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‘That’s very kind of you,’ said Libby, quite overwhelmed. She knew that her uncle and aunt had never had their own family but her mother had always said that Helena seemed more devoted to horses than children.

Libby turned to look out of the window as they passed rows of ramshackle huts and swerved around water buffalo. She wound down the window and breathed in deeply. The smell of India that she had almost forgotten – dung fires, kerosene, the buttery smell of cooking, animals – was suddenly dearly familiar. She felt her eyes prickle.

As they reached the outskirts of the city and the streets became busier, Helena said, ‘Best to wind up the window, dear.’

Libby didn’t know if her aunt was objecting to the smell or whether she feared someone might attack the car.

They skirted the city, Johnny pointing out places of interest which were too dark to see clearly: Park Street cemetery, the spire of StPaul’s Cathedral and the Presidency General Hospital. Libby craned for a look.

‘My Cousin Adela’s school friend works there as a nurse,’ she said. ‘She’s told me to look her up.’

‘That’s nice,’ said Johnny. ‘You must do that.’

‘What’s her name?’ asked Helena. ‘We might know her family.’

‘Flowers Dunlop.’

‘Ah,’ said Helena. ‘Railway people, are they?’

Libby was surprised. ‘Yes, I think her father was a stationmaster. Retired early due to ill health. How amazing that you know them.’

‘Oh, no, we don’t,’ said Helena at once. ‘It’s the girl’s name – sounds like a half-half.’

‘Half-half?’

‘Your aunt means Adela’s friend is probably Anglo-Indian,’ explained Johnny.

‘A lot of their type become nurses,’ said Helena. ‘The girls are usually hard-working; some of the boys are less good at applying themselves – enjoy the good life too much.’

Libby bristled. ‘Perhaps they’ve never had the opportunities that the British take for granted? My teacher, Miss MacGregor, said that Anglo-Indians were prohibited for years from entering the civil service or rising above lower management posts.’

‘Well, I don’t know about that,’ Helena said, pursing her lips.

Johnny said quickly, ‘They were marvellous during the War – showed great loyalty to the Empire.’

‘True,’ Helena admitted. ‘They’ve always thought themselves more British than the British. But most would be like fish out of water if they actually went to Britain. They wouldn’t fit in at all.’

Libby asked, ‘But wouldn’t it be the same for you, Aunt Helena? Mother says your family have been in India since before the Mutiny – so aren’t you Anglo-Indian too?’

‘Certainly not,’ she retorted. ‘We’re British through and through. There’s a world of difference between my family and Eurasians who have – well, you know – have Indian blood in their veins.’

Libby knew exactly the difference but annoyance at her aunt’s attitude had provoked her into challenging the woman. She wondered what the Indian driver made of the casually racial remark. She would have to curb her tongue if she was to remain on speaking terms with her aunt for the next four weeks.

Better not to mention that Adela and Sam had also urged her to contact their other good friend, DrFatima Khan. Not only was she Indian but she had a notorious brother who had been imprisoned for terrorism. Another brother, Rafi, had married Sam’s sister Sophie. Libby wasn’t sure if Helena approved of Sophie, even though she was also a distant relation of Johnny’s. She would bide her time before mentioning DrKhan.

‘There’s a family friend from home that I’d also like to meet up with,’ said Libby. ‘He’s working for Strachan’s.’

‘Oh,’ said Helena, brightening, ‘we know people in Strachan’s.’

‘George Brewis. I have his card,’ said Libby. ‘He stays on Harrington Street when he’s in town.’

‘Ah yes, he’ll be in a chummery there with other young bachelors,’ Helena said. ‘Close to the Saturday Club for their sport and the bright lights of Chowringhee for their entertainment. How do you know him?’

‘He’s a cousin of Adela’s on her mother’s side – Clarrie’s nephew.’ Then Libby wondered if Helena disapproved of Clarrie Robson because she was also Anglo-Indian. She didn’t want Helena taking against George before she’d even met him. Best not to correct Helena’s assumption that George was a bachelor either; she might disapprove of her seeing a married man, even though he was soon to be divorced.

‘He was in the Fleet Air Arm during the War,’ said Libby. ‘Saw action over Burma. That’s when he fell in love with India and decided to make a career out here.’

‘Good show,’ said Johnny. ‘Is he Olive’s son?’