CHAPTER 28 #2
Ravi Chowdhury was a small, wiry man with fine white hair and deep brown eyes.
He was sitting peacefully in an armchair in the corner of his room, overlooking the nursing home’s lush garden of palm trees and bougainvillea.
A ceiling fan whirred above, breaking the silence.
There was a glass of water and a book on the table beside him, face down but open at his last page.
‘Mrs Llewellyn, you say?’ he asked with a deep Indian accent after Annabel had made their introductions. She was relieved to hear that his English was excellent.
She nodded and was pleased when Ravi’s studious face broke into a smile of remembrance.
‘I remember her well; a most pleasant lady. Always so kind. I was much younger than the other staff, you see, and far away from my family. But Mrs Llewellyn was always so good to me. She arranged for my lessons, you know, so that I could learn to read and write. For that, I will forever be grateful to her. She opened up a whole new world to me. Suddenly, I was travelling all over; Egypt, Venice and often a pretty English village called St Mary Mead.’ He pointed to the book on the table and Annabel grinned when she saw the author’s name.
‘Oh, Agatha Christie!’ She chuckled. ‘One of her favourites!’
Ravi’s face beamed in a wide smile. ‘Yes, yes! It was your grandmother who introduced me to Hercule Poirot and that funny little old lady, Miss Marple!’
Annabel smiled as she remembered watching adaptations on TV with her grandmother when she was young. Although Dotty declared every time, the books were far superior to the television versions.
‘What can you tell us about Mister Llewellyn, Mr Chowdhury?’ James asked.
A shadow fell across the old man’s face and his jaw tightened.
‘He was a bad man. A very bad man.’ Ravi shook his head slowly and closed his eyes, wincing as he seemed to take himself back in time.
‘What did he do to you, Mr Chowdhury?’ Annabel asked gently after a long pause.
Ravi opened his eyes and turned to look directly at her.
‘He used to beat me. Usually when he was three sheets to the wind.’ The old man spotted Annabel’s surprise at the colloquialism and smiled.
‘Ah, that was how Mrs Llewellyn described it, you see; I learned all my English from my employers.’ He nodded proudly before continuing.
‘Mr Llewellyn was an angry drunk. When he was under the influence he would become so impatient with us. I was the youngest and the lowest rank in the house and he would usually take out his frustration on me.’
Ravi paused in his narration and reached out to touch Annabel’s arm. He continued confidentially, ‘I hope I do not speak out of turn when I say that the Llewellyns’ marriage was not a happy one?’
Annabel smiled kindly at the old man and reassured him that she wanted him to speak plainly. She had warmed to him instantly and was enjoying the sound of his lilting, sing-song Indian accent.
‘Poor Mrs Llewellyn,’ he continued. ‘She put up with so much from that man. Drinking, gambling and even – forgive me ma’am – other women.’ He shook his head, a look of disgust on his face.
‘As I said before, he was a bad man. And I am sorry if I sound callous, but when he fell down the stairs, part of me felt relief. Relief for poor Mrs Llewellyn that he could not continue his cruelty towards her and relief for myself and the other staff that he could not beat us anymore.’
Ravi closed his eyes again and shook his head. The old memories seemed to pain him and Annabel returned his previous gesture and gently put her hand on his arm.
‘I’m sorry to drag up bad memories, Mr Chowdhury, I really am.
You said that Mr Llewellyn fell down the stairs.
Do you think that’s what really happened?
’ Annabel could feel her heart racing as she braced herself for his answer.
‘I know that Mrs Llewellyn and he had been arguing beforehand. You don’t think there might have been some sort of tussle before he fell, do you? ’
‘Yes ma’am.’ Ravi nodded in agreement. ‘There was a tussle and Mrs Llewellyn pushed him off her. Then she turned and ran to her bedroom. Mr Llewellyn turned to go back down the stairs but the rug had moved over the edge of the top step and he slipped. He was completely blotto, you see. He slipped on the step and he fell; it was as simple as that.’
‘I hope you don’t mind my asking, Mr Chowdhury, but how can you be so sure of what happened?’
