The Girl from Lace Island Page 27

  ‘It’s the only way.’

  ‘Leila, listen. Even if what you’re saying is true, I will not leave. I owe it to Vijay’s family to stay until the police come.’

  ‘It’ll be too late. Bibi, please. They’ll find the drugs and you’ll be in trouble. Rasa said you could go to jail even. You have to leave with me. It’s not safe for us here. You can’t trust Chan. You know you can’t.’

  Bibi closed her eyes for a long moment and Leila braced herself. This was it. She was going to tell Bibi about what had happened with Adam. How she was convinced that Chan knew about it. If her confession was the final piece of evidence to convince Bibi of the truth about Chan, then so be it.

  ‘Mummy,’ she began, ‘there’s something else I have to tell you.’

  Slowly, Bibi placed her soft hand on Leila’s cheek. ‘Save it.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Whatever it is that you want to say to persuade me to go, you have to understand, Leila, I can’t. I can’t leave.’

  She sank slowly into the chair as if she’d suddenly deflated. Leila’s confession stalled now as she saw the look of defeat on her mother’s face.

  ‘Yes, you can. We have each other. We can escape.’ Leila knelt next to Bibi’s chair, holding her hand. ‘We can go to Cochin and find Rasa. Get help—’

  ‘Stop,’ Bibi said. ‘Please stop.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘I should have told you this before. I should have warned you, but I have no other choice because of what you’re saying. So I will tell you now.’

  ‘Tell me what?’

  Bibi stared into Leila’s eyes and she held her arms as if she were trying to hold on to her.

  ‘I’m dying, Leila.’ It was no more than a whisper, but Leila saw the truth as Bibi’s eyes welled with tears.

  The pill bottles, Maliba’s potions, Chan’s sympathy about her headache, her mother stumbling near the terrace door – all of these images suddenly rattled through Leila’s mind and she gasped as she finally realized what they meant. She saw it all now in her mother’s face. In the grief-stricken expression in her eyes.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Bibi whispered.

  Tears fell from Leila’s eyes. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It’s cancer, Leila. And it’s got me,’ Bibi sighed. ‘They can’t treat it. And now it’s the end. I can feel it. It’s too late.’

  ‘It’s not too late,’ Leila implored her, trying to breathe through her tears. ‘It can’t be. I’ll take you to the hospital. I’ll—’

  ‘They can’t cure me. I know that. They’ve tried, but . . .’ Bibi’s voice was different now. Resigned. Like saying these words had already made her die a little. ‘Darling, if what you’re saying about Chan is true and the people he’s mixed up with killed Vijay, then it’s not safe here for you,’ Bibi said urgently, pulling Leila up from the floor. ‘Listen to me. You must go on without me. I will work this out with Chan and find out what he is planning, and I will stop him. But you must take the boat and stay away until all this has blown over. You can find Rasa. Make sure he clears his name. He’s a good boy.’

  ‘I’m not going to leave you, Mummy. Not now.’

  Bibi stood up out of the chair with difficulty, as if she was fighting the pain. ‘You must. I insist. It’s too dangerous. You must go.’

  ‘I don’t want to leave you. I won’t leave you,’ Leila protested, but as she stared into her mother’s face, she knew that Bibi would not take no for an answer.

  ‘Here.’ Bibi took off the gold crucifix she always wore and placed it round Leila’s neck. ‘I’ve tried to protect you, my darling, but I can’t any longer. It’s up to the will of God now.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  London, present day

  Maeve and Tony sat opposite Jess in the Golden Lion, their local South London pub, admiring the huge diamond Blaise had presented her with when she’d got back from India. He’d taken her straight from the airport to a candlelit restaurant in Knightsbridge and had made a great show of proposing properly, getting down on one knee. There’d even been a violinist.

  Jess had been blown away by the ring – not only by its size and obvious value, but by everything it symbolized. After the simplicity of India, it had all felt like too much. The modern, chunky diamond in its square setting was so far away from anything that she would have chosen for herself, she’d been speechless when Blaise had put it on her finger. And when he’d kissed her, telling her that her ring would make all the girls jealous, she’d swallowed her misgivings and had told him that it had been perfect, telling herself that she’d get used to it. That she’d even love it in time.

