The Tea Planter’s Wife (13 page)

‘What did she want?’

‘Papers. She said you’d left some papers at her house.’

‘I haven’t been at her house.’

‘She said the last time you were over.’

‘But that was when I signed the agreements on the investments, months ago. I’ve already got everything I need.’

Gwen frowned. Either he wasn’t telling the truth or Christina was still playing games.

By the time January arrived, when Gwen was just into her ninth month, she stood on the front step of her home at dawn and glanced over towards the bushes where a thrush was whistling. She shivered, feeling lonely. A cool day was on its way, and the trees and bushes sparkled with dew.

‘Now make sure you wrap up this evening. The temperature can drop, as you know.’ Laurence gave her a kiss on the cheek and took a step away.

‘Do you have to go to Colombo?’ she said, holding on to his arm and wanting more from him.

His face softened as he turned back to her. ‘I know the timing isn’t good, but you still have a couple of weeks to go. My agent wants to talk finance.’

‘But, Laurence, couldn’t you send McGregor?’

‘I’m sorry, Gwen. I really have no choice.’

She let go of his arm and stared at the ground, struggling to control her tears.

He tipped up her chin so that she had to look at him. ‘Hey, I’ll only be gone two or three days. And you won’t be alone. Verity will look after you.’

Gwen’s shoulders drooped as he got into the car, rolled up the window and switched on the ignition. The car spluttered a couple of times, so a houseboy cranked the engine and she hoped for a minute that it might not start, but then it burst into life and Laurence waved as he drove past her and roared up the hill.

As she watched the car slip out of sight, she brushed away tears that continued to drip. Things had not been properly resolved since they’d exchanged cross words the day Mr Ravasinghe had
turned up with the watercolour, and even now a shadow still hung between them. That day had been a turning point of sorts. They had been polite with each other, but he remained a bit aloof and, although he shared her bed, he wasn’t keen to make love. He said it was for the sake of the babies, but she missed the intimacy and felt very alone.

The one time they had made love was a couple of weeks before he left. She’d known there was only one way to bring him round so one night when he was sitting on the bed, she’d kissed him gently across the base of his neck while stroking his shoulders and then running her fingers down his spine. After that she got into bed with her back to him. He curled up behind her and she could feel how much he wanted her.

‘You are sure it’s safe?’ she said.

‘There is a way.’

He helped her turn over on to her knees with her hands on the pillow taking the rest of her weight.

‘Just tell me if it hurts,’ he said as he knelt behind her.

She was still amazed by what happened when they were together, and now he was so gentle that the sensations were even more intense. Maybe it was the pregnancy that had tipped her into another level of being a woman. Whatever it was, when it was over she fell asleep quickly and slept more soundly than she had in days. After that, things between them had lightened, though not completely, and when she’d asked what was the matter, he’d said nothing was wrong. She hoped very much it wasn’t anything to do with Christina.

Now that he was gone, she missed him and wished she’d made more of an effort. She walked round the house to look at the lake. It was almost completely still, deep purple at the nearer edge, with a wide silvery streak in the middle. The lake always lifted her mood. She listened to the regular beat of a woodpecker for a minute or two, and glanced up as an eagle flew above the house.

‘Can you hear them, my little ones?’ she said, and put a hand
on her tummy. Then she quickly went indoors to warm up by the log fire. She had planned to carry on with her needlepoint, but felt drowsy, and fell into a stupor in that semi-sleep way that is so seductive, but leaves you more tired than you were. She was vaguely aware of Naveena tiptoeing in and out, and the butler bringing tea and biscuits, but could not rouse herself enough to pick up her cup. It was only when Verity came in and coughed that Gwen came round.

‘Oh, darling, you are awake.’

Gwen blinked.

‘Look, I’m awfully sorry about this, but an old friend is throwing a party in Nuwara Eliya tonight. It’s only one night. I’ll be back tomorrow, or the day after at the latest, I promise. Will you be all right? I have missed so much this year.’

Gwen yawned. ‘Of course, you must go. I have Naveena, and we have Doctor Partridge’s phone number in Hatton. Go and enjoy yourself.’

‘I’ll just take Spew for a trot by the lake, and then I’ll be off. I’ll say goodbye now.’ She came across and kissed Gwen’s cheek. ‘If you like, I can deliver the puppies to their new homes at the same time.’

Gwen thanked her and watched as she left the room. It was true, by staying at home to keep her company, Verity had missed several seasonal dances. She had gone to the New Year Ball at the Grand in Nuwara, but that was all. Normally they would all have attended, Laurence said, but Gwen was too far advanced in her pregnancy. It was only fair that Verity should have a chance to let her hair down before the babies came. In any case, how would she find a husband if she never got out?

