Page 50 of The Secrets of the Tea Garden
He sat on, feeling the welcoming numbness from the whisky seeping through him. With any luck he’d fall asleep in the chair andnot have a repeat of the nightmare that had woken him. He couldn’t remember any of it now.
‘Oh, Libby,’ he murmured, ‘I do want to see you, I really do.’
She had written such a loving letter, it melted his heart. Tilly must be quite wrong about the poor girl. So what was it that had made him so agitated?
‘He’s related to Scottish tea planters ... orphaned and went to school in Shillong ...’
James felt his chest go tight. He found it hard to breathe. He was back in the convent in Shillong, pushing the infant boy at the nun. The Brat. James couldn’t now remember if Logan’s son had ever had a proper name.He’s called Aidan. James had invented a name for the boy. He hadn’t thought of Logan and his illegitimate son for years. Why should he feel a renewed surge of guilt now? It had happened so long ago and he’d done nothing wrong. It was his loathsome boss who had fathered Aidan and cast him aside, not he. How could he, as a young planter, have stood up to Logan and refused to do his bidding?
James took the letter in a shaking hand and searched again for the name. Daniel Dunlop. It couldn’t be the same boy; was hardly likely to be. Half a century ago, orphanages were full of illegitimate Eurasian children whose tea planter and army fathers had refused to acknowledge them. Still, it left James feeling anxious that he might have to return to Shillong and help this nurse probe into her father’s background. It would only stir up more unwanted memories and bad dreams.
‘Why would you want to know?’ cried James. ‘It’s obvious this Dunlop, whoever he was, didn’t want to keep Daniel. You’ll just uncover some shameful tale that will upset your father more than the not knowing. Let sleeping dogs lie, I say.’
James drained off his second whisky and closed his eyes. Sleeping dogs. He fondled Breckon’s ears. The dog snuffled.
‘If only I could sleep without dreaming,’ James sighed.
What was it that had so disturbed him? It lurked just beyond his consciousness like a wild animal ready to attack the moment he drifted off. Something terrible, something his mind had closed off for years.
Exhaustion, the doctor said. Take some leave. But he was fearful of going to England and facing Tilly, frightened that his marriage was over. Last month he had turned seventy; perhaps he had already left it too late to patch things up between them? For the first time in his life he was feeling his age and questioning his own mortality. He didn’t want to leave Assam. Increasingly he was finding it hard to leave his sanctuary of Cheviot View. Other than his own bungalow, only Clarrie at Belgooree provided anything like a safe haven. The thought of Clarrie lifted his spirits. His cousin’s widow was kind and sensible; she understood him. Perhaps he should talk to her about these strange dreams – and his anxiety at meeting Libby again after all these years. He would go and see Clarrie.
With that comforting thought, James fell into an uneasy sleep.
