The Sapphire Widow

by Dinah Jefferies

As they made their way up the main drive, she glimpsed another building at the very top, a more contemporary house dramatically set above the plantation. When they finally reached it and left the car, she gazed down at the most extraordinary view to the sea, then turned back to look inland where misty purple hills merged with the sky.

  “The light changes constantly from sunrise to sunset here. Do you like it?”

  “It’s absolutely breathtaking.”

  “I’ll see if Leo McNairn is in. He runs the place.”

  He walked up to the main door and a servant opened it and told Elliot that Leo was away in Colombo.

  He came back to where Louisa was still staring out toward the sea. “He’s away, but there’s nothing to stop us pottering about a bit. Let me show you some of the cinnamon trees.”

  “I love the smell,” she said. “Is it just cinnamon?”

  “Citronella too, I think.”

  “No wonder you like coming here so much! I’d be happy to stay here for a few days next time.”

  “Well, as I said, Leo’s place is rather primitive. When I stay it doesn’t matter to me.”

  “I don’t mind primitive either. Surely you know that.”

  “Shall we have a look around?”

  Louisa followed Elliot down a meandering path between sparse shrubs and ground orchids, beyond which tall dark trees enticed the unsuspecting into the gloom. She could feel their pull, though heaven knew what they might hide.

  “Just watch out for snakes,” he said, interrupting her thoughts.

  “Poisonous?”

  “The black and white krait.”

  “But they’re only a problem at night, aren’t they?” She glanced around. “I’d love to know about how the cinnamon is produced.”

  “It’s all a bit tedious.”

  “Still.”

  “Well, the trees are usually first harvested after about three years. Then regular coppicing increases the yield but also keeps the bush-like appearance, and makes harvesting easier.”

  “How do they do the harvesting?”

  “It’s a bit laborious, but the bark is stripped, and then processed carefully.”

  After a few minutes of walking, she heard a shuffling sound behind her. She peered in that direction but saw nothing at first. As she moved off again she could have sworn she heard footsteps and twisted around to have another look. This time she thought she caught a flash of coppery red. She stood still and for a moment it seemed as if a red-haired woman was watching her from a distance. She turned and called to Elliot but when she glanced back, the woman was gone.

  “What is it?” Elliot said. “Something wrong?”

  “I thought I saw a woman watching me.”

  “Probably one of the natives.”

  “Yes. I couldn’t see clearly. But the thing is, I thought she had red hair.”

  “Unlikely around here. Probably a scarf. One of the cinnamon peelers’ wives, I’d say.”

  “Yes. You may be right. Let’s go to the top and look at the view again.”

  As they climbed back up she spotted a pair of black-headed orioles, glamorous black and yellow birds singing a beautiful liquid song. She was about to point them out to Elliot but he seemed distracted, clearly surprised to see a Royal Enfield motorbike next to their car. “I really should be getting back to the office now,” he said, and she noticed unexpected tension wrinkling his brow.

  But then a tall lean-looking man strode out of the house. The fierce sunlight slanting through the trees cast shadows on his cheeks. He wore shorts and an open-necked shirt and was very tanned. Louisa stared at his handsome craggy face, the stubble on his jawline and his auburn-red hair, and wondered if it was him she’d seen earlier. How strange to see red hair so soon again, she thought, but no, I don’t think it was him I saw among the trees. As Elliot wasn’t saying anything she held out a hand.

  “Hello, I’m Louisa Reeve. Elliot is just showing me around.”

  The man frowned slightly and scratched his head. “I see.”

  “So…” she said.

  “Forgive me…Leo McNairn,” he said. Louisa noticed he was looking hot and a bit sweaty.

  There was a moment of silence as she stared at him. Something about the intense darkness of his eyes unsettled her. She expected him to smile but he held her gaze without speaking. The feeling of being under scrutiny and unable to look away embarrassed her. The moment seemed to stretch out too long, but then a sudden shaft of sunlight almost blinded her. She blinked rapidly before finally glancing away. Then he spoke again.

  “Just been chopping down some old trees,” he said. “Over on the other side.”

  “Well,” Elliot said. “We’ll be off now. Come along, Louisa.” He twisted back to Leo. “Nice seeing you again. My wife just wanted to visit the place. Your man said you were in Colombo.”

  Leo narrowed his eyes. “Right.”

  “But you’re back early.”

  “Trouble with the bike.” With another frown, Leo looked away, and Louisa felt he had spoken in a slightly offhand manner.

  Elliot put an arm around her and began to walk away. “Well, cheerio,” he said over his shoulder.

  When the man just nodded and Elliot pulled her toward the car, Louisa was gripped by a weird feeling of unease.

  “Well,” she said as they reached a lower level of the hill. “Not the most talkative man. I felt quite uncomfortable. Is he always like that?”

  “Probably has something on his mind.”

  “Why didn’t he invite us in? It seemed very odd to me.”

  “He’s a man of few words.”

  “Evidently, though it is a shame he was so unfriendly.”

  After a while she shook off the dark thoughts. “Anyway, I do like this gorgeous, bittersweet place.”

  “Bittersweet?”

  “Yes. Don’t you think?”

