Return to Mandalay

by Rosanna Ley

  The very last photo Eva had taken herself last week before she left, printing it out so that she had a complete set. Lawrence here looked old and more fragile, his hair snow-white but his eyes as intelligent as ever. ‘And as he is now,’ she told Maya.

  Maya let out a choked sob when she saw it. ‘Look at us both,’ she whispered, touching the face on the photograph. ‘We are old … We have taken our chosen paths.’ And then in a lower voice, ‘Each without the other.’

  Eva waited a moment for her to collect her emotions. Had she been right to bring this catalogue of memories with her? Her mother wouldn’t like it. She would say that this was their life, that it had nothing to do with Maya. But it had seemed so important to Eva to show Maya the pictures of their family. And she was glad now that she had. ‘Would you like to keep them?’ she asked her.

  Maya stared at her. Her hands were trembling. ‘Truly?’

  Eva was moved. She took her hand. ‘I brought them for you.’

  Maya bowed her head. ‘Thank you, Eva,’ she said. ‘If only …’

  But Eva never found out her ‘if only’ because at that moment, the door opened and Ramon strode in.

  ‘Eva,’ he said. ‘Good morning. Did you sleep well?’ His gaze was distant as it swept over her. He was dressed as usual in short-sleeved shirt and longyi, in navy blue today, and was barefoot.

  ‘Very well, thank you,’ she said smoothly. Though she hadn’t. She had tossed and turned half the night until a pale pink dawn had crept through the crack in the curtains. She was worried about her grandfather. And she had decided to steer well clear. Of moonlight, the scent of frangipani and Ramon.

  ‘And when are you returning to Mandalay?’ he asked, again.

  ‘I’ve booked a driver for this afternoon.’

  ‘You do not need a driver,’ Maya said. ‘Ramon is also returning to Mandalay this afternoon.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘I am needed at work,’ he said. ‘The city of Mandalay is where my business is located, of course.’

  ‘Of course,’ she echoed. She hadn’t considered that. Not that it mattered. She needn’t see him when she was in Mandalay. He would be busy and so would she. She was sorry not to be able to help Maya, but Ramon would never listen to her. And anyway, what should she say?

  ‘Ramon will take you back with him,’ said Maya.

  ‘That’s very kind …’ Of Maya; the suggestion hadn’t come from Ramon after all. Perhaps she was hoping the long drive would inspire confidences. ‘But, as I said, I’ve already booked my driver.’

  Maya got to her feet. ‘We will cancel the driver,’ she said regally.

  Eva couldn’t help smiling. Serene, but with a core of steel, she thought. ‘But—’

  ‘He will understand. Ramon will take you back to Mandalay. It is decided.’

  Eva took a deep breath. ‘Very well,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’ The journey might have been more relaxing with a different driver. But she was an independent woman who could find her way around the world. What threat could a man like Ramon possibly pose for her peace of mind?

  ‘How soon can you be ready?’ Ramon glanced at his watch.

  ‘In an hour?’ She just had to pack a few things and make that phone call. She was eager now to get back to Mandalay. Work would distract her, it always did.

  ‘And in a few days I, too, will be there.’ Maya held out her arms and embraced her.

  ‘Will you? I’ll look forward to that.’ Eva kissed her gently on both papery cheeks. She didn’t want to betray anyone, and she knew her mother wouldn’t approve, but she liked Maya. She appreciated her sense of calm, her strength, her connection to the grandfather Eva adored.

  Maya nodded. ‘There is more that I must tell you.’

  ‘Oh?’ And more that I should ask you, thought Eva.

  Maya put a finger to her lips. ‘When the time is right,’ she said softly. She turned to Ramon. ‘And in the meantime,’ she said, ‘you need have no worries and no problems. You will be perfectly safe. Because in Mandalay, Ramon will take care of you.’

  *

  Eva hurried back to Pine Rise.

  At reception, the girl put her call through. Again, it was painstakingly slow. Finally, she handed the receiver to Eva.

  ‘Hello? Grandpa?’ she said.

  ‘Eva?’

  The voice was one she recognised. But it wasn’t her grandfather. ‘Mother?’

  ‘Yes, darling, it’s me.’

