The Girl from Lace Island

by Joanna Rees

  Blaise would have been waiting for her with the registrar in the hotel function room, the rain pounding on the windows. She thought of the dark look that must have crossed his face when he’d realized that Jess wasn’t going to show up. She thought of Tilly and how, by now, she’d be loving all the drama, as they searched the hotel for Jess.

  And then they would come here, Jess thought. Soon. They’d realize she’d got a cab from the hotel to the airport and they’d come here looking for her. And it wouldn’t be hard to find her. She couldn’t be more conspicuous in her wedding dress.

  She’ll be disposed of.

  She was putty in my hands.

  This is what you were paid all that money for.

  Blaise and Lance’s cruel words tolled inside her head like a bell. She stared at her reflection and removed the diamanté tiara from her head. It clattered into the sink.

  A woman came into the toilets now with a red wheelie case. She was a large lady in her fifties, with bouffy strawberry-blonde hair curled like it had been set at a hairdresser’s, and she had lots of blue eyeshadow on and bright pink lipstick.

  Jess blew out a breath, forcing herself not to cry. Not yet. She couldn’t break down yet.

  ‘Hey, hon – are you OK?’ the woman asked, concerned. She looked around, as if she were wondering if she’d stumbled inadvertently onto a film set and there were hidden cameras.

  ‘No, not really,’ Jess said, grateful for the lady’s smile in the mirror. She dabbed at her eyes with the tissue. ‘To be honest, I’m having a very bad day.’

  ‘Oh,’ the woman said. ‘Well, I’m sorry to hear that, honey.’

  Jess nodded, swallowing down tears.

  ‘That’s a very fancy dress,’ the woman said, nodding at Jess’s attire. ‘Lovely, in fact,’ she said, stepping closer and taking in the detail. ‘My daughter is getting married. As a matter of fact, I’m flying to Minneapolis to go shopping with her for dresses. She’d love this one.’

  Next to her now, Jess saw the woman eyeing up the dress, with its lace overlay and diamanté and pearl detail.

  The woman came closer now and touched the fabric. ‘Look at that,’ she said in an awed voice.

  Jess suddenly felt a glimmer of hope.

  ‘You want it?’ she said. ‘The dress, I mean. It’s brand new. I didn’t even get married in it.’ Jess struggled to keep her voice from sounding too crazy.

  The woman’s eyebrows shot up.

  ‘It cost thirty thousand dollars, but I’ll swap it for a pair of jeans and a shirt . . . anything I can wear instead,’ Jess hurried on. ‘I bet your daughter would love it.’ She fished out the tiara from the sink. ‘There’s this too,’ she added.

  The woman shook her head suddenly, as if coming to her senses. ‘I couldn’t possibly. No. I want to go shopping with her.’

  ‘It’s a free designer dress. I mean it,’ Jess urged her. ‘I’m desperate. I’m running away and I can’t run away in this dress. So if you’ll help me get it off . . .’ she said, turning round and pointing at the row of tiny silk buttons, which she couldn’t reach herself. It had taken Tilly half an hour to do them up earlier.

  ‘I don’t know,’ the woman said, backing off.

  ‘I know this sounds crazy, but please. You’ve got to help me,’ Jess implored, grabbing the woman’s arm. ‘My fiancé, he, he . . .’ she began, but then the tears came, making it difficult to carry on. ‘I was going to marry him and then I found out . . .’

  The woman, seeing Jess’s tears, took pity on her and softened. ‘There. There,’ she comforted. ‘What did he do,’ she said, ‘if you don’t mind me asking?’

  ‘You don’t want to know,’ Jess said. ‘But’ – she took a deep, shuddering breath, pulling out more paper towels from the dispenser and wiping her face – ‘all I know is that everything he ever told me was a lie.’

  ‘Oh, honey, that’s tough,’ the woman said. She patted Jess’s shoulder.

  ‘He had another girlfriend all along and—’ Jess stopped, too overwhelmed by the truth to carry on. The woman wouldn’t believe her if she told her that she’d been set up from the beginning and that Blaise was bargaining with her life. That she was part of some other purpose she couldn’t possibly begin to understand.

  ‘I can’t believe he’d do something so terrible to someone as pretty as you,’ she said.

