Private Lives

‘This is not the London Ritz, lady.’

Anna picked up the note and folded it in two.

‘Pity.’

‘Okay, okay,’ said the manager. ‘Go speak to Amber in the apartment at the back. She been here long time. Maybe she know her. Not in right now. Works at ice-cream parlour by the sea.’

‘Thanks,’ said Anna, handing him the note and walking back to the taxi.

‘Louise? Of course I remember her,’ said Amber, a boho-looking brunette, clearing up the empty bottles of Mongoose from the tables. She wiped her brow with the back of her wrist, making her rack of bangles jangle. ‘We got to Kerala the same week and shared a room for about a fortnight. She moved on. I stayed at the Sea View in the flat they rent in the garden.’

‘Do you know where she moved on to?’

Amber wrinkled her nose.

‘She in trouble or something?’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Just a feeling.’ She smiled knowingly and slung her cleaning cloth over her shoulder. ‘So what do you want her for?’

‘We’re worried about her.’

‘Who’s we?’

‘Friends, family,’ said Anna vaguely. ‘She left her job out of the blue.’

Amber laughed. ‘And that’s strange? I hear it two, maybe three times a day out here. Kerala’s full of people who’ve skipped the rat race. Doesn’t mean to say you have to be worried about them.’

‘Even so, how can I contact her?’ pressed Anna.

Amber sighed, her shoulders wilting as if they were weary from the heat.

‘Apparently Lou was a beauty writer back home. She was into spa therapies, things like that. So last time I heard, she was about to do an Ayurvedic beauty course. Said she’d come back and give me a massage once she’d finished. I’m still waiting.’

‘Can you remember where?’

‘Green something study centre. Can’t remember its exact name.’

Anna was already on her iPhone, locating all the Ayurvedic training centres in a fifty-mile radius.

‘Don’t forget to tell her I still want my massage,’ shouted Amber, as she watched Anna run off towards the waiting taxi.

Raj, their driver, knew the village where the Green Leaves Ayurvedic training school was located, and told them it was better to go there by ferry than by road. He dropped them off at the dock, a worn patchwork of bleached boards crowded with about fifty people all trying to squeeze down the gangplank on to a strange flat boat, shouting to be heard over its chugging engine. The ferry was like an iron shoebox with an engine house stuck at one end and a rusted chimney bellowing oily smoke.

Anna looked out at the wide brown expanse of water between them and the other side.

‘You think this thing’s really going to make it across?’ she said dubiously.

‘Come on, where’s your spirit of adventure?’ laughed Sam, grabbing her hand to help her on board.

Once they had cast off, the teeth-rattling clank of the engine gave way to a rhythmic thrum, and they sat at the side of the boat, feet dangling over the edge, watching the town disappear and give way to jungle and mangrove. Anna was expecting to see crocodiles sunning themselves, but had to make do with a single water buffalo drinking at the water’s edge before they came to Kumolrula, a small village on the far banks of the Vembanad lake.

It wasn’t hard to find Green Leaves, as apart from a scattering of huts and houses, it was the only building you could see from the jetty: a flat, rather unremarkable construction with a dark blue awning over the entrance.

‘Can I help you?’ asked an Indian woman the moment they stepped inside, grateful for the air-conditioning. ‘Massage or treatment?’

She was about forty, with short red hair and a black linen shirt.