  Now, after three weeks, she was just about getting used to how it felt on her finger, but when she looked at her hand, she still did a double-take. And since the ring had been placed there, it felt like time had accelerated and she was hurtling head first towards the future. All the stillness and peace she’d felt in India had gone. She’d felt so clear-headed being on the top of the hill with Suresh, but her resolve to find out about her past had vanished as soon as she’d come home. She wished she could talk to Blaise about it, the way she’d talked to Suresh, but he was always on his phone or typing emails and she hadn’t had the chance to talk to him about how she felt.

  Which is why it was so nice that she was still in touch with Suresh. She’d already emailed him a couple of times, but she guessed that over time, their communication would stop. After all, they lived on opposite sides of the world. Nevertheless, it felt fun to have an ally in the ‘being engaged’ phase of her life. And being in touch with him meant that she didn’t have to let the whole wonderful experience of India go. Not quite yet.

  Actually, meeting Suresh had done her a favour, she told herself. Not only had she found a new friend, but it had shown her how easy it would be to ruin things with Blaise. And she wouldn’t do that. Blaise was everything she’d ever dreamt of. He loved her. He told her again and again. And she loved him too, right? What more could she want?

  But this evening, the jangled feeling she’d managed to dampen down over the last three weeks was back. Because here in the scruffy pub, with its scuffed bar and sticky carpet, the ring felt too flashy. Way too flashy. And they all knew it. Jess pulled her hand away and smiled.

  ‘Married. Well, well,’ Tony said, taking a sip of his pint. He rarely drank, but he’d declared tonight a special occasion, after Jess had told him the news at the gym.

  ‘I wish you were coming,’ Jess said, smiling sadly at Tony.

  ‘Even if I could afford to come to Miami, I couldn’t get our passports arranged in time.’

  ‘I could pay?’

  ‘No way,’ Tony snapped, with a frown.

  ‘It’s so sudden,’ Maeve said. ‘Are you sure it’s what you want, Jess?’

  Jess gave them a ‘what can I do?’ shrug. ‘Why wait? Why not just seize the moment?’

  She sounded falsely optimistic, even to herself, and she saw Tony and Maeve exchange a look.

  ‘So long as you know what you’re doing,’ Tony said. ‘I wish I’d met the guy.’

  ‘And what about his family? What are they like?’ Maeve asked.

  ‘I’m meeting them later. Blaise is in town and they’re coming to his suite at the Dorchester.’

  ‘His suite at the Dorchester,’ Tony mimicked. ‘Listen to you, Jess.’

  ‘Well, I could hardly have them round to my place,’ she countered.

  ‘Why not? There’s nothing wrong with the estate. It’s where you’re from.’

  Not anymore, she wanted to say, but she didn’t.

  But back on the estate, an hour later, Jess was more sure than ever that her decision to keep Blaise away from here had been the right one. She shivered as she walked into her empty flat, the letters and pizza flyers concertinaing in a pile on the carpet behind the door. It was as if she’d walked through a time warp to a past life, she thought, running her fingers over her dusty bike. The faint stale smell of cigarette smoke made h
er think of Angel and her breath caught, sudden tears threatening to overwhelm her. Because this was her home, and after tonight, she’d be leaving it forever.

  Her email pinged, making her jump, and she picked up her phone. It was probably Blaise, wondering where she was. She hadn’t told him she’d be stopping by the flat.

  Instead, she saw an email from Suresh – a reply to hers, taking him up on his offer to look over the prenuptial agreement that Blaise had sent her.

  She read his polite email now and his points about the agreement, her eyebrows crinkling together as she read his analysis. There was nothing to worry about, he said. The agreement was, in fact, the reverse of most prenuptials, Blaise setting out that every asset was to be shared. In short, what was his was hers and what was hers was his.

  But that didn’t make sense, surely. Surely Blaise wanted to protect his assets and his wealth.

  He obviously loves you very much, Suresh had written. And I can see why he does. I wish you lots of luck with your wedding. Take care, Jess. x

  One kiss. He’d signed off with one kiss. Jess bit her lip, thinking about the hilltop and how comfortable she’d been with him.

