44.

Oliver dragged Harry from his chair and narrowed his eyes. ‘This is what we are going to do.’

Harry was shaking visibly, too scared to speak.

‘I’m going to take you straight to the police station and tell them what you did. I will explain how you lured us into a deadly trap. Attempted manslaughter, at the very least, and who knows how many of the injured might not recover.’

Harry found his voice. ‘They won’t listen.’

‘No kidding? And why is that?’

‘Because …’ He paused. ‘It’s the police who … who threatened me.’

Oliver stood completely still. ‘And by the police you mean?’

‘Er, not exactly the police.’

‘Then who?’

‘The Rangoon Intelligence Unit.’

‘That’s more like it. Who in the unit, Harry?’

Harry shook his head. ‘I don’t know his name. A tall man. Dark-skinned, with short cropped hair.’

‘Nothing else?’

‘He wore a linen suit. I can’t remember anything more. He only said I had to delay her.’

Oliver and Belle exchanged glances, then Oliver spoke. ‘Just get out of here, Harry. And I swear to God if you breathe a single word to anyone about Belle and me having escaped the blast with our lives, I will find you.’

Harry didn’t need to be told twice and literally sprinted from the room.

‘But we must go to the police, mustn’t we?’ Belle asked, still trembling from the devastation of the bomb blast.

Oliver looked scornful. ‘Waste of time.’

‘Because?’

‘Corruption. If the Intelligence Unit were behind this, and I do believe Harry there, they have far-reaching antennae.’

‘Oliver, why did they do this? I don’t understand. Why did they want me hurt?’ Her voice was shaky as she stifled a sob. Although she was trying to hold herself together she felt her face crumple. It was too awful to think about.

He placed his hands on her upper arms and squeezed. ‘Not to put too fine a point on it, they attempted to kill you, my love, not hurt you.’

She looked into his eyes and saw his deep concern for her. ‘I know,’ she whispered. ‘I know.’

There was a short pause.

‘They tried to kill you too,’ she added.

He gave a disgusted shrug. ‘Collateral damage. But it’s you the bastards want. This is about your sister. It’s clear your mother had nothing to do with it, but somebody here is definitely involved.’

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly to still her nerves. ‘Were we right to let Harry go?’

‘Harry Osborne is nothing. This goes much higher up.’

‘Who?’

‘I could make a guess but let’s see what we can find out.’

‘But, my God, what is it that they’re hiding?’

He sighed. ‘I don’t know, but they’re prepared to stop at nothing to keep it secret. And they see you as a threat.’

Belle rubbed her fingertips on her pulsing temples and wished she’d never started all this. An attempt on her life for heaven’s sake! Somebody wanted her dead and the thought of it made her feel sick to her core. But it was more than that. She clenched her fists as anger began to grip her, and she longed to lash out at whoever had done this. How dare they? What right did they have?

‘We won’t go straight back to Rangoon,’ Oliver said. ‘I have friends in Maymo. It’s about twenty-five miles west and a little north of here. We’ll go there and work out what to do. It’s cooler up in the hills, so we’ll get some respite from this wretched heat.’

‘How do we get there?’

‘Train. Do you think you need to see a doctor?’

She shook her head. ‘It’s mainly dirt and small cuts on my arm. I have plasters upstairs.’

‘Okay. Clean up and pack, but be quick. We’d better get our skates on.’

‘They’ll try again, won’t they?’ she said, unable to keep the fear from her voice.

‘The truth?’ he asked.

She nodded.

An hour later and they had just made it in time. As the train slid out of Mandalay, Belle peered through the window at tree-lined avenues and large British mansions. For a while the route remained flat but wooden shacks now dotted the dusty lane running alongside the track. The lane teemed with caravans of bullock carts heading away for the late afternoon, dogs lying fast asleep in the dusty air, pretty Burmese girls with flowers in their hair and carrying water pots on their heads, and men bobbing on bicycles as they rode over the rocky terrain. Oliver explained how his friends, Jeremy and Brenda, ran a small hotel or guest house and that he had called ahead to let them know. Although Belle had changed her clothes, there hadn’t been time to wash her hair, leaving her scalp still itching and dry. The journey would take three hours and, shaken by the bomb blast and what they’d heard from Harry, Belle wanted nothing more than to sleep.

