Page 109 of The Secrets of the Tea Garden

‘Yes,’ said Clarrie. ‘Well, mostly. Daleep is worried about the situation deteriorating in Assam – not knowing whether we’ll still be part of India come August. It could affect our trade – if the railways or waterways are cut off by a new border, that sort of thing.’

‘Are you worried too?’ asked Libby.

‘My feeling is that whatever country we end up being in, they will still need tea – either for the domestic market or to trade for foreign currency. As long as we still have access to the auction houses we’ll survive. And that will be up to agents like Strachan’s to act as brokers.’

‘But what about politically?’ Libby said. ‘Are you worried about this vote over Sylhet and workers being displaced?’

Clarrie sighed. ‘I don’t think it will affect us at Belgooree whatever the outcome – our workers are mainly Khasi and there’s little communal tension here in the hills. It might be a different matter at the Oxford Estates and the bigger tea gardens where there are much larger numbers of migrant labourers. But ...’

‘But what?’

‘I think this area will stay as part of India – we are too far from Sylhet to be affected. But my worry would be for the Muslim labourers left in Assam.’

Libby felt sudden alarm. ‘Do you mean Aslam and his family might be in danger?’

‘I’m sure they won’t be,’ said Clarrie hastily, ‘but until everything is clearer, they are bound to be worried.’ She put a hand on Libby’s arm. ‘I think it best not to talk about this to your father – it’ll only make him fret more.’

Libby was struck again by how much Clarrie cared for her father, even though she had so many other concerns. It made her more determined to say what she’d come to say.

‘I won’t mention any of this,’ said Libby, ‘but I haven’t come to talk about Dad.’

She saw a flicker of relief cross Clarrie’s face. ‘Oh?’

‘I want to be more help to you while I’m here,’ said Libby, ‘around the garden or the office. I don’t want to take anyone else’s job away from them but just do some helping out. I’m very organised and I’m good at accounts; I can type – I was teaching typing to Lexy’s grand-niece before I left Newcastle. Or I could help muck out the horses – anything.’

‘Dear Libby! But don’t you want to spend your time with your father?’

Libby grimaced. ‘I think I’m getting on his nerves, being around all the time.’

‘Don’t think that,’ said Clarrie. ‘James is very fond of you.’

Libby shrugged. ‘Yes, but I think I also irritate him. The sad thing is we don’t seem to have very much in common any more.’

Clarrie squeezed Libby’s arm. ‘Adela and Wesley used to go hammer and tongs at each other from time to time – he could be overprotective and she was impulsive – but deep down they adored each other.’

Libby felt her insides twist. ‘But they saw each other lots while Adela was growing up and that makes all the difference. Dad and I missed out on that and I don’t think we’ll ever have that closeness.’

‘Give it time,’ Clarrie said, her look compassionate. ‘And I’d be glad of your help. That’s very kind of you.’

‘No it’s not. I’m at a loose end and feeling bad about not doing my share of the work here.’

Clarrie gave her a broad smile. ‘You are very like your father in that.’ She slipped an arm through Libby’s and steered her towards the factory buildings. ‘Well, there’s something I can think of straight away.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Banu’s grandson Nitin is helping in the office now. He’s a quick learner and will make a goodmohurerone day. But it would be very useful if he could type. Would you consider teaching him?’

Libby brightened. ‘Of course I would.’

They smiled at each other.

‘Good,’ said Clarrie. ‘Come and have a word with him now. You can start this afternoon.’

Calcutta

‘There’s another letter for you,’ said Fatima, holding up an envelope, ‘from Assam.’

Ghulam felt the heat rise into his jaw at his sister’s enquiring look. He always felt like the naughty younger sibling when she scrutinised him through her spectacles, even though he was four years her senior. He tried not to show his excitement.