The Tea Planter’s Wife (29 page)

‘Can she play ball?’

Gwen smiled again, pulled him to her and gave him a hug. ‘Well, she’s not really here to play with you, Hugh.’

His face crumpled. ‘Why not? Doesn’t she know how? I can teach her.’

‘Perhaps not today. But she could go swimming with you tomorrow. She swims like a fish.’

‘How do you know?’

Gwen tapped the side of her nose. ‘Because I am a supreme and wonderful being who knows and sees everything.’

He laughed. ‘Don’t be silly, Mummy. That’s Jesus.’

‘Actually, I have a rather splendid idea. Why not come inside and help teach Liyoni some English? Would you like that or are you too full of beans?’

‘Oh, yes please, Mummy, but I didn’t have beans for lunch.’

She laughed at their little standing joke and gave him another quick hug, but Liyoni, who stood watching, only glowered. Oh dear, Gwen thought, this might be tricky – I hope she doesn’t think we’re laughing at her.

Despite her misgivings, Gwen had to admit that she hungered for more of her daughter. She watched her constantly, but the gap between who the child was and who she ought to have been was too great a distance to bridge. That her feelings for Liyoni were nothing like her love for Hugh pained her, though when she did allow them to surface and found herself craving to comfort the child, she did not know how. She wanted to understand how Liyoni felt about being there and what she thought about everything, but above all she longed to make her feel safe. She rubbed her smarting eyes with the heels of her palms. It tormented her to think of how she had abandoned her daughter as such a tiny helpless baby, and she knew that what her little girl really needed was love.

Once Naveena recovered, Gwen languished in her room imprisoned by her conflicting feelings and the fear that she might somehow give herself away if she was seen too much with Liyoni. Time dragged, and whenever she glanced at the clock, she was surprised the birds were still singing. Was this what life was going to be now – living with a shallow breath and looking over her shoulder? Yet no matter how long she remained in her room, she couldn’t get away from the feeling she was stepping closer all the time to the chance event that would signal the end of everything.

Hearing Hugh’s voice, Gwen went to the window to look out. He’d found a ragged skipping rope and she watched as he attempted to teach Liyoni to skip. Each time the little girl tried,
she ended up tangled in the rope. It didn’t seem to upset her, and she giggled as Hugh gently untangled her. For Gwen it was heartbreaking to see Hugh unknowingly playing with his twin sister and looking so happy.

When Naveena went outside, Gwen continued to observe, taking a step back so as to remain out of sight. Despite Hugh’s protestations, Naveena led the girl away, and soon after she heard voices in the nursery. She waited, and then went through to watch the ayah instruct Liyoni in the art of folding clothes. She stayed for a while, excluded from the pair as Liyoni began to sing in Sinhala while Naveena hummed.

‘What is that?’ Gwen asked when they had finished.

‘A nursery rhyme, but, Lady, the child seems to tire very easily, and she does cough so.’

‘Give her some linctus. She’s probably just getting used to the changes in her life.’

When she heard footsteps in the main house corridor, Gwen hurried off, feeling unnerved.

The next morning, it was lovely outside. Gwen stood on the lower terrace and felt that the air itself was singing, not the mosquitoes, the bees or the water as it rippled across the lake. But then, as she watched the birds dive to the surface of the lake, she realized someone was actually singing. It was a tinkling, lilting sound, almost a low whistle, and it was coming from the water. She surveyed the scene, but could see no sign of anyone.

Hugh came racing up behind her and called out. ‘I’ve put my swimmers on, Mummy!’

She spun round and caught him in her arms as he charged down the last few steps.

‘I saw her go. I wanted to go with her, but she didn’t wait.’

‘Who, darling?’

‘The new girl.’

‘Her name is Liyoni, sweetheart.’

‘Yes, Mummy.’

‘And you’re saying she’s swimming in the lake?’

‘Yes, Mummy.’

Gwen felt a lick of fear and held her breath as she scanned the lake. What if Liyoni swam to the end of the lake and then found her way back to the river that led to her village? Anything might happen to her. The thought took hold as she gazed at the water and, as blood rushed to her head, for a split second she even wished for the river to take the child. But then, with her mind in turmoil and horrified at herself, she could hardly believe that she could ever think such a thing.

