Page 36 of The Girl from the Tea Garden
‘That’s all we do.’ Adela laughed. ‘He doesn’t even try to hold my hand. I think I’m just an excuse for him to see as many films as he can without going on his own.’
‘Well, that’s not very romantic,’ said Prue.
‘I’m really not bothered– I’m just enjoying being unattached, and he’s good company.’
‘Still holding out for your missionary?’ Deborah nudged her.
Adela flushed. ‘Course not. I’ve not even seen him since my birthday. He’s not the least bit interested.’
‘He was in the audience at the musical,’ Prue said.
‘Was he?’ Adela was astonished.
‘Up in the circle. I saw him but not to speak to.’
‘Well, he never came to say hello. Was ... was he with anyone, did you notice?’
Prue shrugged, ‘I couldn’t say. But it was definitely him.’
‘Why didn’t you say anything?’ Adela cried.
‘Sorry, I forgot.’
‘Mind too full of the wonderful Guy,’ Deborah teased. Prue gave her a shove.
‘Anyway, I didn’t think you were interested. I mean I know he’s good-looking,’ said Prue, ‘but he is a bit odd.’
‘No, he’s not!’
Deborah was grinning, obviously bursting to tell. ‘Well, do you want to hear my latest Jubbulpore?’
‘Of course,’ said Adela.
‘I got a letter from that American who gave Daddy the Camel cigarettes, Micky Natini. He’s coming to Simla on leave next week, and he’s going to take me out to dinner.’
‘Dinner?’ Prue gasped. ‘Just the two of you?’
‘Well, maybe not dinner,’ Deborah backtracked, ‘but he said he would look me up.’
‘So what did he say exactly?’ asked Adela.
Deborah took off her sunglasses and chewed the end before replying. ‘He said he was coming to Simla.’
‘And what else?’ Prue pressed her.
‘And could I recommend any good restaurants.’
Adela and Prue burst out laughing.
Prue smirked. ‘Not quite Jubbulpore then.’
‘Okay, not yet,’ admitted Deborah, ‘but wait till he sees me in my chambermaid’s outfit.’ She dissolved into raucous giggles.
Micky Natini turned out to be a good addition to the summer parties. A smallish squat young man with dark Mediterranean good looks and a thick moustache, he was humorous and ready to enjoy himself after eight months in the Burmese jungle supervising pipe laying through the oilfields.
He arrived in Simla on a noisy motorcycle, which he had to leave garaged below the main town, unaware of the prohibition on motorised vehicles along the Mall.
‘Only the Viceroy, Governor of the Punjab, or Chief of the Army can drive through the town,’ Deborah explained.
