She settled back and closed her eyes, but could hear voices coming from the next alcove. Her eyes flew open when she heard her name mentioned.
“There are all kinds of rumors about Louisa Reeve’s husband,” a woman was saying.
“I heard he had other women.”
“Did she know?”
“Nobody knows.”
“Did you hear anything about an illegitimate child?”
“No. How awful!” This had been spoken in a shocked voice.
“How many other women did he have?”
“Any number, I heard.”
Louisa got to her feet as Leo arrived back with two glasses. “I’m going to let my father know you’re in here.”
“Are you coming back?”
“In a while.”
“Is something wrong?”
She shook her head. “I’ll be fine,” she said and took a sip of the champagne he offered her. Then she put the glass down and turned on her heels, glaring at the two women who had been gossiping, one of whom was Elspeth Markham.
She soon found her father and told him where Leo was. Next, she searched for Margo and found her sitting out the dancing and holding William’s hand.
“Not dancing, you two lovebirds?”
“I’m not much of a dancer,” William said. “Can I get you a drink, Louisa?”
“Thank you,” she said, and as he strode off she took the seat he had vacated.
“So, where’s Leo?”
“With my dad.”
“Let’s hope that goes well.”
“Why shouldn’t it?”
“Well, you remember what he thought of Elliot right from the start.”
“And it proved to be right…Margo, I heard some women gossiping about Elliot. They said he had more than one other woman.”
“Don’t listen to gossips. That way madness lies.”
“I’m sure you’re right. But I so wanted to confront them.”
“Let it go. Instead, tell me how it felt to be dancing with Leo.”
Louisa closed her eyes and smiled. “I feel at home with him. It’s just so easy. I know it’s probably too soon, but I can’t help how I feel.” She sighed. “Why does life have to be so complicated?”
“We complicate it, don’t you think? If you like him and he likes you, does it matter?”
As William arrived back, Louisa stood and took the glass from him, then made her way back to the bar, where she found Leo and her father roaring with laughter at some shared joke. It gave her a frisson of pleasure to see them getting along so well and in that moment of certainty she made a snap decision.
“Louisa,” her father said. “Take my seat.”
He got to his feet and held out a hand to Leo. The two men shook hands and to Louisa it felt like the seal of approval. She was glad. It had been hard when Jonathan hadn’t liked Elliot.
After her father left she sat and leaned toward Leo. “Shall we go?”
“It’s still early.”
“I want to go back to Cinnamon Hills with you. We can pick up my car.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
After they had picked up her car, Louisa drove them both to Cinnamon Hills. She hadn’t expected to feel so calm, despite having to navigate the bumpy potholed track and then finding the plantation house completely dark. There was something infinitely gentle about Leo as he reached across and touched her hand where it rested on the steering wheel.
“There’s still time to change your mind.”
Once she had switched off the headlights she looked out into the thick darkness of night and, unable to see anything of the dramatic view, felt conscious only of being there with Leo, as if held in a bubble of only him and her. There was a tingling kind of pleasure in that, and it struck her that was one of the reasons why intimacy was so seductive. For however long it lasted, it offered a delightful kind of shield, a warm protection from the outside world, something she had been missing since Elliot died.
They both got out of the car and, lit only by the stars, he guided her to the front door. She sniffed the voluptuous nighttime scents of flowers and trees, while the earth and woods surrounding them seemed dense and close. It was far from silent. She could hear the cicadas, the creatures shifting along the pathways, and the wings of night birds as they flew. And in the background the roar of the ocean. When fireflies darted right in front of her eyes, sprinkling the night with light, she grinned. He pushed the door open and they went upstairs where the smells of the room, tobacco and cinnamon, contrasted with the damp scent of night. As he bent to light an oil lamp and then glanced across at her, she could see his eyes were dark and shiny. She held her breath as the light fell on his face and the room emptied of air.
“I didn’t expect you to look so good in evening dress,” she said.
For a moment, she sensed a battle going on inside her, and felt tempted to draw back. She resisted the urge and remained standing where she was. He left the room for a few moments and while he was gone she gazed around at his belongings. There wasn’t much, just some books, an indoor plant or two, his khaki jacket hanging over the back of a chair, an untidy pile of papers, an old newspaper and a large clock on the wall. The only sound was the ticking of the clock. She saw it wasn’t even midnight, and went to look at the books. She picked up a copy of Siegfried Sassoon’s war poems and flicked through the pages. Then she unhooked her earrings and left them lying on the table. She felt as if she would always remember the details of the room and how being close to everything that was Leo’s affected her. The room was so completely him.
When he came back, the air was thick with promise, or intention, or maybe just plain desire, and she smiled at the fact that she was describing it all to herself in her head as it was happening.
“What are you smiling about?” he said.
“I don’t know. This? Us? Life?”
He walked toward her.
