The Tea Planter’s Wife (22 page)

Gwen and Laurence exchanged puzzled looks.

‘Very well,’ he said and pulled up a chair.

‘You too, Gwen.’

‘Oh, I’m sure Gwen won’t want to be bothered, if it’s about business. She has been ill.’

Christina looked up at Gwen. ‘I heard. Are you recovered now?’

‘Thank you, yes,’ she said, smarting at the thought that Laurence might want to exclude her. ‘But I will stay, if you don’t mind, Laurence.’

‘Of course.’

‘I’m afraid there is no easy way to say this.’ Christina paused and with a strangled sound almost choked on her words as she tried to speak. They waited for her to compose herself.

‘Is it Verity? Has something happened to her?’ Laurence asked, looking alarmed.

Christina shook her head, but didn’t raise her eyes. ‘No, nothing like that.’

‘What then?’

Another pause.

As Christina frowned, took a sharp breath in and stared at the floor for a few minutes more, Gwen felt her heart jump. If it wasn’t Verity, what was it? Was there news of Fran maybe or Savi Ravasinghe? It must be something serious for her to look so distraught.

Christina lifted her gaze and, biting her lip, looked from one to the other.

‘Just tell us,’ Laurence said, drumming his fingertips on the tabletop.

She seemed to suddenly straighten up. ‘The simple truth is that the New York stock market has collapsed.’

Laurence didn’t speak, but stared at her, remaining unnaturally still.

‘How does that matter to us, Christina?’ Gwen said with a frown.

‘On my advice, Laurence was heavily invested in Chilean copper mining.’

Gwen frowned again. ‘Chilean copper?’

A smile hovered round Christina’s mouth. Not a happy smile. ‘The shares are virtually worthless. And whatever they’re worth today, it’ll be even less tomorrow. You can be damn sure of that.’

‘So sell,’ Gwen said.

‘You can’t sell anything. I just said. They’re worthless.’

Laurence stood up, took a step away and clasped his hands together behind his back. In the uncomfortable silence, Gwen wanted to ask questions, but held her tongue as she watched Laurence.

‘How could this happen?’ he eventually said. ‘How is it possible? You said with the growth in the provision of electricity, copper was rock solid. You said that electricity would be coming
to every house. That copper would take off beyond our wildest dreams.’

‘It looked that way. I promise you. It really did.’

‘But how did this happen?’ Gwen asked.

Christina shook her head. ‘It started with a bumper harvest. A glut.’

‘But wouldn’t that be a good thing?’ Gwen said.

‘The prices dropped too low, farmers couldn’t repay their debts to their suppliers, the labour, and so on. They hadn’t the usual profits, so they had to draw cash from the banks to pay their bills.’

Laurence frowned. ‘You’re telling me there was a run on the bank?’

She nodded.

‘Your bank?’

Christina twisted her hands as she stood. ‘More people than expected wanted to withdraw. None of the banks keep that kind of money on deposit. There wasn’t enough to meet the demand.’

‘I still don’t understand,’ Gwen said, and looked across at Laurence. ‘We didn’t want to withdraw money, did we, Laurence?’

‘It’s not that,’ he said.

‘No. It’s the knock-on effect. If there’s no cash, interest rates will rocket. People will go bust.’

‘And one of the things that has suffered most is copper mining?’ he said.

Christina nodded.

‘And you’re saying the rapid boom in electricity isn’t going to happen?’

The American went across to him and put her hands on both his shoulders. ‘I acted in good faith. It will happen, I promise you, but not now. Not until the economy picks up.’

‘It could take months,’ Laurence said, looking into her eyes.

Christina glanced down for a moment before raising a hand to caress his face, then left her palm resting on his cheek ‘I’m so sorry, my dear, dear man. It will take years. How many years is anybody’s guess.’

‘So what am I supposed to do?’

She let her hand fall then took a step back. ‘Sit tight and wait. That’s all you can do.’

