‘I read the newspapers too, Mother.’
 
 ‘The wrong sort,’ Tilly exclaimed.
 
 ‘I admit,’ said Libby, ‘that there have been some terrible atrocities – but the violence has been communal – Hindus fighting Muslims. We British may have caused all the divisions but it’s not our blood that’s being spilt.’
 
 Unexpectedly, Sam spoke up. ‘It’s true there have been some awful incidents – Calcutta last summer saw horrendous violence – but Libby’s right, the atrocities have been communal. The different communities are vying for power in a future India and sadly this is stoking up fear of each other.’
 
 ‘That’s my point,’ Tilly said, flustered. ‘The papers say the country’s becoming lawless.’
 
 ‘But,’ said Sam, ‘the hatred is no longer aimed at us British. They know we are going.’
 
 ‘So what are you saying?’ Tilly asked.
 
 ‘That I don’t think it would be too dangerous for Libby – or any of you – to visit India. The British are not being harmed.’
 
 Libby felt a kick of triumph. She wanted to throw her arms around Adela’s kind husband for sticking up for her.
 
 ‘Listen to Sam, Mother!’ she cried. ‘We should both go.’ She gave Tilly a beseeching look. ‘Come with me,please. Dad needs you.’
 
 Tilly’s round face sagged. Libby couldn’t read the expression in her eyes; was it annoyance or guilt?
 
 Her mother glanced away. ‘I’m needed more here – the boys still need me—’
 
 ‘Jamie’s a fully qualified doctor now and only comes home for the odd weekend,’ Libby protested.
 
 ‘But Mungo’s still so young,’ said Tilly. ‘Perhaps when he’s finished with university ...’
 
 Libby swallowed down her disappointment. Tilly was always going to put the boys first. She dug her fingernails into her palms to stop herself showing her emotion.
 
 ‘Well, whatever you decide,’ said Libby, ‘I’m going back out to India – and to Dad.’