  Suddenly, she knew she had to talk to him. Standing up, she dialled the number on his email, pacing as she waited for the expensive long-distance call to connect, but the phone went straight to his voicemail. She cursed silently, annoyed at how impulsive she’d been to ring. It was probably the middle of the night in India. He was probably cuddled up in bed with Kareena. Why was she even calling?

  She bit her lip, unable to back out now. If he saw that she’d called and hadn’t left a message, then he’d be worried. She stared at the stained wall and the sofa, and took a deep breath, trying to keep her voice cheerful as she spoke after the beep.

  ‘It’s me. Jess. I got your email and I wanted to say thank you.’

  And to hear your voice. I wanted to hear your voice.

  She rang off and deleted Suresh’s message from her phone. She couldn’t risk Blaise finding it.

  Half an hour later, Jess hurried into the lift at the Dorchester, feeling like she’d stepped through a mirror back into a different world to the one she’d left in South London. And now that she was here, she was desperate to see Blaise. All the sentimentality she’d felt about Suresh in the flat had jangled her. He couldn’t give her any answers. It had been pointless to call him. Besides, her life was here with Blaise, and as soon as she was back in his arms, everything would be OK. With a bit of luck, they’d have time to have sex before his family arrived.

  But when she got to the hotel suite, Jess was surprised to find that Lance Blackmore, Blaise’s brother, was already in the sitting room of the giant suite, staring out at the view over Hyde Park. It could only be Lance, as even from his reflection in the floor-to-ceiling glass, he looked so much like Blaise. Except that Lance had thinning blond hair and a jowly chin, and when he turned to look at Jess, she saw that there was a paunch underneath his blue blazer, and one of the gold buttons was falling off.

  Jess apologized for not getting here sooner as she rushed across the thick beige carpet and shook his hand, giving Blaise, who was standing near the kitchenette, a worried look. If his family were already arriving, then she had no time to shower and change. It was her fault for stopping by the flat.

  ‘So you’re the one who’s gonna save my little bro,’ Lance said to Jess, pulling her roughly towards him and kissing her cheek.

  There was something wolf-like about Lance – a hungry look in his beady eyes that took Jess by surprise. He put his hand in the pocket of his chinos and swilled the ice round his whisky glass before draining the amber liquid.

  ‘I’ll have the other half of this, Blaisey-Boy,’ he said loudly.

  Blaise came over and put his arm proprietorially round Jess’s shoulder as he took Lance’s glass.

  ‘She’s quite a looker, eh?’ Lance said, his gaze darting between Jess and Blaise, as if Blaise had won some sort of bet.

  ‘He’s always been a charmer,’ Blaise said stiffly in Jess’s ear. Jess had never heard him speak like he was now, his refined accent slipping for a minute into an Australian twang she hadn’t heard before.

  ‘He drinks,’ he explained. ‘Don’t take any notice of him. Or anything he says. Absolutely promise me,’ he added, loud enough for Lance to hear.

  Jess followed him to the kitchen and grabbed him and pulled him to one side, by the drinks cabinet. ‘Why is everyone here so soon?’ she said. ‘I haven’t showered or anything.’

  ‘You went dashing off. I tried to call,’ he said, but Jess knew he hadn’t. ‘It doesn’t matter. It’s only a casual hello. Come and meet Wes,’ he continued, introducing a man in a beige suit, who now appeared from the kitchen with a mug in his hand.

  ‘We meet at last,’ Wes said, in a thick Texan accent. ‘I don’t know if Blaise explained, but there’s just some paperwork to sign.’

  ‘You know, the prenup,’ Blaise said. She now saw that there were several sets of paperwork laid out on the glass dining table.

  ‘Oh,’ said Jess, suddenly feeling wrong-footed, after reading Suresh’s email. ‘Sure. Of course.’

  Jess went with him to the table, and he unscrewed a heavy fountain pen and showed her where to sign. Not wanting to cause a scene, Jess briefly scanned the document, hardly reading a word. She was more aware that Wes was looking meaningfully at Blaise. She heard him flicking his tongue in his mouth. Why did he remind her so much of a lizard?

  ‘Tremendous,’ Wes said, smiling at Blaise, who now kissed Jess on the forehead and put his hand round her waist.