  She sounded breathless but familiar, and Eva was surprised how glad she felt to hear her voice. But, ‘What are you doing in England, Mother? There’s nothing wrong, is there?’ She felt a sudden churning in her belly. Grandpa?

  ‘Everything’s fine.’ She heard her mother take a deep breath. ‘I came over for a visit on the spur of the moment …’

  While she was in Burma, Eva couldn’t help thinking.

  ‘And I found your Grandpa …’

  ‘Found him what? Where?’

  ‘He’d collapsed.’ Another deep breath. ‘But you mustn’t worry. He spent last night in hospital and he’s feeling much better now.’

  He was feeling better. The churning subsided. He was alright. And her mother was with him. ‘What happened?’ she whispered. ‘Was it a heart attack?’

  ‘No, no.’ Her mother’s voice came across clear and reassuring. ‘We think he just fainted. The doctor said he’d recently adjusted the pills he takes for high blood pressure. We think that’s all it was.’

  ‘Should I come home?’ Eva found that she was clutching the receiver close to her. Thank God her mother had turned up when she had. Supposing he’d been alone?

  ‘There’s absolutely no need.’ Her mother sounded so in control, it was a huge relief. ‘I’ll stay here and look after him.’

  ‘Can I speak to him? He’s OK to talk, is he?’ Suddenly Eva knew she had to tell him as soon as she could.

  ‘I’ll take you through. He’s in bed, just resting.’

  Eva heard her footsteps. ‘Are you alright, Mother?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m fine, darling. What about you? How is everything?’

  Everything. So much had been happening, Eva could hardly believe she’d been in Myanmar for only a week. ‘It’s going very well,’ she managed to say. ‘So far, so good.’

  ‘It’s Eva.’ She heard her mother’s voice. ‘Calling from Burma.’

  ‘Eva.’ And here was her grandfather, sounding even more frail than usual. Perhaps it was the distance that separated them. She hoped so. ‘Is that really you, Eva, darling? How are you? How’s Burma?’

  She chuckled. ‘It’s wonderful. And I’m very well too. But how are you, Grandpa?’

  ‘Oh, I’m not so bad. Plenty of life in the old dog yet.’ He laughed. ‘Where are you, exactly, my dear?’

  ‘Maymyo.’

  He paused. ‘And have you found her?’

  Eva heard the emotion, the shaky exhalation of breath. She imagined him clutching the receiver closer too, just as she was clutching this old-fashioned black Bakelite receiver to her ear. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I have.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Yes!’ She almost shouted. ‘I’ve found her. She’s well. Living here in Maymyo. I just wanted to let you know.’

  ‘Thank you, my dear. Oh, thank you.’ She heard in his voice a sweet relief that moved her so deeply. ‘Thank you, darling Eva.’

  ‘I’ll tell you the rest of the news when I get back,’ she said.

  ‘You take care, my darling,’ he wheezed.

  ‘And you. I just wanted you to know …’ The line had gone dead. But it didn’t matter. She’d told him and he was alright. Her mother was there looking after him. Well …

  ‘Could you make up my bill?’ she asked the girl on reception. ‘I’m almost ready to check out.’

  ‘Yes, madam, of course.’

  Eva took her key and went up to her room to finish packing a few bits and pieces. She could only imagine how that news had made him feel.

  CHAPTER
22

  Rosemary was building the fire in the living room. The kitchen was fine for eating in but it wasn’t comfortable enough. He needed to be lying down and he wouldn’t be wanting to stay in bed all day. If she made up the fire he could lie on the sofa and be warm. And it gave her something to do.

  She started with scrunched up newspaper and old egg boxes. It was a long time since she’d been down on her hands and knees in front of a grate getting her hands dirty. The thought made her chuckle. It was a long way from the sleek radiators of their apartment in Copenhagen. She paused and sank back on to her heels for a moment. And how was Alec? He hadn’t phoned since she’d left. But then again, neither had she.

  Her father was asleep but she had her ears open for the moment he woke up. She hadn’t lied to Eva, but on the other hand neither had she been scrupulously honest. They were so close and she didn’t want to worry her, not while she was away in Burma. He wasn’t well. He seemed to be … as Mrs Briggs had put it when she tried to explain to Rosemary this morning, not quite with it. Which itself seemed a bit of a betrayal. Her father had always been such an intelligent man, she’d been proud of that. And not only that, but according to Mrs Briggs, this wasn’t the first time he’d had a fall. ‘He asked me not to say,’ she confided. ‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure what to do for the best.’

