The Tea Planter's Wife

by Dinah Jefferies

  ‘Yes.’

  As the realization sank in, a feeling of calm washed over her. Now that there was so little time, she would tell Laurence as soon as he returned. But before that, there was one thing she had to do for Liyoni.

  After the doctor had gone, Gwen brought Liyoni through to her own bedroom, sat her on the chair in the window and went to fetch some clean clothes from the nursery. Liyoni clapped her hands when she saw the dress Gwen came back with. It was one of Gwen’s that Naveena had cut down for the child: a bright red, almost scarlet, broderie anglaise dress. She had a favourite red shawl too and some red socks which she wore inside her wellington boots. Hugh always said she looked like Little Red Riding Hood.

  Once Liyoni was well wrapped up, Gwen went outside to see if McGregor had already brought the Daimler back from dropping Laurence at the station. She grinned when she spotted the car parked just outside with the keys still in the ignition. She pocketed the keys. No need to even mention that she was taking the car.

  Back in her room, Naveena was hovering around Liyoni.

  ‘You think I’m doing the right thing?’ she asked the woman.

  Naveena nodded slowly. ‘One time letting her see the water.’

  As they started off, Gwen hoped she’d find the turning Verity had once pointed out during a driving lesson.

  Gwen had acted on impulse, but didn’t regret bringing Liyoni out. The little girl had asked so many times and as long as she was careful it would be fine. As she drove, she thought of Liyoni’s time at the plantation: the way she’d shout, ‘I’m flying!’ as she took off through the water and the way she’d twirl in delight at anything that pleased her.

  Lost in thought, Gwen almost drove right past the overgrown turning. Specks of broken cloud flecked the pale sky and there was just a slight breeze. She stopped for a moment and rolled the windows right down so they could smell the fresh mint and eucalyptus, and listen to the hum of flying creatures. Then she drove especially carefully so as not to jolt the child too much as they bumped over potholes and mounds of stone.

  ‘Lean out, Liyoni,’ she said. ‘Can you smell the water? We can’t be far.’

  The little girl leant out and, glancing across, Gwen saw her daughter’s dark hair streaming out behind her. She carried on driving, concentrating on the track, but when she heard the sound of falling water, she knew they were almost there.

  ‘Do you hear it?’ she said in a loud voice, twisting to look at Liyoni. The little girl’s face shone with pleasure.

  After Gwen had parked, she climbed down, walked round to the passenger side and opened the door.

  ‘I can’t take the car any closer.’

  Gwen leant against the side of the car, while Liyoni sat on the edge of her seat, absorbing the sound of the waterfall. After a while the little girl tapped Gwen’s hand, interrupting her thoughts. She bent her head to hear what Liyoni was saying.

  ‘I cannot see. Get out?’

  Gwen frowned. The doctor had said that although the child could still walk or stand for maybe ten minutes, any prolonged use of her legs would cause pain.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s dangerous.’

  ‘Please. Little closer. Please.’ Liyoni looked up at her with a pleading look.

  ‘It’s not a good idea. Just look from here.’

  ‘I be careful.’

  When she saw the longing in her little girl’s eyes, Gwen gave in. If the disease progressed as the doctor expected, this might be her only chance to really see how the water fell.

  ‘Very well, but you must let me hold you all the time. I’ll carry you to where you will be able to see a little better.’

  The force of water had carved a horseshoe shape in the rocky surroundings, so Gwen carried her to a spot close to where the curve began. They stood far enough away from the edge to be perfectly safe, but near enough to see the water that fed the fall on the opposite side.

  ‘Don’t move at all. Hold tight. See over there,’ Gwen said and pointed several yards over to the right. ‘See just over there where the ground is a bit crumbly.’

  ‘I be careful.’

  Gwen looked up. The clouds had thickened and the sun had gone in. The smell now was of damp vegetation, moist earth and something indefinable coming from the water itself. Minerals, Gwen thought, or else something the water might have picked up en route. She heard a noise behind her and glanced over her shoulder, but it was only a couple of monkeys flying through the air and thumping as they landed.