She felt a tug on her sleeve.

‘Look, Mummy,’ Hugh was saying. ‘She’s on that island. She just climbed out. Mummy, she is good at swimming, isn’t she? I can’t go that far.’

Gwen sighed in relief.

‘Is it all right if I go in now?’ Hugh asked.

He’d been told he must always ask permission, and she wondered how she might find a way to allow Liyoni to swim unrestricted, while still maintaining the rule for Hugh. Water was like a magnet to the girl, and Gwen feared she could no more keep out of it than she could stop breathing.

Gwen watched Hugh’s stocky little body as he leapt into the water with the biggest splash. What he lacked in fluidity as a swimmer, he made up for in noise, and his shrieks and yells continued until Liyoni swam back. Just before she climbed out, she twirled in the water, whirling like a dervish with her hair spinning out around her. Then, as they both got out and shook themselves, the little girl began to cough. Hugh stared at her, looking embarrassed, but beamed in delight when the coughing stopped and she smiled at him.

‘Where’s Wilf?’ Gwen said.

‘Oh, Wilf’s boring. He doesn’t like swimming anyway.’

‘Shall we go in and see if we can persuade the
appu
to make pancakes?’

‘Can the girl –’

Gwen frowned.

‘I mean, can Liyoni come too?’

‘Perhaps just this once.’

As Hugh reached out to take Liyoni’s hand, she seemed not to mind, and as Gwen watched the pair run up the steps ahead of her, hand in hand, her heart skipped a beat and she felt a depth of feeling for the girl she had not experienced before. Her eyes watered, but just then she noticed Verity coming down the steps towards her.

‘Laurence asked me to tell you he wants to speak to you in the drawing room.’

‘Why?’

Verity smiled, but it was perfunctory. ‘He didn’t say.’

Gwen hurried to the drawing room and found Laurence standing with a rolled-up newspaper under his arm. He turned at the sound of her footsteps, his face impassive. He knows, she thought in the short silence, and he is about to throw me out. She cast around for what to say.

‘I –’

He interrupted. ‘I saw Hugh out there with the little girl. I thought we had decided.’

Numb with tension, she forced herself to respond. ‘Pardon?’

He sat down and leant against the back of the sofa. ‘I thought we had decided the child wasn’t to stay.’

Gwen struggled to suppress her relief. He didn’t know. She stood behind the sofa so that she could rub his shoulders, but also to hide her face from him.

‘No,’ she said, taking her time. ‘We agreed that I’d deal with it. And I am, but she isn’t too well. She has a cough.’

‘Is it contagious?’

She steeled herself. ‘I don’t think so, and Hugh is lonely.’

As she stopped rubbing and took a step back, he straightened up and twisted round to look at her. ‘Darling, you know I’d be happy to help if the child really was related.’

‘I know, but can’t you just trust me on this?’

‘Come on, Gwen. As I said before, we already know Naveena has no relatives. And the thing is, I’d rather Hugh didn’t get too attached to her.’

She paused momentarily before she replied. ‘I don’t understand.’

He looked puzzled. ‘Isn’t it obvious? If they become close he’ll miss her terribly when she’s gone. So, really, the sooner the better. Surely you agree?’

She could feel the pain racing to her temples as she stared at him. How could she possibly agree?

He reached out a hand. ‘Are you all right? You don’t seem to be yourself.’

Gwen shook her head.

‘I understand you’re doing your best, but –’

She broke in. ‘It’s not fair, Laurence. It’s really not. Where the hell do you expect her to go!’

No longer able to cope with her feelings, her heart splintered, and all her efforts to protect Laurence and their marriage seemed to crumble. She didn’t want Liyoni to go, but he had no idea what she was going through; indeed, what she had gone through all these years. He was right – she was doing her best – but he did not know that trying to balance the conflicting needs of her husband, Hugh and the little girl was more than she could bear. Completely losing control of herself, she left the room, slamming the door behind her.

For some time after that, Laurence was quiet. Whenever she came into a room he glanced up at her as if waiting for her to say something, but she was damned if she would apologize for her temper. Aware that bringing Liyoni to the house might turn out to be the worst mistake of her life, she had tried to look for alternatives but had drawn a blank.