She felt herself opening as they kissed, gently at first, and enjoyed the taste of champagne on his lips. Her fingers wrapped around the back of his neck and she noticed herself curve into him. Without willing it consciously, her stomach tightened and her hips tilted very slightly upward, and she could feel his firm body against hers. Like an enchantment, she thought, and wondered if this longing to be relieved of her tension was all it took. Expecting him to lead her to the bedroom, her breath came short and fast and, as she breathed into his neck, she felt a lick of pleasure run through her.
She began to undo the buttons on his shirt, carefully at first but then tugging more urgently until it was open. He pulled down the zip at the back of her dress and slipped it over her shoulders. She placed a hand on his bare chest and felt his heart thumping against her palm. He stroked her shoulders and then, just as he lowered his head to kiss the curve of her neck, there was an almighty crash outside. They leaped apart when they heard a scream. He quickly did up a couple of buttons on his shirt before heading for the door.
“Stay here,” he said, as he left the room.
She steadied her breathing, waiting, and then, after a few minutes, saw the door open and Leo return.
“Monkeys,” he said. “Just monkeys.”
She was intensely aware of standing there partly dressed, but instead of leading her to the bedroom, he came to her and pulled up her dress.
“Louisa, we can’t.”
“Why not?”
She wanted to be bolder, to insist it was right, that this was the moment to choose to go ahead, but felt herself deflate.
He looked tormented when he replied. “What if it’s too soon? What if you wake up in the morning and feel you’ve made a terrible mistake?”
She frowned, unwilling to let this go. “I won’t. I wouldn’t.”
“I know you’re still in conflict about this.
”
She took a step back, shook her head and, feeling like crying, was angry that Elliot’s ghost still hung between them. She had thought she was sure, had thought it was the right time, but if Leo didn’t feel it too, then what was the point? And now she wasn’t sure either.
“You can take my bed,” he said, his eyes lingering on her face. “I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
“I can’t deprive you of your bed.”
“You can and you will.”
* * *
—
She spent a restless night and then slept on late into the morning, only being woken by a knock on the door before he came in. She had a flashback to his body pressing into hers and felt a surge of recollected desire, though he looked perfectly normal, wearing work clothes and carrying a tray of toast and coffee. She noticed he also had an envelope in one hand.
She glanced at the rugged angles of his face, exaggerated by the morning light slanting through the shutters, then she shuffled up in the bed and ran a hand through her disheveled hair.
“You look especially beautiful,” he said, and touched her cheek.
She smiled, conscious of his gaze, but felt a sense of loss as her cheek burned. He removed his hand, rolled up his shirtsleeves, and then poured her coffee. She wanted to reach out and touch his lower arm where the hairs now shone like gold.
Instead, she asked what was in the envelope.
He sighed and now she noticed the look in his eyes. “It’s the result from the laboratory. Zinnia does indeed have malaria.”
She drank her coffee quickly as the truth sank in. “In that case, I’ll head off to the dispensary with the result and pick up some quinine.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“No, you stay with Zinnia. She needs to be told. It might be best if she isn’t left alone.”
“I haven’t looked in on her yet, but she wasn’t too good yesterday evening, so that’s not a bad idea. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen Conor yet either.”
“I’ll come back as soon as I have the quinine, and then take you back to pick up your motorbike.”
Just then the rain began again and they listened to it pounding the roof. Louisa loved the romantic sound of rain if she was safely indoors: either the gentle rhythmic tapping that would send you to sleep, or the powerful squalls that kept you awake as you snuggled down under the covers.
“Wish I could stay in bed,” she said and shivered, but didn’t add with you. “It’s just the thought of going out in the rain.”
A silence fell and his eyes narrowed as he gazed at her.
“And are you all right about last night?” he eventually said, leaning toward her.
She looked back at him and, while holding her breath for a second, she nodded.
He was quiet, as if deciding what to say next. “You know I wanted to, right?”
She exhaled slowly. “I know.”
* * *
—
At the dispensary in Galle, Louisa discovered they were awaiting new supplies that might take several days to arrive. She felt a dark mood descending. There had already been too many deaths in her life, and Zinnia’s illness cruelly reminded her of Julia and Elliot. Not that she had ever forgotten them, but this brought them to the forefront of her mind and, now she felt the grief edging toward her again, she feared it would never be over. She fought against it and decided she would travel to Colombo to try to get the quinine sooner, and she would ask Margo to accompany her.
Back at the house, she spotted a small case in the hall and a minute later Margo and William came in; Margo’s eyes looked red and a little puffy.
“William’s catching the bus,” she said. “It’s time.”
Louisa looked from one to the other. “Zinnia’s definitely got malaria, and there’s no quinine to be had here. I want to pick some up in Colombo, so I can take you.”
“That is kind,” William said. “And preferable to the bus.”
“You’d be doing me a favor. And Margo, why don’t you come too? It will give you a little longer together.”
“I’ve booked a room at the Galle Face Hotel,” William said.