  ‘Have you got any clothes? Anything at all I can change into?’ Jess asked.

  ‘Well, look here. I’ve got these things I’ve picked up for my daughter,’ the woman said, looking in a carrier bag that was balanced on top of the wheelie case. She pulled out some leggings, a T-shirt and a baseball hat.

  ‘Those are perfect. I’ll swap for the dress,’ Jess said, turning round again for the woman to unfasten her buttons.

  ‘No, no, I couldn’t,’ the woman said, but Jess could see she was tempted.

  ‘I insist. But please. Hurry.’

  Soon, Jess was out of the dress, and she quickly changed into the leggings and T-shirt. She helped the woman bundle up the dress, squashing it down inside her case.

  ‘What will you do now?’ the woman asked. ‘Will you be OK?’

  Jess swallowed hard, putting the baseball cap on in the mirror. If she went home to London, then Blaise could find her easily. If she went back to work, then he would find her too.

  The only person who could possibly help her find out her connection to Lace Island was Suresh. But Suresh was on the other side of the world. How could she possibly ask him to help her? Would she help him out, if their situations were reversed? she wondered.

  She looked at her reflection.

  She had no choice.

  ‘I’m going to find out the truth,’ she said.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  Lace Island, present day

  In the night, the baby woke up and cried. Quietly at first, then a rasping ‘Wah, wah, wah.’ Leila was immediately alert. She reached down into the Moses basket next to her bed and pulled up the baby into her embrace.

  ‘There, there,’ she said, soothing her baby girl, kissing the tiny red cheeks and trying to unfurl the angry clenched fists. She was a fighter all right, Leila thought.

  She felt her breasts tingling and she pulled aside her nightgown, the baby’s mouth open, wobbling its head from side to side as if it could find its way by scent alone.

  ‘Here you go, darling,’ Leila said, feeling the sharp, sweet pinch as the baby’s mouth latched onto her nipple.

  She leant backwards, carefully adjusting the pillow behind her as the baby suckled, amazed that her body could do this so naturally. She smiled down, her palm stroking the fine, downy hair on her baby’s perfect head.

  ‘I’ll look after you, baby girl,’ she whispered. ‘I won’t let you go.’

  The baby relaxed as she fed, her little fist unclenching, until finally, she was done. Then Leila lifted her into a hug, resting her on her shoulder, feeling the weight of her precious baby in her arms. She stood and paced over the cold flagstones and hummed the lullaby that Bibi used to sing to her, conjuring in her mind her sun-filled bedroom and Bibi’s calm hands. She rubbed her baby’s back as Bibi had rubbed hers, and in giving comfort found it too.

  This little being had brought the only peace Leila had found since leaving Lace Island. She was like a ray of sunshine in an otherwise bleak, ashen desert. In the quiet sanctuary of the nun’s cell, Leila breathed in the milky scent, kissing her baby’s head over and over, feeling love flowing out of her, hoping she could fill up her child, hoping that she’d never have to experience anything like Leila had. That whatever happened, Leila would protect and shield her.

  But where? Leila was starting to worry. She knew she couldn’t stay here at the nuns’ mission forever. It was no place to bring up a child. Sister Mary had even said as much herself last week, when the baby had been twelve weeks old. It wasn’t healthy, the sister said, for the other nuns to bond so much with the baby. Already Sister Agnes had had a crisis of conscience over
the life of piety she’d chosen. Leila could see why. The baby had filled the cool nunnery walls with a giggling reminder of life, bringing joy to everyone who looked at her.

  Leila gently bounced the baby on her shoulder, listening to her contented gurgling sounds. It wouldn’t be long until she fell asleep again, but she loved holding her like this, feeling the warmth of her small body against her shoulder, her face burrowed into Leila’s neck, her small hand gripping Bibi’s chain, which Leila always wore. She whispered stories to get her to sleep about Tusker the elephant down by the lagoon, and Parva hanging out the colourful silk saris on the line to dry, and the cricket matches in the grove and Rasa.

