Page 86 of The Girl from the Tea Garden
‘I’m too tired and you have a very long day’s travel ahead of you tomorrow. Best get to bed.’
Adela hardly slept. In the green light of dawn she slipped out of the bungalow and walked to the burial grove to stand at her father’s grave. The monsoon had brought fresh green growth, so it was hard to tell the ground had been recently dug. It was marked by a simple cross, the grave still awaiting the elaborate headstone that her mother had commissioned.
She wanted to feel her father’s presence there, but couldn’t. He was somewhere else. The thought of his shattered remains lying below the earth made her stomach retch. She bent double and let out an animal cry.
‘I’m so sorry, Daddy! I will never forgive myself for the way you died. Mother will never forgive me either. She hates me for it. I can tell. She can hardly bear to look at me. She’s sending me away. I don’t want to leave you, but I have to. It’s the only way Mother can cope with what’s happened. And I have no right to complain after what I’ve done to her– taken away the person she loved most in the whole world, will always love. It’s like she can still see and hear you about the place. I know she talks to you. Harry says he hears her speaking to you during the night. It confuses him. He’s so unhappy, and I feel guilty for that too.’
Adela rubbed her streaming eyes and nose on her sleeves. Through the trees the sky was filling with golden light, and the dew on the grass began to sparkle. The air was ringing with birdsong. Adela’s weeping stopped. She felt as if balm were being rubbed on her sore heart; the sights and sounds of Belgooree would always be woven into the very fabric of her being wherever she went. She stood up.
‘Thank you, Dad,’ she whispered, bending to kiss the wooden cross. ‘I promise I will try my best to make up for this terrible thing I’ve done.’ She breathed in deeply, the earthy scented smell of Belgooree giving her courage. ‘And I will come back– I promise you that. Iwillcome back.’
CHAPTER 15
Adela leant on the ship’s railing, staring back at the chaotic scenes on the Bombay quayside– the waving men, the scurrying porters, the fruit sellers and dockside officials– and watched India recede into the hot afternoon haze. The last three days of travel– the trains to Calcutta and on to Delhi and Bombay– had left her spent of emotion. Tilly had not stopped chattering and pointing things out to Mungo and talking of all the fun things they were going to do over the summer before he started school. Tilly was overjoyed that her closest friend in Assam, Ros Mitchell, was also spending the summer in Britain with her in-laws. She had already made arrangements to meet up with Ros, who would be staying at StAbb’s in Scotland, close to where Tilly would be, in Dunbar, at her sister Mona’s.
Adela stood drinking in the sights and sounds of India as if for the last time. Sophie was beside her, arm about her shoulder.
‘I have mixed feelings too, Adela,’ she murmured. ‘This is the first time I’ve left India since we all came out on the boat in ’22. The first time I’ve left Rafi since we got married.’
Adela saw that Sophie had tears in her eyes.
‘I feel like I’m being banished,’ Adela said unhappily. ‘I don’t really want to leave India at all.’
‘Nobody’s banishing you. And it’s not for long,’ Sophie encouraged. ‘Maybe it will help ease the pain for a little while. I’m sure your aunt Olive and your cousins will be kind to you.’
‘Yes, you’re right. Cousin Jane is a very nice person if her letters are anything to go by. She sent such a sweet card of condolence by airmail. I should stop feeling so sorry for myself all the time. It’s far worse for Mother being left to cope on her own. Do you think she’ll be all right?’
Sophie nodded. ‘I think if anyone can get through hard times it’s Clarrie. She’s the strongest person I know. But you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. You have lost your father– I know how close you both were– and you have every right to be feeling as grief-stricken as your mother.’
Adela whispered, ‘It’s not just grief, it’s guilt. If I hadn’t met Jay, if I hadn’t agreed to go back and hunt the tigress, if we’d both just listened to Dad ...’ She broke off, too choked to speak.
Sophie squeezed her shoulders. ‘You mustn’t let regret consume you, darling lassie, else you will never find peace of mind. Whatever happened between you and Prince Sanjay is not the reason for your father’s death. Wild animals are always unpredictable and every hunter knows that– Wesley most of all. He acted as he did because that was the kind of man he was. He would have done what he did for anyone, not just you. He saved the lives of the mahouts and the shikaris that night too.’
They stared out at the widening gap between the ship and land. The massive archway, the Gateway of India, stood out like a raised eyebrow as the face of the dockside grew indistinct. Adela felt numb as she thought of all those she loved and left behind: Mother, Harry, MrsHogg and her friends in Simla, the people of Belgooree, Rafi and James. Sam. Thinking about him made her heart sore. It was probable that she would never set eyes on him again. She couldn’t explain how desolate that made her feel. It made no sense. They had only met a handful of times and yet he had had such a profound effect on her young heart.
She had fallen for his lean good looks, the sexy way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, his easy laugh and dishevelled hair. The touch of his strong work-roughened hands and the way his eyes lit with passion when he spoke about his work or his photography. The way he would speak to anybody, his humour and kindness. The intense way he looked at her that made the pulse jump in her throat. The firm mouth that she had longed to kiss and now never would. She kept the small photograph of the two of them tucked into an inner pocket of her handbag. It was all she had left of him.
‘Come on, you two,’ Tilly called from across the deck. ‘Quickly!’ She and Mungo had been looking west to the first blush of the sinking sun. ‘Come and feast your eyes on this – Mungo’s spotted a dolphin.’
Sophie pushed a handkerchief at Adela. ‘Dry your eyes, sweetie. Auntie Tilly’s on a mission to cheer you up.’
It was only much later, long after they’d left the boiling temperatures of the Indian Ocean and the dusty landscape around the Suez Canal, that Adela found the package. The ship was steaming through the Mediterranean, and cloudy skies and a stiff, cool breeze sent Adela to hunt out a warm jacket and discard her topee for a felt hat. In the jacket pocket was a small parcel wrapped in an old piece of theShillong Gazette. Inside was a wad of tissue paper smelling of household spices with a folded note from her mother.
Darling Adela,
Try to enjoy your time in Newcastle. I think there is much you will love about it, not least the theatres and cinemas! I hope Olive will spoil you. She will certainly be better company than your sad old mother just now. I’m sorry I haven’t had more time for you since your father’s death. I will try to be better when you return. Perhaps it will do us both good to be apart from each other for a short while. The summer will rush by and you will be back in the autumn– unless you want to stay longer and Olive says you can. You mustn’t think you have to hurry back– your father would never want me to stand in the way of your pursuing a career in acting if you get the chance in England.
I wanted you to have the enclosed necklace. It was given to me when I was your age and about to go to Britain for the first time, feeling very frightened and unsure of the future. The old swami at the ruined temple gave it to me as protection, and I have worn it almost every day since. Now I want you to wear it and always be under the swami’s protection and my love.
Harry and I will miss you, darling one.
Take care,
Your ever-loving mother xxx
Adela wiped away the tears that spilled on to the letter and unfolded the tissue paper. Inside lay the pink stone on a simple chain that her mother always wore. Why hadn’t she noticed that her mother wasn’t wearing it the day she left home? She rubbed the smooth stone between her fingers – it was almost heart-shaped– and then fastened it around her neck. Kissing the stone, she pushed it under her blouse so that she would feel the weight of it against her skin, reminding her that her mother still loved her after all. She went up on deck with a lighter tread and a smile on her lips that felt strange after weeks of mourning.
She was going to make the most of this trip to Britain. From now on she would not look back and wallow in remorse. For the first time she felt curiosity about her Tyneside family and the big industrial port of Newcastle that was going to be her temporary home for the summer.
