Belle carefully left her brush to rest on the lid of the paint pot, then stood back to admire the third bedroom she’d finished, mildew now gone and the walls as gleaming and fresh as the first. This room, with the veranda overlooking the garden, the one she was certain had been her mother’s, was to become her own, although at present her creature comforts only reached as far as a camp bed and a stool to sit on. But at least the services had been reconnected, she had a bathroom, the floors had been repaired and the roof made watertight. Some of the walls had been plastered, the rudimentary kitchen now worked well enough for breakfast and tea, and the sitting room, though bare, boasted a sofa and two armchairs. She’d painted each room herself and gradually, as the white paint brought fresh life to the walls, she regarded her new home with immense satisfaction. Her only sadness was that her parents could not be there to see it.
All through the week she worked feverishly on the house, while weekends were reserved for her new job singing at the Silver Grill. It wasn’t much but luckily the inheritance from her father stretched far enough to cover the work on the house.
As she washed out her paintbrushes at the Belfast sink in the little scullery at the back of the house, she heard the creak of the back door, now repaired, and Oliver came in.
‘Your carriage awaits, ma’am.’
She grinned. ‘You mean you’ve hired a rickshaw.’
He laughed. ‘Spot on.’
‘Just let me change,’ she said and pointed at her paint-streaked shirt and shorts.
He came across to her, took the brushes from her hands and kissed the tip of her nose. ‘You have paint there,’ he said. Then he kissed her forehead. ‘And there.’
While he kissed her cheeks, her neck and finally her lips, she tipped her head back, hoping for more.
‘Stay at mine tonight,’ he said, his face a picture of mock discomfort. ‘I don’t think my back can cope with sharing your camp bed for another night, especially as I usually end up on the floor.’
Belle twisted the engagement ring on her finger and beamed with pleasure.
‘I need to be back early though. I’ve still got so much to do to get the place shipshape for Simone.’
He tilted his head and gave her a curious look. ‘Anyone would think she was the Queen of England.’
Belle smiled cheerfully, pleased to have been able to write and fill Simone in on everything she’d discovered. ‘Better than that. Anyway, last time I looked I think we had a king.’
‘Guess what?’ he said. ‘I’ve spotted some lovely antiques in one of the Chinese shops near my place.’
‘Expensive?’
‘No … When I say antiques …’
‘You mean junk.’
He smiled. ‘Nice junk.’
She slipped her arm in his. ‘I need new bed linen and an eiderdown.’
‘Rowe’s for those. But aren’t you forgetting something?’
‘I’ve already ordered the beds. They’re arriving the day after tomorrow.’
She went upstairs to wash and change and afterwards opened the French windows to peer out at the garden and think of the day in 1911 when baby Elvira had been taken by Edward’s and Gloria’s aunt. After she had posted the letter to Elvira, or rather Emily, she’d alternated between anxiety and excitement, and when the reply had finally come she’d opened it with trembling hands. She took it out now and read it again, possibly for the twentieth time.
My dear Belle,
I don’t know what to say. I’m shocked. Flabbergasted in fact, but so, so excited to hear about you. I too never had a sibling but always wanted one. My mother – I’m sorry, I do have to call her that – well, she couldn’t have more children. Sadly, she only gave birth to one. A stillborn girl.
I work in publishing here in New York, am married, and have a five-year-old boy called Charlie, your nephew of course. I would be delighted to come to meet you in Rangoon, though I will have to tie up a few loose ends here before I’m free to do so. There’s so much I want to know about you and Diana.
You say you are to be married. If you can let me have the date, and I can make it in time, I’d love to be there, if I’m invited that is.
Until then and with my love,
Emily
Every time Belle read it, she felt her eyes moisten. Was Emily genuinely happy to have heard from her or was she being polite and saying what she thought Belle might want to hear? She knew it couldn’t be straightforward for Emily to have to deal with what her parents had done, nor to come face to face with a sister she’d never even known she had. But she’d written back telling Emily it would be perfect if she could make it in time for the wedding.
She’d thought it best not to mention anything about what had happened to Gloria or Edward in her two letters but was annoyed Gloria had left Rangoon without anyone knowing where she’d gone. Strings had been pulled and Belle was infuriated that it seemed she was going to get away with what she’d done. Edward, however, had been found guilty of perverting the course of justice and now languished in Rangoon’s jail, where he would serve an eighteen-month sentence. Everyone had thought he’d be released from police custody and sent back to England, his tail between his legs, but that hadn’t happened thanks to a young and conscientious lawyer for the prosecution who could not be bribed. In any case, Edward’s reputation was destroyed and his career lay in tatters.