Gwen felt big and clumsy. It was awkward getting out of a chair now, but she struggled up to go to the window. Laurence’s departure and the chillier weather had left her feeling homesick. Not only did she miss her parents but Fran too, though Fran’s frequent letters kept her abreast of things. Fran had barely mentioned Savi in her letters, but had hinted at a new romantic
attachment, and Gwen sincerely hoped her cousin had found somebody to love her.

She glanced out at the garden. It was very still, and although she was so alone, it felt as if the whole earth was waiting with her. She spotted a large antlered sambhur moving between the trees. It must have come down from the cloud forests in the highlands of Horton Plains and lost its way. Laurence had promised a trip to Horton Plains, a forest wreathed in lilac mists that hung between gnarled squat trees with rounded tops. To Gwen it sounded magical and reminded her of Caroline’s mural in the nursery. And with that thought she decided to go and check that everything was completely ready in there.

The mural had cleaned up beautifully, and Gwen was pleased she had decided to keep it, rather than paint it over. The colours might not be as bright as they once were, but the purple highlands were clear, the silvery blue lakes seemed to shine as if they were real, and luckily they hadn’t needed Mr Ravasinghe to retouch the paintwork.

She looked about her, holding Ginger, the one remaining puppy. The primrose yellow room was ready. Two new white cribs stood side by side, and an antique satinwood nursing chair with cream embroidered cushions had been sent up from Colombo. A pretty locally made rug added the final touch. She opened the window to air the room, then eased herself into the chair and imagined how it would feel to hold her babies in her arms, rather than just a puppy. She patted her stomach and felt a little tearful. Being so young, she had suffered few of the complications that carrying the next generation could bring, so it wasn’t pregnancy itself making her eyes water: it was her own lonely, internal voice.

By the evening her head was throbbing and she decided fresh air might help. She felt a slight twinge and stood still, but then threw on a jacket and left the house. The night-time lake was rarely black, but deep purple, and shone when the stars and moon were reflected. Tonight there was no shine. As she moved she was halted by a pain that sliced round her belly from her lower back. When it eased, she managed to open the door again before doubling over, almost crying in relief when Naveena arrived.

The woman’s face was full of concern. ‘Lady, I am looking for you.’

With Naveena supporting her weight, they reached the bedroom, where Gwen struggled out of her day clothes and pulled a starched nightdress over her head. She was sitting on the edge of the bed when she felt warm liquid flow down her inner thighs. She stood, horrified.

‘Lady. It is only the waters.’

‘Phone Doctor Partridge,’ Gwen said. ‘Right away.’

Naveena nodded and went out to the hall. When she came back in, her face was glum.

‘Having no reply.’

Gwen’s heart began to race.

‘Do not worry, Lady, I have delivered babies.’

‘But twins?’

The woman shook her head. ‘We will call doctor again later. I get warm drink.’

She was only gone for a few minutes and returned with a glass filled with a strong-smelling brew.

‘Are you sure?’ Gwen said, wrinkling her nose as she sniffed the ginger and cloves.

Naveena nodded.

Gwen drank it, but a few minutes later felt herself overheat and was violently sick.

Nothing was easy now that she was so big, but Naveena helped her out of her nightdress and then wrapped her in a soft woollen blanket. Frightened as the pain soared, all Gwen could hear was the sound of her own breathing. She closed her eyes and tried to picture Laurence as Naveena fetched clean sheets and remade the bed. The serving woman, accustomed to passivity, was a calming presence, but Gwen missed her husband and her eyes filled up. She wiped away the tears but then, as another tearing pain ripped her in two, she bent forward and groaned.

Naveena turned as if to go. ‘I ring the doctor again.’

Gwen clutched her sleeve. ‘Don’t leave me. Get the butler to do it.’

Naveena nodded, waiting by the door after giving the butler the instruction. As he made the call Gwen prayed, but with the door ajar she could hear that the doctor was still out. Her heart raced again.

Neither of them spoke.

Naveena stared at the floor and Gwen, feeling the panic rising, struggled to hold her nerve. What would they do if something went wrong? She closed her eyes and with an effort of will managed to calm her heart. Once it had slowed, she glanced up at Naveena.

‘You were with Caroline when she gave birth?’

‘Yes, Lady.’

‘And Laurence?’

‘In the house too.’

‘Did she have a dreadful labour?’

‘Normal. Like you.’

‘Surely this isn’t normal!’At another searing contraction, Gwen choked back a sob. ‘Why did nobody say it would hurt like this?’

