A pair of ancient gimlet eyes appeared in the small crack.
‘May I help you?’ the man’s heavily accented Thai voice asked.
‘Yes, I’m looking for Lidia.’
The gimlet eyes surveyed her, then filled with fear.
‘Who are you? Why you want her?’ he asked accusingly.
Julia was wrong-footed by these questions, not wanting to reveal her identity until she had established who the man was.
‘I am from England – a friend of Lidia’s asked me to give her a message. Is she in?’ Julia asked.
The man shook his head. ‘No, she out. Bye bye.’
He tried to close the door but Julia held it open.
‘She will come back?’ she asked, unconsciously falling into the man’s pidgin English.
The man shrugged through the tiny crack. ‘Maybe.’
‘She is … well?’ Julia wanted to say ‘alive’, but felt it was inappropriate.
‘She is well,’ the man nodded. ‘Now, you go away, okay?’
‘When she comes back, can you tell her that a friend of Harry’s wants to see her. I am staying at the Oriental Hotel and will wait for her there.’ Julia enunciated the words slowly and carefully.
‘Harry,’ the man twirled the name on his tongue, then nodded. ‘Okay, I tell.’
The door was slammed in her face and Julia went back to the car.
She spent the afternoon by the pool, filled with anxiety that the old man had not understood and would not pass on the message. But at least she knew Lidia was alive. And, for now, there was little more she could do except wait and use the time to contemplate her life.
And face up to her feelings for Kit.
Julia knew it was doubtful her marriage to Xavier could have survived after what she had learnt about the accident, but as she lay in the heat of the tropical sun, she forced herself to admit that her feelings for Kit had also played a part in its demise. And Kit’s love for her, his quiet strength and lack of insecurity, neediness or jealousy, had made her see Xavier – and her relationship with him – much more clearly.
There was no doubt that Kit had marched into her life at an inappropriate moment, when every emotion she felt was muddled. But the very fact that she had found such happiness with him – when she was so grief-stricken over her son, and ashamed for moving on so soon after losing her husband – was testament to the strength of what they had shared.
She knew it was love. In its purest and most simple form.
In the past few months, she had also learnt one of the most crucial lessons of life: everything depended on timing. If she had met Kit under different circumstances, at another moment, perhaps they would still be together now.
There was no going back. The trust had been broken. Kit must feel like a discarded toy, thrown away when a better, shinier version reappeared. She knew that, if the roles had been reversed, she would have felt that. She hadn’t even had the grace or the courage to speak to him in person.
No … the damage was done and she had to move on. Men weren’t everything, and she must stop relying on them to bring her happiness.
Later that evening, sitting on her balcony with a glass of wine, Julia decided she would call Olav and tell him to book as heavy a work schedule as he could produce.
She looked at the heavenly view of twinkling lights on the water and, despite herself, couldn’t help thinking she would like to share it with Kit. To tell him how comfortable she felt in this far-flung country, cocooned in this tranquil yet exhilarating setting … how she felt she belonged. Like her grandfather before her.
God, she missed Kit: it was as if only half of her was here. Whether or not she was free to love him, it was unbearably poignant, because it was another wonderful thing she had managed to lose in the past year.
She drank a little too much wine that night and allowed herself to cry properly over Kit for the first time since she had been forced to let him go.
Over the next few days, Julia filled in the time whilst she waited for a response from Lidia by retracing Harry’s footsteps, taking trips upriver to see the royal palace and the Emerald Buddha, and relishing their beauty. She took afternoon tea in the Authors’ Lounge, studying sepia photographs on the walls, depicting the hotel as it would have been when Harry and Lidia were playing out their doomed love affair within its walls.
She checked in regularly with the concierge to see whether any messages had been left for her – they had not. She called Olav to let him know she was ready to take on whatever he had to offer. And spent hours by the swimming pool trying to work out where she wanted to live.
She was, of course, now homeless, unless she counted the cottage in Norfolk – which she did not. Apart from being completely unsuitable for her needs, it was too painful a reminder of Kit.