On the pretext of going to a meeting of the Women’s Charity Union, she visited an orphanage in Colombo, an overcrowded place reeking of urine. Afterwards the memory of it gave her sleepless nights. Above all, she wanted to protect her marriage, but she could not bear for Liyoni to be sent there.

During the next few weeks, Laurence occasionally asked how her plans to find the girl another home were going, and so far Gwen had managed to change the subject, but it had strained her nerves to breaking point. Meanwhile, Hugh thrived on helping Liyoni learn. She was now able to understand simple English commands, and to ask for what she needed. But the little girl tired easily and, until Hugh started school in the autumn, Gwen still had to find ways to keep the children apart, for at least part of the time. Far from Liyoni’s arrival causing jealousy, Hugh absolutely worshipped her, and on the occasion she was sick in bed with a bad cough, he had to be forced to keep away.

Verity was another matter. With no further clarification of her reluctance to return to her husband, she was still around on the afternoon of Laurence’s birthday, and when Hugh came in for the birthday tea with Liyoni in tow, she glowered at her brother. Though Gwen thought it a shame when Verity spoiled her looks in that manner, her sister-in-law was looking quite chic in a long, slim-fitting outfit. It crossed Gwen’s mind to wonder where she
was finding the cash for expensive new clothes. Her husband wasn’t especially wealthy.

‘I put my foot down at this,’ Verity said. ‘That child is not a member of our family and this is a family birthday celebration. In fact, Laurence, why is she still living here? I thought you said you’d speak to Gwen.’

‘Let’s not have a scene, Verity.’

‘But you said –’

Gwen stepped in quickly and, making a fist to contain her anger, she spoke to Hugh. ‘Sorry, darling, but your Aunty Verity is right. Tell Liyoni to go and find Naveena. She can find something for her to do.’

Hugh pulled a sulky face, but did as he was told. During this exchange, Verity continued to complain about Liyoni’s presence in the house.

Still vexed by her sister-in-law’s constant intrusion in their lives, Gwen interrupted again. ‘Actually, Laurence and I have discussed the matter, and he has left it up to me to deal with the situation. Let me remind you once again, Verity, that I am mistress here, and since your marriage you are merely here as a guest.’

‘Hang on, Gwen,’ Laurence said.

‘No. I will not hang on. Not for you. Not for Verity. Either I am mistress here or I am not. I am absolutely sick of your sister poking her nose into my affairs. It’s time she went back to her husband.’

Laurence tried to put an arm round her shoulders, but, feeling shaken, she shrugged him off.

‘Come on, darling. It is my birthday.’

‘I don’t want Aunty Verity to go, Mummy,’ Hugh protested.

Gwen glanced at the table, set for the four of them, with the best china and silverware, prettily arranged on a freshly starched damask tablecloth. She controlled her anger.

‘All right, darling. Mummy and Daddy will talk about this later. Let’s have the birthday tea.’

But the days of free-flowing champagne were gone, and when the
appu
brought in Laurence’s fruitcake on a silver platter, they washed it down with cups of tea. And the presents, once towering almost to the ceiling, now struggled to reach even a small pile.

‘Let’s not bother with the search,’ Laurence said.

‘I think we should,’ Verity said.

Gwen sighed. If Verity wanted the blindfold, the blindfold she would have. She went to the sideboard, sifted though the remains of the party paraphernalia, and pulled out a long strip of thick black fabric which she bound round Laurence’s eyes, knotting it at the back.

‘Now turn Daddy round three times,’ Hugh ordered.

The idea was that the pile of presents would magically vanish and Laurence, blindfolded, would have to find them all before he could unwrap any.

He dutifully stumbled around the room, play-acting the oaf, which sent Hugh into hoots of laughter. He was on all fours, tapping the floor round the open door, when they all heard clicking heels. Everyone froze.

‘Well, I say, I hoped you’d be thrilled to see me, but bowing and scraping takes the biscuit. I never thought I’d see the day.’

Laurence tore off his blindfold and smoothed his hair as he stood. ‘Christina!’

‘The very same.’

‘But you’re not due until next week,’ Gwen said.

Hugh stamped his foot and turned red. ‘She’s spoilt it! Daddy didn’t even find his presents.’

