The Girl From the Tea Garden

by Janet MacLeod Trotter

  Nina stormed across the room and jabbed Adela hard with a long finger. ‘Nobody cares what you have to say. You’re just jealous that I’m going to be filmed, aren’t you? I’m the one who will be famous one day – not a little Tea Leaf from the back of beyond. So shut up, two annas!’

  Adela stared her out, not flinching from the painful jab or answering back. Just wait and see, she thought defiantly. She, not the hateful Nina, would be the star by the end of the day.

  Sam good-humouredly followed in the wake of the formidable Gertrude Black and filmed what she thought potential benefactors of the school would like to see: the gothic chapel, the hockey field, the science laboratory, with its test tubes and wallcharts, and the moderately well-stocked library.

  Norman had long got bored and disappeared off to talk to the pupils.

  ‘Don’t you think your supporters would like to see pictures of the girls engaged in their everyday life?’ Sam suggested. ‘Eating in the dining hall or playing chess in the common room – that sort of thing. I can’t do sound, but I can edit-in explanatory titles.’

  ‘Our benefactors will want to know of the good work and education – Christian education – that we give the girls at St Ninian’s. It’s not a holiday camp.’

  ‘No,’ Sam murmured, ‘I can see that.’

  She gave him a sharp look. ‘What I mean is we don’t want people to think this is some sort of finishing school. Our girls are being equipped to go out into the world to be useful young women – teachers and administrators, or at the very least intelligent wives and mothers for the Empire.’

  Sam laughed. ‘The Empire’s on its way out, surely.’

  Her look was scandalised. ‘I hope not. You’re not one of those radical young Englishmen who support the Home Rule for India lobby?’

  Sam shrugged. ‘I believe what my old dad used to say: India belongs to the Indians and we’ve just got it on loan.’

  ‘I can’t agree,’ Gertrude replied. ‘We have so much more to give India, so much good we can do – men like my brother giving unselfish service. We can’t just abandon the Indians, give up and go home.’

  Sam, seeing her flustered, said more gently, ‘We’re moving towards more self-governance for Indians, Miss Black. I believe it’s a matter of when, not if, we go. But perhaps it won’t happen in our lifetime. Things grind mightily slowly on the Brahmaputra, as my old dad also used to say.’

  ‘You seem very fond of quoting your father; do you not hold opinions of your own?’ Her stare challenged him. ‘And what are you going to give back to India, Mr Jackman, after the benefits you’ve had of a first-class imperial education?’

  He gave a rueful laugh. ‘Help you and Dr Black make a film promoting St Ninian’s.’

  Gertrude’s stern face twitched in a smile. ‘Enough of filming buildings then. You are right about showing the girls at recreation. The inter-house play competition will demonstrate how they put their knowledge of history, geography and literature into live performance. Let us go to the central hall; I suspect that’s where we’ll find my talkative brother.’

  Sam fell into step behind the headmistress. He could do with a drink. He hoped the competition wouldn’t take all afternoon and that he could make a swift departure. Nelson, who was chained up in the games shed, would not stand his confinement much longer either.

  The hall was abuzz with excited whispers and shuffling in seats as the girls in the audience awaited the series of mini tableaux and dramas to be performed. Some of the most senior girls were commandeering the front rows. Sam had set up his camera on a tripod near the front, but to the side so that he wouldn’t block the view of the smaller girls at the back. Looking through the programme of four plays plus a mystery act, he groaned inwardly, hoping he could make his escape before dark.

  ‘We’ll have to put on the hall lights I’m afraid,’ he told the Blacks. ‘There isn’t enough natural light in here.’

  ‘Not a problem.’ Norman assured. ‘Got everything else you need?’

  Sam nodded. ‘I won’t hang around afterwards – can’t leave Nelson for too long in the shed.’

  The doctor said, ‘I quite understand. I’ll come and see you in a week or so on my way up to Tezpur. Will you have the cine film developed by then?’

  ‘I’ll have to send it off to Calcutta – probably two weeks.’

  Norman clasped him on the arms. ‘Thank you for doing this, Sam. We’re most grateful.’

