The Girl from Lace Island Page 24

  ‘So? We’re not in a rush, are we?’

  ‘Well . . . I thought we should do it sooner rather than later. I mean, why wait?’

  Jess was taken aback. ‘When did you have in mind?’

  ‘I don’t know. Next month.’

  Next month!’ Jess spluttered. ‘We can’t, can we? That soon?’

  ‘What do you want to wait for?’ he said. ‘You said yourself you don’t have a big guest list. I know a place here in Miami. A nice hotel. We could have the ceremony there.’

  Jess was scrambling over the implications of what he was saying. If they got married in Miami in a month, then that would rule out Tony and Maeve coming. But it wasn’t just that. A month was so soon.

  ‘You know I love you, right?’ Blaise said.

  ‘I love you too,’ she said.

  ‘I just want to be married to you. For you to be my wife. Because when you know, you just know. That’s what I think. Jess, let’s not get tied down with all that wedding stuff. Let’s just do it.’

  Jess lay back on the bed and chucked the bridal magazines on the floor. He didn’t want a fuss either. She didn’t have to worry about wedding lists or crockery after all. What had she done to deserve this wonderful man?

  A few hours later, Jess went for her treatment in the wooden spa room, her jet lag kicking in. She yawned as she listened to the soft, tinkling sitar music, the candles floating in the lotus flowers on the water making for a soporific atmosphere. The beautiful Indian girl with glossy hair and a red bindi helped Jess lie on a bed of towels, then positioned a brass bowl above her head.

  ‘This is wonderful for relieving stress,’ she said, as the hot oil started dripping onto Jess’s forehead. Jess sighed as the girl massaged her temples, before letting the oil drip through her hair onto the wooden tray under her pillow. She wanted to tell her she’d never been less stressed in her life. Everything was amazing. She was in love and Blaise had just proposed.

  But married in a month? Now that was a tiny bit stressful, Jess thought, feeling the steady drip of the oil massaging her head. Soon, her whirlwind romance would end in a fairy-tale wedding. But what then? she wondered.

  Well, then she’d live happily ever after, right? But where? They hadn’t discussed that fully yet, or how where they lived would affect Jess’s job. There were so many things she needed to pin down, but Blaise seemed so sure of everything.

  He had people, he’d assured her on the phone, when she’d questioned whether getting married in a month were even possible. People to sort out the paperwork and the necessary documents to make the wedding happen. It seemed to Jess as if he was used to just waving his hand and everything falling into place. Was this going to be her life from now on? she wondered. No queues, no bureaucracy. All her desires dealt with, just like that? Because according to her fiancé, life as Mrs Blaise Blackmore would just be one smooth ride. But still a tiny part of her nagged at her conscience. It all seemed too good to be true. Life didn’t get to be this simple, did it?

  Maybe it did. Maybe she should just let go and enjoy it.

  After her massage, as Jess wandered from her bungalow down to the communal dining room, rather than feeling relaxed, she was still trying to get her head around the practicalities of being Blaise’s wife.

  She play-acted introducing herself to his business associates. ‘Hi, I’m Jess Blackmore,’ she muttered, imagining her embossed at-home cards, the ‘J.B.’ of her new initials in gold. But it didn’t seem real. Even thinking about these things made her feel like she was going to have to turn into someone else entirely. Did Blaise really think she was up to the job?

  Her stomach brought her back down to reality, rumbling with the delicious aromas drifting towards her from the kitchen.

  She walked towards the dining room and was shown to a low table. The sides of the dining room were open and she stared out at the sun setting over the milky blue water of the lake. She wished again that Blaise was with her so he could put her mind at ease. He’d love it here.

  Or would he? She wondered now if Blaise would consider coming to a place like this with her. Or whether their holidays from now on would involve mega-yachts and city breaks. Not that she was complaining, but she wondered if he’d understand that to her, this was far more luxurious than any of the places he’d taken her to.

  She took a sip of her jasmine tea, her attention caught by a guy and a beautiful girl by the buffet table. She was wearing a coral-coloured silk chemise, her long black hair tied in a glossy up-do. Jess felt embarrassed that she hadn’t made more of an effort for dinner, flinging on some baggy pants and a T-shirt, her hair still oily and straggly from the treatment.

