Page 199 of The Secrets of the Tea Garden

Libby thought she had misheard. ‘What?’

James said, ‘Your mother and I are separating. It’s amicable. Well, by that I mean there won’t be any wrangling over who keeps what.’

‘Dad!’ Libby cried in dismay. Her stomach knotted.

James held her look. ‘You can’t pretend it comes as any great shock. Your mother and I haven’t seen eye to eye in years. She’s happy in Newcastle – very happy – with the new house and her committees, and the boys nearby and Josey as her companion – and a ridiculous new dog called Fluff. She doesn’t need me. It’s taken me a long time to realise it, but I don’t need her either. We had some very happily married years together and we love our children; we still care about each other – but not enough to stay together now.’

Libby’s heart drummed at the unsettling news. The thing she had feared ever since war had separated her parents was now coming to fruition: the break-up of their marriage. She had yearned for them to be reconciled – had badgered them both to return to each other – but it hadn’t worked. Had she tried hard enough? She should have gone home with her father when he’d wanted her to and maybe she could have helped him settle down better in Newcastle. She could have stuck up for her dad in the face of her mother’s criticism.

But maybe that was being unfair to Tilly. By the sounds of it, she had tried to understand James’s deep unhappiness – had got him finally to talk about what distressed him – and had encouraged him to face Danny Dunlop with the truth. Her mother had shown greater understanding than she, Libby, had towards her father’s mental state – and a good deal of tolerance towards his desire to leave her. Tilly would no doubt set the tongues wagging at home for separating from her husband. She risked censure from her friends at church and colleagues on her charitable committees. Yet rather than try to paper over the cracks in their marriage, Tilly was allowing James to be free to return to India.

Libby attempted to absorb the enormity of what it meant. She swallowed hard, trying to stem the feeling of panic she felt at this sea change in her parents’ relationship.

‘What will you do?’ she asked.

‘I’m staying on,’ he said with a tired smile, ‘like you.’

‘In Calcutta?’ Libby asked in sudden excitement.

James took another sip of his drink and said, ‘I’m thinking of settling in Shillong. The Percy-Barratts have moved up there and I have other old friends in the area.’

Libby slid him a look. ‘Such as Clarrie?’

Even on the dimly lit veranda, she could see her father’s face redden. ‘I suppose Clarrie is nearby too – yes, that’s true.’

Libby laughed at his coyness. ‘She misses you too, Dad,’ she said. ‘A lot, as a matter of fact.’

‘How the devil would you know?’ James blustered.

‘Because she told me,’ Libby said, smiling. ‘She said how fond she had grown of you – and Harry too. He talks to Breckon about you – I’ve heard him. If you go to Shillong you’ll see him a lot, seeing as he’s at school there. A lot more than you did your own children.’

James said, ‘Do you still resent us for sending you away? I know it was particularly hard for you, Libby. It wasn’t your mother’s fault – she would have kept you here if she could. I was the one thought it would do you all good. I regret that now.’

Libby felt a pang of sadness. It confirmed her increasing awareness that her mother had not been to blame for her long, isolated years at boarding school. Tilly had suffered just as much being separated from her children – including her. Her mother’s regular, affectionate letters were proof of that.

‘It’s pointless staying resentful,’ Libby replied. ‘I’ve come to realise that. And I’m doing what I want now.’

‘You’ll be welcome in Shillong if you decide you want to do your teaching there,’ said James. ‘You know you will always have a home with me.’

She felt a wave of affection for him. ‘Thanks, Dad. But I’m going to try and make a go of it here. I’ll soon have enough put by to rent my own place. There’re a couple of Flowers’s friends who are looking for a third person to share a flat with, so I won’t be a burden to the Roys for much longer.’

James reached out and took her hand, squeezing it in his large one. For a moment he just held on to her but then he cleared his throat.

‘I wasn’t very kind about your young man,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry about that now.’

Libby felt a renewed stab of loss. ‘Ghulam?’

‘Yes, Ghulam.’ His eyes shone with pity. ‘That’s another thing your mother taught me – not to be so judgemental about people – or perhaps that was Clarrie’s doing.’

Libby’s eyes smarted. ‘I think you would have had more in common with Ghulam than either of you realised,’ she said reflectively. ‘Both single-minded about your work and both loving India with a passion. I wish you had met each other.’

James said gently, ‘Is there really no chance that he’s still alive?’

Tears flooded the back of Libby’s throat. ‘It’s my greatest wish that he is,’ she said hoarsely. ‘I will never love anyone else as much as him.’

She expected her father to come out with some comforting platitude that she was still so young and was bound to love again. But he surprised her.

‘If you loved him so much, Libby, then he must have been a good man. I too am sorry that I never met him.’

‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

He squeezed her hand. They sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Libby had never felt closer to her father than in that moment. It wasn’t the same as her childish adoration of him; it was a mature feeling of love and mutual understanding.

After a while, James raised his glass in his other hand. ‘To you, Libby,’ he said with a tender smile. ‘To my amazing, intrepid daughter!’ He finished off his drink.

Drained by the day’s events, they both went swiftly to bed. Despite the shock revelations of the past few hours, Libby slept soundly for the first time in days.