  ‘Let’s see how it turns out first.’ Sam gave a wry smile.

  Suddenly there was a screech behind them, and the men turned to see Nelson swinging along the backs of the chairs towards them, an impish-faced girl with a thick, dark plait clutching on to his lead, grinning.

  ‘I found Nelson the Third in the games shed,’ she panted as the monkey dragged her quickly to Sam. Nelson leapt on to his master’s shoulder, licking his cheek in delight at being reunited. ‘Someone had tied him up.’

  Sam blushed. ‘Well, yes, I did . . . Thank you . . . Er . . . should I know you? I mean, how on earth do you know Nelson?’

  Adela stared up at Sam Jackman; she should have known he’d be the man with the monkey. All the tea planters knew the steamboat captain with a flair for photography and a pet rhesus monkey. Not everyone knew that Sam had had three such pets, but Adela noticed these things.

  ‘I’m Adela Robson – Wesley and Clarrie’s daughter from Belgooree,’ she prompted. ‘Don’t you remember me? I last saw you over a year ago when I went to stay with Auntie Tilly on the Oxford Estates; she’s not my real auntie, just married to a Robson cousin.’

  ‘Of course I remember.’ Sam said with a quick smile.

  Adela felt a kick of disappointment; she could tell that he hadn’t.

  ‘Well, Nelson remembered, didn’t you, boy?’ She tickled the monkey’s chin.

  Nelson cackled and swung into her arms.

  ‘What are you doing with that creature?’ Miss Black came hurrying over. ‘He’s supposed to be outside.’

  ‘I’ll look after him, miss,’ Adela said at once. ‘He knows me.’

  ‘Aren’t you in your house play?’

  ‘No, miss.’

  ‘That surprises me,’ frowned Gertrude.

  ‘Well, if you wouldn’t mind keeping him under control,’ Sam intervened, ‘I’d be very grateful . . . er . . . Della?’

  ‘Adela,’ she corrected.

  ‘Adela,’ Sam said, smiling, ‘that would be very kind of you.’

  She grinned back. ‘Pleasure.’ She swung Nelson on to her hip.

  Sam watched her skip off to join another girl, who looked Anglo-Indian. The tall blonde pupil, who had spent the last half an hour flirting with him as he set up the camera and chatted to Dr Black, advanced on the two smaller girls. Sam couldn’t tell what was being said, but he saw the look of disdain on the blonde girl’s face as she flicked her hand at them. She was obviously telling them they couldn’t sit with her.

  Adela Robson? No, he had no real memory of her, though he knew Wesley as an experienced planter who didn’t suffer fools. Clarrie Robson was a bit of a recluse at Belgooree, but he knew Tilly Robson better. He still remembered the first time Tilly had travelled aboard their boat, over ten years ago, garrulous with nerves at meeting her new husband. He had liked her instantly, which is more than he could say for her hard-drinking, ruthless planter husband, James.

  Sam waited till Adela had settled in a seat near the back. She glanced at him with pretty dark eyes, laughing as Nelson nuzzled and nibbled her hair. Sam winked and then turned to the job of recording the plays.

  Adela and Flowers slipped out halfway through the third performance, a re-enactment of Queen Victoria being made Empress of India and a group of girls dressed as milkmaids dancing around an imaginary maypole, which Adela thought quite bizarre.

  They had left their costumes in the games shed; that’s how she’d come across Nelson the Third. She’d instantly recognised the patch of lighter-coloured fur around his left ear and the
intelligent look in his eye, and he appeared to know her even if his owner didn’t. It rankled with Adela that the handsome Sam had not recognised who she was, but then he must get hundreds of passengers every month, so why should he remember her from over a year ago?

  ‘Do you think this is a good idea?’ Flowers asked anxiously.

  ‘Course it is.’

  ‘I think we should have told the others, so they won’t get a nasty shock when they find out it’s us.’

  ‘That’s the whole point,’ said Adela. ‘They think it’s just some musical appreciation that Miss Bensham has dreamed up. I can’t wait to see the look on Nina Davidge’s face when we go on stage. We’re going to get ourselves on cine film too!’

