19.

On her next evening off, Belle stood waiting for Gloria in the hotel lobby. They were about to be driven to Gossip Point, although Belle had mixed feelings about it. While she wanted to know if Florence Outlaw was in touch with her mother’s friend, Simone, at the same time she was feeling weary of the whole thing. Earlier in the day she’d called at the offices of the Rangoon Gazette where she had agreed to meet up with Oliver and had been disappointed to learn he was out of town on a story and they didn’t know when he’d be back.

Think you know who to trust? Look harder …

She had trusted Oliver, hadn’t she? Liked him a lot. What about Gloria?

Belle shook her head, then sat on one of the striped sofas, sipping the iced water she’d ordered, and before long her friend was waving jovially from the doorway in a flurry of hat, gloves, high heels and perfume. Her dress today was scarlet with a wide white collar and a nipped-in waist.

‘Darling. Do hurry. We’ll miss all the good stuff,’ she called to Belle. And then added in a stage whisper, ‘Though to be honest with you, I only go because if I didn’t it would be me the old biddies would be gossiping about.’

Belle smiled ironically. ‘Surely not! Whatever could they find to say about you?’

Gloria laughed. ‘Stick with me, kid, and I’ll tell you.’

The doorman held open the door for them and as soon as they were settled in the back of the car they carried on their conversation.

‘Actually,’ Belle said, ‘you did promise to tell me your history if I went to the swimming pool party. I kept my side of the bargain.’

Gloria rolled her eyes. ‘So I did. And all that happened was that you met up with that Donohue man.’

‘Oliver.’

‘The very one. I grant he is outrageously attractive … those come-to-bed blue eyes! I admit I did have a minor flirtation – haven’t we all? But he’s not …’ She paused.

‘Not what?’

‘One of us.’

‘I didn’t think you’d care.’

Gloria looked scornful. ‘Well, I don’t, not really. But I wouldn’t spend too much time with him. You have seen him again, haven’t you?’

Belle observed her keenly. ‘And you know how?’

‘The irony about Rangoon is that in a place as full of secrets as this, it’s also impossible to do anything without people finding out.’

Belle frowned. ‘Why would anyone give a hoot?’

‘Oliver Donohue has a reputation.’

‘With the ladies, I know.’

Gloria laughed. ‘Good Lord. That’s par for the course. Everyone here has affairs. It’s practically mandatory. No, I wouldn’t want to put the kibosh on a budding friendship, but he’s been mixed up in some shady business.’

‘Shady? What kind?’

Gloria shrugged. ‘It’s only rumour but shall we say you could be putting yourself in danger.’

‘You can’t just say that.’

‘I really don’t know any more, though my brother might.’

‘Did you know Edward asked me to have dinner with him?’

‘He likes you.’

‘But he’s married.’

Gloria roared with laughter. ‘And?’

Belle felt herself redden.

‘Come on, darling. His marriage is in name only. And he’s an important man. You could do a lot worse.’

‘Than be someone’s mistress?’

‘Don’t be so strait-laced. It’s only dinner.’

‘Did he ask you to work on me?’

‘Now that’s plain mistrustful.’

‘Anyway, in the end I agreed to dinner at the Governor’s residence.’

Gloria’s eyes widened. ‘Well, you are honoured.’

They slipped into silence and then the car pulled up at the lakes and the driver opened the back doors. As she climbed out, Belle gazed about her. She’d already discovered Rangoon sprang to life soon after tea, with or without condensed milk, and today was no exception. The sun had lost its fury, but the sky was still a glorious blue and from a pavilion in the distance the sounds of a military band greeted the women as they arrived. As more women alighted from chauffeur-driven cars, it was clear that these were the wealthiest and most privileged of their type. Gossip Point really was in a stunning spot overlooking the Royal Lakes, and at a rough guess Belle thought at least twenty women were already assembled while dozens of Indian gardeners were still at work.

‘I can’t believe how green it is,’ Belle said, gazing at the vast expanse of emerald lawns where birds like English starlings hopped about. ‘Every time I think I’m getting used to things, something new surprises me.’

