51.

Belle bent over the letter she was trying to write to Elvira, or Emily as she was now called. With too many unanswered questions clouding her mind, she’d already made five fruitless attempts. Would Emily want to know her? Would she be pleased at having been found and then contacted like this? Or would she still be so shocked at hearing about her origins that she was unable to contemplate anything more? Struggling to find the right words, Belle had scrunched each attempt at writing into a ball before tossing it aside. What did you say to a long-lost sister who still didn’t know you existed?

She crumpled yet another sheet and flung it over her head in exasperation. Oliver, entering the room, caught it. ‘Whoa,’ he said, ‘as bad as that?’, then he came over and kissed the top of her head. ‘Finding it tough?’

‘It’s awful,’ she wailed, looking up at him. ‘Everything I write seems clumsy. You’re a journalist. Tell me what to say.’

‘You know I can’t, but my advice is to keep the story simple and straightforward.’

‘It’s hardly that though, is it?’

‘Just stick to the facts. Avoid too much explanation. Give her the space she needs to react in whatever way she chooses.’

‘What if she doesn’t want to know?’

He raised his brows. ‘Sorry, my love, but it’s the risk you have to take.’

‘Do I offer condolences about the death of the woman who became her mother?’

He shrugged. ‘It’s up to you.’

Belle hung her head for a moment, then glanced up at him again. ‘Are you sure you won’t write it for me?’

He laughed. ‘Quite sure.’

As he left the room she picked up her pen, drew out a clean sheet of airmail paper and began again. This time the words began to flow.

Dear Emily,

You don’t know me, but my name is Annabelle Hatton and I’m your younger sister, born after our parents left Burma. Your ‘cousin’, Gloria de Clemente, told me you recently became aware of the facts surrounding your birth and the first few weeks of your life. I imagine it must have been devastating to find out about what happened in the way you did.

On another note, I’m so sorry to hear about your loss. Sadly, my mother, Diana (your birth mother), died too, some years ago, but she would have given anything to know you’re alive. I only found out about what happened to you when my (our) father died and I was astonished to discover newspaper cuttings reporting your disappearance. It had been silenced for so long and I didn’t even know I’d had a sister.

As for me, I came to Burma to take up a job singing at the Strand Hotel but then spent many months trying to find out what had happened to you. I’d always wanted a sister and I’m so thrilled to have finally found you. You may not feel the same way, of course, and I will understand.

I currently live in Rangoon and have decided to remain here, at least for now, mainly because I am so enjoying restoring the house where you were born. If it’s not too distressing I would love to hear from you and learn about your life. If you’re interested in meeting I have plenty of room here and you’d be most welcome to stay. I shall, however, accept your decision if you’d rather not. I know that finding out about a sister like this must be quite a shock.

I am to be married in four months’ time to Oliver, an American journalist and a wonderful man. There’s so much more I’d like to say and to ask but I’ll keep this letter short and will hope very much to hear back from you.

With sincere best wishes,

Belle

Belle was aware that to avoid bitter disappointment she’d have to keep a lid on her feelings of hope and anticipation, but she couldn’t help smiling. As she sealed up the airmail letter and caught the tram into town, her natural exuberance spilled over. Surely her sister would want to know her?