‘Because, ma’am, I was standing in the alcove in the hallway downstairs, hiding ma’am. I saw it all happen with my own two eyes.’
Relief flooded Annabel as she and James drove away from the nursing home a short while later. She felt giddy with delight.
‘I knew that Dotty couldn’t be a murderer!
’ she told James as he drove. ‘I just knew it couldn’t have been true.
I’m just so glad that we now know the truth for sure.
Thank you so much for finding Ravi, James, you have no idea how much it means to me to have been able to talk to him and know for sure. ’
James smiled and nodded thoughtfully, eyes fixed on the road ahead. ‘But your grandmother didn’t know, did she? The poor lady blamed herself and had to live with the guilt, thinking that she’d killed him.’
‘Oh Lord, yes.’ Annabel sighed as realisation dawned.
‘Poor Dotty! She must have had that on her conscience for the rest of her life. How awful that after everything he did and everything he put her through, it seems that Douglas Llewellyn didn’t even stop troubling her after his death.
He had to have the final say, didn’t he, to win in the end. ’
‘But he didn’t win, did he?’
Annabel frowned. ‘What do you mean? Dotty spent the rest of her life thinking herself a murderer. I’d say for a man who seemed hellbent on making her life a misery, he’d clock that up as a victory.’
James shook his head. ‘Your grandmother had a long and happy life. She had a devoted husband, a loving son and, from how you’ve described it, a beautiful home.’
He turned and gave her a wry smile. ‘I’d call that a win, wouldn’t you?’
The taxi pulled up outside the hotel later that evening and Annabel gasped.
The Raffles Hotel really was like something out of a movie, with all the opulence and elegance of a bygone era.
She was instantly captivated by its beautiful, whitewashed facade and its classic colonial design spoke of sophisticated, old-world charm.
A very tall Sikh doorman dressed in a turban and full, extravagant livery opened the car door and welcomed them to the hotel. He ushered them up the steps and through the main door. Tom gave their reservation details to the receptionist while Emma and Annabel explored the lobby.
It was an oasis in the heart of the city, Annabel mused as she looked around.
She felt instantly soothed by the calming atmosphere, her senses delighted on every level.
Delicate music was coming from a harp in the corner and she breathed in the intoxicating scent of lilies in an enormous display of fresh flowers.
She looked up and took in the beautiful galleried landings that surrounded the central atrium.
White pillars rose from floor to high ceiling and, in the middle, a magnificent chandelier sparkled with hundreds of twinkling lights.
Ceiling fans and potted palms added to the air of old-world colonial refinement.
The greenery continued through the glass doors at the side, which led to lush, tropical gardens beyond.
Rich, opulent decor adorned the lobby, with antique furniture and intricately designed carpets.
Raffles Hotel really was the last word in timeless elegance and sophistication.
‘What do you think? It’s quite something, isn’t it?’ Emma asked with a wide grin. ‘I thought you’d like it!’
Annabel returned the grin and linked arms with her friend.
For a moment, she was lost for words, overwhelmed by the hotel’s beauty and charm.
‘I love it! It’s absolutely stunning,’ she finally managed.
‘And thank you for the dress, you’re a lifesaver!
’ She looked down at the cornflower-blue shift dress that her friend had lent her.
Emma chuckled. ‘You look gorgeous in it, that colour really suits you! And, to be honest, since the twins, I’m afraid I’ve struggled to fit into it!’
The hotel staff were courteous, attentive and impeccably dressed. They showed the trio to their table in the Tiffin Room, named after the old colonial tradition, and Tom ordered a round of Singapore Slings.
The design of the Tiffin Room was similar to the lobby with its high ceilings, white pillars and ornamental lighting.
Displays of blue and white porcelain adorned the shelves around the room and diners sat on old colonial-style rattan chairs.
It was stylish and elegant and the soft music playing further enhanced the mood.
‘Cheers!’ Tom called as they raised their glasses.
Annabel was soon feeling mellow and happy with Emma and Tom. Conversation flowed easily, with Tom sharing tales from the office and Emma describing an amusing music lesson with her year one students earlier in the day.
The waiter came to take their order and Annabel looked at her watch.
There was no sign of James. She found herself feeling disappointed.