  He frowned.

  “There’s just something about it. Special, you know? But at the same time a little unnerving. Still, I’d have preferred not to have to rush off. I got the feeling I’d met Leo before, or seen him somewhere, at least.”

  “You may have seen him in Colombo. With hair like that he does stand out.”

  The next morning Louisa was preparing to go to the grocery store just as Irene came into the hall. Louisa nodded at her, then picked up her shopping bag and headed for the door.

  “Where are you off to?” Irene asked.

  “Just to buy something.”

  She frowned. “You surely don’t do your own shopping.”

  Louisa smiled. “Just odds and ends. I like to get out.”

  “In which case, I’d be happy to accompany you.”

  “Really? There’s no need.”

  “Nevertheless. A little outing? Just the two of us. What do you say?”

  As Irene pinned on her hat she continued to maintain they shouldn’t have to buy groceries themselves—after all wasn’t that what servants were for—and she couldn’t help adopting the superior attitude that so irritated Louisa. Jonathan had brought her up to respect all people, no matter what their color or religion. But Irene truly found it difficult to understand Louisa’s love of mixing with the locals and fervently believed the British should be sticking to their own kind, with the civil servants being the pick of the crop, of course, and never associating with the hoi polloi.

  “I like getting out on my own and seeing people,” Louisa said. “I only want a few candles so it won’t take long. We can take a rickshaw, if you like.”

  Irene shrugged. “I’d rather walk.”

  “Won’t Margo be arriving soon?” Louisa added. “You’ll be wanting to get home, I imagine.”

  Margo, Irene’s daughter, had been working as a nurse in England and had now decided to return to Ceylon, though nobody knew why. />
  “Yes. Very soon. Though, for heaven’s sake, can you imagine her working at the hospital here? She had a perfectly good job at the London Hospital. Just throwing it in seems very unlike Margo. She’s usually so sensible.”

  Louisa secretly wondered if Margo had become disenchanted with being the sensible one, and couldn’t help thinking that perhaps she’d only grown up that way in reaction to Elliot’s daredevil personality.

  Out in the street Louisa glanced up toward the north where lowland forests rose to a ridge of lilac hills as far as the eye could see. She never tired of the view, nor of the familiar background sounds of waves crashing against the rocks, the seabirds squawking overhead, and the horns of ships sounding as they entered or exited the harbor. She listened out for church bells and noticed the twittering of birds in the trees. Such simple daily things intensified the feeling of belonging. Outside the houses a profusion of zinnia and canna graced a variety of tubs, and purple bougainvillea tumbled down the walls.

  They could smell the cinnamon, cloves and coffee before they even reached the store. Luckily there was no dried fish hanging at the entrance today. If you so much as lightly brushed your hair against it you’d stink of fish all day.

  In the dark interior Janesha, a local Sinhalese woman dressed in a green and blue sari, stood behind the counter. Her raven hair was swept back in a bun and the scent of coconut oil and sandalwood drifted from it. And just as she kept herself immaculate she kept everything in the shop in equally perfect order. Jars of syrup and pineapple, sacks of rice and bags of spices on one side, with ripe bananas, papayas and mangoes on the other, though Louisa had no idea who might buy preserved fruit when there was such an abundance of fresh.

  Although Louisa could speak adequate Sinhalese, she knew Janesha spoke English, so after a brief chat about candles, she asked the woman how her son was.

  “He is causing me many problems. I think I told you before about his school report.”

  “You did.”

  “He was a promising student but since he turned thirteen he isn’t interested.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it. What does your husband say?”

  “My husband is too busy fishing to take much notice. It is always up to me. But how are you now?”

  Louisa smiled. “I’m doing well, thank you.”

  The woman looked concerned. “These things do take time.”

  “I think I’m as well as can be expected. Probably better.”

  “At least you have color on your cheeks. I—”

  “What are you two nattering about?” interrupted Irene, instantly reducing Janesha to silence. “Her accent is so strong, I can barely understand a word.”

  “Irene, please, she can understand you.” She turned to the woman. “I’m sorry, Janesha, I think I have to go.”

  The woman nodded.

  They walked home the long way around, just as a fine drift of sand was carried on the breeze. This happened regularly and you’d frequently have to shut your eyes if the wind picked up. Shading their eyes, they walked on, with Irene tight-lipped all the while.

  When they arrived home, they entered the garden by the back gate and as they walked through, a family of geckos fled for the rockery at the sight of them. In the kitchen, Louisa smiled to hear the cook cursing at the boiler, but she put down her shopping and left him to it, before making her way into the small back hall.

  As they passed Elliot’s study, Irene looked in cautiously and then, drawing back, beckoned to Louisa. “Do you know who that is, in there?”

  Louisa took a few steps forward to glance into the room and saw it was the same man she’d spotted Elliot talking to during their Christmas party. “Just someone Elliot is doing business with. Let’s go back into the garden.”

  They carried on through the main hall and then out again via the French windows of the sitting room which opened on to the shady part of the garden. Louisa called Ashan for two fresh mango juices and then reached for her secateurs.

