Page 13 of The Secrets of the Tea Garden
‘Go ahead,’ Tilly replied.
Josey offered him a cigarette but Sam fished out a battered packet of Indian bidis. ‘Have one of mine.’
‘They look illegal,’ said Josey.
‘Oh, not those horrid things!’ cried Tilly. ‘They smell awful and you won’t like them.’
Josey winked at Sam and took one. A moment later the room was filling with the pungent aroma of their small brown cheroots.
‘It reminds me of Cheviot View,’ said Libby, inhaling deeply. ‘The servants sitting on the veranda after dark, smoking together.’
‘Would you like one?’ asked Sam.
‘Oh, darling, don’t!’ Tilly exclaimed. ‘It’s not at all ladylike.’
Libby rolled her eyes and reached towards the proffered cigarette. Sam hesitated, not wanting to cause further friction between mother and daughter.
‘What would your father say?’ Tilly said in reproof.
Libby’s patience snapped. ‘I have no idea – and neither do you – seeing as we haven’t seen him in years.’
‘He wouldn’t approve.’ Tilly was adamant.
‘Perhaps not,’ said Libby, ‘but you can’t speak for him any more. I’m tired of you telling me what Dad would or wouldn’t like, as if you even cared.’
‘Don’t speak to me in that tone,’ said Tilly, flushing.
‘And don’t speak to me as if I’m still a child!’
‘Keep your hat on, sweetie,’ warned Josey.
‘Don’t patronise me, Josey,’ said Libby, ‘this has nothing to do with you.’
‘It does if you upset your mother, yet again. And you’re embarrassing our guests.’
‘Not your guests,’ Libby said, eyes flashing, ‘they’re my family. And Adela’s quite used to seeing me being belittled by my mother.’
‘Stop making a spectacle of yourself,’ Tilly hissed.
Libby stood up, her heart pounding with emotion. ‘Adela, Sam: I’m sorry if I’ve caused a scene. I can’t tell you how much I’ve been looking forward to your coming. But I wish with all my heart that Dad had come with you. I can’t pretend otherwise. I miss him so very much.’
Adela thrust out a hand and grabbed at Libby’s, pulling her back down next to her. ‘I understand, I really do. I still miss my dad every single day. But yours is still alive and youwillsee him again.’
Libby clutched Adela’s hand. Her cousin was so courageous. She had been younger than Libby when she’d lost her father – she had even witnessed the appalling tiger attack and cradled him in her arms when Wesley had died. How had she ever recovered from that? But Adela exuded an inner strength and a passion for life. Adela had always made Libby feel stronger and braver when she was around. At that moment, Libby was filled with a sudden purpose. It was quite clear what she should do – would have done months ago if she hadn’t felt duty-bound to help Lexy.
‘There’s only one way I can be certain of seeing Dad again.’ She turned to face her mother. ‘And that’s go to India.’
Tilly’s expression was a mixture of irritation and panic. ‘Darling, it’s far too dangerous now. The riots and killing. Your father won’t agree to it.’
‘He will,’ said Libby. ‘His Christmas card said he was longing to see me.’
Tilly turned to Adela for support. ‘Dear girl, tell her it’s a ridiculous idea. Things are far too unsettled in India, aren’t they? It’s just not safe.’
Libby saw pain on her cousin’s face; she didn’t want to take sides.
‘It’s not unsafe for the British,’ Libby insisted.
‘How can you possibly know that?’ Tilly was disbelieving.