‘But I was relying on those profits to fund the new plantation. The third one. I’ve already signed the contract.’

Gwen swallowed the irritation she felt at seeing them so close. Christina sighed and dug out a tissue from her bag.

‘And you,’ Gwen said, choking back her anger. ‘What about you?’

Christina dabbed her eyes. ‘Me? I will survive. People like me always do. I’m heading back to the States now. Once again, I am so sorry.’

‘I’ll see you to the door,’ Gwen said.

‘That’s not necessary,’ she said as she turned to leave.

Gwen glanced over her shoulder at Laurence. ‘Nevertheless.’

Laurence was now sitting at the small card table with his head in his hands. The irony of that was not lost on Gwen. Only it was not just a few dollars lost in a game of poker.

Out in the hall, Gwen stood tall. She opened the front door and, provoked beyond her limits, felt the urge to push the American through it. She restrained herself but spoke in a stiff voice.

‘From now on, Christina, you are to stay away from my husband. Is that clear? No more financial advice and no more social occasions.’

‘Are you warning me off?’

‘I think that’s about right.’

Christina gave a little snort and shook her head. ‘You really don’t understand him, do you!’

As Gwen and Laurence left the house at first light, she pulled her woollen shawl tightly round her shoulders. After the storm, the path was littered with nature’s debris: broken twigs and branches, flower heads, leaves. With the dip in temperature and the air full of moisture, the rains hadn’t finished with them. She glanced ahead as they walked the hill in the direction of the tea factory. After Christina’s shock announcement the night before, they had
stayed up for hours, Laurence drinking brandy and looking morose, and Gwen wondering what Christina’s parting shot had meant. How dare she imply that Gwen didn’t understand her own husband, and what did Christina know about him that she, his wife, did not? Neither she nor Laurence had slept.

As they walked, the silence between them grew longer. She filled her lungs and with an overwhelming feeling of gratitude she thanked God that she had not confessed to Laurence. Christina’s news as well as the truth about Liyoni would have finished him. Halfway up they stopped and looked at each other, as if searching for answers, or if not that, at least appealing for a glimmer of something that might help them find a way through this. He was the first to look away.

Gwen glanced up at the massing clouds and felt her heart thump.

‘I don’t know what this is going to mean for us,’ he said.

The silence went on a little too long and she bit her lip, frightened to voice all her concerns.

He took her hands and held them between his. ‘Your hands are cold.’

She nodded, and they walked on a little. At the top, they turned round to look at the view. She took in the lime-green sheen on the damp tea bushes, the women pluckers in cerise, orange and purple saris, the manicured garden and their light, airy house. It was all so lovingly cared for, but Laurence had explained that if the bushes weren’t pruned, they’d grow into trees, and as she looked across air that shimmered in sunlight reflected from the surface of the lake, she tried to imagine what it would look like wild.

Laurence bent to pick some orange marigolds from the verge then handed them to her.

She sniffed them and thought of their home and their life together. The times they went out in the boat, the flies in the hot months, the moths crisping when they flew into candlelight. A life filled with the sound of laughter. She listened carefully as
pipe music from the kitchens floated up through an open window.

A cooler wind blew the trees about and, under the ever-darkening sky, they stood without speaking. When she could bear it no longer, she swallowed the lump in her throat and the words she had not wanted to say spilt out.

‘Christina said I didn’t understand you. Why was that?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘Was she talking about your attachment to her or to the plantation? Will we have to sell?’

‘Other than friendship, I have no attachment to her.’ He paused for a second before he spoke again, this time with a crack in his voice. ‘And over my dead body will we sell.’

‘We won’t have to lose our home?’

He sighed. ‘No. In any case, where would we find a buyer? And even if we did, the price we’d get would be laughable.’

‘So what are we going to do?’

