38.

Just before five as the day began to cool down and with an hour to spare before meeting Guttridge’s assistant, Belle, feeling the need to distract herself, decided to leave the rest house and set off to wander on her own. With her boat’s departure not due until eight, she had plenty of time, so she gulped down a glass of water and slipped some mints into her pocket.

A gentle breeze helped lessen the heat and, as she kept to the long shadows of the taller, bushier trees, she was able to keep relatively cool. She followed the dusty yellow track, listening to the crunch of her own footsteps and choosing to turn right at each junction, so that on her return she could retrace her steps by turning left. She almost stepped on a long-horned beetle with pom-poms on its antennae and stood for a while to watch its progress. She passed the same houses as before, only now the compounds were busier with entire families sitting out in the shade with the smell of fish sauce and onions frying on outdoor charcoal burners. Sunlight flickering through the trees threw shifting patterns on the dry ground and everyone seemed so charming and friendly as Belle waved hello and then continued to walk further and further from the centre of the village.

As a friendly dog followed at her heels, she listened to the birds chirruping and thought about Elvira. What would her childhood have been like had she grown up with a sister? Would they have shared secrets and protected each other in the way sisters did? Or would they have been rivals engaged in endless squabbles, seeking attention and never getting on? She imagined Elvira walking beside her now, their arms wrapped around each other as they pointed out this plant or that and laughed too loudly about some silly thing or someone they both found hilarious. And what about discussing boys in a giggling hush after their parents had gone to bed? Their parents. It was not without a lump in her throat that she wondered who her mother might have been …

She walked on deep in thought without really noticing where she was, until she looked around and saw she’d left the last of the houses behind and had arrived in some open scrubland. Wanting to get out of the still baking hot sun, she set out for a wooded area around one of the stupas and then, resting on the grass and sucking a mint, she gazed lazily at the low late-afternoon light with only a hint of pink on the horizon.

She checked her watch. Just a little longer. The gentle sound of temple bells drifted on the wind and leafy scents floating from the trees combined with the perfume of the sweet white flowers growing so profusely. She closed her eyes and relaxed against the sun-warmed trunk of a tree. She’d been coasting like this for some time, listening to the tap tap tap of something like a woodpecker in the trees when, wrenched from her reverie, she was startled by a deep moan. Her eyes flew open and she quickly rose to her feet. She brushed herself down, ready to make off, not knowing if she would still get back in time and berating herself for her stupidity. But the moans came again, only this time sounding even more agonized. Someone was in dreadful pain and so, despite a strong misgiving and hoping she wasn’t being led into a trap, Belle decided to investigate. Acutely aware of her status as a woman and a foreigner, in a country she barely understood, she hadn’t a clue what bizarre practices might be going on. Not to mention the deadly snakes and insects hiding in the undergrowth. Gingerly, she walked around the entire circumference of the stupa, keeping an eye out for trouble, and almost stumbled over the pregnant woman from the boat, now lying on her side with her legs drawn up.

Belle dropped to her knees and knelt beside the woman. ‘Are you all right?’ she said. ‘I can go for help.’

The woman reached out a shaking hand. ‘Please, no. Do not go. I am scared.’

‘But why are you here alone?’

The woman gasped in pain before she was able to speak again. ‘I wanted to bring the baby on. It is overdue. But I have to give birth on the boat or my husband will be angry.’

Belle frowned. Was this another of the outlandish superstitions she’d heard about? ‘Why does it matter?’ she asked.

‘It is great good fortune to be born on a riverboat on the Irrawaddy. I have been up the river once already.’

‘Where’s your husband?’

‘He is working at the Secretariat in Rangoon but could not get time off for a second journey.’

‘So, you came alone?’

The woman let out an agonized wail.

Belle got to her feet. ‘I really must get help. I know nothing about childbirth.’ She didn’t mention how the idea of it made her squeamish.

The woman pointed to a bag. ‘I have brought turmeric to anoint the baby’s body. It is to drive out evil spirits and we must find the astrologer too. There is one on our boat. I made sure before we left.’

‘Do you think you can make it as far as the boat?’

The woman reached out a hand and Belle helped her up, but the poor soul immediately doubled over, clutching her belly and whimpering. Belle managed to help the woman to sit in the shade of a tree, but it was clear she wouldn’t be going back to the boat any time soon.

‘What’s your name?’ Belle asked, squatting down beside her and continuing to hold her hand.

‘Hayma. It means forest. I was born in a forest.’

‘You are not from Rangoon?’

‘No, but I was born in a small hamlet not far from the town.’ She doubled over again, her face twisted, and Belle could see the woman was forcing herself to stifle a scream.

Belle’s chest constricted in fear. ‘I have to get help,’ she said again, glancing at her watch, knowing she’d now missed her appointment, but also feeling terribly anxious for Hayma.

‘Please, I beg you, do not leave me on my own.’

Belle acquiesced and for twenty minutes or so the woman remained relatively calm. She seemed more composed now Belle was keeping her company. But soon the contractions began again. Belle glanced around, hoping to seek out anyone who might take over the vigil. At first the place was deserted, but after half an hour she spotted a woman carrying a baby on her back while solemnly treading the path back towards the village. Belle beckoned the woman over and between contractions Hayma was able to speak to her. After a moment the woman spun on her heels and hurried away.

‘She gets help,’ Hayma said.

