48.

As she paced the room, Belle felt hot and searched for the switch to operate the ceiling fan. She found it and flicked it but the warm air it shifted around didn’t help. How desperate she was to see Oliver, hoping the feeling of connection between them would ease the reservations Gloria had planted in her mind. And although the need to believe in Oliver went deep, a tiny seed of doubt had crept in, even as she had defended him. What if there was the slightest chance Gloria could be right? But no, that couldn’t be. She was just frightened and worried and didn’t know how to feel any more.

When he did finally appear, carrying his briefcase, his eyes seemed impenetrable and she felt a wobble. I am scared to love you, she thought, and dipped her head so he might not see what was in her eyes.

‘Something wrong?’ was all he said.

‘Gloria came.’

‘But I –’

Belle interrupted. ‘She said I shouldn’t trust you.’

A look of irritation crossed his face. ‘Why did you let her in?’

They stared at each other.

‘Belle, it isn’t me you need to worry about.’

‘I know. But who?’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t know yet, but look, I have something.’ From the case he extracted a yellowing scrap of newsprint that, judging by the blackened edge, looked as if the rest of it had been burnt.

‘I found it by chance when I was looking up references to Golden Valley. It’s just a tiny part of something longer but you can still see the date. Eight years ago, and only weeks before I arrived in Burma. Apparently, during renovations of a house in Golden Valley, a skeleton of a baby was discovered as they dug up the ground ready to build a summer house.’

Belle felt the blood drain from her face. ‘My parents’ house? Is that why my mother was digging?’

What had her mother known, she thought? And if it wasn’t Diana who had buried the baby, who had? Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t catch what Oliver was saying.

‘Did you hear?’

She shook her head, spirits sinking.

‘I said it doesn’t say whose place it was, Belle. But it was number twenty-one, so not your parents’ house.’

‘But so close. Surely it must prove my sister is buried there?’

He nodded. ‘Could be. As I said, I went through another paper’s archives – a friend is editor there – and found it stuck between two other articles about building and developments in Golden Valley. There’s nothing else about the skeleton. I reckon the whole thing was suppressed. I found nothing more.’

‘Do you think they informed my father about it?’

‘Not sure. The case had been closed years before. Nobody followed this up, although someone obviously destroyed the rest of the article this scrap came from …’ He paused. ‘It must mean something. In any case, I’ll do what I can to find out whose garden it was.’

‘What’s the point?’

‘If it was Elvira buried there, don’t you want to know who was responsible?’

An hour later they arrived at the Land Registry where they eventually managed to trace the family who’d been living at number twenty-one at the time. When it turned out to be George de Clemente, Commissioner of Rangoon Division, married to Marie, with one baby daughter, Oliver whistled.

‘Did Edward ever mention anything about number twenty-one to you?’

She shook her head. ‘He said he’d like to buy my house.’

Oliver raised his brows. ‘Interesting.’

‘This George must be a relative of Edward and Gloria’s. It’s an unusual name.’

‘I’ll check who inherited the house or who bought it.’

As he read on for a few minutes more, Belle could not understand why nobody had told her about a skeleton having been found buried in the garden of twenty-one. Had that been deliberate? Or was it simply someone else’s dark family secret and nothing to do with Elvira at all? An unwanted pregnancy perhaps?

‘Here we are. It seems the house was inherited by their nephew, Edward de Clemente, so there’s your answer.’

‘Gloria has a house in Golden Valley. I’ve never been, but perhaps she lives there. And if it is the same house, why did she never tell me about a skeleton having been found?’

‘Exactly what I was thinking. Odd, isn’t it?’

She nodded. ‘What do you think Edward has to do with any of this?’

He pulled a face. ‘I don’t know. Maybe nothing. However, I’ve known for some time that Edward doesn’t simply work as an advisor to the Commissioner.’

‘Then what?’

‘The Rangoon Intelligence Unit.’

Belle was horrified. ‘You don’t think he was behind the bomb in Mandalay?’