Perhaps a fresh start in an anonymous capital was the answer? A sterile apartment that would mean nothing to her, but would at least be a base to return to between recitals.
London … Paris … New York?
The world, sadly, was her oyster once more.
As she ate her solitary dinner on the terrace, Julia decided that tomorrow she would go back to Lidia’s house and try to make contact with her one last time. Then she would leave Bangkok and begin her life once more.
‘Madam Forrester.’ The terrace manager’s voice startled her.
‘Yes?’
‘I have someone here who would like to speak with you.’
Out of the darkness, a tiny, bird-like figure appeared: elegantly dressed in Thai silk, her jet-black hair pulled up into a chignon, with two orchids fixed to one side of it.
As she came closer, Julia felt she recognised her, though it took a moment for her to realise why: she was looking at many of her own features. She knew this woman must be eighty, but time had drawn barely a line on her honey-coloured skin. She had huge, almond-shaped amber eyes, and Julia could easily imagine how heartbreakingly beautiful she must have been at seventeen.
The woman put her tiny hands together in the traditional Thai greeting of respect and bowed her head. Then she looked up and smiled.
‘I am Lidia.’
‘Thank you for coming to see me.’ Julia could think of nothing better to say; she was transfixed by this woman who looked so much like herself. ‘Please, sit down,’ she added, indicating the vacant chair opposite her.
Lidia did so, then stared at Julia expectantly. ‘So, you must tell me why you came to my house and frightened my houseboy half to death.’
Julia smiled inwardly at this description of the ancient man who had greeted her at Lidia’s door. ‘I do apologise. I didn’t mean to frighten him.’
Lidia’s eyes twinkled. ‘He tell me he think he see a ghost.’
Julia raised an eyebrow. ‘Really? Why?’
‘He think I die in the street while out shopping and come back to visit him as a young girl. Now I can see why. You are so very like me. I think he is confused – how can you be friend of Harry’s, but resemble me as a young girl?’ she asked. ‘I did not know whether to expect old lady or young.’
‘I wasn’t sure what to say to him. Lidia, do you know who I am?’ Julia felt a strange and sudden rush of emotion as she asked the question.
Lidia studied her. ‘You are too young to be my daughter, Jasmine. So I think you may be … my granddaughter?’
‘Yes,’ Julia confirmed, tears pricking her eyes. ‘Jasmine was my mother.’
It was a few seconds before Lidia spoke. Julia watched as she composed herself.
‘I am sorry it take me some time to come to you, but you can understand I was shocked when I heard Harry’s name. All these years, there hasn’t been a day I have not thought of him. Is he still alive?’ she asked, hope and fear combining in her eyes.
‘No, Lidia, he died many years ago. I’m sorry.’
Lidia nodded and put her hands to her heart. ‘I knew this in here,’ she indicated, ‘but still I hope. How did he die?’
Julia shook her
head. ‘I don’t know. It happened before I was born. But Elsie, my grandmother – or should I say, the woman I thought was my grandmother until a few weeks ago – said … he died of a broken heart.’
Lidia reached into her basket, brought out a handkerchief and blew her nose. ‘You must forgive me, it is not dignified for an old lady to cry in public. For all these years, I hear nothing …’
‘But Elsie sent you photographs of my mother, didn’t she? To show you she was happy and well cared for in England?’
Lidia nodded. ‘Yes. It was kind of her. But, Julia,’ Lidia’s eyes looked puzzled, ‘the photographs are sent from Jasmine’s nursemaid, Elsie. Why do you call Elsie your grandmother?’
To her horror, Julia realised Lidia had never known her daughter was not brought up by Lord Harry Crawford at Wharton Park, but by the gardener and his wife in their small cottage.
‘Lidia, it’s a very long story,’ Julia breathed, ‘and one I have only just discovered myself.’
‘I understand it will take time to explain,’ Lidia soothed. ‘So now, tell me of your mother. Is she as beautiful as you? Is she here?’ she asked, her eyes so bright with expectation that Julia could no longer stem her tears.
