’t needed Mr Ravasinghe to retouch the paintwork.

  She looked about her, holding Ginger, the one remaining puppy. The primrose yellow room was ready. Two new white cribs stood side by side, and an antique satinwood nursing chair with cream embroidered cushions had been sent up from Colombo. A pretty locally made rug added the final touch. She opened the window to air the room, then eased herself into the chair and imagined how it would feel to hold her babies in her arms, rather than just a puppy. She patted her stomach and felt a little tearful. Being so young, she had suffered few of the complications that carrying the next generation could bring, so it wasn’t pregnancy itself making her eyes water: it was her own lonely, internal voice.

  By the evening her head was throbbing and she decided fresh air might help. She felt a slight twinge and stood still, but then threw on a jacket and left the house. The night-time lake was rarely black, but deep purple, and shone when the stars and moon were reflected. Tonight there was no shine. As she moved she was halted by a pain that sliced round her belly from her lower back. When it eased, she managed to open the door again before doubling over, almost crying in relief when Naveena arrived.

  The woman’s face was full of concern. ‘Lady, I am looking for you.’

  With Naveena supporting her weight, they reached the bedroom, where Gwen struggled out of her day clothes and pulled a starched nightdress over her head. She was sitting on the edge of the bed when she felt warm liquid flow down her inner thighs. She stood, horrified.

  ‘Lady. It is only the waters.’

  ‘Phone Doctor Partridge,’ Gwen said. ‘Right away.’

  Naveena nodded and went out to the hall. When she came back in, her face was glum.

  ‘Having no reply.’

  Gwen’s heart began to race.

  ‘Do not worry, Lady, I have delivered babies.’

  ‘But twins?’

  The woman shook her head. ‘We will call doctor again later. I get warm drink.’

  She was only gone for a few minutes and returned with a glass filled with a strong-smelling brew.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Gwen said, wrinkling her nose as she sniffed the ginger and cloves.

  Naveena nodded.

  Gwen drank it, but a few minutes later felt herself overheat and was violently sick.

  Nothing was easy now that she was so big, but Naveena helped her out of her nightdress and then wrapped her in a soft woollen blanket. Frightened as the pain soared, all Gwen could hear was the sound of her own breathing. She closed her eyes and tried to picture Laurence as Naveena fetched clean sheets and remade the bed. The serving woman, accustomed to passivity, was a calming presence, but Gwen missed her husband and her eyes filled up. She wiped away the tears but then, as another tearing pain ripped her in two, she bent forward and groaned.

  Naveena turned as if to go. ‘I ring the doctor again.’

  Gwen clutched her sleeve. ‘Don’t leave me. Get the butler to do it.’

  Naveena nodded, waiting by the door after giving the butler the instruction. As he made the call Gwen prayed, but with the door ajar she could hear that the doctor was still out. Her heart raced again.

  Neither of them spoke.

  Naveena stared at the floor and Gwen, feeling the panic rising, struggled to hold her nerve. What would they do if something went wrong? She closed her eyes and with an effort of will managed to calm her heart. Once it had slowed, she glanced up at Naveena.

  ‘You were with Caroline when she gave birth?’

  ‘Yes, Lady.’

  ‘And Laurence?’

  ‘In the house too.’

  ‘Did she have a dreadful labour?’

  ‘Normal. Like you.’

  ‘Surely this isn’t normal!’At another searing contraction, Gwen choked back a sob. ‘Why did nobody say it would hurt like this?’

  Naveena made soothing noises, helped her to her feet and brought over a small stool to use as a step. Though she still felt clammy, the pain lessened, giving Naveena time to help her back to bed. Gwen shuffled down a bit and, as she lay quietly under a sheet smelling of melons, her labour seemed to slow. The contractions dulled and became further apart, and the next few hours passed relatively easily. Gwen even began to hope that perhaps she might cope rather well.

  Naveena had become more than a servant to her: not quite a friend, not quite a mother. It was an unusual relationship, but Gwen was grateful. She drifted for a while in a vaguely pleasant sort of haze, thinking of her actual mother and how it must have been when she gave birth.

  Then a new agony sliced her back in two. She twisted on to her side and drew up her knees. The pain gnawed and pulled, and she felt as if a part of her was being torn away.

  ‘I want to turn over again. Help me!’

  Naveena helped her to crawl on to all fours on the bed. ‘Do not push – pant when the pain comes. It will pass, Lady.’

  Gwen parted her lips and blew out her breath in small puffs, but then the contractions came faster. She twisted as their sharp edge ripped her belly apart, and when she heard screaming as if it were coming from outside of her, she felt there were more than just two little babies wanting to be born. Something far huger. Why would women inflict this torture on themselves? She fought it by trying to recall childhood fairy tales and screwed up her face in the effort of remembering: anything to take her mind off the hell that was boring through her. At each contraction, she bit her lip until she tasted blood. This is all about blood, she thought, thick red blood. Then, as she dripped moisture on to already sodden sheets and attempted not to scream, the brief respites grew even briefer.

  More excruciating pain. Now she was in despair. She pounded her fists on the mattress, twisted on to her side, and cried for her mother, absolutely certain she was going to die.

  ‘Jesus,’ she whispered, between gritted teeth. ‘Help me!’

  Naveena stayed with her and continued to hold her hand, encouraging her all the time.

  After a while, feeling too exhausted to speak, she exhaled slowly and rolled over to lie on her back again, stretched out her pale legs for a moment, then drew her feet up towards her bottom. As she lifted her head to look, something unbuckled in her and she parted her knees, any shred of dignity completely deserting her.

  ‘Take deep breath when I start count, Lady, and holding breath as pushing. At ten, take new breath, hold and
pushing again.’

  ‘Where’s the doctor? I need the doctor!’

  Naveena shook her head.

  Gwen inhaled deeply and did as she was told. Then, with her eyes closed and her hair wringing, she felt a stinging sensation. First there was the smell of faeces, and Gwen, already too exposed to care, thought that was all, but then, with one excruciating push, she felt a burning sensation between her open thighs. She was about to push again when Naveena touched her wrist.

  ‘No, Lady, you must not push. You must let baby slide out.’

  For a few moments nothing happened, then there was a slithery feeling between her legs. Naveena bent over to cut the cord then pick up the baby. She wiped him down and grinned, her eyes swimming with tears. ‘Oh, my Lady. You have beautiful boy, that is what.’

  ‘A boy.’

  ‘Yes, Lady.’

  Gwen held out her arms, and stared at the bruised and wrinkled red face of her firstborn. She felt a moment of utter peacefulness, so powerful it almost erased everything she had just been through. The baby’s hand contracted and expanded as if his fingers were trying to identify the place where he had arrived. He was perfect, and she, feeling like the first woman who had ever given birth, was so proud that she wept.

  ‘Hello, little boy,’ she said, between her sobs.

  The sound of his sudden shrieking filled the room.

  Gwen looked up at Naveena. ‘Gosh, he sounds absolutely furious.’

  ‘It is good sign. Healthy lungs. Good strong boy.’

  Gwen smiled. ‘I feel so tired.’

  ‘You must rest now, the second one coming soon.’ She took the baby boy, wrapped him up, put a little hat on his head and rocked him in her arms before laying him in his crib, where he mewed intermittently.

  Soon after Naveena cleaned her up, Gwen delivered the afterbirth. Another hour and a half passed, and it was early morning by the time Gwen delivered her second baby. All her strength had deserted her and all she could think was thank God it was over. She pulled herself up to try to look at the second baby, but collapsed straight back against the pillows, then watched as Naveena wrapped the baby in a blanket.