‘Ah,’ Christina said. ‘Maybe I can make up for that. I have presents too.’

Laurence and Gwen exchanged looks.

‘Did you know it was Laurence’s birthday?’ Verity said.

‘What do you think? But these are for all of you, not just for Laurence. My man is waiting in the corridor.’ She spun round and snapped her fingers. A Sinhalese man in a long white linen coat came in, loaded with shopping bags.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t have time to get them wrapped.’ She dug into one of the bags, pulled something soft out, still on its hanger, and then passed it to Gwen.

Gwen caught it, unrolled the beautiful fabric and held up a two-piece outfit, just like the ones in
Good Housekeeping
.

‘I thought it would complement your eyes,’ Christina said. ‘Such a lovely shade of lilac. And, Hugh, this train set is for you.’

She put the box on the table and Hugh’s eyes shone as he ran his fingers over the pictures of the engine and its compartments.

‘What do you say to Christina, old son?’ Laurence said.

Hugh only just managed to drag his eyes from the train set. ‘Thank you very much, American lady.’

Everyone laughed.

‘Verity,’ Christina continued, ‘I have a crocodile-skin bag for you. I thought you’d like it.’

‘Thank you. You didn’t have to.’

‘I never do anything I have to. This was just for fun.’ She paused and winked at Laurence, then blew him a kiss. ‘And now for the birthday boy. I have something extra special for you, darling, though I’m afraid it isn’t anything you can hold in your hands.’

‘Is it a car? Are you giving Daddy a new car? He wouldn’t be able to hold that in his hands.’

‘No, sweetie, do you think it should be a car?’

‘Yes I do!’

‘Actually, if you all don’t mind, I’m rather tired now. Your daddy’s present will have to wait until after your bedtime.’

Hugh started to complain but, still seething over Christina’s unannounced arrival, which no number of expensive presents could atone for, Gwen silenced him with a look.

‘It’s almost time for Hugh’s bath, Christina, so if you don’t mind, Verity will show you to the guest room and I’ll see you again at dinner. We don’t dress these days.’

‘Oh, but you must. I insist. It is a special occasion, after all.’

Gwen nodded with a mix of annoyance and suspicion, and
took hold of Hugh’s hand. ‘Very well,’ she said. ‘Off we trot. You can have your bath in my room today.’

Hugh clapped his hands and chatted excitedly all the way to her bedroom. While she ran the bath, she couldn’t help wonder how Liyoni had fared. Although she looked a little better, her limp seemed to be more pronounced each day. If it got any worse, the child wouldn’t be able to carry out the few light household duties Gwen had found for her. It was work for appearance’s sake and didn’t really matter, but she had to maintain the illusion.

There had been an infected sore on the little girl’s foot which Naveena had treated with herbal tincture and then bound. Gwen had expected the limp to have disappeared once the wound cleared up, but it had not. Doctor Partridge would come to give Hugh the once over in a couple of days’ time, and she decided to ask him to look at Liyoni too.

They were enjoying coffee in the drawing room after dinner, when Christina revealed her great idea. Verity was sitting on the leopard-skin sofa next to the drinks table, Laurence stood by the mantelpiece and Gwen was perched on an upright chair on the other side of the sofa, keeping an eye on the brandy bottle. They’d left the curtains open and the night-time world outside was lit by an almost-full moon.

‘Brands,’ Christina said, with a wide grin. She leant back in her armchair and placed what looked like a picture wrapped in brown paper on the floor beside her chair.

‘Pardon?’ Laurence said.

‘Brands. It’s the way to go.’ She got up and went to stand next to Laurence, placing a hand on his shoulder and leaning against him. Then, with her face close to his, she looked into his eyes. ‘Didn’t you look at the magazine I sent you, darling?’

‘Laurence glanced at it,’ Gwen said, feeling like spitting but managing to maintain a calm exterior. ‘Neither of us had a clue what you meant.’

Christina, who was smiling at Laurence, twisted back to face Gwen. ‘What
did
you notice in the magazine?’

Gwen eyed the room. As well as the presents, Christina had arrived laden with bouquets of flowers that were now elegantly arranged in four cut-glass vases, their perfume filling the air.

‘There were an awful lot of advertisements.’

Christina clapped her hands. ‘Well done you!’