It was her last night in Singapore and he had been such an enormous help that it didn’t feel right to leave without a proper goodbye.
He had mentioned that he had an important call to make this evening, but had hoped that he would have it wrapped up in time for dinner.
A short while later, the waiter arrived with the first two plates and Annabel breathed in the delicious aroma of the Singapore Laksa they had ordered, spicy and fragrant.
After a couple of minutes, she felt him approach behind her again, presumably with the third and final plate, but it was a different, deeper voice that spoke.
‘I’m so sorry I’m late!’
Annabel turned and beamed when she saw that it was James. He forced a smile, but beneath it she could see that he was tense and agitated. She suspected that his meeting had not gone well.
‘Ah, you made it! Good on you, mate!’ Tom cheered, before calling over the waiter and ordering a beer and a menu for his friend.
Annabel tried to steady her heart rate as James made his greetings.
What was happening to her? She felt like a nervous teenager.
He was looking handsome in beige chinos and a navy-blue shirt, open at the collar.
He bent down to kiss Emma on the cheek and then came over to Annabel.
She breathed in his scent and felt herself colour when he whispered in her ear, ‘You look beautiful.’
James caught them up with the drinks and soon seemed more relaxed. Emma and Tom were keen to hear about their explorations earlier in the day and Annabel told them all about her trip to Changi Museum, the visit to Ravi Chowdhury and their final stops of the day.
‘You won’t believe it, but we visited the street where Dotty lived. Her family home, I mean, where she lived with her parents when they first moved here, on Nassim Road.’
‘Oh, I know where that is, near the Botanic Gardens.’ Tom nodded.
‘That’s amazing! What was it like?’ Emma asked.
‘The street is absolutely gorgeous!’ Annabel replied.
‘It’s got those old colonial black and white houses and in such a beautiful spot, surrounded by trees and lush gardens.
It’s so quiet up there, you feel a million miles away from the city.
Sadly, the house no longer exists; number twelve is now a shiny, modern apartment block. ’
‘Ah, shame! How did you find out where your granny lived, though?’ Tom asked.
‘Well, it was a bit of a surprise to be honest. Dotty’s letters never mentioned the address and it didn’t occur to me to ask Julia if she knew,’ Annabel explained, her words tumbling out in a heady mix of enthusiasm and alcohol.
‘But clever old James, here, texted Julia to ask and she knew exactly where the house was. I didn’t know where we were going, he kept it as a surprise for today,’ Annabel explained with a grin.
‘He’s so good at all this detective work, he’s not a bad Watson to my Holmes.
’ She beamed at James and instinctively found herself reaching out to touch his arm.
He raised an eyebrow with mock sternness and put his own hand on top of hers. ‘I think you mean Holmes to your Watson,’ he corrected. The usual bickering ensued over who was which character and neither of them noticed the grin that passed between Emma and Tom.
Moments later, Emma yawned loudly and looked at her watch.
‘Well, I hate to be the party-pooper, but I’ve got an infant choir recital tomorrow morning that is going to need all my energy and enthusiasm, so I’d better make a move.
’ She looked pointedly at her husband. ‘Come on then, Tom, shall we book a cab?’
But Tom was clearly enjoying himself and had no intention of leaving so early.
He wrinkled his nose in confusion then checked his watch.
‘It’s not even ten, Ems, I was thinking I might have another .
. . ’ Then he stopped as he felt his wife’s eyes boring into his, suddenly cottoning on to her meaning.
‘Oh, right, I see!’ he bumbled. He gave an ostentatious yawn.
‘Come to think of it, I am pretty tired. Big day tomorrow, too!’
Farewells were made and they beat a hasty retreat, leaving an amused James and Annabel laughing at their not so subtle attempt to leave them alone.
The alcohol had worked its magic and it was lovely for Annabel to see James so relaxed. He reached across and took her hand in his. He gazed into her eyes. ‘God, you look lovely tonight.’
Annabel smiled shyly as the butterflies returned. ‘You don’t scrub up too badly yourself!’ she quipped.
He rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand, his eyes fixed on hers. ‘What do you say we get out of here and head home for a nightcap?’