Return to Mandalay (21 page)

By the time she heard him stir, the fire was lit and blazing
with life. It reminded Rosemary, more than anything, of her childhood growing up in this rambling house, of Christmas Day and a log fire burning. The tree in the corner decorated so carefully by her mother. She always allowed Rosemary to help, but Rosemary soon noticed that the bits she did would more often than not be done again by her mother. Made perfect. She sighed. How do you mend a broken marriagethough? How do you mend a marriage that had never been perfect, not even in the beginning?

She put a couple of logs in position and placed the guard in front of the growing blaze.

‘Hello, love.’ He was already sitting up and reaching for his glass of water. He seemed a bit brighter.

‘Let me.’ She passed it to him. Then she fussed with his pillows for a bit, to make him more comfortable. ‘I’ve lit a fire,’ she said. ‘We’ll give it half an hour to warm up and then I’ll take you in there if you like.’

He was watching her. ‘It’s grand to see you, love,’ he murmured. ‘I never said. But it’s grand to see you.’

‘You too. How are you feeling after your nap?’ She smoothed his fine white hair from his brow. Soft as baby hair, she thought, and something stirred inside her. She felt her eyes fill with tears. What on earth was the matter with her? Whatever she did, she mustn’t let him see her cry.

‘Cock a hoop,’ he whispered.

She took his hand and gently patted it.

‘Why did you come, Rosie? Why the sudden visit, eh?’

She was relieved to see a spark of animation in his pale blue
eyes. How much could he see? ‘I came to see you, didn’t I?’ And lucky I did, she thought.

He frowned. ‘I’m not about to kick the bucket, am I, love?’

‘Stop it.’ She squeezed gently. ‘Of course you’re not. I just wanted to see you.’ And she realised that it was true. She’d been so angry with him, hadn’t she, over the years. But seeing him now, like this …

‘I wanted to see you too,’ he said. ‘So that’s alright then, isn’t it?’

‘That’s alright,’ she agreed. She was the woman who kept things at a distance, who had found it easier to bury herself in a new life in Copenhagen and to let the old life go. But this was her father and for a moment there she had thought she’d lost him. And she realised she didn’t want to let him go.

She got to her feet. ‘Fancy a cuppa?’

‘Thought you’d never ask.’ He grinned.

Rather to her surprise, Eva found herself confiding in Ramon on the journey to Mandalay. She told him about the phone call and that her grandfather was far from well.

‘I know you feel that he behaved badly,’ she added. ‘But it meant everything to my grandfather that I brought the chinthe back here to your family, that I found Maya and that she’s still alive.’

Ramon glanced across at her. ‘Perhaps I misjudged him,’ he admitted. He swung the car out to overtake a smoke-belching truck that must have been fifty years old, full of local villagers squatting on pink plastic crates of live chickens and huge watermelons.

Health and safety hadn’t made much impact on Myanmar, Eva noted and not for the first time.

‘Or perhaps you do not know the full story.’

‘It’s possible,’ she conceded.

He drummed long brown fingers on the steering wheel. ‘Why, for example, did he never come back here? It has been many years since the war ended.’

Eva considered. ‘Because he was married to my grandmother,’ she said. ‘And then maybe he felt it was too late.’

‘Too late to again disrupt my grandmother’s life?’ he asked.

‘I think so.’ She would have been married by that time. ‘And your country was very isolated then,’ she reminded him. ‘It wasn’t easy to get here. Politically—’

‘Yes, that is also true.’ He frowned. ‘And I am sorry he is not well.’

So was she. They had left behind the leafy suburbs of Pyin Oo Lwin and were now descending towards the plains. The road to Mandalay, Eva thought nostalgically, lined with yellow mimosa. There was no sign of any tension from the night before and slowly Eva allowed herself to unwind and enjoy the journey through the red-earthed hills and lush vegetation. She leaned back in the seat. She had worn her hair up to keep cool but of course the car had air-con so she was perfectly comfortable. She closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the sensation of the chill air on her skin. She had come to Pyin Oo Lwin not knowing if she would find Maya. And she had not only found her, but she had heard yet another story, one that had got her thinking and planning. Because there must be a way, mustn’t there, to get that little chinthe back?