  Rosemary began to build a little pyramid of kindling around the newspaper. Like a bivouac. Somewhere to hide, to shelter. But it was true, he wasn’t with it, it was as if he were somewhere else.

  That wasn’t the reason he’d collapsed though. Rosemary shivered and thought back to the moment she’d arrived at the house, the moment she’d found him there, passed out on the bathroom floor. She’d found a pulse straightaway. Thank God. And she’d turned him into the recovery position. Talked to him, gently, tried to bring him round. At the same time, she’d groped for her mobile in her bag and dialled 999. He needed to be taken to hospital, now. She wasn’t taking any chances.

  In the ambulance she’d held his hand and he’d come round.

  ‘Eva?’ he’d muttered. He struggled to sit up. ‘Eva, is that you?’

  ‘It’s Rosemary.’ She had repressed a sigh and squeezed his hand. Even now he could upset her so easily ‘Don’t worry about a thing, Dad. You had a fall. We’re on our way to hospital.’

  ‘Hospital?’ He pulled a face and the paramedic had laughed.

  ‘Don’t reckon you’re too delighted about that then, Lawrence,’ he remarked.

  Rosemary leaned closer. He was so thin, so pale. His skin was as pouched and creased as old paper, criss-crossed with lines she didn’t even remember. He smelt of shaving cream and something vaguely medicinal which she couldn’t quite place. She had left this visit far too long, she realised. But she’d make up for it now. ‘Don’t worry, Dad,’ she whispered. ‘You’ll be fine.’

  At the hospital he had shifted in and out of his usual sharp awareness. They had done lots of tests and concluded that there was nothing seriously wrong and that they could go home. No doubt he was taking up a bed needed by someone more ill. They would contact his GP, they told Rosemary, and tell him what had happened and he would probably make a home visit. Doubtless, it was the change in his prescription that had done it. Blood pressure could be hard to balance, not too high to risk a stroke, not too low to get dizzy and faint. But in the meantime, she should stay with him.

  As if I’m going anywhere, she had muttered under her breath. He was her father. She should never have left him. It wasn’t fair for him to be alone.

  Rosemary picked up the matches and lit one, the scent of sulphur hitting her nostrils like some far off memory. She held it to the newspaper, it caught and she carefully added more kindling, building it around. She didn’t let herself think about what he’d said to Eva on the phone, she was pretending she hadn’t even heard. But at least Eva was well and it was good that she’d phoned, that Rosemary had been able to talk to her and fill her in on what had happened.

  By the time she heard him stir, the fire was lit and blazing with life. It reminded Rosemary, more than anything, of her childhood growing up in this rambling house, of Christmas Day and a log fire burning. The tree in the corner decorated so carefully by her mother. She always allowed Rosemary to help, but Rosemary soon noticed that the bits she did would more often than not be done again by her mother. Made perfect. She sighed. How do you mend a broken marriagethough? How do you mend a marriage that had never been perfect, not even in the beginning?

  She put a couple of logs in position and placed the guard in front of the growing blaze.

  ‘Hello, love.’ He was already sitting up and reaching for his glass of water. He seemed a bit brighter.

  ‘Let me.’ She passed it to him. Then she fussed with his pillows for a bit, to make him more comfortable. ‘I’ve lit a fire,’ she said. ‘We’ll give it half an hour to warm up and then I’ll take you in there if you like.’

  He was watching her. ‘It’s grand to see you, love,’ he murmured. ‘I never said. But it’s grand to see you.’

  ‘You too. How are you feeling after your nap?’ She smoothed his fine white hair from his brow. Soft as baby hair, she thought, and something stirred inside her. She felt her eyes fill with tears. What on earth was the matter with her? Whatever she did, she mustn’t let him see her cry.

  ‘Cock a hoop,’ he whispered.

  She took his hand and gently patted it.

  ‘Why did you come, Rosie? Why the sudden visit, eh?’