‘Better not jump to conclusions. We’d need something irrefutable to be able to prove that.’

‘So, what do we know about this George de Clemente?’

Oliver furrowed his brow as he considered her question. ‘Well, it says they had one daughter. Of course, he and his wife might have had another baby. Perhaps twins, one of whom died.’

‘But why bury it in the garden?’

‘Stillborn?’

‘That doesn’t explain anything. Why not in the graveyard at the church? It has to be Elvira.’

‘They may have had some other reason. Perhaps a servant’s child?’

Belle bowed her head.

‘First, let’s establish what happened to this George chap. Find out where he is now.’

From the Land Registry they went to the governmental employees’ archives to see if they could find anything in the few records available to the public. Admittedly much would be classified, but it was worth a chance. After half an hour their persistence was rewarded when they read a footnote to the paragraph on George de Clemente detailing how he and his family had moved to Kalaw in 1911.

‘The year Elvira vanished,’ Belle said.

‘I know a guy who has worked at the Department of Health in Kalaw for years. He may tell us more.’

A small Department of Posts and Telegraphs had been founded in 1884 and, as a journalist, Oliver’s paper had helped him acquire a telephone line early on. While he made some calls, Belle watched him, chewing the inside of her cheek and wondering about the de Clemente family. What on earth could be the connection between them and her dead sister? Belle felt exhausted by the questions whirling in her mind, but excited too. She hungered to know exactly what had happened all those years ago and why so much information had been lost or hidden.

When Oliver ended his calls, it was to tell her that the de Clemente family had left Burma to live in America but up until then they had employed a Chinese nanny who, after the family left, returned to Rangoon to run a small newsagent’s shop. ‘They weren’t in Kalaw for any time at all.’

‘That’s odd.’

‘Yes. Why go to Kalaw if they were bent on leaving the country?’

‘Unless it was a holiday. It is a hill station, isn’t it? A bit like Maymo.’

Oliver nodded. ‘I think we have to go back to the Secretariat. I know the clerk at the Office of Trading Licences. If we can find the nanny, she might know something about the baby buried in the garden of twenty-one.’

Belle laughed. ‘Because nannies know everything.’

‘And, if she has a licence for her shop, we’ll find her.’

‘They know everything and you know everyone.’

He made a mock bow. ‘All in the line of duty, ma’am. The British keep everything tight, so I have no option but to ferret out information however I can.’

She pulled a grateful face. ‘Well, I’m jolly glad of it.’

‘How British you sound,’ he said, smiling back at her. ‘But don’t raise your hopes too much. The nanny may well have moved on, maybe even gone back to live in China.’

As they neared the Secretariat again, Oliver pointed out a small tea shop with chairs and tables placed outside in the shade beneath a wide awning.

‘Best if you wait there.’

She shook her head determinedly. ‘I’m coming with you.’

‘Honey, I know the guy. Old school. Won’t deal with a woman. If you come, you’ll only raise suspicions. If I go on my own he’ll just think it’s something connected with a story for my paper.’

‘Talking of your paper, shouldn’t you be at work?’

‘Leave of absence. Now, I won’t be long, but do watch out. Whoever was behind the bomb may well see you.’

‘Oh God.’

‘It might not be a bad thing. Might help flush him or her out. It’s too public for anything awful to happen here. If you sense the slightest hint of trouble, go inside the café and ask for the owner’s help. He’s a friend.’

Oliver left, and Belle made her way across to one of the tables where she sat close to a group of women, and then ordered a pot of tea. The day was hot with the promise of heavy rain and she felt herself wilting beneath the extreme humidity. In the distance the hum of Rangoon’s busy streets went on relentlessly. All nerves, she sat eyeing the people milling about outside the grand Secretariat. Some, who weren’t British, fretfully waited to be allowed in, while bustling self-important men entered and left the main entrance at will. She prayed Oliver wouldn’t be too long. But how conscientious he’d been, leaving no stone unturned and fully proving himself as an investigative journalist.

