Hothouse Flower (53 page)

‘Okay, Mister Harry. I leave you. She sick. I do not want. Come back when you want to ship flowers.’

The man was hurrying down the stairs before Bill could even reply. He took a deep breath, turned the door handle and walked in. The room was dark, with only small chinks of light coming through the uneven slats of the shutters, the heat in it overpowering.

‘Harry?’ A weak voice from one corner of the room attracted Bill’s attention as he struggled to focus in the gloom. There was a mattress on the floor, and a small shape lying upon it.

‘Harry, is it you? Or do I dream?’

Bill swallowed. He took a step towards the mattress, not wanting to frighten her with his unfamiliar voice until he had reassured her she was safe.

‘Harry?’

Bill took another step and another, until he could see her more clearly on the mattress at his feet. Her eyes were closed, her head turned to one side on the white sheet. Bill bent forward and took a moment to take in the perfect, now familiar features. And knew for sure he had found Harry’s Lidia.

‘Harry, my love,’ she murmured, ‘I knew you would come … come back for me …’

Bill knew he mustn’t speak, mustn’t break the spell. With a heavy heart, he knelt down beside her and touched her forehead. It was burning hot.

‘Harry,’ she sighed, ‘I dreamt this … Thank God, thank God, you are here … I love you, Harry, I love you …’

Bill stroked her forehead gently, knowing she was only half-conscious, his heart breaking for her.

‘Hold me … I so sick, scared. Please hold me …’

With tears falling silently down his cheeks, Bill took her tiny, limp frame in his arms and held her, feeling the unnatural heat of infection on her clammy skin.

She let out a small sigh.

‘You are here, Harry, you are really here … now we are safe.’

Bill did not know how long he held Lidia to him. He thought she slept, but occasionally she would jump, perhaps because of a dream or the fever that he could feel burning the life out of her. He had seen it in Changi, and knew where it led.

Perhaps he slept too, drugged by the heat in the room, feeling instinctively that so long as he held this poor, broken girl in his arms, she would stay alive.

Eventually, unable to stay crouching any longer, Bill lay her gently back on the mattress. He stood up stiffly and turned to see whether there was any water he could use to moisten her forehead to try and cool her.

It was then that he heard the sound. It came from the far side of the mattress, beyond Lidia, who was lying deathly still.

Then, in the half-light, the sheet moved and Bill jumped.

He walked round to the other side of the mattress and saw the sheet move again, and another sound come from beneath it. He crouched down, his heart beating hard against his chest, and tentatively pulled it back.

A pair of bright, amber eyes stared back at him. Then they creased with displeasure and the perfect miniature mouth pouted. And the silence was immediately filled with the indignant cry of a newborn baby, hungry for milk.

‘I had already guessed, of course, the reason Lidia had gone into hiding,’ Giselle sighed as Bill sat in her office, holding the now-sated baby in his arms. ‘She was always so slim, but I noticed she had filled out. Here in Thailand, to be unmarried and with child is the worst possible disgrace. But I also knew I could not ask her unless she chose to tell me.’

‘Thank goodness I found her, ma’am. She was in a terrible state, hardly conscious.’ Bill took a hefty gulp of the brandy Giselle had poured him when he’d arrived back at the hotel. He noticed the glass shook as he brought it to his mouth. He had seen a lot during the war, but he knew it would be a long time before the past few hours stopped haunting him.

After the shock of finding the baby, its constant crying had dragged Bill from his heat-induced torpor. He took the tiny thing with him and ran from the house, back to the market. The flower man was reticent at first, but the exchange of further notes elicited the appearance of the ancient truck he used for transporting his orchids from the warehouse: it would now take Lidia to the medical attention she so urgently needed.

‘It is a miracle you found her when you did.’ Giselle looked at him with concern. ‘How was she when you left her at the hospital?’