  The man next to her had bare feet and was wearing baggy linen pants, but Jess saw straight away that he had a good figure. Maybe he did the yoga classes, she thought. She was about to look away when he turned round and looked over to where Jess was sitting.

  And then something extraordinary happened. As his eyes connected with hers across the sun-filled dining room, Jess felt something she’d never felt. As if she’d just erupted into all-over goosebumps.

  Startled, she put her cup back down on the table with a clatter, but her mouth was dry. She reached for a glass and took a gulp of water.

  The guy was still staring at her, and he looked as jangled as she felt. He couldn’t have felt it too, could he?

  She watched the girl with her huge almond eyes glance over in Jess’s direction, looking her up and down before tugging at the sleeve of the man to get his attention. Who was he? Her boyfriend? Husband?

  And why did it even matter?

  Quickly, Jess finished her tea and headed back to her room. It was completely unthinkable to be attracted to another man. Not when she was in love. Not when she was engaged.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Lace Island, 1990

  ‘Parva won the sweepstake,’ Anjum yelled to Leila, over the din outside. ‘I said it would be tomorrow, but it’s today.’

  Leila grinned at him as he stood by the kitchen door, waiting to open it for her. She’d been so caught up in everything going on that for the first time ever she hadn’t placed a bet on when the monsoon would come, but there was no doubt about it now. Ten minutes ago, the heavens had opened, with a boom of thunder announcing the deluge. Rain hammered on the corrugated-iron roof of the kitchen above them.

  ‘Here we go,’ Anjum said, grinning at her before flinging open the kitchen door and twirling into the backyard, his face shiny with rain as he turned it up to the heavens. And for one second, despite herself, Leila laughed, remembering how happy everyone was on this particular day of the year, when the weather finally broke. It was as if Lace Island were suddenly free from the grip of the heat that had crushed them for the past months.

  Leila followed Anjum out, pushing up her black umbrella, the raindrops drumming on the worn cloth. She cursed, seeing the rip in the fabric and feeling the trickle of water down her neck. She put it down, leaving it near the kitchen step, the rain making the tin bin lids ring out. Scrunching up her face as the warm rain soaked her, she ran towards Anjum, who laughed with glee, stretching out his arms and turning his face up to catch the drops on his tongue, like they always had done when Leila had been little, but today her heart wasn’t in it.

  Wrapping her cardigan around her, she ran down the steps to the garden, the fat splashes of rain making the pool surface dance. Almost before her eyes, she saw the dried-out vine on the cracked pool wall start to unfurl its crinkled leaves.

  In the grove, the air was pungent with the tangy smell of rain on the hot ground that she’d always loved so much, but Leila didn’t stop to take it in, ignoring the shouts of the little kids who were sliding joyfully in the mud. Instead, she rushed along the path, sidestepping the rivulets of water cascading down the ruts.

  She ducked as a sudden boom of thunder clapped right overhead. The children squealed with delight. Lightning flashed and Leila pressed on. The ferry had come this morning and would be l
eaving again at lunchtime. She prayed that Rasa had been on it. She had to tell him what she’d heard Bibi say.

  But Rasa wasn’t in any of the usual places, and it wasn’t until she went to Maliba’s house that she saw him stepping out onto the wooden porch.

  ‘Rasa,’ Leila called, splashing through the backyard towards him. ‘Where have you been?’ She couldn’t keep the accusation from her voice. She stood before him, rain streaking down her face. She pulled the edges of her cardigan over her chest, but she knew her dress was practically see-through. ‘Your father said you’d been to the mainland?’

  Rasa stood under a black umbrella, his sneakers drenched in mud. He looked different. Like he was resigned to something. Resigned to her, perhaps, Leila thought. She longed for him to be the old Rasa. Her friend.

  ‘What of it?’ he said, as if it were none of her business. ‘I would have told you, but you’ve clearly been busy.’

  He was talking about Adam. That’s what he meant. As if she’d been ‘busy’ by her own choice. Leila felt sick.

  ‘Please, Rasa. You’ve got to listen,’ she implored, as he strode past her and through Maliba’s gate. Leila grabbed Rasa’s arm and forced him to turn round.