‘It’s not the first time we’ve had our back against the wall. In 1900 when the demand for tea didn’t keep up with production, the London price fell from around eight pence per pound to well below seven pence. Some plantations failed. My father found ways of improving his methods of cultivation, and he brought down the cost of production. But he also found new markets abroad. Russia was one and, believe it or not, China another. Three years later, exports had risen.’

‘So we need to do that again?’

He shrugged. ‘Not necessarily.’

‘We can look at making spending cuts,’ she suggested. ‘Draw in our belts.’

‘That goes without saying. If there are any household cuts you can make, do so.’

It would probably amount to no more than a drop in the ocean, even if she budgeted hard, but now that their spending actually mattered, she was determined not to let Laurence down.

‘Verity’s car will have to go,’ he said.

‘Oh dear, she loves that little Morris Cowley,’ Gwen said, but thinking it was only because of her beloved royal blue car that Verity had kept out of their hair at all.

‘She may well love it. I’ll need to look at cutting her allowance too, though I’ll have to break it to her gently.’

Gwen sighed deeply.

‘My plan to expand the school for the plantation children will have to be delayed. As it is, fewer than half the children attend. I wanted to improve on that.’

But for their footsteps and the sound of the birds, there was a painful hush, as if nature itself was on tenterhooks. Though so many thoughts were battling in her head and, she thought, must be in Laurence’s head too, nothing more was said for a few minutes.

‘The thing is, Gwen,’ he eventually said, ‘I will have to go away.’

She stood still. ‘Must you?’

‘I think so. First to London and then America. We can sit tight on the mining shares, but I have to buy time to work out how to fund the new plantation. And if, on top of everything else, the price of tea falls …’

‘Will that happen?’

‘It may. In any case, I’d like to be at the next London auctions, rowdy affairs that they are. I suspect we may be in for a bit of a bumpy ride.’

As they walked the last few yards to the factory, his words sent a shiver up her spine.

‘What about Hugh?’

‘Well, he’s not yet four, so I’m sure things will have improved by the time he needs to go to prep school in England.’

Gwen stretched up to kiss him on the cheek. ‘We’ll get through this, Laurence, and we’ll do it together.’

He didn’t reply.

‘When will you leave?’

‘The day after tomorrow.’

‘So soon?’

He drew in his breath. ‘You are all right, aren’t you? You’ll be in charge. Just say if you don’t feel well enough to handle it. Verity will do it, if you can’t.’

‘I’m well enough.’

‘Good. I was hoping you’d say that. You’ll liaise with Nick McGregor, of course.’

As she walked away, she thought about Hugh being sent off when he reached the age of eight; an inhuman thing to do to a little boy. Meanwhile, a voice at the very back of her mind whispered her hypocrisy. Then she thought about the challenge of being left in charge. She was well again, but this would mean dealing with McGregor on a regular basis, and reining in her sister-in-law.

Back at the house, Verity had arrived home and was parking up her Morris. When she got out Gwen gestured her to come over.

‘I’d like a word, if you’ve got a moment.’

‘Of course. Is it about the crash? Everyone’s talking about it in Nuwara Eliya.’

‘As well they might. Laurence is leaving me in charge while he is away. I think it would be better if we could all pull together at such a difficult time.’

‘Where’s he going?’

‘London, and then America.’

‘Blimey! That means he’ll be gone for months.’

Gwen drew her shoulders back. ‘And you might as well prepare yourself. Laurence says your car is going to have to go. We’ll all share the Daimler. McGregor, you and I.’

‘That’s not fair. And anyway, you don’t drive.’

‘I shall learn.’

‘How?’

‘You’re going to teach me. Laurence has lost everything in the crash. All his investments. Your allowance will be cut and, if we’re to survive, we’ll all have to tighten our belts.’

Gwen left Verity standing on the gravel and walked off without another word. Once inside, there was a clap of thunder. She glanced back over her shoulder and looked through the open door. Outside, sheets of rain bounced off the ground and ran in rivulets across the surface. She saw Verity climb into her car, rev the engine and sweep back up the hill.