‘No …’ Julia shook her head, realising her odyssey back to the past would be far more complex and painful than she had allowed herself to acknowledge. ‘Oh dear. I’m so sorry, my mother died twenty years ago, when I was eleven,’ she said, instinctively reaching across the table for Lidia’s tiny hand.
Lidia held tightly to Julia’s hand, her small body shaking with anguish. She whispered something in Thai, then sighed deeply.
‘I think,’ she whispered, ‘this is not the time to hear the many things you have to tell me. We must talk of them in a private place, for I do not wish others to witness my pain.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Julia. ‘I’m so terribly sorry to bring you bad news. Perhaps I should not have come to find you.’
‘Oh no, Julia, you must not think that, or be guilty for telling me what fate has done to both of us. I have lost a daughter, you have lost a mother. It is life and death.’ Lidia smiled at her. ‘And you must remember, Julia, that the bringer of bad news brings the good news too. For you are here. And you are part of me, and I of you. And we are sitting together, reunited at last, in the very place where I met and fell in love with your grandfather. There is a beauty in that, is there not?’
‘Yes, there is,’ Julia agreed softly.
The manager arrived with a drink for Lidia.
‘Kop khun ka, Thanadol. May I introduce my granddaughter, Julia? She has flown across the world to find me.’
Thanadol’s eyebrows hardly moved. ‘It is a pleasure to know this,’ he smiled. ‘I am hardly surprised: you are so alike. Please call me if you need anything further.’
As he walked away, Julia asked: ‘How do you know him?’
‘Oh, I worked here years ago with Thanadol’s father,’ explained Lidia. ‘Many of the staff have relations who were employed before them. It is like family, this hotel, and the people in it were here when I needed them.’
‘How long did you work here?’ asked Julia.
‘Ten years, until I met my husband,’ Lidia replied.
‘You married?’ For some reason, Julia was surprised.
‘Yes, and again, I meet him right here in the hotel. We were together for forty years. I was with him when the last breath left his body twelve years ago.’
‘I am glad you were able to find happiness, Lidia,’ Julia replied gently.
‘Julia, it was not love. That was only for Harry. But I had a good life with him. My husband was a very successful man, with a big company, which I helped him build. And I loved him for loving me.’
‘Did you have children?’
‘No,’ Lidia shook her head sadly. ‘I nearly die after giving birth to your mother. After that, no more babies.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ said Julia.’
‘Perhaps,’ Lidia mused, ‘if I had not been so ill when Khun Bill came to find me, I would have kept Jasmine here with me. But,’ she sighed, ‘once you have made a decision and there is no turning back, acceptance is the only comfort. I learn many years ago I cannot change fate … or other people.’
‘No,’ Julia agreed with feeling, ‘I understand completely.’
Lidia stared across the river, lost for a moment in her own private thoughts.
‘Now, dear Julia,’ she said eventually, ‘tonight I feel tired, and I think I must go home. How long are you staying in Bangkok?’
‘I was planning to leave soon. But I could stay longer, now you’re here.’
‘Then, please, come to my house for lunch tomorrow,’ Lidia suggested. ‘We can talk much more then. One question: do I have any more grandchildren?’
It was on the tip of Julia’s tongue to tell her that yes, she had another granddaughter. But, like much of Julia’s life, that fact was no longer true.
‘Just me,’ she answered simply.
‘And you are enough,’ Lidia replied warmly, ‘a true gift from God. Tell me, my granddaughter, are you a mother yourself, or do you work?’
Julia ignored the first part of the question and answered the second: ‘I’m a pianist.’
Lidia’s eyes immediately filled with tears before she broke into a smile. ‘Oh, Julia! You know that the first time I see your grandfather he was playing the piano, just over there in the old Bamboo Bar.’ Lidia pointed to the Authors’ Lounge. ‘And I think that is when I fall in love with him. He came alive when he played. His is a special gift to inherit. Now,’ she stood up, ‘I must go home.’
Julia rose from her chair, not sure what form of farewell would be appropriate. Lidia made it easy for her by reaching for her hand, then kissing her on both cheeks.
‘Thank you for coming to find me,’ she murmured. ‘Goodbye, my granddaughter. We will speak tomorrow.’