  Dear Rasa. Leila’s heart longed for him so often. She’d thought many times of asking Sister Mary to try and find him, but each time, she remembered what had happened and her nerve deserted her. After his father’s death, Leila was the last person in the world Rasa would want to hear from, not to mention what had happened to his friends and family on Lace Island. She dreaded to think how many people had died. Each time she thought of everyone – Parva, Maliba, little Mina – her heart contracted with a pain she couldn’t shake, followed closely by an intense fear. What if the police found her? She’d be thrown in prison for the rest of her life for starting the fire.

  But still a thought nagged. Surely Rasa would be glad to hear from her, glad to know that at least she’d made it out?

  No. No. It was impossible, Leila decided. Rasa wouldn’t want to know her now that she had a baby, and Leila couldn’t show him her daughter. She didn’t want Rasa to think of Adam every time he looked at the child. She wouldn’t have that horrible man’s name mentioned. She barely could admit it to herself: that Adam was the father of this precious, darling girl. As far as she was concerned, the baby was hers and hers alone.

  The baby’s breathing had fallen into a gentle rhythm and Leila tiptoed over to the Moses basket and laid down her daughter. She stared down at her in the soft light, drinking in the features of her perfect face and her little rosebud mouth.

  ‘I love you,’ she whispered, stroking her head before gently tucking in around her the soft yellow blanket she’d knitted. Then she got into the bed next to the basket, pulling the pillow under her head so that she could stare down at her daughter.

  Her little Jessica. It felt weird to say her name, and it had taken months to find the right one, but Leila was glad that she’d found it. She wanted her girl to have a Western name, and Jessica was a sweet name, meaning ‘Precious Gift from God’. Which everyone in the mission agreed she most certainly was.

  Leila had nearly drifted back into a contented sleep herself when the silence of the mission was broken by a distant clanking of the doorbell and she sat bolt upright in bed. It was always silent at this time of night, but now there were hurried footsteps in the corridor and raised voices.

  A sudden commotion outside the room made Leila’s heart pound. She heard Sister Mary’s protests as the door was punched open. And then the doorway was filled with the unmistakable silhouette of her stepfather and Leila felt the bottom dropping out of her world.

  ‘So this is where you’ve been hiding,’ Chan said, running his hand over his slicked-back hair.

  Leila stared desperately at Sister Mary, seeing the truth in her terrified face. Despite all of Leila’s protests, she must have sent word to Lace Island that Leila was here with her baby.

  Leila’s brain was scrabbling over the facts, but all the time, she felt as if the ground were disappearing beneath her like quicksand. How was it possible he was here? And if Chan was still alive, did that mean that others survived the fire? Had Bibi and Parva got out too?

  She took in the cold glint of triumph in Chan’s eyes as he saw her shock. Any pretence that there was real affection between them was long gone.

  ‘Oh? And what have we here?’ Chan said, his eyes wide as he registered the baby. ‘Is this the baby?’

  Leila had no time to contemplate what he meant. Instead, she felt bile rising in her throat as she saw Shang stroll through the doorway. She cowered, shielding her baby in the Moses basket and grabbing at the neck of her robe.

  Shang strode towards her and pushed her roughly aside and she cried out. Quickly, he yanked the baby out of the Moses basket, the yellow blanket falling to the floor.

  ‘Don’t take her. Don’t,’ Leila screamed, lunging towards him.

  The baby woke now, crying out. Shang held little Jessica away from Leila in his huge hand, like she was a ball he was about to throw. Sister Mary tried now to jump up and take the baby, but Shang punched her hard with his other hand. Leila cried out as Sister Mary fell to the floor with a thud, pulling the water jug on the sideboard down with her. It smashed on the flagstones. The baby wailed even louder.

  ‘No,’ Leila screamed, launching herself at Shang, but Chan strode towards her, slapping her hard in the face.

  ‘Stop it right now and listen,’ he said, his voice laden with menace.

  Terrified tears spilt down Leila’s face as Shang backed away with the baby.

  ‘Please, Chan, please,’ she begged. ‘Leave me alone.’

  ‘After finding you? Not a chance,’ he said. ‘Do you know how much damage you’ve done? How much mayhem you’ve caused? With that fire you started?’

  ‘Don’t harm her,’ Leila whimpered, her eyes not leaving her baby.

  ‘Because now you’re going to have to put it right.’