She leant against the window but the rattling sensation as the train gradually rose prevented sleep. She opened her eyes and felt a little distanced from herself. Agonizingly slowly, they passed villages where rain trees gave shelter from the heat, where banana palms grew profusely and where the hills in the distance glowed a deep hazy purple. The yellow acacia groves and green-carpeted foothills came next, but soon the track ran through steep rounded hills with rocky bases and deep vegetation beyond. Under the still blue sky they passed shrines and crossed a bridge over the valley, continuing to rise. She scanned the ridges of jungle, dark green close by, mid-green further on, then turning lighter and eventually becoming dusky blue.

For a while Belle leant against Oliver and managed to doze fitfully. As they drew closer to Maymo she woke, surprised to see how green it was. Oliver pointed out the fruit growing nearby: strawberries, damsons, grapes, lemons and limes.

‘It’s incredibly fertile,’ he said.

She gazed at his handsome, rugged face and nodded.

He touched her cheek, and she felt something comforting about the simplicity of it. ‘You all right?’

‘I think so.’

Close to the station, cattle sleeping on the line delayed their arrival, but soon they were able to climb down. A porter ferried their cases to a waiting pony and cart and then, passing the usual stalls and a Methodist church, they made their way up into the higher ground. There, red-brick colonial houses with forest-green shutters, brown woodwork, porches and gardens nestled among the trees. Soon after Government House, the Government Administration Office and the Surveying Office, they climbed another hill. Oliver pointed out a grand half-timbered mansion.

‘It’s Candacraig,’ he said, seeing her looking. ‘The British club. They call it the Chummery. We’re not far from my friends’ place.’

As they arrived at the small hotel the sun was setting. Belle welcomed the cool breeze and glanced at the sky, now a deep shimmering coral shot through with violet.

‘It can be cold here at night,’ Oliver said, ‘depending on the season. They even have fires.’

First Belle was introduced to Oliver’s friends, Jeremy and Brenda, an older American couple, now retired apart from running the guest house. Oliver explained that he’d lodged with them during his first few weeks in Burma and they had shown him the ropes. They certainly seemed exceptionally fond of him, enquiring after his career and asking about his health and so on. Brenda was welcoming and friendly, and a terrific cook Oliver had told Belle, and they could most certainly look forward to a delicious supper.

They were taken to a room overlooking the front garden and, once they were alone, Belle turned to him. ‘Just one room?’

‘Do you mind? I thought it’d be safer. I can sleep in the armchair.’

She thought about what to do.

‘Or I can ask for another room?’ he said.

‘Do your friends think … well, you know.’

‘Would it bother you if they did?’

‘A little. I wouldn’t want them to get the wrong idea about us. About me.’

‘Don’t worry. I’ve explained about what happened. They understand we need to stay together. He’s ex-military, nerves of steel and afraid of nothing, so exactly the right person to have on our side. It will be fine.’

‘All right.’ She paused, then walked across to him and touched his cheek. ‘We’ll both sleep in the bed.’

‘Maybe a bath first and something to eat?’

‘Maybe,’ she said and looked into his shining blue eyes, then reached up to kiss him.

The impact of what had happened to them and how close they had been to dying had flooded them both with a need for comfort and safety. Later, as they lay on the bed after their baths and the delicious supper he’d promised but she’d hardly been able to eat, Belle began to shake. Fear snaked through her again, reaching every part of her until it curled inside her chest. It felt like the massacre all over again. More than anything she longed to be held and told everything would be all right. But everything was not going to be all right. Not while she remained in Burma. And although Oliver did hold her tightly and she could feel his heart beating against hers, she also knew how badly he’d been shaken too. Then the tears began. It was delayed shock, he murmured, and she knew he was right because now the terror coursed through her, crushing her inside herself so she hardly knew who she was. She tried to speak but stuttered and stumbled over the words until she was gulping and choking and flapping her hands. He helped her to sit up and held a glass of water to her lips.

When she was calmer he asked if she was ready to talk about what had happened in Rangoon.

