23.

While Oliver rose to his feet and walked across to the polished teak desk littered with papers and all the usual paraphernalia of writing, Belle continued to smile.

‘I love your place,’ she said. ‘Have you lived here long?’

‘A couple of years.’

‘You’ve made it so comfy.’

He grinned at her. ‘Glad you like it, ma’am.’

At the desk he pulled open a drawer and extracted a brown cardboard folder.

‘So,’ Belle said. ‘What is it?’

He took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. ‘You said someone had hinted your parents must have offended somebody important, that something might have happened.’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, I spent an hour in my newspaper’s archives and found something that may well confirm it.’

‘You did that for me?’

Before he went on, he looked directly at her. She couldn’t help thinking how much she liked his lopsided smile and easy-going ways. And how his presence always seemed to instil a sense of … of … what was it? A sense she was in the right place, maybe?

‘Any wrongdoing by a British colonial is usually hushed up, even now, but more so back then, so for your mother to be publicly accused there must have been a damn good reason.’

‘Was it something my mother had done?’

‘Partly, but it began with an unpopular ruling of your father’s.’

‘Heavens! What was it?’

‘It’s not the usual run of things.’

She sighed. ‘For goodness’ sake, spit it out.’

‘Your father committed to prison a British officer for the rape of an Indian woman. The entire British community was so outraged that the ruling was overturned, but the result was your father’s reputation was severely dented.’

Belle pictured her father’s solemn expression and kind eyes and the thought of him being treated so unfairly really hurt her.

‘And you think that’s why they accused my mother?’

‘Maybe. But there’s more. During a formal function at the Governor’s house, your mother threw a glass of champagne at the Governor’s wife. Right in the face. No idea why but she was seen by a doctor and sedated. Look, here are the cuttings.’

Belle leafed through the various pieces but, though reeling from the news, something else was troubling her. What it was she couldn’t fully grasp, but it made her feel uneasy. She got to her feet and went to lean with her back against a cool wall to think about it.

‘What?’ Oliver asked.

When clarity came it brought the realization she was feeling doubtful about Edward’s story. He’d told her about a man who’d been about to be charged, and had then been killed in a motorbike accident, but she felt unsure about it now. It seemed a bit too convenient, a way of swiftly wrapping up what had happened so it could be brushed under the carpet and forgotten.

And she wasn’t interpreting things in the same way as Oliver was either. Oliver had suggested her mother might have been accused because of an unpopular ruling of her father’s. But if her mother’s behaviour had been extreme enough to throw champagne in the face of someone so important, even before the baby was born, maybe that proved she had been crazy enough to have hurt the baby. Such an act, equivalent to throwing champagne in the face of the monarch … well, nobody in their right mind would dare.

Belle walked over to contemplate the fine view of tall trees and thought about Edward. Had it been an act of kindness? Had he been trying to protect her from the truth that her mother really had been guilty? He’d given such a vague excuse about why she couldn’t read the memo herself. Or might his story be true after all, because had her mother really been guilty, surely they wouldn’t have let her go? It was all so confusing and her mind circled the different possibilities until it spun. Then, remembering the anonymous note, she picked up her bag, fished inside for it and turned to Oliver.

‘I have something to show you too. It’s just a stupid note,’ she said dismissively, to hide the fact it had really bothered her.

He took it from her and read it out loud. ‘Think you know who to trust? Look harder.’ Then he glanced up with concern in his eyes. ‘When did you receive this?’

‘A while ago. In an envelope pushed under my door.’

‘Any idea who sent it?’

She shook her head.

‘But ever since then you’ve been wondering who you can trust?’

‘Well, yes. A little bit.’

‘Including me?’

She shrugged but couldn’t meet his gaze as she replied, ‘Not really you.’

He came closer and put a warm hand on both her shoulders. ‘Whoever was responsible, it’s a damn cruel thing to do.’

Self-conscious, she shifted slightly, but then looked right into his shining eyes and felt better. She saw such decency and transparency, she wanted to hug him and then keep on hugging him for a long time. So much about Rangoon felt slippery and unknowable. This thing between them, whatever it might turn out to be, was different and she welcomed it.

‘You’re not alone, Belle. I’m on your side. I promise you.’

And the strength of his look convinced her – but if he was on her side, then who was the one who wasn’t?