Page 32 of The Secrets of the Tea Garden

When she said nothing, Ghulam gave a twitch of a smile. ‘Don’t you think you’ll find the Britisher clubs rather dull and empty once most of your fellow memsahibs have retired back to England?’

Libby flashed back. ‘They’re not the most interesting of places whether full of memsahibs or not. I shan’t miss them.’

‘Good reply,’ said Fatima with a wry smile. ‘Don’t let my brother tease you. He’s terrible for getting on his high horse.’ She shot her brother a warning look, adding, ‘I’m sure Libby will find something useful to do. There will be a great need for forward-thinking women in the new India.’

Ghulam reached for a sweet from the bowl.

‘Ah, real Scottish toffees!’ he said, with a child-like glee that surprised Libby. ‘The best thing to come out of Britain apart from cricket.’ He unwrapped it and put it in his mouth.

Libby sipped her tea and watched him warily as he chewed, his jaws working hard to soften the toffee. She sensed a deep anger in him; no doubt he disapproved of his sister inviting one of the despised Britishers into his home. And yet Sam and Adela had spoken of him with liking and admiration, so he must have been friendly towards them. She persevered.

‘So are you supporters of Congress or the Muslim League?’ asked Libby.

Ghulam raised an eyebrow. ‘Someone has been doing her homework.’

Fatima said, ‘Congress. I want a united India.’

‘Neither,’ said Ghulam. ‘As a radical socialist I’m suspicious of the way Congress is pandering to militant Hindus in order to win support. It’s a dangerous game. The new India must be secular; I voted with the communists.’

‘So neither of you agrees with the Muslim League?’ asked Libby.

‘No,’ said Ghulam. ‘I understand their fears but disagree with their demands. To divide the Punjab and Bengal from India as they suggest would be disastrous; India must stay as one country.’

‘But you are both Muslim,’ said Libby, ‘and would be in a minority. Doesn’t that worry you?’

His eyes glittered. ‘We are Indians first. We have as much right to live here as anyone. Religion shouldn’t come into it.’

‘Not all of our family agrees,’ said Fatima, her look suddenly sombre. ‘Our father is a member of the League in the Punjab.’

Ghulam was scathing. ‘He is just keeping in with what is popular in Lahore to ensure his business is safe. He’s just like Jinnah – enjoys the good things in life too much to be devout.’

‘You shouldn’t speak about our father like that,’ Fatima reproved him.

Ghulam said dryly, ‘I’m sure it’s nothing to the things he’s said about me over the years.’

‘Don’t you see your family in Lahore any more?’ asked Libby.

Fatima shook her head. ‘I went home briefly when our mother died just before the War but not since. They’ve never understood why I wanted to be a doctor more than get married. Rafi was the only one who always stuck up for me – and he’s the only one Ghulam and I are still in contact with.’

‘Family are not as important as comrades,’ said Ghulam. ‘When the Britishers throw you in prison, that’s when you know who your true friends are.’

Libby gave him an assessing look. ‘But Adela said it was Rafi and the Rajah of Gulgat who helped get you released from prison,’ said Libby. She was gratified when she saw him blush slightly.

‘I was due to be released anyway,’ he answered, glancing away. ‘But I count Rafi among my friends.’

‘Even though he fraternises with thesahib-log?’ Libby couldn’t resist provoking him.

‘Those days will soon be over,’ Ghulam said, his eyes flashing, ‘and Rafi will have to do his bit for the new India – unless his wife takes him back to Scotland.’

‘I can’t see Sophie doing that,’ said Libby. ‘She has no family left there. And is Sophie not just as entitled to stay in India as you or Rafi? She was born here and has spent all her adult life here.’

‘Of course she is,’ said Fatima. ‘She is Rafi’s wife.’

Ghulam gave an impatient sigh. ‘It doesn’t matter what a handful of Britishers and privileged Indians think or do,’ he said. ‘It’s the millions of ordinary Indians whose voices must be heard.’ He swung off his seat and stood up. ‘Do you know the conditions that most workers in Calcutta endure, day in and day out? The men in the jute mills, for instance? They come from the countryside to find work – but even if they slave all day they never earn enough to pay the high rents or feed their families. That is the legacy that you Britishers are leaving us. That is what Congress and the League should be discussing – how we makeIndia a more equal society – not turning against each other and dividing up the spoils!’

He plunged his hands into his pockets and strode to the window.

‘I agree with you,’ said Libby.