Page 56 of The Secrets of the Tea Garden
CHAPTER 12
April
Libby hung on to the telephone, anxiously twisting the cord around her fingers. It had taken all morning to get through to Belgooree but Clarrie Robson had sounded pleased that Libby had called.
‘It will cheer your father to know you’ve called.’
‘So can I speak to Dad?’ Libby had asked.
‘I think he’s sleeping.’
‘Please, Clarrie.’
‘Of course. Let me go and fetch him.’
It seemed an age before Clarrie returned. Libby heard a crackle at the other end and then Clarrie’s warm reassuring voice was speaking again.
‘Libby, sweetheart, your father’s only just woken up. He’s been sleeping so badly. He’s rather groggy. Can I get him to ring you tomorrow or the day after?’
Libby felt a spasm of anger: despite several attempts to get through on the telephone she still hadn’t managed to speak to her dad. ‘Is he really so weak that he can’t come to the phone to speak to me?’
‘It’s a long walk from the house to the factory,’ Clarrie reminded her.
Libby felt a guilty pang; was she being unreasonable? ‘What’s wrong with him? You told me it was nothing serious.’
There was a hesitation then Clarrie said, ‘The doctor thinks he’s worn out – complete exhaustion. Something seems to be troubling him but he won’t talk about it. Perhaps he will to you.’
‘Not if he won’t even drag himself to the phone for two minutes,’ Libby said in frustration.
‘It’s not that he doesn’t want to,’ said Clarrie, ‘it’s just that he’s finding it hard to say anything at the moment.’
Libby was suspicious. ‘So he is capable of coming to the phone, he just doesn’t want to. He’s avoiding me.’
‘It’s not like that ...’
‘Well, that’s what it feels like,’ Libby said, her eyes smarting with tears. ‘I’ve been longing to see him.’
‘I know you have,’ Clarrie sympathised. ‘And you know you are welcome here any time. Perhaps your uncle could travel with you as far as Shillong.’
‘I don’t need my uncle as a chaperone,’ Libby said.
‘Your father doesn’t want you and Flowers travelling alone,’ said Clarrie. ‘I think he’s being overcautious but things are growing unsettled in the countryside. People are on the move.’
Libby felt a moment of anxiety. Was the violence in the Punjab finally beginning to seep across the northern plain?
‘I don’t like to ask Uncle Johnny any more favours,’ said Libby. ‘He’s been so kind to me as it is.’
‘Let’s see how James is in a few days’ time,’ said Clarrie. ‘He might get his energy back and decide to travel to Calcutta after all. Why don’t we speak at the weekend?’
Libby swallowed her disappointment. ‘Give him my love, won’t you?’
‘Of course I will. Goodbye, Libby, sweetheart.’
Libby hung up. She sat on the chair by the telephone in the hallway feeling numb and knowing that her aunt had heard every word through the open drawing-room door. Helena appeared.
‘It’s too bad,’ said her aunt. ‘Do you think he’s having some sort of mental breakdown, poor man? Muriel thinks so. The planters worked so damn hard during the War to keep out the Japs and help the troops. Men your father’s age deserve to retire.’
Libby knew her aunt, in her own brusque way, was trying to be kind. But her words distressed Libby. When she finally got to see her father, would she find a broken husk of a man? Was it too late for them to recapture their special bond? She realised how much she was relying on her father to be the same strong, protective figure that she remembered from childhood. It frightened her to think of him as weak and debilitated, worn out by years of war and a lifetime of working in the unforgiving tropics. She was clinging on to the belief that her father would be the one to reunite the family; that once they were all together again her mother would rediscover her love for James and for India – and for Libby.
