18.

For the visit to the Pegu club on Sunday, Edward wore a well-cut pale linen suit and Belle a blue-and-white-spotted day dress, cinched in at the waist by a red leather belt. She’d tied back her hair and topped it off with a white wide-brimmed hat with a red ribbon to match the belt. Although she hadn’t fully decided what she felt about Edward she still wanted to look her best and create the right impression.

On their way they passed the usual colonial edifices, their facades decorated with ornate arches, corbels and pilasters – buildings absolutely reinforcing power and invincibility over others. Then there came the private houses with deep eaves designed to provide shade from the harsh Burmese sun for delicate English skins.

‘Pretty wonderful, isn’t it?’ Edward said, and before she had time to collect her thoughts, he went on to enquire about how she was getting on, so she recounted her interview with Inspector Johnson.

He narrowed his dark eyes, frowned and then thought for a moment. ‘He’s a sound chap but you really should have consulted me first. I’d have given you a formal introduction. I have considerable contacts, as you can imagine.’

‘You work for the police?’

‘Not exactly. I’m advisor to the Commissioner, among other things. In any case, you’ll be pleased to hear I’ve done a bit of digging.’

‘And?’ she said, thinking he looked pleased with himself.

‘It seems your mother was acting strangely around the time of the baby’s disappearance and that gave rise to accusations of guilt and her eventual house arrest.’

‘How strangely?’

He puckered his chin then rubbed it as if reluctant to speak.

‘Please?’

‘I believe she was discovered scrabbling about in the earth while in her nightdress.’

He went on to explain that her hands and nails had been black with earth, which led to the suspicion she had been searching for the spot where she had buried the baby. Belle pictured the awful scene, her mother on her knees and weeping.

‘The ayah reported that the child had cried incessantly, and the child’s distress disturbed your mother terribly, so much so that more than once she’d flown into a rage. The inference was she had tried to quieten the baby but went too far.’

Belle shook her head in dismay.

‘The police dug up the entire garden and found nothing save for a single pink baby’s bootee.’

‘Elvira’s?’

‘I imagine so. I haven’t been able to establish what eventually happened, except that your parents went back to England. Didn’t even sell the house before they left.’

‘So, my mother was proven innocent?’

He shook his head and winced. ‘Not exactly. The case remained open for a while. It seems nothing was proven one way or the other.’

‘Why did they let her go?’

‘I reckon the whole affair must have been causing such a stink the powers that be concluded it was the only thing they could do. There was no solid evidence, or at least I haven’t come across any. I think whatever there may have been was swept under the carpet a long time ago.’

Belle sighed.

‘Inspector Johnson told me a fire had destroyed the police records.’

‘Correct.’

‘So how do you know all this?’

He raised his brows. ‘As I said, I have considerable contacts.’

She nodded. ‘I went to see the house, you know.’

He looked surprised. ‘On your own?’

She shook her head, but for reasons she couldn’t explain didn’t want to tell him she had gone with Oliver. Nor did she reveal their plans to meet again on her next day off. ‘It was in a terrible state,’ she said instead.

‘Yes, I believe so. You realize it may well be yours now.’

‘Really?’

‘As I said, they didn’t sell it.’

‘How do you know?’

He hesitated for a second. ‘Pretty much common knowledge. You’d have to go through all the legal channels at the office of the registrar, of course, prove you are who you say you are and provide a certificate of your father’s death, that sort of thing.’

Belle struggled to take it in. One minute she was a stranger here and the next she could be the owner of that huge house.

‘You’ll probably want to sell up. Just tip me the wink if you do. I wouldn’t mind buying it myself. Of course, it needs work. A lot of work.’

She nodded and, wanting to change the subject, asked who she might be likely to meet at the Pegu club.

On the outskirts of town, they approached the club. Belle saw a vast Victorian building, surrounded entirely by trees and encircled by a shady veranda, the air heavily scented with the flowers of jasmine and frangipani. Edward explained it had been built predominantly of teak in the 1880s to serve British army officers and civilian administrators. And it had the reputation of being one of the most well-known gentlemen’s clubs in Southeast Asia, rather like the Tanglin club in Singapore.

‘Members only,’ he added, ‘and mostly senior government and military officials and prominent businessmen. Sadly, it’s a bit of a relic these days. Times change, don’t they, and sometimes more’s the pity.’

‘Gentlemen only?’

‘Not any more, at least not at weekends. People used to refer to this place as the real seat of power in Burma.’

They went into the clubhouse where highly polished parquet floors shone and large ceiling fans blew warm air about.

With a hand firmly on the small of her back, Edward shepherded her past a billiards room and then a large dining room and into a dark but cosy room at the back of the building. She took in the bored faces of middle-aged men puffing on cigars or hiding behind their newspapers while their wives smiled blandly at the air and sipped their iced gin.

When they had made themselves comfortable, both seated on worn brown leather armchairs, he suggested she try the Pegu Cocktail before lunch.

‘It’s our signature drink. Gin and Roses lime juice.’

She nodded, having already worked out that being teetotal in this country was an impossibility, but she vowed to limit herself to one drink only. She hadn’t got drunk with Rebecca the day they’d gone to Chinatown, didn’t dare go that far, but she’d downed two bottles of beer and that had been enough.