Naveena made soothing noises, helped her to her feet and brought over a small stool to use as a step. Though she still felt clammy, the pain lessened, giving Naveena time to help her back to bed. Gwen shuffled down a bit and, as she lay quietly under a sheet smelling of melons, her labour seemed to slow. The contractions dulled and became further apart, and the next few hours passed relatively easily. Gwen even began to hope that perhaps she might cope rather well.

Naveena had become more than a servant to her: not quite a friend, not quite a mother. It was an unusual relationship, but Gwen was grateful. She drifted for a while in a vaguely pleasant sort of haze, thinking of her actual mother and how it must have been when she gave birth.

Then a new agony sliced her back in two. She twisted on to her side and drew up her knees. The pain gnawed and pulled, and she felt as if a part of her was being torn away.

‘I want to turn over again. Help me!’

Naveena helped her to crawl on to all fours on the bed. ‘Do not push – pant when the pain comes. It will pass, Lady.’

Gwen parted her lips and blew out her breath in small puffs, but then the contractions came faster. She twisted as their sharp edge ripped her belly apart, and when she heard screaming as if it were coming from outside of her, she felt there were more than just two little babies wanting to be born. Something far huger. Why would women inflict this torture on themselves? She fought it by trying to recall childhood fairy tales and screwed up her face in the effort of remembering: anything to take her mind off the hell that was boring through her. At each contraction, she bit her lip until she tasted blood. This is all about blood, she thought, thick red blood. Then, as she dripped moisture on to already sodden sheets and attempted not to scream, the brief respites grew even briefer.

More excruciating pain. Now she was in despair. She pounded her fists on the mattress, twisted on to her side, and cried for her mother, absolutely certain she was going to die.

‘Jesus,’ she whispered, between gritted teeth. ‘Help me!’

Naveena stayed with her and continued to hold her hand, encouraging her all the time.

After a while, feeling too exhausted to speak, she exhaled slowly and rolled over to lie on her back again, stretched out her pale legs for a moment, then drew her feet up towards her bottom. As she lifted her head to look, something unbuckled in her and she parted her knees, any shred of dignity completely deserting her.

‘Take deep breath when I start count, Lady, and holding breath as pushing. At ten, take new breath, hold and pushing again.’

‘Where’s the doctor? I need the doctor!’

Naveena shook her head.

Gwen inhaled deeply and did as she was told. Then, with her eyes closed and her hair wringing, she felt a stinging sensation. First there was the smell of faeces, and Gwen, already too
exposed to care, thought that was all, but then, with one excruciating push, she felt a burning sensation between her open thighs. She was about to push again when Naveena touched her wrist.

‘No, Lady, you must not push. You must let baby slide out.’

For a few moments nothing happened, then there was a slithery feeling between her legs. Naveena bent over to cut the cord then pick up the baby. She wiped him down and grinned, her eyes swimming with tears. ‘Oh, my Lady. You have beautiful boy, that is what.’

‘A boy.’

‘Yes, Lady.’

Gwen held out her arms, and stared at the bruised and wrinkled red face of her firstborn. She felt a moment of utter peacefulness, so powerful it almost erased everything she had just been through. The baby’s hand contracted and expanded as if his fingers were trying to identify the place where he had arrived. He was perfect, and she, feeling like the first woman who had ever given birth, was so proud that she wept.

‘Hello, little boy,’ she said, between her sobs.

The sound of his sudden shrieking filled the room.

Gwen looked up at Naveena. ‘Gosh, he sounds absolutely furious.’

‘It is good sign. Healthy lungs. Good strong boy.’

Gwen smiled. ‘I feel so tired.’

‘You must rest now, the second one coming soon.’ She took the baby boy, wrapped him up, put a little hat on his head and rocked him in her arms before laying him in his crib, where he mewed intermittently.

Soon after Naveena cleaned her up, Gwen delivered the afterbirth. Another hour and a half passed, and it was early morning by the time Gwen delivered her second baby. All her strength had deserted her and all she could think was thank God it was over. She pulled herself up to try to look at the second baby, but collapsed straight back against the pillows, then watched as Naveena wrapped the baby in a blanket.

‘What is it? A girl or boy?’

Seconds passed. The world hung still, finely balanced.

‘Well?’

‘It is a girl, Lady.’

‘How lovely, one of each.’

Again Gwen struggled to raise her head to look, but when she did, she was only able to catch a glimpse of the baby before Naveena left the room without speaking. Gwen held her breath and listened. From the nursery there was only the faintest sound of crying. Too weak. Much too weak. The air suddenly became too thick to breathe. She hadn’t seen her daughter properly, and wasn’t sure, but the tiny baby had seemed to be a strange colour.

