Page 76 of The Secrets of the Tea Garden

James woke briefly as his daughter departed, then fell back into a fitful sleep.

He was standing in Bill Logan’s study at Dunsapie Cottage. The start of the cold season was bringing relief after the sweltering monsoon but James still found the room stifling and airless. The rest of the house was crammed with new furniture, china and glassware for Logan’s future wife.

‘I’ll be gone for a month,’ said Logan, ‘so you will be in charge of the running of my bungalow. Make sure the servants don’t cheat me or steal.’

James felt relief that his boss would be gone until Christmas. Perhaps he and Reggie might take a few days off to go onshikarnow that the tea growing season was over. The experienced tea planter Fairfax, who was an expert in tracking tigers, had promised to take the young bachelors game hunting. James could hardly hide his impatience at seeing the back of Logan for a while. And perhaps the man would become more bearable once he was married and responsible for a wife. The new century would bring fresh beginnings, James thought with optimism.

‘And one more thing,’ Logan said, pouring them both a whisky. ‘You will make sure that native woman is gone by the time I bring Jessie Anderson back. I can’t risk my young wife being subjected to one of her crying fits. It might lead to awkward questions.’

James’s insides turned leaden. ‘Aruna is still coming to the bungalow?’ he asked in dismay. On the few occasions he had spotted her among the pickers, she had looked sallow and forlorn, but he’d been at a loss as to how to comfort her.

For a moment Logan looked uncomfortable. ‘I have been too weak with her,’ he said, ‘allowing her to come to – er – visit on the odd occasion.’

James looked at him, appalled. Surely his boss had not resumed taking the tea picker into his bed. Had he not caused the hapless woman enough grief by fathering the Brat and then having him disposed of like an unwanted dog?

‘Don’t give me that insubordinate look, Robson,’ Logan snapped. ‘A man has physical needs.’

James couldn’t trust himself to speak.

‘But she’s becoming tiresome,’ said Logan. ‘Making a scene every time she has to leave. I think it’s something to do with the Brat. You can deal with it – you’re better with the natives than I am. Make her understand that the boy is in good hands now.’

Logan handed him a tumbler of whisky. James felt nauseous at the smell.

‘Come on, drink your dram,’ said Logan. ‘You look like a condemned man. I’m the one who is giving up my freedom, not you.’ He laughed and knocked back his drink.

James hesitated and then put his tumbler down on the desk. ‘Stomach’s not up to drinking at midday, sir. But I wish you well for your forthcoming marriage to Miss Anderson.’

Logan gave him a look of disdain. ‘You’ll soon discover, Robson, that whisky cures most ailments out here in Assam. Only men with strong constitutions, who don’t allow their feelings to rule them, survive life in the colonies.’

James made for the door.

‘Just remember,’ Logan called after him. ‘I want that native girl kept away from here. Do what you have to do.’

James nearly choked on the bile in his throat. He couldn’t get away from the bungalow quickly enough. Poor Jessie Anderson coming to live here with that man!

As he ran down the veranda steps, he caught sight of Sunil Ram sitting cross-legged, staring up at him with accusing eyes. Somewhere in the shadows beyond he thought he heard whimpering. A puppy, no doubt. James hurried away ...

James woke with a start. Someone was shaking him. He raised a hand to ward them off, ready to punch with his other.

‘Aruna?’ he gasped. The young woman was standing there, her dark hair curling around her face.

‘MrRobson, it’s me, Flowers Dunlop. You’ve been having a nightmare.’ She spoke in a soft reassuring voice. ‘I didn’t want you to wake Libby.’

He gaped at her. Where was he? His heart beat erratically and his palms were sweating. His head felt as if it were clamped in a vice.

‘Shall I help you to bed?’ asked Flowers.

James realised with a flood of relief that he was on the veranda at Cheviot View. The dream of Logan and Dunsapie Cottage had been so vivid that for a moment, on waking, he had mistaken Libby’s friend for someone else.

‘I’m sorry if I woke you,’ he said. ‘Was – was I shouting? Aslam complains that I shout in my sleep.’

‘I think you were crying,’ said Flowers.

He felt embarrassed under her dark assessing look. ‘Crying? What nonsense.’

Flowers took a step away. ‘Perhaps I was mistaken. But you must be uncomfortable in the chair. Wouldn’t you sleep better in bed?’

James sighed. ‘I can’t sleep in there. Too stuffy. Fan’s been broken since the War.’

He wasn’t going to tell her that he’d promised himself he would fix it once Tilly came back to him. Neither was it any of this woman’s business that he found the dark shuttered bedroom too oppressive. He feared most the dreams he had in there. He thought the time at Belgooree had cured him of his nightmares. It was just that he had drunk too much alcohol, nervous at having people under his roof again after all this time. He would curb his drinking, at least while Libby was here.

He had a hot wave of panic. How long was his daughter going to stay here with her Anglo-Indian friend? He had been eager to see Libby but now he wasn’t so sure. Perhaps Tilly had been right when she had warned that their daughter was difficult to live with, rebelliousand opinionated. Would he be able to love her again? James felt ill. He shivered, even though it wasn’t cold.

‘I’m fine,’ he said. ‘Please go back to bed, Miss Dunlop. I’m sorry I disturbed you.’

She left and he closed his eyes. A minute later, she was back, tucking a thin blanket around him.

‘My father’s the same.’ Flowers smiled. ‘Sits up too late and falls asleep. I’ll see you in the morning, MrRobson.’

James murmured his thanks but she was already padding away on bare feet. His eyes itched with tiredness. He rubbed them with the heels of his hands. He pulled his hands away, surprised to find them wet with tears. Dread clawed inside. He didn’t want to fall asleep again. He didn’t want to dream. James sat up in the chair and threw off the blanket. He would force himself to stay awake until dawn.