She looked at him in silence and then, at first haltingly, began to express her sorrow. She told him everything and all the fear she’d buried and never shared finally came flooding out. The atrocities she’d witnessed, the spilt blood, the animal brutality and wretched wasted lives, and then, gasping at the memory, she told him about the tiny baby she’d found alive. When she’d finished weeping, he stroked her cheeks and kissed her forehead with such utter gentleness.

‘I’m scared,’ she said.

He nodded.

‘What are we going to do?’

He took her hand in his and squeezed. ‘I don’t know. Let’s get some sleep and think about it tomorrow when we’re fresh.’

After breakfast the next morning they cycled through the cool leafy town under a pale-blue sky. Oliver pointed out the various British governmental houses and the homes of dignitaries involved in running Burma. She took it all in, wondering at the luxury of their homes compared with the tiny shacks of the local people. When Oliver once again voiced his belief that one day Burma would be for the Burmese, she agreed.

‘Not before time,’ he added with a nod. ‘The signs are everywhere.’

‘You mean the unrest?’

‘Yep. Right across the Empire. It’ll change, and soon.’

They stopped at a flower market lining the edges of one of the main thoroughfares. The air, awash with the delicate scent of purple and white flowers, filled Belle with an odd kind of bitter-sweet delight. They slipped into the huge botanical gardens where they found a tall shady tamarind tree to sit and lean against. As she studied the teak trees in the distance, Oliver explained how the British had been drawn to Burma because of teak. They’d needed it for the navy and it had soon become a growing source of revenue along with gold and rubies from the Shan States, and jade found in the mines of the far north. And after the British exiled the last king of Burma to India, everything had been there for the taking.

He tilted her chin up. ‘So. How are you feeling?’

‘Still awfully shaken.’

He nodded. ‘It might be best if I go back to Rangoon alone.’

‘And I stay here?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’d rather come with you.’

‘Jeremy and Brenda would watch out for you.’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Either that or we smuggle you down to Rangoon and sneak you on to an aeroplane.’

‘I’ve heard there are passenger aeroplanes now.’

‘Imperial Airways. Not many flights though. It takes eleven days to reach London.’

She thought about it.

‘If I knew who was behind the bomb, I’d know where to start.’

‘Who do you think it might be?’ she asked.

‘I think the whole thing may be political. In 1935 the Government of Burma Act ruled that Burma should be separated from British India. A new Senate and a House of Representatives would be created. Your friend Edward de Clemente is on the committee drawing up the final details of the constitution and the electoral rolls ready for general elections.’

‘I didn’t realize.’

‘Everyone involved in this transition has to be above suspicion for the recommendations to be acceptable. So, I would guess someone high up is feeling under threat because of you.’

‘And you think?’

‘A cover-up. That’s what I think. It’s obvious someone has concealed the truth about what happened on the day your sister vanished.’

‘Do you suspect Edward?’

‘Not specifically. It could be anyone.’

There was a long silence. Belle listened to the buzzing of flying insects and the sound of the breeze rustling the leaves overhead. For as far as the eye could see everything was green.

‘Let’s walk to the lake,’ Oliver suggested, and they wheeled their bicycles to another part of the park where swans slid across the silvery water.

‘Did I tell you the doorman at the Strand said his father heard a baby screaming in the night back in 1911? He was a watchman.’

‘A long time ago to remember.’

‘Well, there was no baby staying at the hotel and when he reached the back of the hotel he spotted a car racing away. The episode stayed with him.’

‘Did he report it?’

‘I think he was persuaded not to.’

‘Worth investigating.’

‘You think?’

He nodded.

‘In that case, I’m going back with you.’

‘It may come to nothing.’

She looked at him. ‘Oliver, I don’t think I can leave Burma until I know what happened to Elvira, and I’ve got my house to think about too. I can’t simply leave it to rot.’

‘You can’t go back to the hotel.’

‘No.’

‘Stay with me.’

She gazed at him. ‘What will people think?’

‘Despite the signs of scandalous goings-on here all the time, they will gossip and pretend to be outraged. Maybe some will be genuinely shocked, but in any case, your safety is the single most important issue right now.’