Page 194 of The Secrets of the Tea Garden
CHAPTER 42
Flowers and George were married on a balmy day at the end of October, two days after Adela and Sam arrived in Calcutta. Delayed in Bombay disembarking, the couple almost didn’t make it in time for the wedding. Sophie, before leaving, had arranged with the hospitable Roys for her brother and his wife to stay a few nights with them at Ballyganj.
The reception was a lunch held at Firpo’s, where George had done much of his courting of Flowers and where he had proposed over an intimate dinner and finally persuaded her to marry him.
Libby was greatly cheered to see Adela and Sam again. When the wedding was over, and the happy couple had been waved away in a taxi to the airport, bound for Colombo in Ceylon, Libby and her friends went back to the Roys’ and spent the evening sitting in the garden catching up on each other’s news.
An emotional Adela told Libby all about her search for John Wesley and the shock at finding him living at Willowburn when she had given up looking.
‘In the end we decided that it would be cruel to uproot him from his new home,’ she said tearfully. ‘He’s so happy with the Gibsons. ButI live in hope that one day Martha Gibson will tell him who I really am and maybe he will want to know me better ...’
Sam held her hand. ‘Tell Libby your other news,’ he said with a tender smile.
Adela wiped away her tears and smiled at her husband. ‘You tell her – it’s as much your news as mine.’
Sam grinned. ‘Adela’s expecting. I’m going to be a father.’
Libby’s eyes stung to see the pride and happiness in his face. ‘That’s wonderful!’ she cried. ‘I’m so very pleased for you both. I can’t imagine a couple more suited to being parents. Sophie and Rafi will be overjoyed to hear your news too.’
Adela beamed. ‘Thank you, Libby.’
Sam said, ‘I wish Sophie had hung on a couple more weeks to see us but I understand how she must have been impatient to be with Rafi after their time apart.’
‘And after the awful incident at Belgooree,’ said Adela. ‘We were deeply shocked by Mother’s letter, though she made light of it. Tell us what really happened.’
Libby told them about the Gulgat troubles, the attempt to snatch Sophie from Belgooree, their escape and how their relief at being back in Calcutta had been overshadowed by the terrible news of Ghulam’s disappearance. Adela and Sam sat in silence, stunned by the news. Libby had held back from telling them so as not to spoil Flowers’s wedding day. But now she poured out her story: of how she and Ghulam had grown very close, of how much she missed him and of the letter she treasured that he had written to her on the eve of his journey.
‘It’s six weeks since he was last heard of,’ Libby said in distress. ‘Fatima won’t give up hope that he’s still alive but I don’t believe it. I know there are literally millions of people on the move but I’m certain that Ghulam would have got a message to his family by now if he was okay.’
Adela stood up and went to Libby, putting her arms around her. ‘I’m so very sorry,’ she said. ‘My heart breaks for you.’
Libby hugged her tight, her pain easing a fraction for having confided in her friends. Adela had been the person she had felt closest to while growing up in Newcastle and the one who had confided in Libby as an adult about her own deeply personal loss of her baby. But more than that – both Adela and Sam had liked and admired Ghulam. Libby wept into Adela’s shoulder while her cousin stroked her hair and tried to comfort her.
Two days later Adela and Sam left, impatient to be back at Belgooree and reunited with Clarrie. Libby gave them Wesley’s old coat to return with a message of thanks to Adela’s courageous mother. That day, after giving typing lessons, Libby went to the centre where Sanjeev doled out food and began teaching sums to a roomful of children of all ages. Libby almost gagged at the rank smell in the airless, fetid room. But the look of trust and expectation on the children’s faces spurred her on. They were mostly boys and, from what Sanjeev told her, were refugees from the countryside, quite unused to the city.
Libby, with the help of the Roys, was picking up a smattering of Bengali, but she taught numbers to her ragged pupils in English and with a lot of gesticulation. There were no jotters and pencils, or even slates for the children. But when the Roys discovered Libby was improvising with drawing numbers in sand with a stick, they provided a board and chalk.
She thought of Ghulam’s pipe dream of them setting up a school together for the impoverished of Calcutta. She knew by heart the words in his letter:the streets are full of lost or abandoned children – I could teach them to read and write and you their sums and times tables.She felt hollowinside to think she was doing it alone, but Ghulam’s vision gave her the courage to carry on helping the children as best she could.
After an exhausting week of teaching typing and giving arithmetic lessons, Libby returned home to hear the Roys entertaining on their veranda. Halfway up the garden path, Libby stopped in astonishment at the sound of a familiar voice. It boomed out of the shadows. But it wasn’t possible!
Libby hurried forward. ‘Dad?’ she called out, running on to the veranda.
To her incredulity, her father rose from a rattan chair clutching a tumbler of whisky.
‘How ...? When ...?’ Libby gaped at him. Then she was seized by sudden dread. ‘Has something happened to Mother or one of the boys?’
‘No, nothing to worry about,’ James quickly reassured her. He put down his drink and held out his arms. ‘I have business in Calcutta, that’s all. And your mother wanted me to check up on you too.’
Libby rushed to hug him, her eyes smarting with tears. Her father felt solid and comforting and dearly familiar. She clung on to him until he patted her and said ‘well, well’, which she knew meant that that was enough show of affection.
She sat down next to him, still hardly able to believe he was there, while he talked about his flights and the weather en route.
‘Your father flew in this morning,’ said Ranajit.
‘He was going to book into a hotel,’ said Bijal, ‘but we insisted he must stay with us so he can see you properly.’
‘I can see why you don’t want to go home, Libby,’ James said with a smile, ‘when you are treated like a princess by these kind people.’