Belle closed the windows then extracted a pair of red high heels from under the camp bed and slipped on some silver earrings. One last look in a tiny hand mirror to check her hair, then she was ready.
In the late afternoon two days later, Belle paced her hall admiring the newly polished marble floor. She’d bought a delicately painted oriental table and a pretty mirror from ‘Oliver’s’ junk shop so now the place, though still sparsely furnished, looked more welcoming. The walls were white and the fragrance of fresh roses arranged in a glass vase on the table drifted through the air, masking the smell of paint. It had rained all afternoon and although it had stopped now, the sky remained bruised and brooding. She prayed the weather would not delay Simone’s arrival.
Oliver, busy organizing the kitchen, was singing off-key. She’d been overjoyed to discover he was an excellent cook, not something she relished doing at all, and they had shared delicious meals together at his apartment. It had been after one of those meals when he’d surprised her by bending down on one knee, gazing into her eyes and proposing. Trying not to laugh, she had studied his dear face and the hopeful tilt of his head and had managed instead to smile and say yes. When he got up she called him a corny old fool, but they had drunk a bottle and a half of champagne, then made wonderful and utterly joyous love, and had been inseparable ever since. Her aversion to alcohol had, of course, been forgotten and she vastly preferred the more relaxed person she had become.
He’d also surprised her with a new cooker, saucepans, cutlery, crockery, glasses, provisions – all of it brand new and delivered by Rowe’s. So they now had everything they needed to produce a first meal for Simone. Belle wandered upstairs to check Simone’s bedroom for the hundredth time. The new and gratifyingly comfy bed was ready, made up with sparkling white linen and draped with a silky ivory bedspread.
So far, Belle and Oliver hadn’t discussed the future in detail. He was worried there might be another war and, not at all sure how it would affect them in Burma, had suggested they move to America if things became tricky. But he hadn’t objected when she’d expressed the desire to restore her parents’ old house, with a view to living there if they stayed on in Burma.
As she was thinking this she heard a knock at the front door and with a rush of excitement ran down the stairs to open up.
A beautiful middle-aged blonde woman with amber eyes smiled back at her. Belle, so thrilled to finally meet this old friend of her mother, beamed at her and hurried down the front steps.
‘Welcome,’ she said, holding out both hands. ‘I can’t tell you how happy I am that you came.’
Simone stepped forward and the two embraced, then Simone held her at arm’s length.
‘So, you are Annabelle. How like your mother.’
‘Am I?’
The older woman nodded. ‘Look, I haven’t been entirely honest with you.’ She glanced to her left and, from just out of sight, another woman wearing an elegant pale-blue dress stepped forward.
At first Belle thought this auburn-haired woman must be her sister, but the woman was too old to be Elvira. She hesitated, her mind spinning wildly. No. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t. It was impossible. Belle could not look at the woman, nor could she look away. Deeply shocked and feeling as if the whole world had shrunk, she froze. Was she dreaming? Had she hit her head on something? Was this real? The silence went on and Belle felt she might never breathe again, but then, with an explosion of sound, the blood rushed to her temples, pounding and pounding. As if awakening from a spell she gasped, took a step back and fell against Oliver, who’d appeared behind her. A lump grew in her throat and she tried to swallow it, but instead her eyes grew hotter and an avalanche of tears began to fall. Silent and devastatingly painful. She felt dizzy, but Oliver kept her steady and upright, then passed her a clean handkerchief. As Belle wiped her eyes she continued to gulp back tears. Now she became aware of the whole front garden, its delicious scents released by the heavy rain, the loamy smell of the earth, the fresh green of the trees and the fragrance of the flowers that had survived the downpour. Apart from the haze of insects hovering over the shrubs now heavy with water, it had turned into a crystal-clear afternoon.
For a moment the woman angled her face to catch the warmth of the sun and Belle knew the familiar movement, oh so well. Then, unwavering, her expression calm, the woman gazed at Belle with bright clear eyes, looking as if she might be about to smile but was waiting for a sign. From me, Belle thought. Is she waiting for me? She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, then stared back at the older woman and, in that moment, she fully comprehended.
‘Mother?’ she whispered.
Diana nodded and took a step towards her daughter.
‘But you’re …’
‘Douglas decided it was for the best.’
Belle waited to see the chaos of passion and obsession that had once raged beneath the surface of her mother’s deceptively calm exterior. But there seemed to be none and Belle felt confused. This mother … this mother with her hair so neatly folded in a smart chignon, this mother with her clear eyes and flawless complexion, this mother who stood so still and dignified – who was she?
‘But you never ever came,’ Belle burst out angrily.
Her mother took a deep breath. ‘I came.’