‘They use water from the lake to keep it green.’

Trees in various stages of bloom surrounded the huge lake, and a profusion of flowers and vines lining the banks shone vibrantly against the astonishing stretch of blue water.

‘What do the women talk about?’ Belle whispered as they began to move forward.

‘Often it’s the latest news. You know the kind of thing. What’s happening across the world. It helps us keep in touch. Local news too of course.’

‘Not more personal?’

‘Why don’t we say hello and you’ll find out.’ Gloria gave her shoulder a little squeeze as if to encourage her to move forward. ‘They won’t bite.’

Most of the women wore pretty hats and were dressed fashionably in discreetly patterned slim-line dresses with mid-calf hemlines and elbow-length sleeves. Sadly, the style didn’t really suit some of the larger more mature ladies who were a good deal older than Gloria and who, Belle felt, would look better if they didn’t slavishly follow the latest styles. Among the group there were a few younger women who, like colourful butterflies, hovered and then moved on.

‘Darling, this is Annabelle Hatton,’ Gloria said again and again as she introduced Belle to one woman after another.

When they seemed to settle in a small group of five the conversation turned to the story of a barmaid.

‘Deplorable,’ one of the older women proclaimed as she fanned herself with increasing speed, unable to conceal the tone of glee in her voice.

‘Think of it. An Englishwoman soliciting in the street,’ another added.

‘Whatever next. And did you hear … I can hardly bear to say it.’

As the woman paused Belle could tell she was desperate to steal a march on her friends.

‘Oh, do tell, Wendy.’

‘You can’t keep us in suspense.’

Wendy looked from one to the other. ‘Well, I have it on good authority she was soliciting Indian coolies.’

While the other women gasped, Gloria winked at Belle, who couldn’t help smiling.

After that Gloria steered Belle away, towards a small round woman who had arrived a minute ago and was making her way to the water’s edge.

‘Florence,’ Gloria called out, waving madly, and then whispering to Belle, ‘It was Florence Outlaw you wanted to speak to? Edward mentioned it.’

Belle nodded.

Florence Outlaw had grey hair neatly pinned up and a soft, rosy complexion. She gave Gloria a broad smile as she made her way over with a slow, rolling gait, accompanied by a little white dog on a lead.

‘Florence, this is my lovely new friend, Belle.’

‘My husband mentioned you. Something about Simone. Such a pretty woman. Amber eyes, you know. So unusual.’

‘Your husband said you were still in touch,’ Belle said. ‘I’d love to meet her.’

‘Oh, my dear, she’s not here.’

Belle frowned. ‘But she is alive?’

Florence looked happy. ‘Thank goodness, yes, but didn’t Ronnie tell you, she’s been back home for some time?’

‘Home?’

‘England. The Cotswolds. I wrote down the address for you.’ She delved into a large tapestry bag and rifled through the contents. ‘Now where the devil is it?’

‘She knew my mother well?’ Belle had no memory of her mother ever having any friends.

Florence glanced up and nodded. ‘Best friends, although we’re going back a bit. Heavens, do you mind holding the bag open while I search?’

Belle held the bag and after a few moments Florence located a folded piece of paper. ‘Hurrah! At last. Here you are, dear. I’m sure she won’t mind you writing. Just mention my name.’

‘Thank you. I’d be keen to ask if she remembers what happened when my sister disappeared.’

A little later Belle found herself without Gloria and in a small group of women who were discussing the few eligible men who still lived in Rangoon. One of them turned to Belle and, glancing at her ring finger, stared witheringly.

‘Dear me. Not engaged yet?’

‘No,’ Belle replied with pride. ‘I’m a singer at the Strand.’

The woman visibly paled. ‘Oh no. No, no. Won’t do at all. Find yourself a husband double quick. You don’t want to be working for a living, although if you really must I’m sure we could find you a family.’

Belle frowned. ‘Sorry, I –’

‘A family who require a governess, dear, something respectable.’

One of the other women nodded, and Belle, laughing at the loathsome old-fashioned attitudes, quickly took her leave and walked over to the water’s edge. She would write to Simone that night and hope she’d be more enlightened than these women.

