Page 12 of The Girl from the Tea Garden (The India Tea #3)
Adela tried to concentrate on the entrance exam, but she couldn’t think of anything interesting to write about the topic of ‘My Family’, and the maths questions completely baffled her.
All she could think about was how, if she came here, she could start again where nobody knew about her parentage, reinvent herself as thoroughly British Adela Robson, who was destined to become a film star.
The last thing she wanted to do was to write about her family, her quarter-Indian mother or her dark-haired baby brother.
It made her guilty to think how often she scrutinised Harry to see if he betrayed their Anglo-Indian blood.
In panic, Adela ended up scrawling something about her tiger cub, Molly, and how an Indian prince had threatened to skin it.
In place of equations she wrote out a list of tea pickings and leaf varieties just to fill up the page.
The look of dismay on the face of the teacher overseeing her exam made Adela want to burst into tears.
Her chances of being accepted appeared to be dwindling as fast as the dew on the school lawn.
When she was summoned into Miss Mackenzie’s study, Adela decided to be bold.
Better to make an impression than not to be remembered at all was her motto.
Ignoring the chair she was offered next to her father, Adela marched right up to the principal’s desk, bowed and burst into a rendition of ‘Three Little Maids from School’ from The Mikado .
Miss Mackenzie gaped in amazement. When Adela finished, she glanced at her father, who obviously thought she had taken leave of her senses. Then behind her, in the doorway, Prue began clapping enthusiastically.
‘Well, goodness me,’ said the principal, ‘I wasn’t expecting that. But what a sweet voice you have, Miss Robson. You can sit down now. Prue, I imagine this was your idea of a bit of fun. You may go, thank you.’
Adela glanced round at the retreating girl, who winked at her as she went. Had she been duped into making a fool of herself? Adela was too anxious to sit.
‘I know you didn’t ask me to sing, miss, but I made such a mess of my exam paper and Prue said you liked Gilbert and Sullivan so I just wanted you to know I can sing and I really, really want to come here and it’s just the sort of school where I know I’d be happy ’cause Prue says if you like drama you can do as much as you want and I only ran away from StNinian’s because they wouldn’t let me act and I got into trouble for standing up for Flowers Dunlop, but I would never run away from here—’
‘Adela!’ Wesley hissed. ‘For heaven’s sake, sit down and be quiet for once.’
Adela flopped into the seat next to him. ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled.
‘Don’t be.’ Miss Mackenzie smiled. ‘Your entry was unorthodox, but entertaining. I think Prudence might have raised your expectations of StMary’s somewhat.
We do encourage creative subjects, but every girl who comes here must achieve a good level of academic achievement too.
I’m sorry you were unhappy at StNinian’s; it is a well-run school and I am a personal friend of Miss Black’s. ’
Adela’s hopes plummeted. For the rest of the interview she tried to answer the principal’s questions, but her replies were faltering and short.
Her stomach churned and her eyes smarted with tears.
They left shortly afterwards, with Miss Mackenzie promising a swift decision.
Trudging back past the well-stocked furniture stalls of the Lakkar Bazaar, Adela turned to her father and demanded tearfully, ‘Do you think Prue told me to sing to get me into trouble?’
‘Why would she do that?’ Wesley asked.
‘Perhaps she’s another school bully, like Nina Davidge.’
‘She didn’t seem like that to me,’ her father said, ‘and even if she is, you can’t spend your life avoiding people like that. You have to stand up to them.’
Wesley steered her back into town and declared they would treat themselves to afternoon tea at the Cecil Hotel and whatever was showing that evening at the Gaiety Theatre.
Adela revived as they ate cake and drank Darjeeling in the ornate and lofty dining hall while a string quartet played Strauss waltzes and foxtrots for those who wanted to dance.
‘Your mother would love this,’ Wesley smiled.
‘Come on, Daddy. Show me how it’s done.’
As Wesley swept her around the dance floor, Adela had never felt so grown-up. She noticed the interested glances from older women at her handsome father and felt proud of him.
Later in the theatre, they sat in the plush green seats of the stalls in front of the viceroy’s box and laughed at the antics of the amateur players, who were still doing the pantomime Cinderella .
Adela determined that, even if she didn’t get into StMary’s, she would one day return and perform on the Gaiety stage.
The next day, before leaving for Kalka and the long journey home, they called on Fluffy Hogg at her small bungalow, Briar Rose Cottage, on Jakko Hill.
Although almost seventy and of solid build, Fluffy was fit and red-cheeked from constant walking, and her manner was breezy and welcoming.