When Lidia had left, Julia sat for a while, staring at the river. Sometime later, she rose from the table and glanced up to the heavens. And truly hoped that Harry was there somewhere, watching with joy at what had just taken place.
58
The following day, armed with some photographs she had brought with her, Julia took the hotel limousine to Lidia’s house. This time, the door was opened to her with a smile and a Thai greeting from Lidia’s ‘houseboy’.
‘Welcome, Khun Julia. Khun Lidia wait for you on veranda. I will take you.’
Julia followed him through the darkened rooms, shuttered against the strong sun, and on to a wide wooden terrace which reached out into the river on stilts. It was bedecked with large pots of flowers and the sweet smell of jasmine hung in the air, instantly reminding Julia of the gardens at Wharton Park.
A breeze from the river kept the veranda beautifully cool, and small brass bells hanging from the roof tinkled softly as they swayed.
The house stood on a small inlet at a wide part of the river. Boats still skidded and jostled past, but some way away, their hum providing a soft, comforting background noise to this oasis of calm.
Lidia appeared around the corner of the veranda, wearing an ancient ‘coolie’ hat and carrying a tin watering can. Her face lit up when she saw Julia.
‘Julia,’ she opened her arms to her. ‘Welcome to my home. I am so glad to have you here. Now,’ she put the watering can down by a tap and indicated a chair at a table set for lunch. ‘Please, sit down and make yourself comfortable. Can I offer you a drink?’
‘That would be lovely, thank you, Lidia.’
Lidia’s eyes flickered to the door, where her houseboy hovered; and within seconds he had put a glass of water and a coconut with a straw in front of her.
‘I have beer or wine if you prefer,’ Lidia said anxiously.
Julia shook her head. ‘This is perfect.’ She took a sip of the sweet, sticky liquid and smiled. ‘It’s a new taste, but I like it.’
Julia was aware how intently Lidia was watching her and she blushed.
�
�I apologise, Julia, for staring. It is strange and wonderful for me to see the beauty produced from myself and Harry, and my own daughter and your father. Here in my house.’ She smiled broadly. ‘I am pleased with the result, you are very, very lovely. You have inherited the best features of your Thai heritage and English height and bearing. And, of course, a beautiful complexion. Oh, Thai women will do anything to appear light-skinned and European!’
‘I want to get a tan,’ stated Julia.
This set Lidia into peals of laughter. It was a sweet sound, rather like the bells that tinkled in the breeze above her. ‘Yes, all white people cannot wait to make their skin brown. It must be God’s little joke. We all want what we cannot have.’ Lidia’s face grew serious and she leant in towards Julia: ‘And, Julia, do not be afraid to tell me what happened to Jasmine when she arrived in England. I have worked it out for myself. As the moon hung high in the sky last night, I understood. Khun Bill and his wife, Elsie, adopted my baby, didn’t they?’
‘Yes, Lidia, they did,’ confirmed Julia nervously. ‘There really wasn’t a choice at the time.’
‘Did Harry know?’ she asked. ‘Know his daughter grow up so close to him?’
‘My grandmother –’ Julia corrected herself – ‘I mean, Elsie, told me he didn’t know right up until a few weeks before he died. He came to bring Bill something as a keepsake and met Jasmine for the first time. Then he knew … because she was the image of you.’
‘So my Jasmine did not grow up in Wharton Park, the daughter of a British lord,’ mused Lidia. ‘Instead she grew up with a gardener and his kind wife.’
‘Yes. But, Lidia,’ Julia knew there wasn’t a way to shield her from the truth, ‘Harry’s wife, Olivia, was having a baby at the same time.’
‘I see.’ Lidia’s eyes darkened. ‘You must believe me, Julia, when I tell you that for the time Harry was with me here in Thailand, he never mention he is married. If he had, I would not …’ She shook her head vehemently. ‘It seems both myself and his wife were betrayed by him.’
‘I can understand how you must feel,’ Julia agreed, ‘and I don’t know why Harry didn’t tell you. Perhaps he was frightened he might lose you if you knew.’
Hothouse Flower Page 48