‘She was unconscious … very sick. I don’t know what’s wrong with her. I couldn’t understand what the doctors were saying, you see. She was on a drip in her arm and oxygen when I left,’ Bill explained. ‘And, ma’am, when I lifted her off the mattress to carry her downstairs to the truck, there was blood everywhere …’ Bill’s voice tailed off. ‘She was soaked in it … I mean, from where the baby had come from. I don’t know whether she’ll make it, really I don’t.’ Bill caught his breath and swallowed hard. ‘At least she’s being taken care of now, not alone in that stinking room.’

‘Do they know how old the baby is? It looks pretty small to me.’ Giselle eyed the bundle asleep in Bill’s arms.

‘Her cord’s not dropped off yet, so I’d say only a few days. The doctors checked her over, then handed her to me. I think they thought I was … her dad.’ Bill blushed and looked down at the baby. ‘I don’t know a lot about these babies, more used to calves on the farm, but this little one seems fine and healthy to me. She’s certainly hungry for her grub, that’s for sure.’

‘And she’s beautiful,’ Giselle’s eyes softened, ‘beautiful.’

‘Yes. She is.’ Bill’s eyes misted over as he glanced down at the baby. ‘But tell me, ma’am, where do I go from here? What do I do with her?’

‘Mr Stafford, please, I really couldn’t tell you. Perhaps for now, whilst Lidia is so ill, you must take care of her baby. And then, when she is well, decisions can be taken.’

‘Excuse me for saying, but I know nothing about babies. What do I do with the … mess she makes? They changed her at the hospital, but –’ Bill wrinkled his nose – ‘I can smell she’s not clean now.’

‘I’m sure we can find some towelling napkins and milk. She can sleep with you in your room – we have a bassinet somewhere in the store …’

‘And what if Lidia doesn’t get well, ma’am? What do I do then?’ Bill knew the shock was getting to him. He felt fearful, panicked and unprepared to be responsible for the welfare of a newborn baby.

Giselle sighed. ‘Really, Mr Stafford, that is not a decision I can have a part in making. Lord Crawford – perhaps he should be told?’

‘No, ma’am, I can’t do that. We agreed there should be no contact, in case it was intercepted. If her Ladyship ever heard about this …’ Bill cast his eyes down at the baby. ‘They’re expecting one of their own soon.’

‘Lord Crawford has been a busy boy, hasn’t he?’ Giselle raised an eyebrow. ‘
Alors!
It is left to you to clear up his mess.’

‘I’d put it more kindly than that,’ Bill replied defensively. ‘He couldn’t help falling in love. And it’s clear as the stars in the sky Lidia still loves him.’ Bill hesitated, a little overcome. ‘She thought I was Harry, that I’d come back for her, just as his Lordship had promised. I felt right guilty not saying I wasn’t and all, but I didn’t want to upset her any further. She was that ill. Oh, dearie me,’ he gulped, ‘you’re right, ma’am; what a mess, what a bloody mess.’

Bill drained his brandy and the two of them sat in silence, lost in their own thoughts.

‘It is so very sad,’ sighed Giselle eventually. ‘This little one is yet another casualty of the chaos and pain this war has left behind. But, Mr Stafford, you must think practically. If Lidia does not recover, there are orphanages here who take such children.’

Bill shuddered. ‘Let’s hope she does recover. Mind you, then I’ll have to explain to her that she will never see his Lordship again, that he is married already, with a babe on the way in England.’

‘I do not envy you, Mr Stafford. But I am sure you will handle it well. Please tell Lidia, when you see her, that I send my love. And now I will organise some more milk for that bottle, napkins and a bassinet.’

‘Thank you.’ Bill stood up, the baby in his arms, feeling exhausted from the trauma of the day. ‘I am grateful for all your help, ma’am.’

Giselle followed him towards the door. ‘My dear Mr Stafford, we must all do the little we can.’

*

In the following week, Bill had no choice but to learn fast how to care for Lidia’s baby. Laor, the cheerful, capable Thai maid who cleaned his room every day, proved invaluable. She showed him how to feed, wind and change the baby, and giggled when she watched Bill fumbling with the napkin pin. He began to know the baby’s routine, understanding she cried when she was wet or hungry, or had something Giselle called colic – often at five in the morning. He took pleasure in relieving her pain, patting her back until she burped, feeling her tiny body go slack and her little head fall contentedly on to his shoulder. Then he would crawl back into bed, exhausted, and wake only when the babe cried for her next feed at around eight.