‘When? When did you come?’
‘You were fifteen. I had recovered from my illness –’
‘You recovered? You recovered?’ Belle interrupted again, the overpowering anger and hurt catching in her throat. ‘But you didn’t come back to us.’
‘I wanted to see you, but your father thought it would be too unsettling for you, especially as he’d convinced you I’d died, and you had become used to that.’
Belle’s tears came in a rush again and she swiftly wiped them away. ‘You let him send you away? I needed you, Mother. I needed you.’
Her mother’s face fell and though Belle could see the devastation in her mother’s eyes she could not rein in her anger.
‘I am so sorry, my love.’
‘Sorry is not enough.’ Belle turned to Simone and felt her cheeks burning. In the past she had not known how to cope with the wasteland of her mother’s life. Was this really the same woman?
She stared at Simone. ‘After I wrote to you, why didn’t you tell me my mother was alive?’
‘I almost did. She and I talked about it and I decided I would come to Burma to tell you in person. It was not the sort of news to deliver in a letter.’
‘I insisted on coming too,’ Diana added. ‘I longed so much to see you but I didn’t believe you’d want to see me. That’s why I didn’t dare try again. And then Simone told me you were over here.’
‘I wanted –’ Belle stuttered. ‘I want –’ And the tears started again.
Diana came straight to her daughter and Belle fell into her open arms. As both women sobbed, the world stood still and it seemed as if they might never stop weeping. When they eventually did, Diana smiled through her tears and wiped her daughter’s cheeks, just as if she’d been a little girl.
‘I am so proud of you,’ she said. ‘So proud. After you left school I sent letters to you in Cheltenham explaining everything. But you never replied, so …’
Belle’s eyes widened. ‘I never saw any letters.’
‘Maybe Douglas –’
‘Thought he was protecting me?’
Diana nodded.
Then, as all three women had moist eyes, and as a silence had descended, Oliver took over. ‘I have champagne on ice. Who’s game?’
Between laughing and crying, Belle managed to speak. ‘Mother, meet Oliver, your future son-in-law.’
A month flew by and now it was the day before the wedding. The icing on the cake, if any more had been needed, was that a letter had arrived from Emily, and she was due in Rangoon today. Belle had already sent a brief letter explaining the wonderful news that Diana was in fact alive and also that she was currently in Burma. Oliver’s parents, meanwhile, had already arrived, and had taken a suite at the Strand Hotel. Belle and her mother had toured the garden every morning before the rains came in the afternoon, talking and sharing everything that had happened during their long separation. At times Belle had been angry with her mother, and then angry with her father, and explaining the hurt she’d experienced as a child felt painful. She couldn’t understand why her father had intercepted Diana’s letters. When Belle asked about it again, her mother had simply said she and Douglas had loved each other once but life had changed them both. The look of sadness in Diana’s eyes prevented Belle from pursuing it. The letters aside, and as far as she was able, Belle gradually came to accept things had been the way they had been for a reason. Diana had convinced her daughter that much of Douglas’s behaviour, though perhaps at times misguided, had been to protect Belle.
‘And you are really well, now?’ Belle had asked, looking into her mother’s green eyes when the rain had come and they had escaped indoors.
‘I truly am.’
And when Belle had seen the wisdom and compassion in her mother’s eyes she had known it was true.
Later on, as the rain abated and before darkness fell, Belle and Diana explored the fringes of the garden where roses clambered and cascaded in wild profusion. The whole garden, awash with moisture, shone from the monsoon rains. Diamonds of sunlight glittered on the wet grass and the sky shimmered in shades of lilac and pink. They breathed in the sweetness hanging in the air but neither woman spoke of Elvira. It was as if they dared not mention her name for if they did the magic of her being found alive might vanish and, with it, Elvira too. Instead they spoke of the wedding, the state of the country, what might happen in the future. Diana spoke of her path to healing and the gratitude she owed to Simone and Dr Gilbert, who had given her back her life. Belle talked about Oliver, and about her career. Although she’d initially come to Burma bright-eyed and hopeful for her career, things had turned out rather differently. She’d gained a mother and a fiancé, and was about to gain a sister. Singing was still an important part of her life and she hoped to continue but now she had a family too.
‘You get your voice from me,’ Diana said.
‘And my green eyes and reddish hair,’ Belle added.
Diana touched her daughter’s hair. ‘Yours is more golden than mine.’
But now Belle wasn’t listening. She was gazing instead at the back door of the proud and lovely old house where Oliver stood with a woman Belle had never seen before. The woman was smiling and her hair, lit by the sun, was a brighter red than either Diana’s or Belle’s.
