Page 135 of The Secrets of the Tea Garden
‘That’s very kind of you, thank you.’
‘No use to me in Scotland,’ he said.
‘Still, it’s very generous,’ said Libby.
He sucked his lips as he ruminated. ‘Would like to have done more. But it’s too late, isn’t it?’
Libby wasn’t sure if he meant too late for him personally or for India. Either way, she saw the tears swimming in his rheumy eyes and knew the day he had dreaded was finally here – the day he must leave Calcutta and start for exile in a Britain he didn’t know.
Libby could think of nothing to say that would lessen the old man’s sorrow. Instead, she leant towards him and kissed him tenderly on the cheek.
Hardly able to touch her breakfast, Libby leapt up at the sound of a lorry’s engine at the gates of New House. She rushed down the short drive and was overjoyed to see Ghulam jump down from the cab.
Libby’s insides flipped at the sight of his ruggedly handsome face. The two grinned at each other. They said little as Ghulam organised the fetching and carrying of the donated equipment, Libby almost too breathless to speak.
With the lorry loaded, Johnny offered Ghulamchota hazri.
Ghulam declined. ‘Thank you, but I’ve got a busy day ahead – and I know you have too.’ He put out his hand. ‘Good luck, DrWatson, and a safe journey home.’
‘Thank you,’ said Johnny, shaking his hand in farewell. ‘And I wish you all the best in the future ...’
Libby could see that her uncle was suddenly struggling to speak. She chose that moment to make her move.
‘Ghulam’s kindly agreed to give me a lift round to the Dunlops’ flat so I can have a catch-up with Flowers,’ she said quickly. ‘I don’t want any more drawn-out goodbyes, Uncle Johnny. We’ll see each other soon enough in StAbbs.’
She shot Ghulam a look; he was trying to mask his surprise at her sudden announcement. He nodded in agreement.
Johnny put up no resistance. Libby dashed on to the veranda and gave swift hugs to the Colonel and to Aunt Helena, who was hovering at the breakfast table, and then to Johnny. Then she picked up a small canvas bag with a change of clothes and hurried back down the drive to a waiting Ghulam.
Climbing into the cab of the lorry, Libby said, ‘Sorry to spring that on you but I couldn’t bear any more protracted goodbyes. It feels like I’m saying nothing else at the moment.’
‘I’m happy to oblige,’ said Ghulam, settling into the driver’s seat, ‘though this isn’t the most comfortable of taxis. It’s an old lorry we communists used for electioneering.’
‘It’s perfect,’ said Libby with a breathless laugh.
‘Remind me where the Dunlops live?’ he asked. ‘It’s Sudder Street, isn’t it?’
Libby held his look. ‘I’m not going there – I’m afraid that was just an excuse. I want you to take me with you to the refugee centre so I can help. And don’t tell me it’s too dangerous – I’m prepared to do anything that you and Fatima are. So please let me come.’
His face creased in a familiar lopsided smile that made her stomach flutter. ‘I was hoping you’d say that.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, really. Together we can be useful.’
Libby felt a flicker of disappointment. ‘Yes, of course. Useful ...’
His look was suddenly intense. ‘And if your days here are numbered then I want to spend them with you, Libby.’
Her heart began to thud. In that moment she knew that he wanted her too.
‘So do I,’ she answered.
Briefly, he put his hand over hers and squeezed it. Then he leant away and started the engine. With a belch of smoke they trundled away from New House and headed out of Calcutta.