  ‘Please don’t harm her.’

  Chan held her face, forcing her to stare at him. ‘If you want her to live, then you will do exactly as I say.’

  Leila wept, her eyes darting to Shang, who was now at the door. ‘Please,’ she sobbed.

  ‘Well, that is all down to you. Because from now on, her life will depend on how well you behave,’ Chan said.

  ‘What do you mean? No. You’re not taking her from me. You can’t,’ Leila sobbed.

  ‘Oh, I can. She’s going far away. But we will know where she is. And if you want her to stay alive, then you will come back to Lace Island and do as I say.’

  ‘Don’t take her. I beg you.’

  ‘Pack her things now,’ Chan demanded. ‘Put them in here,’ he said, nodding to Shang, who reached behind the door. He threw Chan a leather bag.

  ‘Do as they say, Leila,’ Sister Mary whimpered, sitting up on the floor. She could see the other nuns now in the corridor. She couldn’t put them in danger too.

  Leila’s hands were trembling as she pulled the small collection of baby clothes from the drawers in her room. She could hardly see, her eyes were so full of tears, and her hands were shaking violently. But she knew she had to do what Chan said. Even so, her mind was racing, desperate to find a way out. Desperate for them not to take her baby.

  ‘Why are you doing this?’ she said, her voice choking.

  ‘Because that stupid mother of yours should have left Lace Island to me, but she left it to you,’ Chan hissed. ‘Now I have found you, you will do as I say. Hurry.’

  The baby’s cry was hysterical and Leila whimpered, the noise cutting her heart like razor blades. Quickly, she pulled off the chain that Bibi had given her from round her neck and put it in the bag. Then Chan snatched the bag and threw it to Shang in the doorway. Without a backwards glance, Shang left, the baby’s screams echoing through the mission corridors.

  Leila woke in a full body sweat. The dream again. The same dream.

  She always woke at the same point. With the sound of Shang’s heavy footsteps and her baby’s desperate crying making her heart shatter.

  Sitting up in bed, she picked up the Bible from her bedside, leafing between the pages for the precious photographs.

  One photograph for every year. That’s the deal she’d made with Chan. And that’s what she’d been given. One photograph of her darling daughter to prove that she was alive. In return for Leila doing Chan’s bidding.

  The photographs were everything to Leila. With them, she had just about been able to bear the fact that
her paradise had become a prison, knowing that her baby was growing up in the real world, a free woman.

  And she was free. Of that Leila was sure. Jessica was living free of any knowledge of where she came from. And she would never know, according to Chan.

  But she must be curious, surely? Leila thought, flicking through the pictures. Didn’t she ever think of her mother? Couldn’t she sense how often Leila prayed so desperately for her safety and happiness? How every fibre of Leila’s being longed for her, like a physical ache she could never cure? Could she not sense her mother’s longing – even though she was on the other side of the world? Surely this love, this secret love Leila had inside her, must have some kind of power? Because if it had the power to keep Leila alive, it must have the power to reach her daughter.

  Or maybe it didn’t. Maybe she was just kidding herself. Keeping herself alive with a hope that was simply foolish.

  Now Leila tortured herself, staring at the photograph Chan had given her last month. The one she’d been holding out for. It showed her baby – a young woman now – standing on the steps of a grey building, dressed in black. Her face was pale and drawn, and Leila ran her finger down the image of her cheek as if she could smudge the tears away. Why was she crying? What had happened to make her darling girl so sad? Leila ached to comfort her, to know what was going on in her life.

  She heard the footsteps coming up the concrete steps from the yard outside and quickly replaced the photographs in the Bible, tying it with its ribbon before placing it back in the bedside drawer and wedging it shut.

  ‘Get up,’ she heard Hakem’s rough voice, before her door was unlocked from the outside. ‘The boys are hungry for breakfast.’

  Quickly, Leila got up, not bothering to change from the clothes she slept in. She walked out of her cell at the back of the kitchen and looked out, a glimmer of a new dawn lighting the sky in the east.

  As usual, she pretended to herself that this wasn’t Lace Island. The Lace Island in her heart had gone forever. Because where there had once been those endless lush green paddy fields were fields of ugly dull green poppy heads.