  She was relieved to see a spark of animation in his pale blue eyes. How much could he see? ‘I came to see you, didn’t I?’ And lucky I did, she thought.

  He frowned. ‘I’m not about to kick the bucket, am I, love?’

  ‘Stop it.’ She squeezed gently. ‘Of course you’re not. I just wanted to see you.’ And she realised that it was true. She’d been so angry with him, hadn’t she, over the years. But seeing him now, like this …

  ‘I wanted to see you too,’ he said. ‘So that’s alright then, isn’t it?’

  ‘That’s alright,’ she agreed. She was the woman who kept things at a distance, who had found it easier to bury herself in a new life in Copenhagen and to let the old life go. But this was her father and for a moment there she had thought she’d lost him. And she realised she didn’t want to let him go.

  She got to her feet. ‘Fancy a cuppa?’

  ‘Thought you’d never ask.’ He grinned.

  CHAPTER 23

  Rather to her surprise, Eva found herself confiding in Ramon on the journey to Mandalay. She told him about the phone call and that her grandfather was far from well.

  ‘I know you feel that he behaved badly,’ she added. ‘But it meant everything to my grandfather that I brought the chinthe back here to your family, that I found Maya and that she’s still alive.’

  Ramon glanced across at her. ‘Perhaps I misjudged him,’ he admitted. He swung the car out to overtake a smoke-belching truck that must have been fifty years old, full of local villagers squatting on pink plastic crates of live chickens and huge watermelons.

  Health and safety hadn’t made much impact on Myanmar, Eva noted and not for the first time.

  ‘Or perhaps you do not know the full story.’

  ‘It’s possible,’ she conceded.

  He drummed long brown fingers on the steering wheel. ‘Why, for example, did he never come back here? It has been many years since the war ended.’

  Eva considered. ‘Because he was married to my grandmother,’ she said. ‘And then maybe he felt it was too late.’

  ‘Too late to again disrupt my grandmother’s life?’ he asked.

  ‘I think so.’ She would have been married by that time. ‘And your country was very isolated then,’ she reminded him. ‘It wasn’t easy to get here. Politically—’

  ‘Yes, that is also true.’ He frowned. ‘And I am sorry he is not well.’

  So was she. They had left behind the leafy suburbs of Pyin Oo Lwin and were now descending tow
ards the plains. The road to Mandalay, Eva thought nostalgically, lined with yellow mimosa. There was no sign of any tension from the night before and slowly Eva allowed herself to unwind and enjoy the journey through the red-earthed hills and lush vegetation. She leaned back in the seat. She had worn her hair up to keep cool but of course the car had air-con so she was perfectly comfortable. She closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the sensation of the chill air on her skin. She had come to Pyin Oo Lwin not knowing if she would find Maya. And she had not only found her, but she had heard yet another story, one that had got her thinking and planning. Because there must be a way, mustn’t there, to get that little chinthe back?

  She stretched out her legs. She was wearing green linen cropped trousers and a sleeveless embroidered top and had already slipped off her leather-thonged sandals. ‘It’s been so lovely to meet your family,’ she said.

  He laughed. ‘And you’ll meet even more of them in Mandalay.’

  Eva had a vision of more cousins, second cousins and assorted ebony-haired children who seemed to belong to everyone. And she realised that it was assumed she would continue to see the family in Mandalay. It was a pleasant thought.

  ‘Tell me some more about your furniture company,’ Eva prompted, sneaking a look at him as he drove. He was a confident driver. Both hands rested languidly on the steering wheel, he looked casual but in charge. She’d like to know him a bit better, she decided, find out what made him tick.

  ‘My father began the business in Myanmar,’ Ramon said, ‘but his father’s family, the English side …’ And she heard the pride in his voice. ‘Were master craftsmen and furniture makers in Britain for more than four generations before that.’

  ‘Really?’ She’d find out the name, she decided, and look them up. ‘So why did your father move here in the first place?’

  ‘He was an explorer.’ He looked swiftly across at her and then back to the road ahead. They were passing one of the many scatterings of shacks and dwellings with fruit and vegetable carts, children playing on the roadside, chickens pecking in the dust. ‘At that time he was not sure his father’s business was for him. He came out here at twenty-five, met my mother and decided to settle in this country.’