Page 20 of The Girl from the Tea Garden (The India Tea #3)
‘Well, I think it’s marvellous,’ said Adela. ‘Lucky Henry, I say.’
For a moment Edith covered her hand with cool bony fingers. ‘Thank you, dear.’
The snow came in earnest, and the British residents of the town who remained through the winter– Boz and Guy among them– took to the slopes of Prospect Hill with tin trays for tobogganing and skated on the frozen pond at Annandale.
Guy showed interest in Adela, but she kept him at arm’s length, knowing how Prue would never forgive her; she valued her friendship far more than any liaison with the handsome forester.
It galvanised her to arrange a trip home to Belgooree for Christmas.
She hadn’t been home since the previous one; Scout, their beloved hill dog, had died in March, and by staying away she kept him alive in her mind.
She knew it was nonsensical and, once she saw her parents’ delight at her homecoming, Adela felt guilty for staying away.
Clarrie squeezed her daughter so tightly, Adela squeaked that she couldn’t breathe.
Wesley protested, ‘You’ve cut off all your lovely hair!’
‘No, I haven’t, Dad.’ Adela laughed. ‘It’s still down to my shoulders.’
‘I’m Dad now, am I?’ Wesley raised an eyebrow.
‘Daddy sounds a bit babyish, don’t you think?’
‘Your hair is lovely,’ said Clarrie. ‘It suits you that length. You look so grown-up, my darling.’
‘Too grown-up,’ Wesley chuntered. ‘I bet all the boys are chasing you like bees around honey.’
‘Do bees chase honey?’ Adela teased. ‘I thought they made it.’
‘You know what I mean, you cheeky girl.’
Adela hugged him, breathing in the dusty tea smell of his jacket, and was glad to be home. Four-year-old-brother, Harry, after some initial shyness, followed like her shadow, even when she retreated to the bathroom for some privacy. He was much more talkative and less solemn than a year ago.
Best of all, her beloved honorary aunties, Sophie and Tilly, were coming with their husbands for Christmas again.
But right from their arrival there was tension and bickering between Tilly and James.
James did not linger, but took nine-year-old Mungo home after two days to join in a hunt in the Naga Hills around Kohima.
‘If Tilly won’t take him home to school,’ grunted James to Wesley, ‘I might as well be teaching the lad to shoot.’
Later, Tilly confided to the women, ‘He’s insisting this is Mungo’s last year in Assam. He’s put his foot down. Once the boy’s ten, then it’s off to school in England to join his brother and sister. But he’s not as independent as Jamie and Libby– he’s still such a home boy really.He’ll hate it.’
Clarrie put a hand on her friend’s in sympathy. ‘Wouldn’t James consider somewhere like Bishop Cotton in Simla? We’re hoping Harry might go there in time– Adela’s been so happy in Simla.’
‘Yes,’ Adela agreed, ‘and Uncle Rafi went there, didn’t he?’
Sophie nodded. ‘It’s a very good school.’
Tilly looked uncomfortable. ‘I wouldn’t mind but– well, James is more old-fashioned. Still believes an English education is the best.’
‘Or Scottish,’ Adela added with a wink at Sophie.
But Sophie bristled. ‘You mean as long as Mungo doesn’t have to go to school with Indians.’
Tilly’s plump face reddened. ‘It’s not the way I think.’ She gave an apologetic shrug.
‘Of course it isn’t,’ Clarrie said, intervening. ‘So will you be taking Mungo back this coming summer?’
‘Yes.’ Tilly sighed. ‘We’ll book a passage in July probably– have the summer holidays with Mona in Dunbar and then settle him into school.’
‘Perhaps I could go with you for a visit home,’ Clarrie suggested.
‘Really?’ Tilly brightened.
‘I’ve been putting off going to see Olive for years, but her letters worry me. She sounds full of anxiety about Jack’s business. Things are very tough on Tyneside these days.’
‘But Olive has Herbert’s Café too, doesn’t she?’ Tilly asked.
‘Yes,’ said Clarrie. ‘I handed that over to her when we returned to India in ’22.
With Lexy in charge as manageress, I never worried about Olive coping.
But that was before the slump. I should have gone back ages ago to make sure she was managing, but then Harry came along unexpectedly. ’ Clarrie gave a bashful smile.
‘Well, you’ve had enough on your plate here,’ said Sophie. ‘It’s been hard for the small tea plantations too.’
‘All of the gardens,’ Tilly said. ‘Even the Oxford Estates have had to tighten their belts and cut back production. Doesn’t seem to affect James’s whisky consumption at the club though.’
