Page 82 of The Secrets of the Tea Garden

‘Nothing much,’ she said. ‘Do you know what could be worrying him in particular, Aslam?’

The servant glanced away. ‘I cannot say. But it is a bad place. I do not like Manzur living there.’

‘I wouldn’t live there if you paid me,’ said Flowers.

‘For goodness’ sake,’ Libby hissed, ‘you’re all over-reacting. It’s just an old bungalow.’

‘I don’t think I’m over-reacting,’ Flowers said. ‘But whether I am or not, your father needs medical help.’

‘Shall I call for DrAttar?’ Aslam asked.

Libby shook her head. ‘No point dragging him out at this time of night just ’cause Dad’s had a bad dream. I’ll sit with him till the morning. When he’s awake we can decide what to do.’

‘I’ll sit up with you,’ said Flowers.

‘There’s no need – you go back to bed.’

‘No,’ said Flowers, ‘I’m a nurse: let me help.’

James was in a buoyant mood; two days ago he had shot his first tiger. A clean shot through the neck and a follow-up bullet between the eyes. An oldtiger, admittedly, but it had still taken skill to track and kill it. Fairfax told him that the taxidermist would be able to repair the damage to the head and it would make a prized trophy on the sitting room wall at Cheviot View.

He was sauntering out of the office for tiffin when he saw a commotion at the gates. Someone was remonstrating with the guard. Hurrying over, James was surprised to see thepunkah-wallahfrom Dunsapie Cottage.

‘What’s all this fuss about?’ he demanded.

‘Please, sahib, come!’ Sunil Ram pleaded. ‘Oh, master ...!’

James’s stomach clenched at the look of distress on the man’s face. ‘What’s wrong, man?’

The servant gabbled so rapidly in Hindustani that James couldn’t comprehend him. But the beseeching tone he did understand.

‘Very well,’ said James, ‘wait here.’

He doubled back and ordered asyceto fetch his pony. In a few days Logan would be back with his new bride and James could hand over responsibility for the burra bungalow once and for all. There would be a mistress in charge and no need for him to be summoned like a lackey by the bullying Logan to do his distasteful bidding. As James made his way to Dunsapie Cottage he thought with satisfaction how he had impressed on Aruna that her son was being well cared for but in future she must stay away from Logan sahib. A brisk talking-to was all that was needed. He was discovering from old hands like Fairfax how best to deal with their workers. ‘Firm but fair. Just like with children. That’s how to get the best out of them. No need for cruelty.’

The bungalow was strangely quiet. Even though the master was away, James still expected to see and hear servants about the place – amalior a sweeper. Not even a dog barked. The burra bungalow seemed deserted.

Sunil Ram came dashing past him, panting from running all the way from the office compound. He got to the bungalow steps and stopped. James dismounted and came up behind.

‘Well, what is the matter?’

To James’s irritation, the man would go no further. He pointed into the house and moaned. Perhaps some wild animal had found its way into the house and the servants had fled in fear. He drew out his pistol and climbed the steps.

There was nothing on the veranda to cause alarm. He ventured inside. The cool tiled floor and darkened interior made him give an involuntary shiver. But there was nothing untoward. James crossed the sitting room and opened the door to Logan’s study. He waited while his eyes grew accustomed to the gloom. All was silent. He walked behind the desk and, throwing open the shutters, looked round warily. There was nothing.

He let out a sigh of relief. Sunil Ram would feel his wrath if this was a fuss about nothing. James strode back across the central room and flung open the opposite door. Realising it was Logan’s bedroom, he hesitated. He could see the outline of the large bed draped in nets. He walked in. It was the smell that hit him first. James stopped in his tracks. Confusion gave way to disbelief and then horror. His chest went tight. He couldn’t breathe ...

James cried out.

‘It’s me – Libby. You’re okay. Dad, you’re okay.’

James was still in the grip of his nightmare. He could still see ... He shuddered in fear. But the spectre was receding. He wasn’t inside that terrible room after all. He was on his own veranda in the early dawn. With Libby. James gulped for breath. His heart palpitated. He was close to tears. The relief.

‘Libby?’ he gasped.

‘Yes, it’s me,’ she reassured him, squeezing his hand.

‘Oh, Libby ...’