Page 195 of The Secrets of the Tea Garden
‘It’s no more than she deserves,’ Bijal said, ‘after she works so hard all day.’
‘The Roys have been telling me all about your charity work,’ said James.
‘Not just charity,’ Libby answered. ‘I’m beginning to make a living from the typing lessons.’
She waited for him to chide her for delaying in Calcutta when she should have been back in Newcastle weeks ago. But he didn’t. He took up the conversation with the captain that she had interrupted, asking him about his war work. Sanajit talked about timber supply and how innovative Rafi had been in trying out goran wood from the Sundarbans when their supply of teak from Burma had been stopped. This led on to James reminiscing about his part in the war effort on the Burmese Front.
Libby watched her father, still perplexed. What on earth had made him come all this way? Was it tea interests? Perhaps he had been asked by the board of the Oxford Estates to carry out some business on their behalf. Her father might have seized on the chance to visit India again so soon. She longed to get him alone and ask him; he was obviously reluctant to talk about it in front of the Roys.
They went inside for dinner and then James, looking tired out, retired to bed.
‘We’ll talk more in the morning,’ he told Libby, dropping a kiss on her forehead.
Libby was up at dawn. James was already shaved, dressed and drinking tea on the veranda. His face was grey and drawn as if he hadn’t slept.
‘Walk with me in the garden, Libby,’ he said.
For a few minutes he talked about the family at home, the new house in Jesmond and the holiday she had missed in StAbbs. Libby listened to this chit-chat and curbed her impatience to know the real purpose of his visit.
Eventually she asked, ‘Are you really here on business or is this just to make sure I come home?’
He stopped and looked at her. ‘Are you coming home?’
Libby struggled with her thoughts. Part of her felt she was just biding her time till the right moment came to leave India. She had been filling every waking moment with activity, putting off that moment. But standing in the dawn light with the sounds of the city stirring beyond the garden wall, the answer seemed simple.
‘No, Dad, I’m not,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m sorry. I know I said I would. I’ve disappointed you both again. But I don’t think of Newcastle as home. To me, this is home now – Calcutta.’
He asked gently, ‘Is this because of your Indian friend – Rafi’s brother? The Roys have told me what’s been going on. I know I was dismissive of your friendship with him but I’m very sorry to hear he’s missing.’
Libby felt her heart ache with sadness. There was hardly a moment of each waking day when she didn’t think about Ghulam.
‘No, it’s not because of Ghulam.’ She tried to explain her feelings. ‘I miss him terribly – I was very much in love with him – and he with me. But I don’t hold out hope that he’s still alive.’ She gulped back tears. ‘I want to stay in India anyway. I feel I can be more useful here. What would I do in Newcastle? The thought of going back to the bank or being at the beck and call of some boss would be too depressing. I don’t fit in there like my brothers do.’
At that James gave her a wry smile. ‘Oh, Libby, you are so like me. No wonder your mother despairs of us.’
Libby wanted to ask him what it was really like for him at home. From the little he had said about the house in Jesmond, he seemed to be making an effort to be reconciled with her mother. But his next question surprised her.
‘Libby, can you take me to meet Danny Dunlop?’
She stared at him. ‘Yes, but why? Do you have information for him?’
James nodded.
‘So MrFairfax remembered the family?’ Libby asked.
James gave out a long sigh. ‘In a way, yes. But it is I who must do the explaining.’
Libby was baffled. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Something that’s been preying on my mind,’ he replied, ‘that I should have faced up to a long time ago ...’ His expression was tense. ‘That’s why I’ve come back.’
Libby guessed that it must have something to do with her father’s previous fragile state of mind but she thought it better not to press him further. If he wanted to tell her, he would in his own time.
‘Of course I’ll take you,’ said Libby. ‘MrDunlop has been keen to meet you – he’ll be delighted.’
James gave her a strange wistful look but said nothing. She put her arm through his and together they returned to the house.
An invitation to Sudder Street came back by return. The following day Libby took her father to meet the Dunlops.