  ‘Are you staying? Would you like a drink?’ Jess asked, surprised that Wes had been so perfunctory and that he was now quickly shuffling the papers into a pile and then into his briefcase.

  ‘I’d love to, but I must get back to the office.’ He patted his briefcase. ‘No rest for the wicked.’

  Jess smoothed down the front of her hoody, wishing again that she’d had time to change into the black cocktail dress she’d planned to wear, before Blaise’s mother arrived. But it was too late. As Blaise was escorting Wes across the carpet, there was a knock on the door and Blaise answered it.

  A tall, strict-looking woman with angular features was on the threshold, clutching a dark green crocodile-skin designer handbag against her chest, as if it were a shield. She stared into the room, her face stern, her jawline accentuated by her razor-sharp grey bob. Jess had expected someone warm and posh, but her future mother-in-law looked steely and hard.

  ‘You’re early,’ Blaise said, kissing his mother, but she didn’t return his affection, offering her cheek.

  ‘I don’t have long.’

  ‘That’s a shame. Jess and I—’

  ‘Where is she?’ Mrs Blackmore demanded, and Jess stepped forwards shyly. ‘Let’s get this over with.’

  ‘You must be Blaise’s mum. I’m so looking forward to us getting to know each other,’ Jess said, wrong-footed once again, shaking Blaise’s mother’s hand. A kiss was clearly out of the question.

  Blaise’s mother seemed to look down her nose at her. ‘Yes,’ she said, her eyes and her answer giving nothing away.

  Jess busied herself fixing her future mother-in-law a Martini, constantly glancing towards where she was standing with Lance by the window. She was wearing a simple black shift dress and high heels, an outfit that suited her so entirely Jess wondered if she ever wore anything else. She watched as Mrs Blackmore rocked her head back and laughed at something Lance was saying. She was clearly a woman who only liked the company of men. Or maybe just one of her sons. Jess could see that Blaise looked put out.

  ‘I hope it’s OK,’ Jess said, with a smile, handing over the drink.

  Mrs Blackmore took a sip and nodded. ‘Not bad,’ she said, and Jess felt a shimmer of satisfaction. She sensed that any praise from this woman would be hard won.

  ‘So . . . Jessica,’ she said, twisting the olive round in her glass. ‘Tell me about your fami
ly.’

  Jess took a breath. ‘I’m sure Blaise has told you, but I’ve never had a mother of my own,’ Jess confided, smiling at Blaise’s mother and then at him, knowing she’d jumped over twenty of the things she’d meant to say before this. ‘Which is why it’s so nice to meet you. Perhaps we can go shopping and—’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Blaise’s mother said, fixing her with a stare. ‘I don’t like shopping.’

  ‘Oh, well, perhaps we could do something else?’

  But Jess knew she was clutching at straws. There was a tiny beat of silence that her future mother-in-law failed to fill. Almost as if she was enjoying leaving her to dangle.

  ‘Blaise, we have dinner booked for seven,’ Mrs Blackmore announced, raising her gaze away from Jess’s with a kind of stiff-jawed triumph that made Jess shrivel inside. ‘But I think I’ll eat in my room.’

  ‘Whatever you want, Mother,’ Blaise said. His tone was flat and cold.

  Jess’s overtures at friendliness stalled. Perhaps she’d overdone it. She looked at Blaise, completely baffled, but he didn’t look at her. What had just happened? What had she said? How could this have gone so wrong?

  She shuffled backwards, extricating herself from the conversation to get her own drink. She heard the trill of laughter as Blaise and his brother crowded round their mother. She felt more excluded than she’d ever felt. Like she’d already failed some vital test she hadn’t realized was a test until it was too late. She felt her eyes fill with tears as she downed a glass of wine in the kitchen.

  She could barely speak when, a few minutes later, Lance and their mother swept out of the room. They didn’t even look in her direction, or say goodbye.

  ‘I’ll go and get changed, shall I?’ she said to Blaise, once the door had closed, her voice shaking.

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m so embarrassed,’ he said with a groan. ‘They’re awful, aren’t they?’

  Jess put her hands on her waist, staring at the closed door, trying to work out what the hell had just happened. She could see Blaise was upset, though, which punctured her fury. Perhaps he was on her side, after all. She took a breath, choosing her words carefully.