Page 81 of The Secrets of the Tea Garden

‘That noise,’ said Libby. ‘Did it wake you too?’

‘I haven’t been asleep,’ whispered Flowers. ‘But he wakes me every night with his crying.’

‘Who does?’

‘Your father.’

‘What?’ Libby exclaimed.

‘He sits on the veranda and doesn’t go to bed.’ Flowers reached for her dressing gown. ‘Haven’t you heard him before? He shouts and cries in his sleep. I’ve tried to get him to go to bed but he won’t. I think it’s the whisky giving him nightmares – or maybe it’s memories of the War.’

Libby was aghast. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I’ve wanted to but he asked me not to.’

Libby hurried outside to the veranda, Flowers at her heels. Her father was standing gripping the veranda railing and talking to someone, his voice pleading but his words incoherent. For an instant, Libby thought he was remonstrating with one of the servants, but the veranda was deserted.

She went to him. ‘Dad ...’

He swung round at her touch, confusion on his perspiring face.

‘No, no,’ he gasped. ‘Don’t let her!’

‘Dad, it’s me, Libby. You’re all right.’

But he was staring beyond her, raw fear on his face. ‘Get her away! Tell her to go!’

Libby glanced round to see that it was Flowers he was looking at. Libby felt a wave of shame at her father’s rudeness.

‘It’s Flowers – my friend,’ said Libby.

James started babbling again.

‘He doesn’t see us,’ said Flowers. ‘He’s sleepwalking. We must be careful with him.’ She came forward and took him gently by the arm. ‘Come on, MrRobson. Come and sit down and rest.’

He seemed to respond to her soothing voice. Flowers and Libby coaxed him back into his chair.

‘Shouldn’t we try and get him to bed?’ whispered Libby.

‘He won’t go,’ said Flowers. ‘He’s frightened of falling asleep indoors.’

As they settled him, Aslam appeared, looking sleepy but anxious.

‘Thechowkidarwoke me, Missy-Mem’,’ he said. ‘Is sahib having nightmares again?’

‘So you know about them?’ asked Libby.

Aslam nodded. ‘For a long time he is having bad dreams.’

Libby put a protective hand on her father’s head. He was murmuring but calm. ‘He’s fine now,’ she said.

‘He’s not fine,’ said Flowers. ‘Your father’s mind is disturbed.’

Libby’s insides tensed; she didn’t want to believe he could be mentally ill. ‘It was all that silly talk about The Lodge being haunted that upset him,’ Libby said firmly. ‘I should never have brought up the subject.’

‘The Lodge, memsahib? What has sahib been saying?’

Libby’s heart lurched at the bearer’s anxious expression.