Page 117 of The Secrets of the Tea Garden
James nodded as he got to his feet and hurried from the room. Libby heard a strange grunt – like a strangled sob – before a far door closed. Her heart lurched. She wanted to rush to comfort her father but knew it would only embarrass him. Yet her mind was in a whirl: what did this mean for her? Would she have to leave India with him? How would her mother take the news of his sudden return? She sat, pinned in her chair, unable to speak.
Despite Clarrie’s protestations that Manzur should stay the night and Harry badgering him to give him some bowling practice, Manzur insisted on getting back to the Oxford. The wind was strengthening and the sky looked heavy with rain. It felt like the monsoon was approaching at last and he didn’t want to get marooned at Belgooree.
‘Dad and I will visit before your parents leave,’ Libby promised.
Her initial shock at her father’s abrupt announcement had given way to relief that he’d finally broken the impasse and come to a decision. Yet now, as she waved Manzur away, she felt weighed down by the realisation that she too was going to have to give up her childhood home for good.
Only after he had gone, did she realise that no one had actually asked Manzur what he wanted to do. They had all assumed he would stay on at the Oxford to support his parents financially. That’s what he’d said – or at least implied.‘I am not afraid for myself.’His words haunted Libby. Why were so many people being put into the position of having to fear for their own safety or that of their loved ones? Her thoughts went at once to the Khans and Ghulam – they were never far from Ghulam – and she sent up a silent prayer for them all.
As dusk fell, an emotional Sophie returned. Rafi had started his long journey to Delhi. ‘We haven’t been apart for more than an odd night in the last twenty-four years,’ she said tearfully.
Libby hugged her. ‘You’ll be together again soon. And at least Rafi will be much happier knowing you are safe here at Belgooree.’
Her father didn’t appear until breakfast the next day. Libby was encouraged to see him more jovial than she had in weeks.
‘Libby tells me you’ve decided to go back to Newcastle?’ Sophie quizzed him. ‘Tilly will be so pleased.’
‘I hope so,’ said James. ‘I’ll send a telegram once the house is cleared and I’ve sorted a passage for me and Libby. There’s no point hanging around now. If we fly we can be home in a couple of weeks from now.’
Libby’s insides jolted. ‘For me too? I haven’t decided ...’
‘Surely you’ll want to come home with me?’ said James. ‘Heavens, girl! You’ve spent the last two months badgering me to make the family complete again, so I’m doing what you want. Itiswhat you want, isn’t it? For your mother and I to be in the same place at last and you to be with us?’
‘Yes,’ said Libby, unsure how she really felt. ‘But two weeks! Your decision is so sudden – you never talked it over with me. I don’twant to travel back that quickly. I want to stay for the Independence celebrations.’
‘Whatever for?’ he demanded. ‘They’re not our celebrations.’
‘They are for Libby,’ said Clarrie quietly. She hadn’t spoken since they’d sat down for breakfast. ‘She was born here after all.’
Libby exchanged a grateful look with the older woman, noticing the smudges of tiredness under her pretty eyes. It struck her that Clarrie had taken the strain of having them to stay for weeks while trying to keep her business going and now had responsibility for looking after Sophie too. She must be just as worried as they all were about the future. Belgooree was her life: her family home and her living. She had a young fatherless son to bring up and a daughter on the other side of the world. Yet never once had she heard Clarrie complain or burden others with her troubles.
Her father seemed annoyed at Clarrie’s reproof. ‘It’s not the same and you know it.’
‘Well, I, for one, will be throwing a party on the fifteenth,’ said Clarrie defiantly, ‘and I hope Libby will be here to join in if she wants to.’
‘I second that!’ cried Sophie, throwing an arm casually around Libby’s shoulders and squeezing her in a hug. ‘I’ll still be here no doubt. We’ll have fancy dress and games and lots of cocktails and dance to all Clarrie’s ancient rag-time records.’
Clarrie laughed. ‘Not so ancient.’
‘That sounds wonderful.’ Libby smiled. ‘I’ll make sure I’m here for that.’
‘Good,’ said Sophie. She got up from the table. ‘Harry and I are playing tennis in half an hour. Want to join us?’
‘I’m giving Nitin a lesson this morning,’ said Libby. ‘Maybe play later?’
‘Of course, lassie.’ Sophie smiled and sauntered off, whistling.
James sat back with a sigh. ‘I can see I’ve been outmanoeuvred by women again.’
Libby exchanged an amused look with Clarrie.
Things moved quickly after that. By the end of the week, Manzur sent a message to say that the house packing was nearly complete and he was eager to get the trunks and furniture transported downriver before the Brahmaputra swelled to twice the size in the monsoon.
Clarrie loaned Libby and James a car and sent her servant Alok to see to their meals on the way. They set off before dawn and were pulling up at Cheviot View by mid-afternoon. Libby’s initial excitement at seeing her childhood home again soon turned to dismay. The downstairs rooms were stacked with furniture, rolled-up carpets and battered trunks bulging with household goods.
Upstairs, the sitting room was denuded of its bookcases, pictures, family photos and dusty curtains. Worse still, her bedroom was bare but for a pile of discarded mosquito nets. The heart of the house had been dismantled and packed away. It no longer felt like home – just a tea planter’s bungalow waiting for a new occupant.
Libby ran outside and down the garden steps to the pond below and burst into tears. Manzur found her there. His young face looked stricken.
