Page 26 of The Girl from the Tea Garden (The India Tea #3)

‘Not especially.’

‘It was my idea to go,’ Fluffy said, ‘not Adela’s at all. As you know, I’ve always taken an interest in current affairs.’

Adela sat down, trying not to let her alarm show, and changed the subject.

‘I hope you’re going to come and see our production of The Arabian Nights , Inspector Pollock. It’s going to start the season with a bang.’

‘I’m not really a theatregoer, Miss Robson, but my wife is. I’ll make sure she knows about it.’

They talked about trivial matters: the change in manager at the Simla Bank, a new dinner menu at the Cecil and an art exhibition at the town hall. As he stood up to leave, he turned to Adela and asked, ‘Does the name Ghulam Khan mean anything to you?’

Her heart stopped. She met his assessing grey eyes with a puzzled frown.

‘No, should it do?’

‘You went to hear him speak at the demonstration.’

‘Well, I had no idea who he was.’ Adela gave a dismissive shrug. ‘I just went for the drama of the occasion. I didn’t understand a word of what he said as I don’t speak Punjabi.’

He scrutinised her. ‘He was speaking in Urdu and Hindustani. But he’s from Lahore, so Punjabi is his first tongue. Strange that you should mention it.’

‘Oh goodness, I’m pretty hopeless at languages– they all sound the same, don’t they?’ She laughed.

‘So you’ve never met Ghulam Khan,’ he pressed.

‘We never got anywhere near him, did we, Auntie?’ Fluffy shook her head. ‘I’m not sure I would even recognise him again, Inspector.’ Adela gave a dismissive wave. ‘And I don’t see how I’d ever come across him.’

‘Easier than you might think,’ said Pollock. ‘It turns out his sister is a doctor at the hospital– a friend of yours, DrFatima Khan.’

‘DrFatima?’ Fluffy exclaimed.

Adela’s stomach clamped with fear. ‘Goodness me, is that so? Well, she’s never talked about him, has she, Auntie? Probably ashamed– black sheep of the family and all that.’

Fluffy was giving her an odd look; she knew very well that they had all discussed Ghulam around the dinner table, and Fatima had defended her brother as an idealist and not a terrorist.

‘So you think it unlikely that DrKhan would have harboured her brother in Simla.’

‘Very unlikely,’ Adela said, trying to keep her breathing even. ‘She’s very law-abiding.’

‘DrKhan is the most hard-working, conscientious doctor you could ever find,’ said Fluffy stoutly, ‘and we’re lucky to have her in Simla. Adela helps out at her clinics and is most admiring of her, aren’t you, my dear?’

Adela nodded. ‘Have you been to see DrKhan?’ she asked as casually as possible.

‘Yes,’ said Pollock, ‘and she claims not to have seen him in years.’

‘Well, there you are then,’ said Fluffy with satisfaction.

The inspector jammed on his hat and pulled on his gloves at the door.

‘You will tell me if you hear anything of Ghulam Khan, won’t you, Miss Robson?

Especially if you venture into the hills with DrKhan.

She might know more than she’s telling us, so keep your ear to the ground– we suspect that’s where he’s gone to make trouble. ’

Adela felt distaste; he was asking her to spy on Fatima. She managed to nod and smile in agreement as they waved him away.

Fluffy made sure he was gone and out of earshot before she turned to Adela and said, ‘What was all that performance about?’

‘What do you mean, Auntie?’

‘Pretending to be the dizzy little English memsahib with no knowledge of Indian languages. You’re hiding something from me, aren’t you?’

‘Ask no questions, tell no lies,’ Adela murmured.

Fluffy put a hand on her arm, suddenly anxious. ‘You won’t put yourself in danger, will you?’

Adela covered Fluffy’s veined hand with her own warm one. ‘Me? I’d run a mile from any danger.’

Fluffy snorted, ‘I know that’s not true.’

‘Well, you’re not to worry; I’m not mixed up in anything.’

‘One day, dear girl,’ Fluffy said with an affectionate pat, ‘you are going to make a great actress.’

Adela was glad of the clinic work to keep her busy, though she often wondered where Ghulam had gone and was frustrated she couldn’t talk to Fatima about him, except a hurried exchange to say she’d been questioned by Pollock.

Adela started back at the hospital, helping out on the purdah ward: rolling bandages, fetching and emptying bedpans and occasionally helping to wash and swaddle newborn babies.

Labour and childbirth were still a mystery to her– she never witnessed the births– but she was astonished how all new mothers seemed to think that their crinkled, squalling infants were beautiful.

As spring arrived in the hills and lily of the valley began to carpet the wooded slopes, sending up flurries of perfume in the strengthening sun, Adela set off for Kufri with Fatima, a handful of nursing assistants and orderlies and the mobile clinic.

Sitara came to cook. The nursing staff crammed into Fatima’s newly bought second-hand Ford.

Adela took her turn at the wheel, negotiating the narrow bends of the Hindustan-Tibet road, while the equipment followed on horse-drawn carts and strapped to mules.

After three days at Kufri they travelled on to Theog and at the end of the week struck camp again and continued on to Narkanda.

Adela had never been so far up the route before.

She arrived in the bustling village, her nerves in shreds after hitting patches of ice on the road.

They abandoned the car near the river and continued uphill by cart and mules.

‘The mission lets us camp in the grounds of their bungalow and use the washing facilities,’ explained Fatima.

‘Luxury indeed.’ Adela gave a wry laugh. As the convoy jolted up the uneven track in the fading light through budding orchards of apple and plum, Adela’s heart pounded at the thought of seeing Sam again.

They came out into a clearing; a broad sweep of pasture and a modest bungalow with a green tin roof were lit by the last rays of the sun.

She sensed him there before she saw him, a quick-moving, vigorous figure emerging from the shadow.

The sun struck his handsome ruddy face and caught fair lights in his wayward hair.

His shirtsleeves were rolled up over strong arms as he strode towards them, grinning with delight at Fatima.

‘Welcome, DrKhan. I was beginning to worry you wouldn’t arrive before it got dark ...’ He stopped in his tracks at the sight of Adela climbing off a mule in jodhpurs, her hair tangling in the evening breeze. ‘Adela? I didn’t realise—’

‘Hello, Sam,’ she said, trying to keep her voice steady. ‘I hope you’ve got gallons of hot water, as we’re desperate for baths.’

He quickly recovered his composure. ‘Well, this is hardly the Cecil, but we’ll see what we can do.’ He smiled. ‘Come inside. Hunt is away in Nerikot, so you and Fatima can use his room.’

Despite her exhaustion, Adela’s heart soared at Sam’s obvious delight at their arrival; she hoped it wasn’t just for Fatima.

She had reached elusive Narkanda at last. They ate in the shuttered veranda with kerosene lamps on the tables as the wind sighed outside and set the old bungalow creaking.

They talked of their work and their plans for the next few days.

That night Adela climbed into a sagging spare bed between sheets that were damp with lack of use. Yet she couldn’t have been happier, knowing that Sam lay on the other side of the wall– she could hear his bed creaking as he turned over. It was the last sound she remembered before falling asleep.