Page 88 of The Girl from the Tea Garden
‘DrBlack’s sister, Gertrude, died suddenly, so I came back for the funeral to support the doctor.’
‘Oh, I am sorry. I hadn’t heard.’
‘You’ve had enough grief of your own to cope with,’ James said, glaring at Sam as if it was his fault for bringing more to her door.
Clarrie ignored James’s remark. ‘What will happen to the school I wonder?’
‘DrBlack is trying to sort things out and appoint a successor.’
‘Are you still at the mission, Sam?’ she asked.
He slurped and shook his head. ‘Not exactly.’
‘What does “not exactly” mean?’ James frowned.
‘I’m continuing much of the work I was doing– planting orchards, harvesting the fruit and helping the locals get it to market– but I no longer live at the mission house in Narkanda.’
‘Where then?’ asked Clarrie.
‘Further east, towards the Tibetan border at Sarahan.’
‘Is the mission still paying you a salary?’ James asked.
‘James,’ Clarrie reproved, ‘that’s none of your business.’
Sam met his look, unperturbed. ‘They buy the trees for planting, but I don’t take any money for myself. DrBlack kindly pays a small allowance out of his own pocket for me and my, er, dependents.’
James was disbelieving. ‘But you still manage to afford to drive a car?’
‘DrBlack’s car.’ Sam smiled. ‘He lent it to me so I could visit MrsRobson and Adela.’
‘Well, if it’s Adela you want to see, you’re too late there,’ James said bluntly. ‘She’s gone back to England. Sailed with my wife and MrsKhan.’
Clarrie saw the look of dismay on Sam’s face and felt a pang of pity. She didn’t know why James was being so prickly with the young man.
‘She’s gone to stay with her relatives in Newcastle,’ she explained. ‘I thought it would cheer her up to get away from here.’
‘And get away from that wretched Gulgat prince who broke her heart,’ James muttered.
This time it was Sam who felt himself redden around the jaw. ‘Prince Sanjay you mean.’
‘I’d rather not talk about it,’ Clarrie said with a pained look. ‘I can’t help blaming the prince for his actions. If he hadn’t insisted on pursuing the tigress, perhaps Wesley would be here today—’
‘Don’t think of it, my dear.’ James reached out a hand and grasped hers. ‘I shouldn’t have mentioned him. Forgive me.’
Sam sat wrestling with his emotions. He had come here with high hopes of seeing Adela again and having a chance to explain everything, to get things straight between them. The last sight he had had of her was her aghast expression at the Sipi Fair when he made his split-second decision to intervene in the marriage barter and stop Ghulam being caught by the police. What else could he have done? At least he had saved Pema from certain slavery with a man who would have treated her as lesser than his hill dog, and she would never have to be at the beck and call of her abusive uncle again. But to the British community– liberal and conservative alike– he had acted beyond the pale. He, a missionary, had bought a heathen woman like chattel and taken her into his household.
‘Tell me about the time Adela visited the mission in Narkanda,’ Clarrie suddenly asked. ‘Her letters were short, but I could tell it was a happy time.’
Sam felt his gut twist with the bittersweet memory. ‘It was a happy time for me too.’ He smiled. ‘Your daughter is a natural with people; she made them feel better just by being around. And she’d make a good nurse – DrFatima was very impressed with her gentle but competent touch. No amount of blood or gore seemed to put her off.’
He stopped as Clarrie winced.
‘Really, Jackman,’ James protested, ‘in the circumstances.’
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset—’
‘No, please go on,’ Clarrie insisted. ‘I want to hear more.’
