Page 163 of The Secrets of the Tea Garden
‘You can trust me,’ Stourton insisted. ‘I’m not returning to Gulgat either. I’m booked on a passage out of Calcutta in a week’s time.’
‘He’s in the Punjab,’ said Sophie. ‘He’s secured a job with the Pakistan Forest Service – I’m shortly to join him.’
Stourton’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘I thought you would be returning to Scotland.’
‘And we thought we’d be seeing out our days in Gulgat,’ said Sophie, her eyes clouding with sadness, ‘but that’s not to be.’
He nodded. ‘I saw myself staying there a lot longer too. I’m glad Rafi has found a new position. I’m just ...’
‘Just what?’ Clarrie asked.
He hesitated and then said, ‘I’m concerned to still find you in the area, Sophie. I was hoping you would both be long gone.’
Libby felt her insides tighten. ‘Why would that be, MrStourton?’ she asked.
‘There are gangs from Gulgat causing trouble,’ he said. ‘I’ve seen them on the road. I fear Sophie might be in danger here – and you might be at risk for harbouring her.’
‘Harbouring her?’ Clarrie exclaimed. ‘She’s no fugitive! She’s a British woman and nobody here would harm her.’
‘She’s the wife of a prominent Mohammedan – and one herself. Just the sort of scapegoat that the ultra-nationalists, whipped up by the Rani, are looking for.’
‘Surely not?’ Libby gasped. ‘And anyway, Gulgat is miles away from here.’
‘It took me just half a day to drive here,’ said Stourton. ‘These gangs are armed and someone is providing them with trucks.’
Libby’s heart began to thump in alarm. Sophie was turning ashen.
Clarrie said calmly, ‘No one is at risk here – the people of Belgooree are loyal and will defend us from any troublemakers.’
Stourton shook his head. ‘I admire your courage, MrsRobson, and your trust in these people. But we British can never really understand the Indian or what passions prompt him to do what he does.’
‘Utter nonsense!’ cried Libby. ‘You sound like a Victorian imperialist.’
He gave her a contemptuous look and turned to Sophie.
‘Despite the bravado of your friends, I urge you to go and join your husband sooner rather than later. You will be safer in the new Mohammedan state.’
The agent didn’t linger. There were stilted goodbyes. The women stood at the veranda rail watching his car retreat down the drive and out of view. After he was out of sight Sophie said, ‘I’ve never warmedto Robert. He was always too quick to curry favour with the palace and he’ll hate giving up his luxurious lifestyle, but perhaps this time he’s right. His talk of gangs on the road really scares me – I’ve already seen how Muslims in Gulgat have been attacked. I think I should go. My being here is putting you all in danger.’
Clarrie put a hand on her shoulder. ‘That man doesn’t know the Khasi like I do. You’re safe among them. I promised Rafi I’d look after you here.’
‘Clarrie’s right,’ said Libby. ‘You can’t go to Pakistan yet. It would be more risky to travel if there are men out on the road seeking to do harm.’ She shuddered at the thought.
‘Besides,’ said Clarrie, ‘who’s going to know you are here? We’ll keep our heads down but carry on as usual till we hear from Rafi. What do you say?’
Sophie smiled, encouraged by their support. ‘Thank you, Clarrie,’ she said. ‘And you, lassie.’ She gave Libby a hug.
The agent’s visit left Libby feeling on edge; she hadn’t liked Stourton. Perhaps it was because of what Adela had once told her about the terrible day of the tiger hunt in Gulgat. As Adela had crouched in the car beside her wounded father, her last sight of the camp had been Stourton supervising the skinning of the tiger he had shot. What sort of selfish, unfeeling man would turn his back and do that while a fellow huntsman was being rushed mortally wounded in a car to the mission hospital?
But it had the effect of galvanising Libby into writing to Ghulam to tell him about his father’s grave condition. None of them knew what the next day might bring. Just in the way he had encouraged her to rekindle her relationship with her own father, she wanted Ghulam to have the chance to send his father a message before it was too late.
She kept the letter brief and ended it with a loving message.
... you are always in my thoughts and I want you to know – if it hasn’t been obvious to you for months – that I love you with all my heart, Ghulam, and I always will.I realise there is little I – or you – can do about it. I’m not asking you to. But I couldn’t leave India without you knowing how I felt. I have memories of us together that I’ll treasure for the rest of my life.
Please take good care of yourself, my darling prodigal – and Fatima too.
My love forever,
Libby xxx
In the days that followed – after the letter was sent – Libby kept dwelling on Stourton’s sudden appearance. Why had he come at all? If he had been so worried about Sophie’s safety, then why hadn’t he offered to drive her away from Belgooree himself that very day? She didn’t voice her unease to the others but it nagged at her whenever she thought of the enigmatic official in the white suit. Something else bothered her about him. Why, if he had left Gulgat and was on his way home to Britain, was he travelling in an open-topped car in which he appeared to have no luggage?
Each day, as they waited for news and sweltered in the monsoon humidity, Libby was aware of a sense of foreboding gathering about them like the inky clouds of a tropical storm.