But the woman didn’t return immediately and, as Belle tried to soothe Hayma, she felt it couldn’t be long before the child would be born. She wracked her brain. What did one do with a newborn baby? She scratched her head, wishing there was somebody to consult, and then, at last, the woman who’d been carrying the baby returned with what looked like a large bundle of cloths and a jug of water. With a huge sigh of relief, Belle rose to her feet.

Before the baby arrived, the sun had begun to sink in the east, the sky had turned vermillion and then in a flash had transformed into a blanket of velvety indigo, dusted with the light of millions of tiny stars. Belle felt magic stirring in the woods and beneath the surface of their everyday world life seemed visceral and deep. Alive with anticipation, Belle held her breath. And then it happened. The strong night-time scents and the sound of cicadas singing fiercely as the baby girl was finally born brought a flood of joy. She watched a shooting star and heard the fruit bats babbling in the trees as if to welcome the child, and Belle knew she would never forget this moment. She stayed with Hayma, holding her hand, and made a little prayer until the baby let out her first indignant shriek. Good girl, Belle thought. Make your voice heard.

Then she reluctantly took her leave, but she left knowing life had given her this extraordinary opportunity to redress the balance. Yes, she had witnessed death, terrible violent death, death that would stay with her for the rest of her life, but she had watched the birth of a new life too and, above all, that was what she would hold on to.

After heading off down several wrong turnings, and with her hands protecting her head from bats flying close above and hoping to avoid any underground snakes coming out for food, she focused on the one track she could remember and eventually traced her way back to the rest house. It was now half past eight and she wasn’t even sure if the boat had waited for her.

She soon found out, for the first person she came across was Harry Osborne. The livid expression on his face as he paced the entrance hall muttering belligerently to himself told her everything she needed to know. As soon as he saw her he stood still and glared.

‘What the hell time do you call this?’

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, trying to compose herself but still feeling overawed at witnessing her first birth. ‘It really wasn’t my fault.’

‘You women are all the same. I wish I’d never taken this job on.’ He bit his lip and looked as if he’d somehow said the wrong thing and then pushed his spectacles further up his nose in a nervous manner.

She could smell the whisky on him and frowned. ‘Job?’

He didn’t meet her eyes. ‘I mean … um … I meant allowing you to accompany me. In any case, we’ve missed the sodding departure.’

‘I really am sorry. I had to help a pregnant woman. It was …’ But she couldn’t find any words that could begin to convey how amazing it had been to be present at the arrival of a new life. And how, for a few minutes at least, it had been as if there could only ever be good in the world.

He raised his brows as if in total disbelief but didn’t make a comment.

‘So, what do we do now?’ she asked.

He sighed. ‘I’ve managed to get us two cabins for tomorrow morning.’

‘Oh, that’s wonderful.’

He gave her a wry look. ‘You haven’t seen the boat yet. Doubt you’ll be calling it wonderful. Thank goodness we’ll still arrive in Mandalay in time for your meeting with Alistair Ogilvy, the District Commissioner. My name would have been mud if you’d missed that. If anyone knows anything, he will. Anyway, Guttridge’s assistant is in the lounge waiting for you.’

‘Thank you.’

Although thirsty and longing to get out of her dusty clothes and sink into a bath, she made for the lounge. From the open door she could see the man inside had been sitting very upright on one of two sofas, but he rose as she entered the room and she saw he was tiny, with large ears and wiry grey hair.

As he made a little bow she smiled.

‘I am Nyan,’ he said. ‘Please sit. You have questions for me?’

‘Yes. I’m so sorry to keep you.’

‘Keep?’

‘To make you wait.’

He gave her the sweetest of smiles. ‘Not a problem.’

‘It was an awfully long time ago. 1911, in fact, but Mr Guttridge said you’d know about it.’

‘He did explain and, yes, I do indeed remember. I was purser on the same boat to Mandalay and it was I who took the matter up with the captain.’

‘So, what actually happened?’

‘Not much. I can tell you the baby was small and looked European but the couple accompanying the child were from Thailand and not young. Even though I expressed my concerns, the captain didn’t want any fuss and refused to become involved. He was a sluggish Scot due for retirement if I remember.’ He paused, looking embarrassed. ‘Do excuse me. I have the greatest respect for the many dedicated Scottish captains our river has seen over the years. He simply wasn’t one of them.’

‘So?’

‘I questioned the couple, who claimed the baby was their grandchild. I had my doubts but became more suspicious when I asked them to repeat their story a little later the same day. This time they said they were taking the child upriver to be with its grandparents who were British. They said they had not fully understood my question the first time, but I feared misconduct and resolved to inform the authorities as soon as we laid anchor, with or without the captain’s approval.’

‘And did you?’

He nodded. ‘I watched the couple disembark but by the time I reached the local police it was too late. I had no power to detain them myself and the captain washed his hands of the entire business.’

‘And did the police follow through?’

He sighed. ‘Yes. Initially a thorough search of the surrounding area was made but the couple had vanished. No one admitted to having seen them. But I knew about a baby’s disappearance from the garden in Rangoon and feared the child had been kidnapped. It was in all the newspapers, you see, and so I still had hopes the police might be persuaded to extend their search.’

‘But they didn’t?’ she said, feeling the disappointment.

‘No. I am afraid they did not.’

‘Do you know if the baby was a girl?’

‘It was.’