Page 57 of The Secrets of the Tea Garden

The thought startled Libby. Perhaps she did care what Tilly thought of her after all.

‘Would you like to come with me to bridge at the Percy-Barratts’ later, dear?’ Helena asked. ‘You look like you need cheering up.’

This galvanised Libby, who stood up. ‘Thanks Auntie, but I’ve got plans.’

‘Seeing any more of George Brewis?’

‘Maybe later,’ Libby said vaguely.

‘They’re such fun, the Strachan’s men, aren’t they?’ Helena said. ‘In my day, one rather looked down on box-wallahs as marriage material, but perhaps we were the fools. They’re the ones with the money and a future here. It’s we army types who will have to go.’

Libby scrutinised her aunt. Something in her tone belied the flippant words.

‘Auntie, are you worried about what will happen?’ Libby asked.

Helena glanced out at the veranda where her father sat snoozing. ‘Yes, I worry. I can’t imagine ever leaving – I think it would kill Papa– but it will never be the same again. So many of our friends are talking seriously now of going home – people who have been here a lifetime. It’s so unsettling.’

Libby reached out and put a hand on Helena’s shoulder. ‘I know, it doesn’t seem fair, does it, when you’ve lived here all your life.’

‘That’s it,’ Helena said, her voice wavering. ‘It’s all so unfair.’

‘But then that’s how the Indians have felt about us being here,’ Libby said as gently as she could. ‘British rule has been unfair to them for too long.’

Helena gave her a sharp look. ‘I suppose that’s what your friend MrKhan says, is it? That the Indians have been put upon? But does he ever stop to think what we British – generations of British – have given to India?’

‘He would argue that we have taken a lot more than we’ve given,’ said Libby. ‘And I think he would be right.’

Helena stiffened. Libby dropped her hand.

‘Well, I must get ready for bridge.’ Helena stalked off.

Libby felt bad about upsetting her aunt but she had only spoken the truth.

After an afternoon of aimless wandering around the Maidan, making half-hearted sketches, Libby found herself outside Amelia Buildings as the sun was going down. Perhaps deep-down she had always intended coming here, hoping to bump into Ghulam. Her stomach knotted with nerves. What would she say to him? What if he should rebuff her and send her away? She screwed up her courage; if she didn’t act now, she would never know what Ghulam really thought of her. She entered the building. If the Khans were out, she would leave a note inviting them to have tea in town – perhaps at the Kwality Café or Firpo’s.

Sitara answered the door with a welcoming smile. Fatima was making ready to go out. There was no sign of Ghulam.

‘You’ve just caught me,’ said the doctor. ‘I’m sorry – I wish I’d known you were coming ...’

‘No, it’s me who’s sorry,’ said Libby. ‘I know I should have sent a note but I was just passing. I’ve been sketching on the Maidan.’

‘Alone?’ Fatima gave her a look of concern.

‘Yes.’

‘You must take care,’ Fatima warned. ‘Do your aunt and uncle know where you are?’

‘Not exactly. They’ll assume I’m with George or Flowers.’ Libby smothered an impatient sigh. ‘But I can look after myself.’

Fatima gave her a long look and then nodded. ‘Of course you can. So you’ve delayed going to Assam? How is your father?’

‘Needing more rest,’ said Libby. ‘I’m at a bit of a loose end until I know what he wants me to do.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Fatima. ‘Would you like to talk about it?’

‘Thanks, but I mustn’t make you late. Perhaps I could call another evening?’

‘Well, if you’re sure?’