Page 112 of The Secrets of the Tea Garden

CHAPTER 21

Belgooree, July

It was the arrival of Rafi and Sophie from Gulgat that proved to be the turning point for Libby’s father. They had written ahead asking for Sophie to stay while Rafi went to Delhi to attend the disbanding of his old regiment, the Lahore Horse. The Indian Army was being broken up and divided into two new national armies ahead of Partition.

The nearer the date loomed for Independence, the greater the unrest. The pace of change was dizzying. While the vote in Assam had supported the secession of Muslim Sylhet to Bengal, a Partition Council had been formed to help with the splitting of Bengal. The hastily appointed Bengal Boundary Commission was holding public sittings to hear people’s views. A lawyer called Radcliffe had arrived from London to help draw up the borders that would divide India from a newly created East and West Pakistan.

The Boundary Commission will be toothless, Ghulam had written in disgust to Libby,and they won’t want to be held responsible for where the knife falls on Bengal. It will be left up to your British lawyer to do the dirty work. I hear he’s never even set foot in India before and would be hard-pressed to find Punjab or Bengal on a map. And with only a month to do it in. The rumour is that the partition won’t be announced till afterthe Independence celebrations, so even on the day of liberation millions of people won’t know under which government they will be living.

Can you imagine the government in London treating the people of Britain like that? No, because it would never happen. So why are Indians being treated in such a cavalier way? The Britishers – arrogant to the very end!

I’m sorry, Libby. I know you do not think like that – you are in the minority of British who think of Indians as your equals and not some sub-species. I am just angry and frustrated at the situation. Things are volatile in Calcutta. Each side is arming theirgoondasfor a fight over the city. Both want it for themselves but neither side knows whether Calcutta will end up in India or East Pakistan.

She had written back to him at once to tell him to be careful and avoid any violence, though she knew he was unlikely to take notice. If there was a story to cover or an injustice to expose, Ghulam would be there.

He had written by return, making a joke of danger.I’m in more danger in the office from back-stabbers than I ever am on the streets. Fatima is taking far greater risks than me. Her women’s organisation is now rescuing families from East Bengal escaping by boat and train. They go to the stations east of here, taking medicines and food. Then we try and find them temporary shelter.

Libby had been quick to notice his slip into ‘we’. Ghulam was obviously helping his sister too. All she could do was hope that Fatima would keep an eye on her brother and prevent him from doing anything too impetuous.

At the sound of tooting, Libby rushed out of the factory office to see the Khans’ car appearing on the track below the house. She waved enthusiastically for them to stop. Their old black Ford went past, stopped abruptly and reversed. Libby ran up to it. Her heart lurched painfully to see a moustachioed man with a look of Ghulam grinning back at her in surprise.

‘Libby?’ he exclaimed, jumping out of the car with the engine still running.

‘Yes,’ she laughed.

He put out his hand to shake hers but she grabbed him in a hug. ‘It’s so lovely to see you,’ she said, her eyes prickling with unexpected tears.

For a moment he squeezed her back and then held her at arms’ length. ‘Look, Sophie darling,’ he called to his wife, who was scrambling out of the passenger seat, ‘our sweet Libby is all grown up.’

A moment later Libby was being clasped in Sophie’s strong, lithe arms and having her cheeks kissed. Long-ago memories of happy picnics and holidays at Belgooree, with the Khans organising games of tennis and hide-and-seek, came flooding back. Libby clung on to her mother’s oldest friend and burst into tears.

‘Oh, Libby dearie!’ Sophie crooned as she stroked Libby’s hair tenderly. ‘We’ve missed you too.’

Libby quickly tried to compose herself. Half laughing, half crying, she said, ‘Sorry, I’m not usually such a crybaby. It’s just seeing you again – it reminds me of being here with Mother and the boys. We kids used to love it when you and Rafi turned up – you were always much more fun than our parents.’

They all grinned at each other. ‘We’re a bit creakier around the joints these days,’ said Rafi, ‘but we can still take you on at tennis.’

‘Great,’ said Libby. ‘I’ll get Harry to partner me so I’ll have a chance against you old pros.’

‘Not so much of the old, lassie,’ said Sophie. Her voice still held a trace of Scottish burr even after so long in India. To Libby, she hardly looked any older. Sophie had the same bobbed blonde hair and pretty fair face that Libby remembered.

‘Hop in,’ ordered Rafi. ‘We’ve been dreaming of M.D.’s ginger cake and Clarrie’s tea since we left this morning.’

‘You ride up to the house with Rafi,’ said Sophie. ‘I’m going to stretch my legs and walk.’

As Libby sat next to Rafi, she kept sliding glances at him while he chatted about their journey. He looked older than Ghulam and was grey around the temples but his strongly built physique was similar to his brother’s. Rafi was more conventionally good-looking, with an even smile and a trim moustache, and was immaculately turned out in a cream shirt and flannel trousers. Ghulam, by contrast, had uneven features and sometimes looked like he slept in his clothes and forgot to shave. But it was Ghulam’s imperfections that Libby found so sexy. Both brothers had the same startlingly attractive green eyes fringed by dark lashes. When Rafi glanced back at Libby, she felt her insides twist with longing for Ghulam.

Round the dinner table that night, Sophie was frank about the situation in Gulgat.

‘It’s not the same since Sanjay became Rajah,’ she said. ‘Rafi’s no longer ADC. Sanjay consults with his grandmother and her astrologers over affairs of the court. That’s when he’s there, which isn’t often.’

‘To be honest,’ said Rafi, ‘I’ve been happier just being in charge of forests.’

‘But the bullying has been getting worse,’ said Sophie indignantly.

‘Bullying?’ said Clarrie.

‘The old witch in the palace is constantly stirring up trouble against Rafi to undermine any influence he might still have over Sanjay. That’s why the former rajah’s wife left; Rita couldn’t bear the palace intrigues any longer. She’s gone back to Bombay permanently. I miss her terribly.’