‘Elvira.’ Diana’s voice came out in a hoarse whisper.
‘Go on,’ Belle said very gently and gave her a little push.
Diana turned her head, smiled at Belle, and then began to run, faster than she had ever run before, and with arms outstretched she reached the daughter she’d lost twenty-six years before and who she had believed was gone for ever. Belle followed behind slowly, wanting to give her mother those precious few moments alone with Elvira. She glanced back at the tamarind tree as she passed. Who would ever have thought it would turn out like this?
After a few minutes she walked up to Emily and Diana and came to a halt. Her mother stepped back and now the two sisters remained motionless, eyes locked. Bewitched and wanting to move forward but frozen by something that would have seemed impossible not so long before, Belle knew she had done this. She hadn’t given up, not even when she had been terrified. Now, unable to do anything but drink her sister in, she felt her heart skipping a beat; it jumped and somersaulted until she had to put a hand to her chest. And then the spell was broken. Emily stepped forward and held out her arms and within seconds the two women were hugging each other, both laughing through the flood of tears.
There was so much to say, so much to resolve, and yet Belle found it impossible to speak. Neither of the sisters seemed to know where to start. The moment went on until they both eventually turned to Diana and then the three of them walked arm-in-arm towards the house in silence. Belle felt the past twist and turn as if it had suddenly sprung alive again and knew that, for now, some things were too deep for words.
At the door they all turned to look back at the garden, golden in the setting sun.
‘I loved this garden,’ Diana said in a whisper.
Belle found her voice. ‘I knew that the first time I saw it.’
Emily stared at the ground before glancing at Diana. ‘I’m so sorry for what happened here.’
Diana reached out and squeezed her hand. ‘Plenty of time to talk. For now, I only need you to believe it’s all in the past.’
There were a few moments of silence again.
‘Changing the subject,’ Belle said with a grin, ‘I know it’s rather short notice but, Emily, is there any chance you’d agree to be my bridesmaid?’
After the wedding, Oliver and Belle chose not to go away. How could they with Emily so recently arrived and with only three weeks to spend in Rangoon and so much time to make up for. Early one cool morning when the day was fresh and full of promise, Belle and Emily were sitting on a bench beneath the tamarind tree, listening to a gentle breeze ruffling the leaves above them and watching the birds swooping from tree to tree.
‘This was where your pram was the day you were taken,’ Belle said. ‘Right here beneath the tamarind.’
Emily nodded but didn’t speak.
They’d had so little time alone together and Belle didn’t really know how Emily was feeling about everything. Was she truly happy to have been found or was a little bit of her begrudging having had her life twisted out of shape? Belle wanted to ask but wasn’t sure how and then Emily began to speak.
‘Marie was a good mother to me in her way, or as good as she could be,’ Emily said, interrupting Belle’s thoughts.
‘Diana, too,’ Belle said, tentatively. ‘Though I didn’t see it at the time. I didn’t understand. I judged her. Blamed her.’
‘You were a child.’
Belle drew in her breath and closed her suddenly smarting eyes.
‘You have a chance to make up for it all now.’
Belle nodded and exhaled slowly, blinking the tears away.
‘When I read about the way Marie had stolen me from this very garden, it was … well, I hardly have words. Nothing prepares you for a shock so life-changing.’
There was a short silence as Belle tried to imagine how it had been.
‘I was so angry,’ Emily continued. ‘But I also felt sad and confused. My world had come crashing down around me and everything I’d thought about who I was had been a lie. Most of all I didn’t want to believe it. I don’t think I slept for a week. But it did make sense of the depressions and anxieties Marie had experienced throughout her life.’
‘How do you mean?’
Emily shrugged. ‘Guilt had been at the bottom of it.’
There was a long pause before Belle spoke.
‘Diana was ill for years too. She was accused of harming you.’
Emily shook her head and her voice broke a little as she spoke. ‘I’m so sorry for what Marie did and the way it affected your family. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to truly accept it.’
Belle reached for her hand.
‘As it gradually sank in I realized Marie had been tortured by regret over what she’d done. That’s why she’d become so ill.’
‘Diana too, though I feel blessed she’s not only alive but well.’
‘We’ve both found her again, haven’t we?’
Belle smiled as her mother’s image came to mind. ‘She looks wonderful, doesn’t she?’
Emily nodded but Belle caught something in her look and felt suddenly nervous.
‘Can I be frank?’ Emily asked.
‘Of course.’
‘Well, the trouble is I don’t exactly know what to say to Diana. I feel terribly torn. I want to get to know her and I can’t tell you how much it means to have met her. But on the other hand, and perhaps I shouldn’t, but I somehow still feel protective of Marie too. What she did was inexcusable but, you see, she did love me.’