She stretched out her legs. She was wearing green linen cropped trousers and a sleeveless embroidered top and had already slipped off her leather-thonged sandals. ‘It’s been so lovely to meet your family,’ she said.

He laughed. ‘And you’ll meet even more of them in Mandalay.’

Eva had a vision of more cousins, second cousins and
assorted ebony-haired children who seemed to belong to everyone. And she realised that it was assumed she would continue to see the family in Mandalay. It was a pleasant thought.

‘Tell me some more about your furniture company,’ Eva prompted, sneaking a look at him as he drove. He was a confident driver. Both hands rested languidly on the steering wheel, he looked casual but in charge. She’d like to know him a bit better, she decided, find out what made him tick.

‘My father began the business in Myanmar,’ Ramon said, ‘but his father’s family, the English side …’ And she heard the pride in his voice. ‘Were master craftsmen and furniture makers in Britain for more than four generations before that.’

‘Really?’ She’d find out the name, she decided, and look them up. ‘So why did your father move here in the first place?’

‘He was an explorer.’ He looked swiftly across at her and then back to the road ahead. They were passing one of the many scatterings of shacks and dwellings with fruit and vegetable carts, children playing on the roadside, chickens pecking in the dust. ‘At that time he was not sure his father’s business was for him. He came out here at twenty-five, met my mother and decided to settle in this country.’

Again, Eva was reminded of her grandfather. He too had left England because he was an explorer and because he didn’t want to join the family firm. But in his case, the war had changed everything. He had returned to Dorset when it was over and tried to rescue Fox and Forsters, but although he’d had some degree of success and the company had recovered to fight another day, Eva knew for a fact that her grandfather’s
heart had never been in it. He had left his heart, she supposed, in Burma.

‘But your father became a furniture maker anyway?’ she asked Ramon.

‘Yes.’ He nodded and swung the steering wheel to the left to follow the bend in the road. ‘He had trained in London and always loved to work with wood. Very soon, he formed a Burmese furniture company with the same ethics as his father’s.’

‘Which were?’

‘We pride ourselves on being environmentally conscious,’ he said. He paused and accelerated smoothly to overtake a small truck. The journey was taking no time, already they were descending towards Mandalay, the sun low in the sky, visible through the trees to the west. ‘We use only the best teak wood sourced from conscientious dealers with legitimate concessions.’

Eva was impressed. His words struck a chord with her own thoughts and values. ‘But what happened to the business when your father—’

‘Died?’ He glanced across at her. ‘My father had a loyal manager who has only recently left us to retire. He trained me and taught me the skills necessary to take over. From when I was only a young boy, it was always expected that I would grow up and take charge of the company.’

‘And you did,’ murmured Eva.

‘And I did.’ He braked at the junction and took the turning to the city. ‘Each generation has a responsibility,’ he
continued. ‘To develop the business as he sees fit, but to also remain loyal to the original ethos of producing high quality and hand-crafted furniture. To move forwards, but gradually and faithfully.’ Once again, he glanced across at her. ‘It is our way.’

‘And your method is through expansion?’ She recalled what he’d told her before, his dream of exporting his furniture to the UK and elsewhere.

‘Not just expansion.’ He shook his head. ‘That is important, yes. But I have my own ideas too. You will see if you visit the factory.’

‘I’d like to.’ Eva was intrigued. ‘Did your father try to merge his company with your grandfather’s in the UK?’ Had that been a possibility back then?

Ramon shook his head. ‘They never had the chance to try,’ he said. ‘My English grandfather died only a year after my father arrived here. His heart, too, was not strong. There was, what do you say?’

‘A family history?’

‘Exactly.’ He nodded. ‘The company in Britain was terminated. It was even more important then for my father to make our business a success. He must continue his father’s work. Now he was doing it for him and for his new family too, for us. And I must do the same.’

‘I see.’ She was certainly beginning to understand where Ramon’s ambition came from and why the furniture company was so important to him. It was a legacy, a family tradition.

‘And you?’ Ramon asked as they entered the suburbs of the
city. ‘You have antiques to view in Mandalay?’ His voice was a little cooler, but thankfully he was less antagonistic than before.