  ‘You do like water, don’t you?’ Gwen said, speaking loudly and tightening her hold round the child’s waist.

  Liyoni glanced up, her face flushed with excitement.

  A few minutes passed as Gwen gazed at the rocky ledges opposite, where the water flew off before thundering to the pool where Caroline had drowned. The pool itself was out of sight, and Gwen could only imagine the foaming whiteness at the bottom and the despair her predecessor must have felt.

  At that moment Liyoni threw back her head, giggling with joy, then stretched out her arms above her. A gust of wind snatched the red woollen shawl away. As Gwen bent to retrieve it, she relaxed her grip on Liyoni’s waist for just a second or two. There was a burst of sunlight and, blinded by the brightness, Gwen stared into the torrent of glittering crystal water. A sudden gust of strong wind blew grit in her face, but at the back of her mind she was aware of the sound of an engine pulling up. With streaming eyes she reached out to catch hold of Liyoni, but the child had moved.

  In the time that it took for Gwen’s eyes to clear, the sun lit Liyoni’s face as she turned, there was another gust of wind and, startled by it, she wobbled. With her back to the waterfall Liyoni seemed confused and took a step backwards instead of forward. As Gwen reached out, Liyoni stumbled, her red dress billowing out behind her with the wind forcing her back again.

  In that split second Gwen felt the full force of her love for her daughter. Heart-stopping, absolute love.

  Liyoni fell forward on to her knees.

  ‘Stay down,’ Gwen shouted and, on all fours herself, crawled forward to grasp the little girl.

  Suddenly Laurence was there. He scooped Liyoni up and tenderly carried her to the car. Gwen, still on her knees, looked down, winded by the shock. It had been too close. The wind dropped, Gwen got up and ran to where Laurence now stood.

  ‘Give her to me,’ she cried, then wrapped her arms round her shaking child.

  Nobody had told her that being a mother would mean living with love so unqualified that it left you breathless, and fear so awful that it shook you to your soul. Nor had they said how close those two feelings were. At the back of Gwen’s mind a single tiny dreadful thought crept in. If she had just had the courage to tip herself over the edge, it would all have been over. The years of guilt. The fear. The self-loathing. Everything. And then the thought was gone.

  But Laurence must have seen something in her face.

  ‘No, Gwen. Think of your other child.’

  Still reeling from the shock of what had happened, she had registered his voice in a disconnected kind of way. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I said, think of your other child.’

  She stared at him. Everything went silent. Isolated in the moment, she felt the wind brush her skin. She gazed about, seeing every detail of everything going on without really looking. The grass looked different, as if the wind blew it about more slowly than usual. And the insects – so many insects, hovering, hardly moving – and the birds swooping in slow motion from tree to tree. She heard a noise in the distance. Something calling. What was it? A goat? A bell? For a moment, her mind felt unnaturally serene, as if the world had come to rescue her from the pain of what she had done. But the pain had not gone. And, in the end, it came rushing back as the noise of the water came crashing in.

  She looked at Laurence. ‘You know?’

  He nodded.

  ‘How long?’

  ‘Not long.’

  ‘I thought you had already gone to
Colombo.’

  Laurence shook his head, looking stiff and worried. ‘I needed to talk to you. I couldn’t leave. Look, there are blankets in the boot of the car. I’m taking you both back now. Nick and I can pick up the truck later.’

  She twisted back to look at the spot where she and Liyoni had been standing, and trembled at what might have happened. While Laurence got out the blankets she held Liyoni and, stroking her cheeks, whispered all the things she had never dared say. Told her she was sorry, asked for her forgiveness, repeating it over and over. Though the little girl could not understand all the words, she gazed into Gwen’s eyes and managed a smile.

  As Laurence came back round, Gwen glanced up at him. ‘It was reckless. I shouldn’t have brought her here, but she wanted to see it so much.’

  ‘It’s the shock. She’ll be fine. You kept far enough from the edge. The wind made it seem worse than it was, but you weren’t really in danger. Come on, let’s get you both away from here.’