They sat drinking tea on her narrow veranda with a view north to the snow-capped Himalayas.
The early-morning sun struck their peaks, turning them rapidly from rose pink to glistening white.
‘Don’t worry about the exam,’ the colonel’s widow consoled. ‘If Lilian Mackenzie thinks you are right for her school, then she will take you even if you wrote gibberish.’
Before they left, she showed Adela the simple bedroom that would be hers if she was successful.
It was painted pale green, with a moss-green bedspread and faded curtains patterned in roses.
There was a small writing table, an upholstered chair and a dark chest of drawers with an oval mirror above.
Hanging on the wall next to a brightly painted Tibetan scroll was a photograph of a young woman in a long riding habit, sitting side-saddle on a pony.
‘Me in Quetta,’ said Fluffy.
‘You’re beautiful,’ Adela cried.
Fluffy chuckled. ‘All girls are at that age.’
Suddenly there was a loud clatter across the corrugated-iron roof that made Adela jump.
‘Simla monkeys,’ Fluffy said, unperturbed. ‘If you come here, you’ll have to get used to those little devils. Keep the windows shut or they’ll steal your worldly goods.’
Adela glanced out of the window at the mountains retreating into a blue haze. A road wound its way along the hillside into the distance, already busy with carts, mules and porters.
‘Where does that go?’ Adela asked.
‘That’s the road to Narkanda and beyond,’ said Fluffy. ‘It goes all the way to Tibet.’
Adela’s heart leapt with excitement at the mention of the fabled name. When she turned round to face her father and the elderly widow, they could both see the yearning shining in her dark eyes.
A week after returning from Simla, Mohammed Din hurried into the sitting room, where the family were struggling to listen to music on the gramophone over Harry’s squalling.
‘I think our little tiger is hungry again,’ Clarrie said, plucking him from the cradle.
‘Sahib,’ interrupted Mohammed Din breathlessly, holding out a silver tray, ‘the chaprassy has been. There is a letter from Simla for Adela Missahib.’
Adela sprang out of her seat. ‘Thank you, MD.’ She grabbed at the letter and tore it open.
The khansama stood waiting as tensely as Adela’s parents. Clarrie bounced a fretful Harry in her arms. Adela felt sick as she unfolded the single page with the StMary’s College crest embossed in blue at the top. She stared hard.
Adela looked up. ‘I can’t believe it,’ she said, and then gulped.
‘Well?’ Wesley demanded. ‘Put us out of our misery. Are you in or not?’
A huge grin spread across her face. ‘Yes– yes – I’m in! I’m to start after half-term in March.’
‘Oh, my darling, well done!’ Clarrie cried above the noise of the baby.
Wesley jumped out of his seat and hugged her. ‘My clever girl! Let me see.’ He took the letter and read it. ‘By Jove, Clarissa, they say they’re looking forward to having her.’
‘Of course they are,’ Clarrie said, beaming, ‘and they’ll be lucky to have her. Oh, come and give me a hug!’
Adela went to her mother; it was an awkward hug with Harry in the middle. Within a couple of minutes Mohammed Din had returned with celebratory glasses of nimbu pani– Adela’s favourite lemon drink– and ginger biscuits. He smiled and congratulated her too.
‘Thank you, MD. I’ll miss you all, but I’m so excited about going.’
As the khansama handed round the drinks, Wesley gave a toast.
‘Although we don’t want you to leave us, Adela, your mother and I would rather have you a three-day train ride away in the Punjab than a three-week sea voyage away in England.
’ He smiled. ‘No running away this time though,’ he warned.
‘Your mother and I won’t have you back a second time– you’ll just have to join the circus. ’
‘Oh, Wesley!’ Clarrie chided. ‘Congratulations, dearest Adela.’ She smiled and raised a glass in one hand while clutching her son with the other. ‘You will always have a home here with us.’ Clarrie kissed the baby’s head. ‘Won’t she, Harry?’
Adela noticed the adoring look on her mother’s face as she spoke to the baby. Clarrie put down the drink. ‘Sorry, I’ll have to go and feed him.’
‘Little monster,’ said Wesley, but his expression was one of pride.
With a stab of envy, Adela watched her mother disappear to the bedroom, humming a tune to pacify Harry.
She knew her parents would not miss her half as much now that they had Harry.
It would never again be just the three of them, always four.
Perhaps that was part of the reason why she was looking forward so much to a future in Simla.
But what excited her the most was that she was being offered a fresh start in a school far away from her tormentors at StNinian’s, with countless possibilities to act on a real stage. Adela could not wait.