‘I have.’ She watched him negotiate the busy road. ‘But we’re not depriving your country of anything iconic or culturally significant, you know,’ she said. She twisted her daisy ring around her little finger as she spoke.

‘Is that so?’ He flicked back the wing of dark hair from his forehead. ‘But who is to say? You?’ He swerved to avoid a cyclist and sounded the horn of the car. ‘Forgive me, Eva, but you are not Burmese, even though you may be an expert.’

‘We are taking what the Burmese wish to sell,’ she insisted. ‘And we only buy from the legal owners. What’s wrong with that?’ Eva tried to control her rising anger. He was questioning her integrity, which she prided herself on more than anything.

Ramon braked sharply as a pedestrian loaded with watermelons stepped into the road. He swore under his breath. ‘But why do they want to sell? Have you asked yourself that? Have you thought that perhaps they need to sell because they are desperate? Why not leave things where they are sometimes?’

‘You can’t take away people’s right to sell their own possessions.’ Though Eva knew it wasn’t quite as simple as that. ‘And anyway, lots of the things we buy came originally from the British.’

‘Ah, the British.’ His lip curled. ‘Well, that is your history, Eva.’

‘Your father was British too,’ she said.

‘Yes, and my mother was Burmese.’

Eva sighed. He was quite impossible. ‘We are at least bringing money into your country.’

Ramon conceded this with a small nod. ‘And we are grateful,’ he said with some sarcasm. ‘Just as we are grateful that the US has been good enough to lift some of the harmful sanctions against us.’

‘Ramon—’

The tyres squealed as they drew up outside her hotel.

Eva didn’t wait for him to open her door. She got out and practically dragged her suitcase out behind her.

‘I apologise.’ Ramon was standing in front of her, blocking her pathway to the hotel’s swing door, long-limbed and with a determined look in his green eyes. ‘It is your business. I must not interfere.’

‘It’s alright.’ Eva had to concede that he had a point. And she would do what she could to ensure that everything she accepted for the Emporium had been checked and deemed appropriate for export.

‘Perhaps in a day or two, you will be free to do some sightseeing,’ he suggested.

‘I hope so.’ Eva watched as he picked up her case and took it into the foyer, went in after him and gave her name to reception.

‘Ah, madam, you have two messages,’ the receptionist told her, checking a pigeon-hole. She handed Eva two slips of paper.

One was written neatly and signed
Klaus
, she’d read that
later. The other was from her contact in Mandalay, giving a phone number and the words:
it is ready for the view
.

‘It looks as if you will be busy tomorrow,’ Ramon murmured.

‘Yes.’ She smiled up at him. ‘But thanks for bringing me back to Mandalay. I’m very grateful.’

‘It was nothing.’ He handed her case over to the porter. ‘And at the weekend?’

‘The weekend?’

‘I can take you to visit Sagaing and Inwa, if you wish,’ he said. ‘They are special places. You must see more of our country to fully understand.’

Eva hesitated. Had his grandmother dictated that this was how he should behave? Or did it come from the heart? ‘I’m sure you’re very busy,’ she hedged.

‘Not really.’ He shrugged. ‘I would like to take you, to show you,’ he said. He certainly seemed sincere. And again, he fixed her with that long, considering look of his.

‘Then, yes. Thank you. I should be free at the weekend.’ It would give her the chance to find out more about the location of the missing chinthe, and what exactly Ramon was planning to do to get it back. It would fulfil her promise to Maya to try and discover what was troubling her grandson. And it would help her to get to know this country even better. Which, more than anything, was what Eva wanted to do.

She had found her. Eva had found her.

Lawrence watched his daughter bustle around the bedroom, tidying up things that really didn’t need tidying up. They had Mrs Briggs for that.

But, ‘Take a few days off, Mrs B,’ Rosemary had said to her yesterday. ‘I’ll look after everything here.’

Him, she meant. Look after him. It made Lawrence feel like standing on top of the bed and shouting.
I’m here, don’t you know? I can look after myself. I always used to look after you
.

But that was then. How could he look after anyone now? How could he even stand on top of the bed, come to that? It was as much as he could do to get out of bed and get to the bathroom.

‘Leave it, Dad,’ Rosemary said when he tried to do anything. ‘Let me.’