Page 200 of The Secrets of the Tea Garden
CHAPTER 43
In early November, James left for Shillong. Libby promised she would visit him at Christmas. She had received a letter from Clarrie reassuring her that the situation in Gulgat had calmed down. After her complaints to the police, the Rajah Sanjay had disciplined Sen and promised that there would be no more trouble from the princely state. As an apology, he had sent Clarrie a gift of a Bentley motorcar filled with flowers and fruit.
It’s totally impractical on Belgooree roads!Clarrie had written in amusement.But I can sell it and invest the money in the factory.
‘Perhaps we can get together with Clarrie and the family?’ Libby suggested to her father before departure. ‘She and Harry will be so happy to have Adela and Sam back home again. And Belgooree is like a second home to me now.’
James looked pleased at the idea. ‘Perhaps we could ask ourselves over for a couple of days ofshikar?’
‘Does Clarrie know you’re back in India?’ Libby asked.
Her father reddened. ‘I haven’t had time ... I’ll get in touch when I’m settled ... don’t want to be a nuisance.’
After James had gone, Libby wrote to Clarrie and told her about her father’s move to Shillong. She didn’t want Clarrie to get a shock onseeing James just turn up out of the blue with no explanation or warning. Her father might be cross with her for interfering but that would be nothing new. It would give Clarrie time to absorb the news that James and Tilly had separated, and allow her to work out her own feelings.
Libby also wrote to her mother to say she was sorry about the separation and that she blamed neither parent; it was the long years of being apart and growing apart that had been the cause. Encouraged by her father’s sympathy over Ghulam, she confided in her mother too, pouring out her feelings about Ghulam and her huge sense of bereavement. It was a long, affectionate letter also telling Tilly about Flowers’s and George’s wedding, her typing lessons, how she was moving into a flat in Theatre Road with new friends and that her father had been very courageous in telling Danny Dunlop about his past.
... What a terrible man Bill Logan was! I don’t suppose we should ever say anything to Sophie or Sam about the callous things he did. He caused them enough traumas as it is, without burdening them with more.
Dad said that it was you who encouraged him to return to India and tell MrDunlop the truth about his parents. That was brave of you too, Mother – to help Dad face up to his past and not just brush things under the carpet – to let Dad go. Even before he left Calcutta, he was looking better – younger – as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He sounds happy in Shillong. I hope you are happy too, Mother.
As for me, I’m going to stay in Calcutta for the time being. I have interesting work here and I hope to make a difference to the lives of the children I teach, however tiny a contribution that is in the great play of things. Ghulam would have wanted me to do it – and I feel closer to him here in Calcutta, so that brings a bit of comfort too.
Perhaps next year I’ll come back to Newcastle for a visit. Please give my love to the boys and Josey – and dear Lexy if you see her. But most of all, I send my love to you, Mother, and hope you understand why I’m staying on in India.
Your loving daughter,
Libby xxx
Libby resumed her work and kept fully occupied, expanding the number of hours she helped with Sanjeev’s free school and taking on more students for typing and bookkeeping. She moved out of the Roys’ comfortable home but continued to visit them once a week, knowing how they missed their own daughters who lived hundreds of miles away.
She heard back from Tilly. Her mother’s letter was an emotional one: full of thanks for Libby’s understanding over the separation and warm words of sympathy about her grief for Ghulam.
... of course you miss him! He was the love of your life – and by the sounds of it, you were his. My heart goes out to you, my darling. But there are women in this world who have never known that depth of love for a man, so at least you have had that. Dearest Libby, I can’t deny I’m disappointed that you’re not coming home but I don’t give up hope that you will! Your room is ready and waiting in the new Jesmond house whenever you decide to come. I’m afraid Fluff thinks of it as hers and I often catch her curled up on your bed – it’s such a warm room and gets all the south-facing sunshine.
Darling girl! Take care of yourself. Try not to be too sad. Enjoy your time in Calcutta – and keep an eye onyour father when you can. I want you to know that I do care what happens to him, even though I don’t want to be with him.
Lots of love,
Mother x
Libby stored away the letter with her most precious possessions – her cherished letters from Ghulam and a photograph of him in cricket whites, grinning and smoking, that Sanjeev had given her.
One November afternoon, as the light was fading and she was rubbing down the chalkboard at the end of the children’s lesson, a shadow fell across the doorway. Libby glanced round. It took her a moment to realise that it was Fatima. She looked extremely agitated. Libby’s heart jumped in alarm.
‘Fatima, what is it?’ Libby hurried towards her.
The doctor was shaking and gulping, trying to speak. ‘He ... he’s ...’
Libby felt fear claw her stomach. This was the moment she had dreaded: when she finally discovered Ghulam’s fate.
‘Tell me,’ Libby urged. ‘Is it Ghulam? Is he dead? Please tell me!’
Fatima reached out, seizing Libby’s hands as if to save herself from falling, and began sobbing. Libby held her, her heart pounding so much she could hardly breathe.
Fatima made a supreme effort to control herself and speak. ‘He’s alive,’ she rasped. ‘My brother’s alive!’
Libby almost fainted with shock. ‘Ghulam’s alive?’ she gasped.
