Page 86 of The Secrets of the Tea Garden

Flowers grinned. ‘Perhaps. He is very charming. Not that he’s interested in a half-half like me.’

‘Don’t say that,’ Libby said. ‘Manzur’s not prejudiced.’

‘Maybe not,’ said Flowers, ‘but our communities are. Daddy would hate the idea of me fraternising with an Indian – and Manzur’s parents will no doubt have a good Muslim wife picked out for him.’

Libby slipped her arm through her friend’s and continued their stroll across the lawn. ‘Things are changing fast. It might not always be like that. Our generation will be different.’

Flowers asked, ‘Are you still holding out hope for the handsome Ghulam?’

Libby’s heart jumped at his mention. She had confided her feelings to Flowers on one of the hot afternoons they had spent aimlessly flicking through books and lounging on the veranda at Cheviot View. He was rarely out of her thoughts but she knew it was fruitless to hanker after him; her love was unrequited.

‘Not really,’ Libby said. ‘He doesn’t feel the same way about me.’

‘I think you’re wrong,’ said Flowers. ‘The night of your party he couldn’t keep his eyes off you.’

Libby reddened. ‘You’re just saying that to be kind.’

‘Not at all – I’m good at observing people and I think Ghulam finds you very attractive. Not just that, but he’s the sort of man whowouldn’t bother being friends with a woman unless he found them interesting too.’

‘Thank you for saying that.’ Libby gave a wistful smile. ‘But even if he does, he won’t act on it – I’m still one of the despised British. He will never let such a relationship develop. His sister warned me off too – didn’t want me to get hurt.’

Flowers gave her arm an encouraging squeeze. ‘What was that you were just saying about things changing? Be optimistic. And carry on being who you are, Libby, whatever men like Ghulam think. Don’t let others define you. Your cousin Adela taught me that. She stood up to the bullies at our school and didn’t change who she was to fit in with them. She showed me how to be brave and I’ll always be grateful to her for that.’

Before Flowers’s early morning departure, she gave Libby an envelope.

‘If you get the chance to go into Shillong, then these are the details that I know of Dad’s schooling. But don’t feel you have to.’

‘If I can, I will,’ promised Libby.

‘And if you ever need somewhere to stay in Calcutta,’ said Flowers, ‘then you are always welcome in our home.’

‘Thanks.’ Libby hugged her. ‘You’ve been so helpful and understanding. And I hope I’ll get back to Calcutta soon – when Dad’s feeling better.’

‘Write to him,’ Flowers said in a soft voice that the others couldn’t hear.

‘To who?’

‘Ghulam, of course. It’s sometimes easier to say things in writing. The worst that can happen is that he doesn’t reply.’

Libby was startled by the idea. She still treasured the amusing, friendly letter that Ghulam had written to her in Calcutta offering toshow her the city. She had read it so many times it was in danger of falling to bits. How she would love to hear from him again! Yet she doubted he would want to write to her so she shrugged off the suggestion.

‘Don’t worry about me. I’m not the kind to pine away over a man.’

Flowers laughed. ‘No, I’ve noticed. Shall I give your regards to George if I see him?’

‘Regards, yes, but nothing more.’ Libby grinned. ‘I’m still fond of him even though he doesn’t deserve it. But don’t tell him that.’

It was true that she still felt something for the pleasure-seeking George Brewis, but it wasn’t as strong as her feelings for Ghulam. Best to put them both out of her mind. It looked like she would be at Belgooree for some time and it was her father who needed her attention. That was her priority.

Libby felt sorry waving Flowers away – she had enjoyed her company – but felt a tinge of relief too. Her father seemed to have been on edge having Flowers around. Libby hoped fervently that his health would repair more quickly in the tranquil surroundings of Belgooree – and that she would get her old dad back.

Libby breathed in the cool scented air of the dawn. Her spirits lifted. Her mother had loved coming here; there was something very special about this place. She turned and walked back to the bungalow, glad that she wasn’t leaving just yet.