  Irene picked up a magazine, an old American Vogue, and was idly flicking through it when, after a few minutes, Elliot came out. “Christ, this heat,” he said and ran a finger under his collar.

  “So how are things going, son?” Irene asked, looking up at him.

  Elliot shrugged. “I’m very busy with work, mainly.”

  “Bringing work into the house, are you?”

  He frowned. “I take it you spotted De Vos?”

  “I always think work and home should be kept apart. A man needs to relax. I say the same to your father.”

  Elliot looked annoyed. “What I choose to do really isn’t any business of yours, is it, Mother?”

  Irene looked taken aback. “I’m just looking out for you.”

  “I don’t need your concern,” he snapped and unfastened another button on his shirt.

  “Really, Elliot,” Louisa said. “Your mother was just—”

  Elliot cut her short. “For goodness sake, don’t you start too! You’re as bad as each other.”

  Her heart sank. “Elliot! There’s no need to be so tetchy.”

  There was a short prickly silence.

  “I have to go to Colombo to meet a new spice client. I assume I have your permission.”

  Louisa bristled at his tone. “In that case, perhaps you might like to take Irene with you. Margo will be arriving any day now and Irene needs to be at home.”

  “Actually, Louisa,” Irene said, “Margo won’t be there yet and I’d prefer to stay on to help you out.”

  “No. I can’t keep you any longer. Harold will be missing you.”

  Elliot looked annoyed but nodded his acquiescence anyway. Louisa knew something was bothering him—perhaps just pressure of work—but she also knew if he had decided to keep it to himself, then that was that. Elliot in a mood could not be pushed.

  * * *

  —

  While he was away, Louisa passed her time flicking through seed catalogues and beginning a new bedspread. This was to be patchwork, something she hadn’t tried before, and she was using a combination of silk offcuts along with some sari fabric she had cut up herself. As soon as she began to sew she entered another world, a place where her mind could drift unfettered as she focused on the job at hand. She didn’t often allow herself the luxury of hope, knowing it could crumble as swiftly as it arrived, but with space in her head, she thought about the future. What did she want? A child, of course, that went without saying. But what else? A less risky hope than that, perhaps?

  * * *

  —

  Elliot had been in Colombo for two whole days and, when he came home on the third evening, he seemed in a far better frame of mind. While Louisa was at her sewing machine, the three spaniels at her feet, he ran up the stairs and entered her sewing room carrying an armload of flowers.

  “What a lovely picture of domesticity,” he said and came to kiss her on the forehead. “Sorry I was such a grump the other day, darling. The heat gets to me sometimes. Anyway, these are for you.”

  “Guilty conscience,” she said with a smile and he laughed.

  She finished off the seam she was sewing and rose to her feet to take the flowers. He may want to blame the heat, she thought, but I know different. However, if whatever had riled him had blown over, so much the better. Elliot could be difficult at times, but she’d long concluded it was just his way.

  “You were right about Margo, by the way,” he said. “She arrived yesterday, but she’ll be coming to visit us very soon.”

  “That will be lovely.” Louisa smiled. She was fond of Margo and was always surprised how soothing her sister-in-law’s calm demeanor was, so different from Irene’s simmering hostility. “How was she?”

  “A bit quiet.”

  “Why has she come back now?”

  He raised his brows and scratched his head. “Bea
ts me. My guess is a failed love affair might be something to do with it. She wouldn’t trust me with the details and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want Mother to know, but I’m certain you’ll be able to winkle it out of her.”

  “Really?”

  “People do confide in you, don’t they? Now, how about I run you a bath with some drops of lavender and rose water. It will help you sleep, and then maybe tomorrow we can start work on the plans for the old Print House?”

  “I’d love that. I’ve finished here anyway.”

  “Early night for you, my love.”

  She carefully placed the flowers on a side table.

  “I’ll get one of the houseboys to put those in water,” he said.

  “Are you coming to bed now too?”

  “No, I think I need a couple of drinks after that drive. The coast road seems to get worse every day.”

  “Don’t stay up too late, will you?”

  “Just a couple of drinks.”

  * * *

  —

  After her bath, Louisa unpinned her hair and, closing her mosquito net, made herself comfortable in bed, hoping to drift off with the scent of jasmine wafting through the open window. She always slept with the windows open, which was fine as they also had a mosquito screen to protect them. Although she was so much better in many ways, sleep was still the one thing eluding her. In the complete blackness of night her lost children nudged at her mind. They almost seemed to speak to her and she found herself talking back, imagining them alive, thinking about how different her life would have been. She saw them racing around the garden together and playing tag with the dogs. Saw them in their school uniforms on the first day of term, looking shy and proud at the same time. Saw them running past the tall coconut palms near the ramparts and whooping for joy. Saw them asleep in their beds, eyelashes fluttering in a dream.

  During daylight hours she was happy enough, of course she was, but the dark of night brought back what she had been able to forget when the sun was shining. I must steer my mind toward the good things, she frequently told herself, because when she focused on the positive she always felt better. And at least Irene had, at long last, gone home. Perhaps half the problem with Irene was that she was lonely and didn’t have enough to do? Louisa found it strange. There was always something to do in Galle Fort, but Irene would insist on standing on her dignity so.