Page 74 of The Secrets of the Tea Garden
‘I kept it for your mother all through the War,’ he said, ‘but no point in letting it gather dust any longer. Not when there’s a special occasion like this.’ When the drink was poured, James got to his feet and raised his glass.
‘I last saw my daughter when she was twelve years old—’
‘Eleven,’ Libby corrected.
‘Eleven then,’ he conceded. ‘A long time ago. So this is a very special day for me.’ He turned to look directly at her, his blue eyes softening. ‘Libby, you have grown into a beautiful young woman and I’m proud to be your father.’ He paused and Libby saw his chin tremble. He bit his lip and swallowed hard. ‘To Libby!’ he croaked and gulped at his champagne.
‘To Libby!’ Flowers and Manzur chorused.
Libby felt suddenly overwhelmed, her eyes flooding with tears. She had never before seen her father grow emotional or show his feelings. This man was more vulnerable – and perhaps kinder – than the bullish man of action she remembered. She ought to be pleased but somehow seeing him close to tears made panic rise in her chest.
Flowers came to the rescue with light-hearted conversation about Calcutta parties and outings.
‘It sounds like you’ve been helping my daughter have a good time in the city,’ James said. ‘I’m afraid we can’t offer much to keep you young ladies entertained here.’
‘It’s just nice to get away and have a break,’ said Flowers. ‘It’s very kind of you to have me to stay.’
‘Not at all,’ said James. ‘You’ll be company for Libby.’ He turned to Libby. ‘So you’ve seen quite a bit of Clarrie’s nephew, George Brewis, eh?’
‘For a while,’ said Libby, ‘but not recently.’
‘Any other young men that I should worry about?’ he asked.
Libby laughed. ‘None to worry about, no.’
‘Libby is very popular among the Strachan’s men,’ teased Flowers. ‘She can take her pick on the dance floor.’
‘No more than you.’ Libby smiled. ‘But I’m not interested in anything more than dancing. They’re fun but a bit dull at conversation.’
‘You sound so like your mother,’ James chuckled. ‘So who do you like conversing with?’
‘The Khans are a very interesting couple.’
‘The Khans?’ James queried.
‘Rafi’s sister and brother – Fatima and Ghulam,’ said Libby. Even as she mentioned Ghulam’s name she could feel the heat rushing to her face. ‘Adela encouraged me to meet them and I’m glad I have.’
‘Not that terrorist who went to prison for arson?’ James cried, horrified.
‘He’s not a terrorist, Dad,’ said Libby. ‘He’s passionate about freeing India from colonial rule but he turned his back on violence years ago. He’s spent the past year trying to stop the bloodshed in Calcutta – so has Fatima.’
‘I’m surprised at Adela putting you in touch with such a man,’ her father said with a frown, ‘or that the Watsons allowed it.’
‘Of course they did. Uncle Johnny welcomed them to his home,’ said Libby. ‘The Khans came to my birthday party.’ She gave him a pointed look.
James glanced away and drained his glass. ‘Well, I wouldn’t have let a communist agitator like Khan over my doorstep.’
‘Even though Ghulam is Rafi’s brother?’ Libby challenged. ‘And Rafi is your friend?’
‘Rafi is different – he’s a civilised Indian. Under Sophie’s influence he’s practically one of us.’
Libby was jolted by his words; they echoed Ghulam’s own earlier disdain for his older brother becoming like one of thesahib-log.
‘Ghulam is a highly educated and principled man,’ said Libby.
‘Well, he’s put that education to bad use,’ snapped James. ‘I remember him coming and causing trouble around the tea gardens in the thirties.’
‘Trouble for the planters, you mean,’ said Libby, ‘not their tea pickers.’