He visited Lidia in hospital every morning, taking the baby with him. She was still unconscious, her temperature raging, and the nurses looked at him with sympathy as he changed and fed the baby on a mat by her bed. Giselle asked her Thai deputy manager to telephone the hospital and speak to a doctor: Bill learnt that Lidia had suffered a serious haemorrhage after the birth. The doctor said the prognosis was not good. Lidia was still bleeding and infection had taken hold in her womb. She was on powerful medication to stem the infection but, at present, she was not responding.

Bill sat with her, using the cloth placed in the bowl of water by her bed to cool her burning forehead, but it seemed such an inadequate gesture. Sometimes she stirred, opened her eyes for a few seconds then closed them. He knew she was unaware that he and the baby were there.

Bill was getting desperate. His ship sailed for England in three days and he had no idea what he should do if she didn’t regain consciousness before he left. He did know, however, that she would be in no fit state to care for her child for many weeks to come.

Laor had shown him how to settle the baby in a Thai-style sling, and Bill set off with the baby in the sling to spend the afternoons with Priyathep, the flower man. Together they visited the main flower market in Bangkok, choosing the plants he wished to take back to England with him.

As they trundled through Bangkok’s hot crowded streets, Bill learnt from his new friend about caring for and cultivating orchids. He knew this knowledge would prove invaluable. Priyathep’s family had been growing orchids in their nursery in Chiang Mai for three generations, gathering them from the mountainous jungles that surrounded their village. Priyathep had promised to ship any new species they found in future straight to Wharton Park.

During these expeditions, the baby slept peacefully against his chest, only crying if she was hungry or dirty. Bill felt foolish and self-conscious at first, but was surprised how soothing he found the warmth of her tiny body against his.

‘She nice baby,’ Priyathep said one day. ‘No trouble. You good Daddy.’

Bill had felt a surge of pride.

‘You
are
good, and right beautiful, sweetheart,’ Bill murmured as he changed her proficiently one night, her amber eyes staring up at him with such trust it made his heart break. He picked her up from the bed and kissed the top of her dark, downy head. He rocked her gently and she snuggled into his shoulder. ‘What am I going to do with you, little one?’ he sighed in despair as he lay her down in her bassinet. She looked at him and, perhaps it was his imagination, but he was sure she smiled, before bringing her fist up to her mouth and sucking it for comfort as she closed her eyes.

*

With two days left before his ship sailed, and Lidia still unconscious, Bill knew he had to start making plans.

‘Do you know of a kind family who would take her here in Bangkok?’ he asked Priyathep, as they began the delicate task of packing the orchids into crates.

‘No. People here too many babies. Not enough money or food. Mummy die, baby go to home for orphan,’ Priyathep stated bluntly.

Bill sighed. ‘Do you know of one?’

‘I know, yes, but not nice place, Mister Bill. Too many baby, maybe four in one cot. Smell too.’ Priyathep wrinkled his nose. ‘Baby get sick there and die. No good.’ He eyed the baby, who was sleeping in a shallow crate lined with a blanket whilst Bill worked. ‘No future for her here if Mummy die.’

After a sleepless night, Bill went to the hospital as usual, and found a smiling nurse by Lidia’s bed. She pointed and said something in Thai. Bill saw Lidia’s eyes were wide open, looking enormous in her thin, grey face. His heart skipped a beat – he hadn’t expected this and was unprepared. Lidia’s eyes focussed on him and immediately filled with fear.

‘Who are you?’ The voice was weak and hoarse. ‘Where Harry? Did I dream he come to me? Why you have my baby? Give her to me!’ Her arms struggled towards the baby, tightly held against Bill’s chest in her sling.

The nurse turned and comforted Lidia in Thai, then helped remove the baby from the sling and settle her in the crook of one of Lidia’s arms.

Lidia fired questions at the nurse and the woman answered whilst Bill stood by, powerless. He knew the moment had come. He would have served another year in Changi rather than face it.