Belle nodded and thought about it before speaking. ‘Diana’s been through so much herself. I’m sure she’ll understand.’
‘I hope so.’
‘What about your father? What happened to him?’
Emily inhaled sharply. ‘Sadly, my father put a bullet in his brain about a year after leaving Burma. I was too young to remember anything about him but for some years my mother was beside herself with grief. I’m sure she blamed herself.’
‘So much guilt.’
‘Yes, but as I said, she did her best, and after she remarried a few years later, I ended up with a wonderful, caring stepfather and he made all the difference.’
‘And now you have a little boy.’
‘Yes. The light of my life. Truly. I can’t wait for you to get to know him. I hope you and Oliver will come to New York soon? We live in a lovely old brownstone. There’s bags of room.’
Belle grinned. ‘You bet!’
Emily laughed. ‘Goodness, I think you might be turning into an American too.’
Belle raised her brows in response and then laughed as well. ‘You never know, there’s a chance we might end up living there – though I’d be sad to leave here.’
‘I can imagine.’
‘I’m sure your feelings about what Marie did will eventually settle. I can’t help but think her mind must have been terribly disturbed at the time.’
‘Yes. She wasn’t a bad person. Not really. Just a sick and misguided woman who did a terrible thing and then paid for it all her life. The awful thing is, I still can’t forgive her.’
‘You will. In time.’
Emily hung her head. ‘It hurts, Belle.’
‘I know.’
There was a long silence and then Emily squinted at Belle as if she was considering something.
‘What?’ Belle asked.
‘I wanted to say thank you.’
‘For?’
‘For all this. For finding me.’
‘You’re truly glad?’
Emily’s eyes glittered. ‘I always wanted a sister.’
‘But there’s something else, isn’t there?’
‘I still have so much to come to terms with. A lot to resolve, you know?’
Belle could see the sadness in Emily’s eyes and understood. Of course, it couldn’t all be plain sailing. Her sister would have to reframe her entire life, much as Belle had also had to do.
‘You can always talk to me,’ Belle said. ‘I promise.’
‘Yes, I’ve never had that before.’
As they smiled at each other Belle felt she would treasure this time for ever. It was a pause, this moment, a single beat in the crazy tide of life, that might permit the past to shift and fade as they sat together in the garden. Despite Emily’s mixed emotions, it was special to share the newly rain-released scents of the profusion of flowers still blooming in the undergrowth, and watch the birds dipping in and out of the trees. Her sister was alive, and that meant everything. The gift of a sister. How lucky she was. How lucky they both were to have found each other, and she hoped they would have years ahead of them to become the best of friends. Years to get to know each other’s hopes and dreams. Years to find out their flaws and fears. And years to support each other through whatever might lie ahead, even – given the uncertainty of things – the possibility of another war. Nothing could eradicate the loneliness they’d both experienced in the past, or the horrors Belle had witnessed, but she knew that in the marvellous way life gave as much as it took, the years stretching before them might eventually compensate for the ones they’d lost.
They would be a family and, given how fractured her childhood had been, Belle could ask for nothing better. She was a daughter, a sister, a wife, an aunt, and if everything went to plan, although Oliver was the only one to know so far, she too would be a mother … in about seven months’ time. And it made her ache for Diana, finally dispelling any remaining reservations she might still harbour about the past. She already loved her unborn baby and could truly begin to glimpse the agony her mother must have felt at the disappearance of Elvira. She sighed deeply and then, lost in her thoughts, began to sing to herself.
Emily touched her on the arm very gently. ‘What’s that you’re singing?’ she asked.
Belle turned to her sister and smiled at a memory. ‘Oh, just a tune from my childhood.’ Then she glanced at the house.
‘It’s a lovely place,’ Emily said, seeing her looking.
‘It should be yours. As the elder.’
‘No, Belle, it’s yours,’ Emily said, and squeezed her sister’s hand. ‘You deserve it. If it wasn’t for you, none of us would be here now. You did this, and I couldn’t be more grateful. I only ask that we never lose each other again.’
Belle’s eyes filled up as she gazed at her sister and then her new home. It wasn’t just a lovely house as Emily had said. It was the place her beautiful sister had been born, the place from which she had been lost, and now it had become the place where she had been found again.
‘I was so frightened I would never find you,’ Belle said, ‘or that you were dead.’
‘Well, you found me all right. And I am never going to let you go.’
They both stood and then they walked arm-in-arm around the garden, enjoying the moment Belle had so longed for but had also feared would never come. Her missing sister had come home at last. Thank you, she whispered as her heart filled with gratitude. Thank you.