  ‘What do you want, Leila?’ He was cold. Already detached from her, but she couldn’t blame him.

  ‘I’m sorry about that day. I was coming to meet you and . . .’ she began, bracing herself, knowing that she was going to have to tell him what Adam had done. Even if it meant he never spoke to her again. He had to know the truth.

  ‘Don’t,’ he said quickly. ‘Chan explained that you had other, more important commitments.’

  Chan? She dreaded to think what he’d told Rasa.

  ‘Honestly, Leila, it’s quite all right,’ Rasa added.

  But it wasn’t all right and they both knew it. She could see then that he’d churned over that day in his head and come to all the wrong conclusions. Conclusions he believed were the truth.

  ‘Whatever you think about why I was there . . . you’ve got it all wrong,’ Leila persisted. ‘Adam, he—’ But Rasa held up his hand to stop her.

  She saw him take a deep breath. ‘Leila, I’m going away,’ he said.

  ‘Going away?’

  ‘I’ve got an apprenticeship on the mainland.’

  ‘What?’

  Leila felt her heart shattering into little pieces. Any hope that she had of mending things between them was gone forever.

  ‘It’s good,’ Rasa said, with false bravado. ‘It’s what I want. I can learn a trade. Make something of myself. I could never have become a lawyer you know. Too long at law school.’

  Leila dared to glance up at him now, her eyes swimming with tears, lost in the fat raindrops on her face.

  He stared into her eyes now and she saw that he’d made up his mind.

  ‘Please don’t go,’ she implored him. ‘You don’t understand. I need you.’

  ‘You don’t—’

  ‘Bibi is in trouble,’ she said. ‘I know things.’

  ‘What things?’

  Leila took in a deep, shuddering breath. Then she told him everything. About how Chan had bankrupted Bibi. And how she’d broken into the lighthouse and found drugs, and how Adam was helping Chan to ship them abroad.

  Rasa’s gaze was dark. He shook his head. ‘Who have you told?’ he asked.

  ‘Just you. And I told your father last night at Maliba’s party,’ she spluttered.

  ‘You did what?’

  ‘I told Vijay. I didn’t know what else to do. You weren’t here.’

  Rasa was clearly furious that she hadn’t come to him first. That she’d got his father involved.

  He ran his hand over his hair. ‘Do you realize how serious this is?’ he said.

  ‘Yes,’ she exclaimed. ‘Of course I do. That’s why I told him. He said he’d investigate and help.’

  ‘No, that’s not what I mean,’ Rasa said, through his teeth, as if Leila were the dumbest person in the world. ‘If he tells the authorities and they come here and find drugs anywhere on the island, then Bibi will be held responsible.’

  ‘Bibi?’

  ‘It’s her island. If they find anything illegal, then she’ll be the one in trouble. I mean, have you thought of that? What if she ended up in jail?’

  Jail? Jail? Leila’s mind was reeling.

  ‘Then you’ve got to do something. You’ve got to help,’ she said.

  Rasa shook his head, his expression pained as he looked at her. ‘I can’t. It’s too late. I just came to say goodbye to my family. The ferry leaves at two.’

  It was already gone one. He couldn’t mean it, surely? He couldn’t just leave. Not now, after everything she’d told him?

  ‘I’m sorry that it’s bad timing, but I’m sure now you’ve trusted my father with all of this, he’ll help sort it out,’ Rasa said. ‘I can’t get involved, because this really isn’t my problem. Not anymore.’

  Not his problem? What did that mean?

  That she wasn’t his problem. That’s what he meant. It was clear in his face.

  ‘I’ve got to go. Goodbye, Leila.’

  And then he turned his back on her and walked away.

  The start of the monsoon had always called for a celebratory supper, but tonight the mood was sombre. In the dining room, Bibi, Chan and Leila sat at the long table, the rain drumming relentlessly on the tiles above. As predicted by Bibi, the roof was leaking even more than it had last year and there was a steady drip of water in the buckets and empty plastic ghee tubs that were placed all around the room.