Adela feared her aunt was going to start one of her long grumbles about Uncle James, which made everyone else uncomfortable.
Sophie in particular was fond of the gruff tea planter, as he had been kind to her when she’d been orphaned and had paid for her education in Edinburgh.
Adela and her mother also felt a little sorry for James being the constant butt of Tilly’s complaints about life in Assam without her two elder children.
‘I wouldn’t worry about the café, Mother.’ Adela tried to lighten the conversation. ‘Cousin Jane seems to be running it with Lexy these days, and her letters are always cheerful.’
‘Why don’t you come with us too, Adela?’ Tilly enthused. ‘Wouldn’t it be a grand idea, Clarrie?’
‘Yes,’ agreed Clarrie, smiling at her daughter, ‘it would be wonderful– if we can afford the passage for us both, and Harry of course. You have no memories of Newcastle, do you, darling? And you could finally meet your cousin Jane.’
Adela hesitated. Yes, she would love to meet her Newcastle family, but right now she was having so much fun in Simla that she didn’t want to go thousands of miles away.
‘Well, I’d love to visit England– of course I would– but I wouldn’t want to go for too long. It would be right in the middle of the theatre season, and I might lose my job at the Forest Office.’
‘You’re bound to pick something else up when you get back,’ Sophie said. ‘Boz will make sure of that. Take the opportunity to travel when it’s offered I say.’
‘Speaks the woman who’s hardly been out of Gulgat in years.’ Tilly chuckled.
‘Travel’s more fun for the young and fancy-free.’ Sophie grinned.
‘But it’s not really up to Boz,’ Adela persisted. ‘It’s the Chief Conservator who did me a favour in the first place by creating a job in the post room and having me type up the occasional letter for him.’
‘Who is chief now?’ Sophie queried.
‘MrBracknall,’ said Adela. ‘He’s back in Lahore now but—’
‘ Bracknall? ’ Sophie cut in, her smile vanishing. ‘He’s still in charge?’
‘Is he the awful man who made life hell for Rafi?’ Tilly asked.
Sophie took a moment to answer, her manner suddenly agitated. ‘Yes, he’s the reason Rafi left the forest service.’ Abruptly she reached out to Adela and seized her hand. ‘He’s a vindictive bastard!’
‘Sophie!’ Clarrie remonstrated.
‘I’m sorry to use such language, Clarrie, but Adela shouldn’t be working for him. He preys on young women.’
‘Surely a man in that position wouldn’t behave—’
‘He poisoned my first marriage to Tam– made up lies about me and Rafi, humiliated Tam—’
Adela winced from her tight grip, alarmed to see her aunt so upset. ‘It’s fine. He hasn’t tried anything improper; he’s an old man.’
‘He’s only in his fifties. I can’t believe Boz would allow you anywhere near him.’
Adela didn’t like to say that Boz had been far away in the mountains until a month ago, by which time the Bracknalls had gone.
And there had been moments when Bracknall’s hand had lingered too long on her shoulder as she’d typed or when he had made her blush with comments about her appearance and pressed her for information about the men who courted her. But none of it added up to very much.
‘Please don’t worry about me, Auntie Sophie. I can look after myself.’ Adela made light of the matter. ‘Besides, MrsBracknall is an eager chaperone– she comes round to the office almost every day.’
‘Sophie,’ Tilly weighed in, ‘aren’t you making too much of this? Adela is just doing a few hours of typing and sorting the post– and I bet there are half a dozen other staff around too. What’s the harm in that?’
Sophie let go of Adela’s hand and sank back in her chair, still shaking.
‘I’m sorry. It was just a shock to hear he was still around. I thought he would have retired by now and Edith Bracknall would have set up as the burra memsahib of some Hampshire village.’
‘It’s she who doesn’t want to go apparently,’ said Adela. ‘Can’t bear to be without a house full of servants and the status that comes with her husband’s rank.’
Sophie retorted, ‘I bet it suits Bracknall to blame his wife for his clinging on to power. It’s he who thrives on it all.’
‘Well,’ Clarrie said, turning to her daughter, ‘I don’t like the sound of this Bracknall. I think you should definitely consider a trip back to England next year.’
‘I agree,’ said Sophie. She fumbled for a silver cigarette case. ‘Do you mind if I smoke?’
‘Go ahead,’ Clarrie allowed. ‘You’ve had a shock. Adela, we’ll speak to your father and see what he thinks. We’d go for three or four months I suppose.’
‘No point going all that way for less,’ Tilly declared.