Though she hadn’t realized it at the time, it had been a wrong move on Gwen’s part to pre-empt Laurence’s decision to inform Verity himself about the cut to her allowance, and that her car would have to go.

They were all together in the drawing room with their after-dinner coffee when Laurence brought the subject up. Verity acted shocked, claiming to have just landed her dream job, looking after horses up at Nuwara Eliya. Then she knelt beside Laurence and wrapped her arms round his legs.

‘I need the car, you see,’ she said, looking up at him with moist eyes. ‘I’ll be driving around to different stables every day. Laurence, please. This is such a chance for me to prove myself. You’ve always said I should do something useful, and now you’re going to stop me doing it.’

She lowered her head and began to cry, but he unwrapped her arms and stood up. ‘I see. I hadn’t realized about the job.’

Gwen thought that Laurence was simply sounding more patient than he actually felt, and expected that at any moment he would deny Verity’s plea.

‘They aren’t paying me to begin with,’ Verity said, raising her head and smiling across at Gwen. ‘If I prove myself, in a month or so they will. So you see, I really will need my allowance too, just for a little longer, and maybe a little extra to cover the cost of lodgings.’

There was a pause.

‘Very well,’ Laurence said after a moment. ‘For now your allowance will remain, but absolutely no extra.’

He had made his decision without even a glance in Gwen’s direction. She shook her head, appalled.

‘No, of course,’ Verity was saying. ‘Thank you, Laurence. You won’t regret your decision. Anyway, I must dash. Have a wonderful trip, my darling brother. Come back with oodles of money, won’t you!’

As she skipped from the room, flashing another smile in Gwen’s direction, Laurence looked satisfied.

‘She does appear to be turning a corner, doesn’t she? A bit of responsibility might help her grow up.’

Gwen bit her tongue and kept what she hoped was a dignified silence. The only good that might come out of it was that at least Verity wouldn’t be there.

Laurence must have noticed her expression. ‘What’s up? You seem a bit jumpy.’

Gwen looked away.

‘Is it Verity? Look, don’t be so down on her, give her another chance. She knows you don’t see eye to eye.’

Gwen kept her voice level but struggled to suppress her anger. ‘Don’t you think you should have discussed that decision with me?’

He frowned. ‘She’s my sister.’

‘And I am your wife. It really can’t go on like this. I am not prepared to spend the rest of my married life sharing my home, and I might add, my husband, with his spoilt, indulged sister.’

She left the room, narrowly avoiding trapping her fingers in the door as she slammed it.

Two days later, she accompanied Laurence as Nick McGregor drove him to Colombo. With the heavy monsoon in full force, it wasn’t an easy journey, and in places small landslides almost blocked the road. Gwen gazed out of the window, and as she watched sheeting rain drench the countryside, sucking colour from the world and obliterating the view, she knew an uncertain future hung over all of them. Nobody spoke. Even if they’d wanted to, the pounding rain on the roof of the car would have drowned out speech. Gwen felt tense, her stomach in knots.
Laurence had barely said a word since her outburst, and neither had she.

The drive had taken far longer than it should have, but as soon as they had walked through the grand carved goddesses of the tall doorway of the Galle Face Hotel, and climbed the few steps into the elegant entrance hall, a shutter seemed to have come down over what had passed. Without a word being said, they both knew what they would do next. The porters carried their cases, and while they waited Gwen worried that the charge of unresolved energy between them was obvious to all. She’d seen that look in Laurence’s eyes before, and though it excited her, she felt herself tremble.

Upstairs, after racing up the right-hand staircase to the first floor, and before unpacking, they made love, though he was so fierce, she could barely breathe. Only when he shuddered at the end and his breathing relaxed, did she realize that Laurence was a man who needed sex to alleviate his fears. For a moment it shook her, this difference between them, but then she thought of all the times he’d been tender. At those times he had needed sex in order to feel his love for her, yet even then there were differences, for at those gentle times, she’d needed sex because she
already
felt her love for him. She closed her eyes and slept for an hour. When she woke, his eyes were open and he was leaning on one elbow, gazing down at her face.