The closer Belle came to knowing about the past, the more real it felt. How devastating it must have been to have been accused at the same time as dealing with overwhelming grief. She’d judged her mother for so long. She told herself she’d only been a child and couldn’t have known any better. But it didn’t help. Sorry, Mummy, so sorry, she whispered to herself. But it was much too late.

A voice broke into her thoughts and, squinting into the brightness, she glanced up to see Edward approaching her table. A shiver of fear ran through her and she struggled to steady herself. He looked uneasy, his skin redder than usual, as if he was troubled by the heat.

‘Belle.’ It was a terse greeting.

She swallowed hard but her throat had closed, so she flicked her wrist to indicate an unoccupied chair.

He didn’t sit and, frowning, seemed to be studying her. ‘I hear you’ve been making enquiries. You must be more careful to whom you speak and who speaks on your behalf. If you’d wanted to know anything you only had to ask me.’

‘I –’

‘Leave your tea, my dear, I’d like you to come with me.’

He’d spoken urgently and in a tone that brooked no argument but she shook her head and, with a thumbnail digging sharply into her palm, she found her voice. ‘Sorry, Edward, it’s absolutely lovely to see you, but I’m waiting for Oliver.’

‘I thought we were friends, you and I.’ He tilted his head to one side and now he did smile, but there was little genuine warmth in it and she noticed the dark shadows beneath his eyes.

‘You look tired,’ she said.

‘It’s the time of year.’

Although she knew what he meant, his grim face told her something different. She wiped her brow with her palm and prayed Oliver would get back quickly. ‘It’s so hot, isn’t it? But as I said –’

‘This is just a request, Belle. I wouldn’t dream of forcing you, but really, I do need you to come with me. For your own good, you understand.’ His tone had changed now, become more cajoling.

‘But, Edward, the thing is, I don’t understand,’ she said, keeping her voice as light and conversational as she could, despite a nagging undercurrent of fear. ‘What’s this about?’

‘I have a car waiting,’ he said, without answering her question. ‘I can’t explain here. It’s a small matter and won’t take long at all. You’ll be in and out in no time. We’d purely like to ask you a few questions. You won’t come to any harm and I’ll have you back in the blink of an eye.’

‘Who is we?’

‘My department, who else?’

Belle took a breath and then exhaled slowly. The heat had been building and building and now it had become unbearable.

While Edward took out his handkerchief and wiped his brow, Belle glanced to her left and spotted Oliver in the distance, now heading towards them. She hoped Edward hadn’t heard the way her sharp intake of breath had given away the rush of relief she’d felt at seeing her lover. She remained seated and played for time by talking about how much she longed to see the monsoon. Inside, she was trembling. There wasn’t any way on this earth she was going to go with Edward.

‘How is Gloria?’ she then asked.

‘Gloria is fine, really fine. Thank you for asking. Anyway, shall we go? I’ll have you back in a jiffy, there’s a good girl.’

Patronizing, she thought, but he was definitely rattled.

When Oliver had almost reached them, Edward must have heard his footsteps because he twisted round to see who was coming.

Belle caught Oliver’s eye, then she rose to her feet and picked up her bag to give the impression she was intending to do what Edward wanted, though her legs were shaking. She pressed down on the table with one hand to keep herself firm and hoped she could carry off the deception. ‘Edward wants me to go with him. Says it won’t take long. So, I’ll just –’

‘Is this police business?’ Oliver asked the other man, interrupting her. ‘Is she under arrest?’

Edward had no option but to shake his head. ‘Of course not. Why would she be? I am simply trying to look out for her.’

‘In that case, unless you do wish to have her arrested, she stays with me. I can do the looking out. Right, Belle?’

She nodded.

Edward turned to Belle and gave her a hard, regretful look. ‘I can’t tell you who to choose as your friends, I can only say you are making a grave mistake. I just wish you had listened to me.’