Page 84 of The Secrets of the Tea Garden
CHAPTER 16
I’ve given him a sedative,’ said DrAttar, joining Libby and Flowers on the veranda. ‘At least it will help him sleep.’
The sun was up and the air already hot and humid.
‘Thank you,’ said Libby. ‘That’s what he needs – he must be exhausted from not having slept properly for months.’ She invited the doctor to sit down and take tea and toast.
‘It’s more than lack of sleep though,’ said Flowers, ‘isn’t it, Doctor? You said he’s been near to a mental breakdown before.’
‘He’s not mad,’ Libby protested.
‘Nobody’s saying he is,’ said Flowers, ‘but he is ill. All that drinking till he passes out – it’s the sign of a troubled mind.’
‘You’re exaggerating. All tea planters like theirchota pegafter a hard day’s work,’ Libby said.
‘Not as much as that,’ said Flowers. She turned to the young doctor. ‘What is your opinion?’
DrAttar put down his cup and gave Libby a compassionate look.
‘I believe Robson sahib is suffering from nervous exhaustion,’ he said. ‘It’s not something that’s happened overnight – he was under considerable strain during the War helping the relief efforts on the Burma Front. That is when I first came to the plantation here. Your fatherworked like a Trojan, organising canteens and transporting supplies. He drove himself so hard.’
‘I had no idea he was so involved in the war effort,’ said Libby, feeling guilty. ‘We thought that in Britain we were doing far more.’
‘But many people worked hard during the War,’ Flowers pointed out, ‘my own father included. It doesn’t explain why MrRobson should be suddenly worse now.’
DrAttar looked pensive. ‘It may be a delayed response to the stress of that time – but he is also a man who has just turned seventy. That is old to still be working on a tea plantation. I have suggested retirement – or at least a period of home leave – but the most he would do was go to Belgooree for a bit of rest and recuperation. In my view he did not stay long enough.’
Libby flushed. ‘That was probably my fault, insisting on coming to Assam and the Oxford Estates. I was so impatient to see him and my old home. He cut short his stay at Belgooree for me.’
‘You’re not to blame,’ said the doctor. ‘Robson sahib is not a man who takes easily to sitting around – he sees it as idleness, not a well-earned rest.’
‘Doctor,’ said Flowers with a puzzled frown, ‘I have seen soldiers that have been affected by war – not just physically but from battle shock – and Libby’s father reminds me of them. It’s as if they are re-living the moments under gunfire – like it’s very real to them – and it makes them suffer all over again. Is there something traumatic that could have triggered this for MrRobson?’
DrAttar nodded. ‘I have wondered this too. His health does seem to have deteriorated in recent weeks – though why, I can’t say.’
Libby’s heart began to thud. ‘Could it be because of my coming back to India?’ she asked.
‘Surely not?’ said Flowers. ‘He must have been longing for that.’
‘Or nervous about it,’ said Libby. ‘Perhaps it stirred up all his unhappiness that my mother wasn’t coming too. He hasn’t been himself sinceI’ve been here – not the happy, larger-than-life father that I remember. There’s a distance between us that I hadn’t expected.’
‘I don’t think that is to do with you,’ said DrAttar. ‘He has been withdrawn for a while – keeping himself to himself at Cheviot View rather than socialising at the club.’
Libby said, ‘Clarrie Robson thought there was something troubling Dad but that he wouldn’t talk about it. She thought I might be able to find out what it was, but I can’t get him to talk about anything personal.’
‘Why don’t we take him back to Belgooree?’ suggested Flowers. ‘Get him away from what’s worrying him here. Perhaps then he will open up to you about what is troubling him. I could help you do that before I return to Calcutta next week.’
Libby considered this. Clarrie might be just the calm, practical person to help, whereas staying here, isolated at Cheviot View once Flowers had gone, was a daunting thought. What if her father’s mental state got worse? How would she cope if he refused to confide in her about what troubled him? The place no longer seemed the idyllic childhood home after which she had hankered for so long. Its heat and remoteness were growing oppressive. A green prison, her mother had called it, and for the first time Libby had a sense of what it must have been like for Tilly – a young woman used to city life – having to make her home here.
‘I think that would be a good idea,’ encouraged DrAttar.
Libby gave Flowers a grateful look. ‘Okay, I’ll ring Clarrie and see if that’s possible.’
To Libby’s surprise, her father made little protest at the suggestion of going to Belgooree. He was groggy and confused when he awoke, saying little and allowing Libby to make the decisions.
‘Belgooree ... yes ... if you like ...’ he said.
Libby had been encouraged by Clarrie’s instant acceptance of the arrangement.