The drinks arrived served in chilled glasses with a slice of lime and when Belle sipped she thought it tasted of grapefruit. ‘Very refreshing,’ she said as the gin fizzed in her blood and went straight to her head.

While they fell silent for a few minutes, Belle glanced around at the clientele. They were exactly as Edward had described and even on a Sunday were dressed formally. The few women, wearing mainly high-necked and noticeably drab cotton florals, were talking in hushed tones, while the louder hum of voices was decidedly male.

‘The club was named after the Pegu, a Burmese river,’ he said.

‘Is this place only for the British?’

He frowned. ‘’Fraid we’re somewhat old-fashioned. No Asians. I know things are changing and there are those who feel we should change with them, but …’ He spread his arms out, palms uppermost, in a shrug.

She thought of what Oliver might say. This would be exactly what he detested about the British colonials, and perhaps he’d be right. She didn’t condone the blatant anti-Burmese attitude either and she could see these insular people felt obligated to uphold British power and superiority, no matter what.

Edward cleared his throat and ran a finger around the inside of his shirt collar. If she hadn’t known better, she could have sworn he looked a bit nervous.

‘Look here, Belle,’ he said, ‘I was rather hoping you’d allow me to take you for a quiet dinner one evening. Just the two of us.’

Surprised, she stared at him.

‘Get to know each other better,’ he said with a broad smile on his face. ‘Would that be so bad? On your next evening off?’

‘No … I mean, of course it wouldn’t … it’s just …’ She didn’t finish her sentence.

‘Or maybe you’d prefer to accompany me to the next dinner at the Governor’s residence?’

She began to reply but Edward gave her an apologetic look as he rose to his feet. ‘Ah, here’s old Ronnie Outlaw. He may be able to help you.’

Belle stood up too.

The man who approached the table was clearly retired. He walked with a slight limp and carried a silver-tipped cane. A huge grey moustache made up for the lack of hair elsewhere, but he stood to attention as Edward clapped him on the back and then explained that Belle was hoping to meet people who might have known her parents, the Hattons, back in the day.

Ronnie Outlaw narrowed his watery blue eyes as he shuffled into an armchair. ‘Knew them slightly, but was posted in Mandalay back then, so our paths didn’t often cross. Had something of a bad end here?’ He raised his brows and glanced at Edward, who nodded. ‘Upset a few important people with his rulings when he was presiding over the chief court?’

Edward nodded again.

‘So where are you from, young lady?’ Ronnie continued.

‘Cheltenham,’ she said, with as much grace as she could summon.

‘Ladies’ College?’

She nodded but all the time was wondering whom her father had upset.

Ronnie was silent for a few seconds and Belle wondered if that was all he’d reveal, but then his eyes suddenly lit up. ‘Tell you what. When we did eventually move to Rangoon, my wife, Florence, became a friend of this woman, Simone something … Simone … drat it, what was her name? Doctor’s wife. Anyway, I’m almost certain this Simone was close with your mother.’

‘Do you know where she lives?’

‘Not the foggiest, but I think Florence still maintains a correspondence. Tell you what, why not get Edward’s sister to take you up to Gossip Point. All the girls meet there. You can have a good chinwag with Florence – tell her you went to school at Cheltenham and she’ll be your friend for life.’

‘Oh?’

There was the slightest pause before he spoke again. ‘Our daughter, Gracie, was a boarder there for four years.’

‘Does she live in Cheltenham now?’

Ronnie looked down at the floor and then back up at her. ‘Sadly, no. Came down with malaria over here. Never made it past fifteen.’

‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Thank you.’

There was a silence during which Belle wondered what to say. Luckily Edward stepped in, thanking Ronnie for his help and offering him a stengah, a drink made of equal measures of whisky and soda water, served over ice.

‘Gloria tells me you have contacts in the entertainment world,’ she said after Ronnie had finished his drink and then left them alone.

‘Yes, yes I do. I can put in a word for you if you like.’

She grinned at him. ‘I’d like that very much. You know, for after Burma.’

‘So, tell me your dream?’

‘To travel and keep on singing for my supper, of course.’

‘I like an independent girl,’ he said with a laugh, and leant forward to give her shoulder a squeeze.

As Belle turned into the corridor leading to her room, she paused. She’d asked Edward to drop her a short distance from the hotel, to carve out a little time to think. Too hot, it had been a mistake. So far, apart from Rebecca, nobody knew about the anonymous note, but it was still on her mind. The fortune teller had told her that the question she’d asked about who she should trust had been the wrong question and that she would go on a journey soon. So far, no sign of that. Probably a load of bunkum anyway.

She’d hoped for a breath of fresh air, but in the sweltering climate she ended up staggering back with a sweat-sodden dress. The afternoons were utterly impossible. It was little wonder most of the British slipped home for a nap, although the heat still seeped through even the thickest walls. Before Edward had left he’d reminded her of his invitation to accompany him to a dinner at the Governor’s residence. When she had thanked him and agreed to go he had looked genuinely delighted and said he’d let her know the date in due course. She decided she might tell him about the note then.