Terrified the cord had strangled the baby, she tried to shout for Naveena, but her voice came out as a screech. She tried again, then swung her legs round and attempted to stand, but feeling hot, immediately fell back against the bed. She glanced over at her son. Hugh, they had agreed to call him. Their little miracle. He had stopped crying the moment his twin was born, and was now fast asleep. Using the stool, Gwen climbed into bed again, every muscle feeling raw. She closed her eyes.

When she opened them, Naveena’s face swam into focus. She was sitting in the chair by her bed.

‘I bringing tea, here for you, Lady.’

Gwen sat up and wiped the beads of sweat from her forehead. ‘Where is the twin?’

Naveena lowered her eyes.

Gwen reached out and clutched the woman’s sleeve. ‘Where is my daughter?’

Naveena opened her mouth as if it to speak, but no sound came out. Her face was calm, but the gnarled hands twisting in her lap gave her away.

‘What have you done with her? Is something wrong with her?’

Still no reply.

‘Naveena, bring the child now. Do you hear me?’ Gwen’s voice was shrill with fear.

The woman shook her head.

Gwen gulped for breath. ‘Is she dead?’

‘No.’

‘I don’t understand. I must see her, now. Get her for me! I order you to bring her to me, or you will leave this house this instant.’

Naveena stood up slowly. ‘Very well, Lady.’

As a world of imagined horrors grew to gigantic proportions, Gwen felt as if an iron band was constricting her chest. What had happened to her child? Was she hideously malformed? Sick in some terrible way? She wanted Laurence. Why wasn’t he here?

After a few minutes, Naveena came back into the room with a baby bundled in her arms. Gwen heard a weak cry and held out her arms. The ayah settled the child into them, shuffled back and stared at the floor. Gwen took a deep breath and unwrapped the warm blanket. All the tiny baby girl wore beneath the blanket was a white terry-towelling napkin.

The baby opened her eyes. Gwen held her breath as she looked the child over. The little fingers, the rounded belly, the dark, dark eyes and her skin shining as if it was polished. Numb with shock, Gwen glanced up at Naveena. ‘This child is perfect.’

Naveena nodded.

‘Perfect.’

The ayah bowed her head.

‘But this is not a white child.’

‘No, Lady.’

Gwen glared at the woman. ‘What kind of trick is this? Where is my child?’

‘She is your daughter.’

‘Did you think I wouldn’t notice that you’ve replaced
my
baby with this one?’

She began to cry, and her tears fell on the little girl’s face.

‘This is your daughter,’ Naveena repeated.

In a state of utter shock, Gwen closed her eyes, squeezing them tight to blot out the sight of the baby, then she held out the child for the woman to take. It was impossible that something so dark could
have come out of her. Impossible! Naveena stood by the bed, rocking back and forth while cradling the child. Gwen folded her arms round herself and, shaking her head from side to side, groaned. Overwhelmed by confusion, she could not meet the ayah’s eyes.

‘Lady –’

Gwen hung her head. Nobody spoke. It did not make sense. None of this made any sense. She stared at the lines of her palms, turned her hands over, ran a finger round her wedding ring. Several minutes passed while her heart thumped and jumped erratically. Eventually she glanced up at Naveena, and when she saw no judgement in the woman’s eyes, it gave her courage to speak.

‘How can she be mine? How can she?’ she said, brushing her tears away with the back of her hand. ‘I don’t understand. Naveena, tell me what has happened. Am I going crazy?’

Naveena’s head wobbled. ‘Things happening. The willing of the gods.’

‘What things? What things happen?’

The old lady shrugged. Gwen tried to hold on to her tears, grew rigid with trying to keep her jaw firm, but it was hopeless. Her face crumpled and more tears spilt on to her sheets. Why had this happened? How could it have happened?

Until now the full impact had not hit her. Now it did. What was she going to tell Laurence? She struggled with it but, worn down by exhaustion and with a feeling of utter dread consuming her, she felt far from herself. What was right? She blew her nose and wiped her eyes again, and in her mind’s eye saw the little girl open dark eyes and stare at her. Maybe something was wrong with the baby’s blood, that was it, or maybe Laurence had some Spanish ancestors. Thoughts crowded her head. Air. That’s what she needed. A night breeze. So that she could think.

‘Can you open the window, Naveena?’

Naveena held the baby with one arm and went to the window to undo the catch, allowing a cool breeze into the room, and with it the scent of vegetation.