  He took Liyoni and held her close, then placed her on the back seat and gently stroked her hair.

  ‘You’re all right now, little one,’ he said.

  A bird screeched in the sky and Gwen glanced at the length of fabric she still held: Liyoni’s red shawl. She lifted it into the air for a moment, then released her grip. The shawl spun gently and was carried downstream on the wind, like a red kite reeling and twisting as it surrendered to its inevitable descent. Then, standing out against the shining water, it fluttered momentarily before it disappeared.

  35

  Five weeks later, on a beautiful May morning, Liyoni died peacefully in her sleep. Gwen had spent most of the time at her side, stroking her forehead and keeping her cool. Afterwards, she and Naveena gently washed her and brushed her hair. But as Gwen sank deeper into heartache, so far removed from anything she had known, she despaired of ever feeling normal again.

  Soon after the incident at the waterfall, Laurence had wanted to explain how he’d found out. Something in the family records, he’d said, just as Fran had suggested there would be, but Gwen was so upset about Liyoni’s deterioration, she wasn’t ready to hear the details. Later, she’d said, tell me everything later. Then she’d burst into tears and hurried from the room, not at all ready to share the anguish she felt at having given their daughter away.

  Now, unable to speak, drink or eat, her deepest regret was that she had discovered too late how much she loved Liyoni. She would never see her again, never touch her hair, never hear her voice, and she would never be able to make up for what she had done. That was worst of all. The ache for her child’s lost life did not diminish. That she should live while her daughter was gone seemed like a physical impossibility. A terrible joke played out by an indifferent world.

  In the nursery, Naveena laid Liyoni out in a long white dress. Gwen, standing several feet away, watched in numb silence. Several of the servants came in to place flowers around the little girl. Even McGregor came, and as he entered the room, Gwen’s throat constricted. She glanced at him before he looked at Liyoni and she saw his face was white. She swallowed the lump in her throat and stepped towards the bed. McGregor looked at her and held out his hand, his eyes full of pain. She had never seen him look like that before, and wondered if he was remembering the day they had laid Thomas to rest.

  Eventually, when they had all gone and she was alone, she touched her daughter’s cheek, cold and so much paler than it had been in life. In that moment she welcomed how much it hurt. It was a just punishment. She kissed Liyoni’s forehead, stroked her hair one last time, then turned and fled, hardly able to take a breath.

  Hugh had been kept in the dark. Laurence thought it better for him to board for a few weeks, and only be told when he next came home in the school holidays. So when the funeral was held the next day, Hugh was absent.

  Gwen felt her mind grow numb as she walked along the path the gardener had cut to the place where Thomas was buried, but almost fainted when she first glimpsed the deep rectangular hole waiting for Liyoni’s coffin. Naveena walked beside her, with an arm round her waist, holding her up as she herself had held Liyoni. Unable to stand up straight, Gwen felt very old. Naveena’s face did not give much away, and Gwen wondered what the ayah must be feeling. It flashed into Gwen’s mind that all the servants must have trained themselves to be impassive.

  When the coffin was lowered Gwen had to suppress the urge to jump in after it. Instead she knelt at the edge and threw in a bunch of large white daisies, which landed with a thud. She glanced up and, almost unbearably immune to any feelings of hope, she heard the movement of the lake behind her. That was what would save her. Liyoni’s water.

  ‘I think I’d like to go swimming now,’ she said as Laurence helped her to her feet.

  He spoke to Naveena, then came with her to her room, where he stood still, watching as she undressed before putting on her bathing clothes. As she struggled out of a badly fitting black dress, he was right not to lend a hand. She had resisted all offers of help, and now, it seemed, he understood that she must do everything by herself, because if she did not, there might never come a time when she would know how. When she was ready, he went to his room, changed, and then came back to collect her.

  The water, as they stepped into it, was cold.

  ‘Once you start swimming, you’ll warm up,’ Laurence said. ‘Shall we head across to the island?’