‘I hope I didn’t hurt you,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry for the other day. I couldn’t bear to go away still at odds with you.’

She shook her head and lifted her hand to touch his cheek.

He got up and walked to the window. Laurence loved a room with a sea view and a balcony, so that is what they had, though Gwen preferred the view over the vast stretch of grass known as the Galle Face lawn. She liked to see the locals taking their evening walk there, and loved to watch the children playing ball.

When the clouds briefly cleared, they went outside and breathed in the salty ocean smell.

Laurence turned to her. ‘Do you think we might have just made another baby?’

She shrugged, staring over his shoulder at the twenty-foot white spray flying against the wall and bouncing back as foam. The fierce movement of the sea and the pounding noise echoed her own restless anxiety. He kissed the top of her head and seemed to be trying to keep the worry from his voice.

‘What are you thinking?’ he asked.

‘Nothing,’ she said as they walked along the sandy carriageway that edged the lawn, and with their backs to the sea watched a perfect scarlet sunset. When they turned round the ocean had turned to liquid gold, though further out black clouds were slowly gathering again.

‘Please don’t worry, Gwen. Just look after yourself and Hugh. I can do the worrying for both of us. Have faith. We will withstand this blow.’

The next morning, the weather was too inclement to take breakfast on the long hotel verandah overlooking the lawns; the sunrise over the sea had been unexceptional and now they sat among the potted palms of the lounge. She listened to the clink of teacups on saucers and watched well-fed Europeans chatting as they sipped their tea and buttered their toast, smiling and nodding without a care. She had hardly slept. The ocean had been too loud and so had the thoughts in her head. She glanced at her own untouched breakfast, at the egg congealing and the bacon drying out. She attempted a bite of toast, but it tasted flavourless and felt like cardboard in her mouth.

She poured the tea and handed Laurence a cup.

For a moment she felt angry with him for listening to Christina. None of the other planters had followed suit, so why had he? Why did it have to be them who faced an uncertain future?

‘Time is getting on,’ he said as he picked up his hat, and then stood. ‘Aren’t you going to give me a farewell hug?’

She stood abruptly, ashamed of her flash of anger, and knocked over her full cup of tea. As a waiter hurried over to clear up the mess, Gwen hung back, keeping her eyes lowered to the ground
and blinking rapidly. She had promised herself she would show Laurence a confident happy face, and under no circumstances was she going to cry.

‘Darling?’ Laurence said with raised brows. He held out his arms.

She barely noticed people looking, and wishing so much that he did not have to go, she ran to him then clung on with a kind of desperation. They drew apart and his fingertips brushed her cheek, solicitous and loving. Her heart filled with love for him and she felt the pain of his going.

‘We will be all right, won’t we?’ she whispered.

Did she imagine it or did he turn his head away before he answered? She needed him to be strong in a way that wasn’t really fair. Nobody could be sure where the world was heading now. Only yesterday a New York banker had thrown himself from the roof of the stock exchange. And though she longed to tell Laurence about the sadness she felt, and how she dreaded the way it would slip round her heart the moment he was gone, she kept her mouth shut.

‘Of course we will be all right,’ he said. ‘Just remember, no matter how you feel about it, there are set ways of doing things.’

She frowned and, tilting her head to the side, stepped back. ‘But are they always the right ways, Laurence?’

He puckered his chin. ‘Maybe not, but now is not the time for change.’

She didn’t want to argue just as he was leaving, but couldn’t help feeling irritated. ‘So, my opinion doesn’t count?’

‘That’s not what I said.’

‘You implied as much.’

He shrugged. ‘I’m only trying to make things easier for you.’

‘For me or for you?’

He put on his hat. ‘I’m sorry, darling, let’s not quarrel. I really do have to go.’

‘You said I’d be in charge.’