“Well, book a double room too and I’ll take your single. I can’t drive back in the dark in this rain anyway. Margo can come back with me tomorrow.”
“And I’ll come to Cinnamon Hills with you too. Zinnia will need nursing.”
“You’d do that for Zinnia?”
“I’d do it for you.”
* * *
—
The journey was slow, but eventually they reached Colombo and Louisa drove them all to the Galle Face. A cluster of thin palms stood waving wildly outside but luckily, as they got out of the car, the rain held off. William carried their bags into the large reception hall and on into the Palm Lounge, past the two imposing curved staircases. After they were seated, Louisa glanced over at the other tables and chairs dotted around the polished teak floor, then she stood up saying she’d check that their rooms were properly booked.
At the front desk the receptionist confirmed their reservation was in order, so she went back over to Margo and William to ask if they’d look after her overnight bag until she returned from the dispensary.
“I’d like to get the quinine now. Just to be on the safe side.”
“We’ll take your bag to our room and meet you down here in an hour.”
Louisa didn’t like the idea of driving again, but it was too wet to walk. It had proved to be the briefest of lulls and now rain was ricocheting off the bushes and pavements.
After queuing for half an hour at the dispensary, she managed to pick up what she needed. She half regretted not driving straight back to Cinnamon Hills, but the weather was atrocious and it would mean driving in the dark. Zinnia had waited this long for treatment; surely another few hours wouldn’t make much difference.
The air smelled of damp leaves and earth as Louisa pulled up near Zinnia’s bungalow the next day. The first person she saw was Conor bursting out of the front door and then heading for the dripping woods at a run.
“What do you think that was about?” Margo said.
Louisa shook her head. “Probably in trouble for something.”
“I wish I could meet him properly. After all, he is my nephew.” She glanced at Louisa and reddened slightly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fine. You’ll definitely meet him,” Louisa interrupted, “but the child is a bit on the feral side.” She got out of the car and Margo followed.
“Have you got the quinine?” Margo asked.
“It’s in my bag.” She fished her bag out from the backseat and then began to make her way toward the house.
“It seems very quiet,” Margo said.
Louisa glanced around her but didn’t look at anything with any great interest. The woods were especially quiet, apart from the dripping of the rain and the breeze making the treetops dance, just how she liked them, but her mind was on the fact she was about to see Zinnia again. She went to the front door and pushed it open. She saw right away that it was unnaturally still in the room and Leo was sitting on the sofa gazing into the distance with a blank look on his face.
“I’ve got the quinine,” she said, talking too fast. “We had to go to Colombo for it after all. I got here as quickly as I could. We just saw Conor—”
Leo held up a hand to stop her.
“What?”
He shook his head but the look on his face was awful.
She walked toward him. “Leo, you’re scaring me.”
He got to his feet and held out a hand to her. “We’re too late.”
She took his hand but her heart sank.
“Zinnia died this morning.”
He let go of her hand and sat down again. He stared at the floor, looking terrible. Wanting to find a way to comfo
rt him, she gazed at his worn face and then his slumped shoulders, where Zinnia’s death now weighed so heavily. She wanted to pull him toward her and smooth out his unkempt hair, but feeling her heart thud, she sat down next to him and waited for him to speak. The finality of Zinnia’s death shocked her almost as much as Elliot’s had. Having already experienced death didn’t help. There was always the feeling you should have done more. Could have done more. If only you’d tried. And it was always too late.
“She led such a strange lonely life here,” he said and raised his eyes to look at her. “I never felt it really suited her. She should have stayed in Colombo with the bohemian crowd who were her friends.”
Louisa, holding his gaze, flinched at the sight of his eyes, now so deeply shadowed by pain. “Why did she come here?”
He drew breath before speaking. “She had no home for Conor. But it never was ideal.”
Margo spoke up. “We saw Conor running out. Should we try and find him?”
“Not yet,” Leo said. “He’s only just found out. Let it sink in a little first. He’s probably best left to go to one of his special hiding places.”
“But he’s so little to lose his mother,” Margo said.
Louisa looked up at her. “I blame myself. I should have driven back last night.”
Leo shook his head. “It wouldn’t have made any difference. It was already too late for Zinnia. If anyone is to blame, it’s me. I should have insisted she see a doctor earlier. I just didn’t realize…”
“Don’t blame yourself,” Louisa said, but as her blood pounded in her ears she knew he would anyway. It was what people did, always looking for ways to shoulder the blame, seeking out some little detail that might have meant things would have worked out all right. Wondering about how they could have made a difference. She had done it with Julia and Elliot too.
“What happens next?” Margo asked.
Nobody spoke for a few minutes, then Leo stood as a shaft of brilliant sunlight lightened the gloomy room. “Louisa, could you ask your doctor to come out to issue the death certificate, please. He can arrange for her to be taken to the morgue in Galle.”
The Sapphire Widow Page 25