‘Are you suggesting we advertise?’ Laurence said as he took a step away from the American. ‘That doesn’t seem much of an idea, if you’ll pardon my bluntness.’

Christina threw back her head and laughed. ‘Darling, I’m American. Of course I don’t mind your bluntness. How funny you English are.’

Laurence jutted out his chin and Gwen wanted to rush across and smother the cleft with kisses. She restrained herself and addressed Christina instead. ‘Well, why don’t you explain to us
funny
English exactly what you mean.’

‘Sweetheart, don’t take offence. I’m not taking the mickey. I think you’re all utterly adorable, and your husband, well, you know what I think about him – but yes, you’re right, let’s get down to business.’

Gwen, who had been holding her breath, released it slowly.

‘What is happening in America is that, despite the depression, some people are simply raking it in. The bigger the company, and the more ordinary the product, the better it is.’

‘You mean like the soap powders and shoe polish we saw in the magazine?’ Laurence said.

‘Yes, and here’s my point … also like tea. Think of Lipton.’

Gwen shook her head. ‘But there weren’t any advertisements for tea.’

‘Exactamundo,
chérie
. My idea is that we develop Hooper’s as a brand. You’d no longer just be a wholesale producer and manufacturer of tea, but actually a brand of tea.’

Laurence nodded. ‘People are suffering in the depression, but
they still have to wash their clothes and polish their boots. That’s your idea.’

‘Yes. And they have to buy their tea, week after week. But this only works if you go big.’

Laurence shook his head. ‘We’d never be able to produce enough. Not even with the three plantations at full throttle. I don’t see how it could work.’

‘Laurence. My dear –’ she glanced round – ‘and
funny
Englishman, who I respect, admire and love – that’s where I come in.’

Gwen swallowed her irritation.

‘There won’t be huge margins, but what you have to sell is the sort of thing people buy frequently and cannot do without.’ Christina paused. ‘Tell me, how are you coping in this depression?’

Laurence coughed and looked at his feet.

‘Quite. So we need to think of something new. There’s a packet of tea in every house, and I want the name on that packet to be Hooper’s. If we can come second to Lipton, we’ll be flying.’

Gwen’s resentment of the woman seemed to explode in her throat. What did Christina really want? Was she toying with them, rubbing it in and showing that she had the power to do so? Had she come back to try again with Laurence? Gwen wanted to remove her from their lives as she had tried to do once before, but she was not keen to embarrass Laurence by causing a jealous scene. Her first instinct was to keep a rigid face and speak firmly.

‘No,’ she said. ‘Let this be an end to your crazy idea. Laurence has already said, we can’t produce that kind of quantity.’

Christina seemed oblivious. ‘Not you, darling. You will buy it in from all over Ceylon. Make deals with other plantations. We’ll package the tea and advertise it like crazy. You don’t need a big margin if you have the quantity.’

‘I don’t have the cash for the capital expenditure,’ Laurence said.

‘You don’t, no, but I do. I’m suggesting I buy shares in Hooper’s and you use that money to start up the business.’

Gwen stood up on trembling legs and went to Laurence’s side. Her voice, when she spoke, shook too. ‘And if it fails? What then? We can’t risk anything more.’

‘It will be me who risks, not you. Mark my words, honey, this is the future. Advertising is really taking off in America. You saw the magazine, didn’t you?’

‘I’m not sure I’m all that happy about the way the future looks,’ Gwen said.

‘Like it or not, you will stand to make millions. And it really is as simple as that.’

‘You may be right. Can we think about it?’ Laurence said, linking his arm through Gwen’s.

Gwen sighed. The woman was winning Laurence over, and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.

‘You have two days. Then I’m off. We need to act quickly, and if we don’t, someone else will get there before us.’

She stood, smoothed down her very expensive-looking dress, and turned to Gwen with a persuasive smile. ‘Do you like my dress?’

Gwen muttered a reply.

‘Off the peg, dirt cheap, not even silk. The world is changing, folks. You’re either in for the ride or you’re not. Now, I’ve had a long journey today, so I’m more than ready for my bed.’

Verity, who had been quiet, stood too, though she appeared unsteady on her feet, and when she spoke her words were a little slurred. ‘I think it’s a wonderful idea, Christina.’