  ‘There’s so much to be done. This roof is like a sieve, for a start. Did you know he was leaving, Leila?’ Parva asked, as she served the spongy bread that Leila usually loved. But tonight she couldn’t stomach it. She felt queasy, and not just because Parva was talking about Rasa.

  Leila shrugged. ‘He told me today.’

  She couldn’t look at Parva. If she did, then Parva would see the truth: that since she’d come back from seeing Rasa, she’d cried non-stop for an hour. She pushed the okra curry round her plate with her fork.

  She simply couldn’t process the fact that Rasa had gone. Just like that. Just when she needed him the most. If he’d cared at all about her, he wouldn’t have gone. He would have stayed. But now it was too late, and his parting words – that Bibi would go to jail – still rang in Leila’s ears. She glanced up at her mother and Chan at the other end of the table, feeling wretched. Should she confess everything to Bibi, tell her what she’d told Vijay?

  ‘I think it will do the boy good, don’t you, Bibi?’ Chan said.

  Bibi raised her tired eyes towards him. ‘What?’ she asked, and Leila realized that she hadn’t listened to a word Parva had been saying. Parva glanced at Leila, her look making it perfectly clear that she was not to say anything about her mother’s absent-mindedness.

  But what exactly was wrong with Bibi? She was usually so on top of everything – especially when it came to the affairs of everyone on Lace Island – but she seemed more distant than ever tonight.

  Chan put his hand over hers. ‘You’ve still got that headache? Why don’t you lie down?’

  His voice was placatory and kind, as it always had been, but now that Leila knew it was all a sham, she felt bile rising in her throat. How could Bibi even let him touch her, after everything he’d done to her?

  Chan, who had betrayed her over and over again. And he’d betrayed Leila too, in the most hideous way possible. She tried not to think about it, forcing her mind away from the memory, but there was Adam, like he always was, right above her, forcing his way into her, violating her with that unforgettable grin on his face.

  Had he laughed with Chan about it afterwards? Had Chan delighted in giving her up to him, like some sort of prize? Is that what had happened?

  And the worst part? He’d got away with it. Because Chan knew that Leila would never have the guts to admit to Bibi what Adam had done. She looked down now, her eyes filling with furio
us, impotent tears. Her knuckles were white where she was gripping her fork in her hand.

  Bibi scraped her chair back and stood unsteadily with a sigh. Leila couldn’t bear to look up at her. But suddenly, the door banged open and Bamu rushed in.

  ‘What is it?’ Parva asked, clearly horrified that he was dripping all over the dining-room floor.

  ‘I’m sorry, Bibi,’ Bamu said, ‘but something terrible has happened.’

  Leila sat up in her seat. She saw how agitated Bamu was as his eyes flicked to hers; she looked at Chan, who placed his napkin down carefully next to his plate.

  ‘What is it, boy?’ Chan asked.

  They’ve found Vijay,’ Bamu said, his voice urgent.

  Suddenly, there was a huge clap of thunder right overhead that made them all jump. Leila jumped up.

  ‘What do you mean, found him?’ Bibi said.

  ‘He’s dead,’ Bamu said, his voice cracking. ‘They’re saying he’s been murdered.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Kerala, present day

  Jess stretched in the downward-dog position on her yoga mat, looking through her legs at the other people in the dawn class, amazed at how supple they were. She’d thought she was fit from all the kick-boxing she’d done, but this was the second yoga class she’d taken in the spa and it had already pulled her body in directions that she’d never thought possible.

  ‘And breathe deeply,’ the lithe male teacher at the front instructed, gracefully walking around the class, making adjustments.

  Jess’s hamstrings were killing her as the teacher touched her lower back, stretching her even further.

  ‘Relax,’ the teacher said in a slow, breathy voice, but Jess’s mind was buzzing.

  This place was supposed to be chilling her out, but last night she’d hardly slept. This morning, she had hoped the yoga class would set her mind at ease, but she was still reeling from the email that had pinged into her in-box late last night from Blaise.

  The content of the email had been short. He’d been in a rush, he’d explained, but he’d just had a meeting with his lawyer in Miami, who’d asked if Jess would sign a prenuptial agreement. The attached document had been thick with legal-speak and Jess had only scanned the first paragraph before giving up.