  She went further in and began to swim, feeling as if she could go on and on and never stop. Halfway across, Laurence wanted her to rest at the island. She complied, but when they pulled themselves out of the water and on to the bank, it was far too cold to sit in the wind. She glanced back at their home across the lake, the place she loved but where so much fear had torn her apart.

  ‘Let’s swim to the boathouse,’ Laurence said, interrupting her thoughts. ‘As soon as you suggested a swim, I asked Naveena to organize dry towels, a log fire and a flask of tea.’

  She nodded, swimming back more slowly as her energy began to fade. Her legs gave way as he helped her out of the water and then up the steps to the door of the little building.

  Inside the boathouse, the logs were just catching and she sat on the floor beside the fire with her knees drawn up, holding out her palms to feel the heat. He came across and wrapped a large fluffy towel round her, and used another to dry her hair. As he rubbed, she leant against him, and finally the tears began to spill. She turned round and, feeling his heart thump against her, she sobbed into his chest. She sobbed for her little girl’s lost life and for Laurence never having been able to acknowledge his daughter. She sobbed that life could bring such incredible joy, while at the same time be capable of dealing a blow so cruel that it seemed impossible to withstand.

  As she clung to Laurence, he stroked her back, bringing back feeling to her muscles and skin. It seemed to go on for a very long time. And then, as he dried her tears, she felt relief that she had been able to release a little of the pain and grateful for his generosity.

  They sat on the floor together, Gwen gazing at the fire, while he poured tea into two cups, adding a splash of brandy to each.

  ‘Is it time to talk?’ he asked.

  There was a long stretch of silence and then, when she was ready, Gwen looked up at him.

  ‘How long have you known?’

  ‘About Liyoni?’

  She nodded. ‘I know you tried to tell me before. Will you tell me now?’

  ‘You remember the parcel that arrived? The one you asked me about?’

  ‘I’d almost forgotten.’

  There was a pause.

  ‘I contacted our solicitor in England and asked him to gain access to a small apartment in our house. It’s excluded from the tenancy agreement. A lot of old papers are kept there from the days when my parents lived part of the year there.’

  ‘What kind of papers?’

  ‘Old family records. My mother loved that old house, had always looked forward to retiring there, which is why she kept the papers there.’<
br />
  Gwen nodded.

  ‘I asked the solicitor to find them and send everything on to me. I knew Verity had seen my mother’s records, but I had not. It was just an impulse, but Verity had once implied that there were things I didn’t know about the family. At the time, quite frankly, I didn’t believe her, but I wondered if there might be clues to Liyoni’s relationship with Naveena. I wanted to know if they really were related.’

  ‘What did you find?’

  ‘Photos, letters, documents … and a very delicate and much-folded piece of parchment.’ He paused. ‘A marriage certificate that recorded the marriage of my great-grandfather, Albert.’

  She waited.

  ‘My great-grandmother’s name was Sukeena. She wasn’t English, wasn’t even European – she was Sinhalese. She died soon after my grandmother was born and my parents never told me anything about her.’

  At last, she thought; here was the truth that had lain buried for so long. ‘You’re saying the colour of Liyoni’s skin came from her?’

  He nodded. ‘I believe so. If only you had told me, Gwen, we might have been able to find that out from the start. We could have kept our daughter.’

  She shook her head. ‘We hadn’t been married long and hardly even knew each other. If I had told you then, you would have sent me away. You wouldn’t have wanted to, but that is what would have happened. You would have thought I’d had an affair.’

  The colour left his face as he started to speak, but she put a finger to his lips. ‘It’s true,’ she said. ‘We would never have got as far as looking for an alternative reason.’

  From the short pause that followed Gwen knew her words had hit home and, for a moment, they stared at each other without speaking.

  He took a deep breath. ‘When I persuaded Naveena to confirm what I guessed from the records, she admitted you had really given birth to twins. It took some doing, mind you. Naveena is very loyal to you.’ He hesitated. ‘What you must have gone through all these years. I am so sorry.’