Page 42 of The Girl from the Tea Garden
Simla, 1938
Adela returned to Simla in January, the trip with her mother and Auntie Tilly set in motion and their passages booked for July. The end of the holiday had been marred by the fuss over Bracknall. Sophie had been uncharacteristically tearful and upset with Rafi on discovering that her husband had known all along from Boz that his former boss was still in position. Rafi said he had kept it to himself so as not to upset her. Yet Rafi had been aghast to hear that Adela had been working for the hated man. Their virulent dislike of the chief forester baffled Adela, but neither Sophie nor Rafi would explain their strong revulsion, other than to say that Bracknall was a bully who in the past had made their life hell. So Adela had promised that she would look for a job somewhere else if Bracknall should return in the hot season.
‘Don’t stay away so long again,’ Wesley had urged when hugging his daughter goodbye. ‘Your mother and I miss you terribly, and Harry will wander round like a lost puppy, I know it. And if you are all going to desert me in July, I must see you before then.’
‘You will, I promise.’ Adela burrowed in like she used to as a girl and gave him an extra hard squeeze around his waist.
‘How about I arrange that hunting trip in Gulgat with Rafi before the monsoons? We’ve been meaning to do that for ages, haven’t we?’
‘Yes, let’s,’ Adela agreed, although her appetite for hunting had waned as her passion for the stage had soared. Still, she wouldn’t miss a chance to go on shikar with her father.
‘It’ll be your birthday treat in June,’ promised Wesley.
Adela was touched by the enthusiastic welcome she received from Fluffy Hogg.
‘How I’ve missed you! It’s been so quiet; don’t stay away so long next time. Now what would you like for supper? I thought kedgeree.’
Adela was just as pleased to be back in Simla, catching up with Deborah and other friends. At the theatre, whereJack and the Beanstalkwas in its final week, Tommy greeted her dramatically.
‘Thank goodness you’re back– the pantomime is on its knees. Another of the chorus has gone down with laryngitis. You must save the day.’
Adela went on that night, coping with multiple costume changes and dancing as a fairy, a maid and a flower. Helping behind the scenes before Christmas, she had watched them in rehearsal and remembered the routines easily. After the final curtain call, the cast repaired to The Cottage– the Club annex, where women could mix with men– and partied late into the night. As they left, Tommy was already talking about what productions they would put on for the summer season.
‘I think we should do another of those exotic tableaux,’ he enthused, ‘The Arabian Nightsperhaps, and invite any visiting nawabs and rajas to take part. The Viceroy is keen to encourage greater mixing of the races– thinks it’ll keep those Congress agitators happy.’
Adela gave a wry smile. ‘I think Gandhi and Nehru are looking for a bit more than just Indian princes performing at the Gaiety.’
‘Well, we’ve got to do our bit towards extending the hand of friendship.’ Tommy winked.
The flurry of holidaymakers over the Christmas season soon scattered and Simla experienced a lull in social activities. The theatre closed for redecoration and would be used by Indian drama groups before the annual migration of government departments and personnel at the start of the hot season.
There was little for her to do in the Forest Office, and the amiable Guy had been sent off on a course in silviculture to the college at Dehra Dun so Adela quickly grew bored. She and Tommy spent a lot of time at the cinema together. Wet, blustery weather set in that brought down trees and smothered the mountains in thick mist for days on end. The air smelt of sodden earth and pines.
‘Ah, reminds me of holidays in the Scottish Highlands,’ said Fluffy, relishing the stormy weather and insisting on taking Adela out for walks. ‘Breathe in that air. Isn’t it so invigorating?’
From the top of Jakko Hill, they held on to their hats and leant into the wind as if invisible arms held them up. Looking north-east towards the forested hills of Bashahr province, Fluffy said, ‘I quite forgot to tell you. Sam Jackman paid me a visit while you were away.’
Adela’s stomach flipped at the unexpected mention. ‘Did he?’
‘Yes, he was down visiting Sundar; it’s nice they’ve become friends, isn’t it? I often think Sundar is still sad about his wife, despite putting on a brave face all the time.’
‘So what did Sam have to say?’
‘We talked a lot of current affairs. He’s very knowledgeable about such things despite being cut off in the hills– such a nice young man. I think he was sorry not to see you.’
‘Did he say so?’ Adela blushed.
‘Well not exactly, but I’m sure he didn’t just come to see a wrinkled old widow like me.’
Adela linked arms with Fluffy. ‘You’re not at all wrinkled. And by the sounds of it he enjoyed his visit.’
‘He did stay till after tiffin.’ Fluffy smiled. ‘We found so much to talk about. I think he must get quite lonely in Narkanda.’
In the last week in January, Boz took Adela and Fluffy to a Burns Night at Clarkes Hotel, where the Scots in the community put on dinner and entertainment in honour of their famous bard. After much whisky and reciting of poems, the tables were shoved back, a Gurkha piper struck up a reel and they danced late into the evening. Emerging into a suddenly starlit night, the women decided to walk home rather than take a rickshaw, Boz insisting on escorting them to their door.
‘What’s going on down there?’ Adela asked, peering into the Lower Bazaar. Most of the lights were out, but she could make out shadowy figures hanging things between the trees and the balconies of tightly packed houses.
Boz gave a grunt. ‘They’re putting out the Congress flags for Freedom Pledge Day.’