She noticed the flush of rose in the sky and as a flock of black birds crossed the lake she glanced at the sun setting behind the golden Shwedagon Pagoda. The pagoda, now a deep burnished copper, enchanted her and seemed as if it were a living thing, changing colour depending on the time of day. Completely absorbed by the spectacle, she continued to look and only gradually became aware people were bidding each other farewell – the sunset a signal for the women to return to their cars. She watched the sky, lilac at the top, then yellow, orange, pink, and finally the deepest burgundy. This is the colour of Burma, she thought. Then she spotted Gloria surrounded by fireflies flashing like tiny diamonds in the growing darkness and she watched the older woman’s languid swaying gait as they walked towards each other. Above them the emerging stars seemed twice the size they had been in England.

Think you know who to trust? Look harder …

On the evening Belle met Edward to go to the dinner at the Governor’s residence, she hoped the gown she’d had made up in the Chinese quarter was smart enough. The evening dress Edward wore made the most of his slim, athletic build, somehow accentuating the distinguished slice of silvery grey hair at his temples. She hadn’t really been terribly keen to go, and had worried that it might be stuffy, but when she and Edward arrived at the opulent building it totally confounded her – and not in an especially good way.

‘Completed in 1895,’ Edward said, noticing her astonishment as they got out of the car. ‘The architect, Henry Hoyne-Fox, described it as being in the “Queen Anne Renaissance Style”.’

She nodded and continued to stare up at the grand domed towers and extravagant architecture as they stood together. ‘Do you like it?’ she asked cautiously.

He roared with laughter. ‘Like? No! I think it’s the most hideous example of overwrought building I’ve ever seen.’

Despite her earlier reservations about coming, and appreciating his honesty, she laughed too.

‘Shall we go in? There are drinks on the terrace I believe and then I have some news for you.’

‘Why not tell me now?’

He hesitated but then inclined his head. ‘It’s a bit of a long story.’

‘I don’t mind.’

‘Well, the thing is, a chap I know found a misfiled memo in the police records.’

He talked as they walked and he told her that at one point a Burman had been accused of taking the baby but was later released. However, it turned out the police must have found new evidence and decided to charge him after all, but before they could do so he had been killed in a motorbike accident.

‘None of this appears to have been released to the press, but from what I can gather, there is a strong suggestion the police remained convinced he was involved in the baby’s disappearance, at least in some way.’

‘What was the evidence? Can I see the memo?’

‘Unfortunately, we can’t allow it. Police records protected, and so on. But I’ve told you everything you need to know. Soon after that your parents went home to England.’

‘And that was that?’

Studying her at arm’s length, he inclined his head in agreement. ‘Yes. That was that.’

She wanted to assent but something stopped her. ‘Except it wasn’t, was it? I still don’t know what really happened.’

He nodded. ‘But doesn’t it put your mind at rest to at least know your mother was released without charge?’

‘Yes, of course,’ she said, but couldn’t help thinking about Elvira.

He moved closer and held her hand in his. ‘Look, I do wonder how you can hope to find out what happened to your sister all these years later when the police drew such a blank at the time. Does it matter so much to you?’

‘Well, no, at first it didn’t but now …’ Her voice trailed off.

She could see him suppress a smile. ‘Now, young lady, no buts.’

He’d spoken cheerily and there was a short silence before she spoke again.

‘Thanks for this,’ she said eventually.

He gave her a broad grin and she found herself warming to him. ‘Now, I rather think it’s time to enjoy the evening, don’t you?’

She hadn’t been expecting to have fun at such a formal dinner but to her surprise she was enjoying being with Edward. As well as knowing everyone, he was a bright, intelligent man, extremely attentive and excellent company. However, as soon as it was over she knew she would have to face the challenge of writing to Simone again. It was problematic writing to someone she didn’t know and, so far, she’d made three futile attempts. All of them ending crumpled up in the waste-paper basket. Tonight, she would be straightforward and simply ask her what she remembered about her mother and the events of 1911.