‘Ultimately, you are. But allow yourself to be guided by Nick
McGregor on matters of the estate. And, above all, remember I have faith in you, Gwen, and I trust you to make the right decisions.’

He hugged her again, while glancing at his watch.

‘And Verity?’

‘I’ll leave her to you.’

She nodded, fighting back the tears.

He moved off quickly, then, with a wide grin, he twisted back to wave. Her heart lurched, but she managed to lift her hand in return. For a moment after he had been driven away, she pretended he’d just gone for a stroll round the garden. But then her shoulders drooped. She’d miss him so much. Miss the familiar pattern of his breathing, miss the little looks that sometimes passed between them and the warmth she felt when he held her close.

She gave herself a talking to. There was no point wallowing, and their financial situation was something that had to be seen through until the end, though it seemed amazing that something that had happened as far away as America could have such a profound effect on her life, tucked away as she was on the little pearl drop that was Ceylon.

In the grand hall of the hotel, she glanced through the open doors again and, with some surprise, she saw Christina climbing into one of the new smaller-style Rolls-Royce cars. Part of her wanted to rush after Laurence to ensure the American wasn’t travelling on the same ship. The other part of her knew it would only make things worse and Laurence would think she didn’t trust him. She took a deep breath and decided to stock up on a few essential items for Hugh. Naveena skilfully cut down Laurence’s clothes for Hugh, but the child needed crayons and paper.

A little later, and just before she walked through the doors of the fancy red and cream brick-built building that was Cargills, a gnarled and wrinkled Tamil woman sidled up to her. She spoke rapidly and grinned, revealing a few black teeth with red tips. She spat on her palm then rubbed it against Gwen’s hand. The woman
spoke again but still Gwen felt confused and glanced at the arched frontage of the store, itching to make her escape. As she turned away, the woman said ‘money’ in English. Gwen glanced down and saw the old lady carried a large curved bush-cutting knife under her arm. She delved into her purse and handed over some coins, then rubbed her hand on her skirt to remove the old lady’s spittle.

The incident stayed with her as she watched the team of brass polishers working on the metal vacuum tubes that slid the money up and down to a cashier on a higher floor. She bought the crayons and left.

With a general air of depression in the streets, the hum of the city had lessened somehow. It still smelt aromatic, of coconut, cinnamon and fried fish, but people looked thinner and more than usually dispirited, and fewer tea stalls lined the streets. She tried not to worry about what Laurence might be having to face alone – if he
was
facing it alone – but couldn’t help feel he hadn’t told her everything. She just hoped it was true that he would never have to sell the plantation. It had become her home, Hugh’s too, and they all loved it. Much as she missed England in a nostalgic sort of a way, she couldn’t imagine going back to live there, and could barely admit one of the reasons was that, if it happened, she would never know anything more about her daughter and would certainly never see her again.

As she walked through the Chinese bazaar on Chatham Street, she passed small fabric shops laden with silks, two or three herbalists and several shops selling lacquered goods. Pru Bertram was sitting in the window of a tea shop and waved at Gwen to come in, but Gwen tapped her watch and shook her head. Further on, more shops displayed Sinhalese brassware and delicate patterned glasses. Eventually she stood outside a jewellery shop, and from there could see McGregor drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he waited in the car a few yards down from the clock tower. She glanced at the shop window and paused. She looked a little closer; surely it couldn’t be, not after all this time? It couldn’t
be. She narrowed her eyes to see more clearly, and held up a hand to protect her eyes from the sunlight. There had to be dozens that looked more or less the same, but still. She marched into the shop.

The jeweller handed her the bracelet for examination. She hesitated over the expense and haggled, but she could not leave it to be bought – and worn – by someone else. Hang the cost, she thought as she handed over the cash, and, after examining the catch, she fastened the bracelet round her own wrist for safekeeping. Puzzled by how it had turned up like this, she carefully turned over each silver charm until she found Fran’s little Buddhist temple. Perhaps it was a good omen.