  ‘I don’t think I can do this. There are so many people in the hall – seniors too. And Miss Black might hate it, ’cause it’s not history and serious. What if we get into trouble? I don’t want to get sent home.’

  ‘Calm down! No one’s going to get sent home. Miss Bensham will back us up – she’s going to announce us after Nina’s play. Now put your costume on.’

  Flowers reluctantly pulled on a pair of baggy trousers they’d made out of old sheets over her dancing dress and buttoned up her school blazer on top. Nelson leapt around them, snatching at their hats.

  ‘He’s excited for our performance.’ Adela laughed. ‘Come on, Flowers, put a smile on your face and let’s have some fun for a change.’

  They scurried back to the hall and went backstage. They were too early; Nina and Margie were just about to go on.

  ‘What on earth are you two doing?’ Margie hissed.

  ‘We’re the surprise act at the end,’ Adela said, delighting in Nina’s astonished look.

  Nina, dressed in a sumptuous Elizabethan costume her parents had paid to have tailor-made, gaped at them.

  ‘Come on, Nina, we’re on.’ Margie pulled her arm.

  Nina found her voice. ‘You look like a couple of tramps. I wouldn’t be seen dead dressed like that.’ She shot Flowers a pitying look. ‘I bet Adela put you up to this. Well, make a fool of yourself if you want to, but you’ll never live it down. You’ll make our house look second-rate.’

  Nelson, who was swinging on the curtain, reached out and yanked Nina’s crown.

  ‘Get him off me!’ she squealed, flapping at the monkey. ‘Give that back!’

  Nelson scampered off across the stage as the curtain went up, flinging the crown into the audience. Laughter rippled through the hall.

  ‘We should be on there,’ Margie said in agitation.

  ‘I haven’t got my crown,’ cried Nina.

  ‘Come on!’ Margie pushed her forward.

  Laughter grew as Nelson leapt across the seats and evaded capture. Adela whistled for him – a loud one through her fingers like she’d seen Sam do – and the monkey scampered backstage again and into her arms.

  Nina flung a look of loathing as she hurried on stage. Adela felt a twinge of remorse as she watched Nina’s flustered performance from the wings.

  ‘A real actress wouldn’t care if a monkey ran off with her crown,’ she whispered to Flowers. ‘A professional doesn’t need props – she just gets on with it.’

  But to stop any more antics from Nelson, she put him back on his lead, which she tied to a chair.

  The short play was over even quicker because Margie jumped a whole scene leading up to her execution by order of Queen Bess, cutting out Nina’s long, dramatic final speech. Nina stormed off to halfhearted applause.

  ‘I’ll never forgive you for this – or you, stinky Flowers.’ Nina pushed past them, eyes smarting with furious tears.

  Miss Bensham appeared in the opposite wing, where the gramophone was set up, and waved across. ‘Ready?’ she mouthed.

  Adela nodded and gave the thumbs up. Miss Bensham beamed and gave the signal for the curtains to be pulled aside again. She began announcing the final surprise act.

  ‘Two young ladies have been working hard in secret to put on an extra entertainment for you. This is not part of the competition but just for your pleasure. Let me introduce The Two Chaplins!’

  Adela’s stomach flipped. ‘Come on, Flowers, it’s us now.’ She took the girl’s hand.

  Flowers pulled away. Her face was pale with terror. She shook her head, unable to speak.

  ‘This is our big moment,’ Adela urged. ‘Don’t get cold feet now.’

  ‘I-I c-can’t,’ Flowers gasped. ‘Sorry . . .’ She turned and dashed away.

  ‘Flowers!’

  But she was gone.

  The curtains were fully opened, and Adela could hear the crackle and hiss as Miss Bensham put the first record on the gramophone, The William Tell Overture. She felt a wave of panic surge through her. The act was ruined before it started; she would be a laughing stock if she went on alone.

  Adela looked round in desperation. Nelson. She rushed across and untied the monkey’s lead. ‘Now’s your big chance at stardom.’

  She waddled onstage Charlie Chaplin style, turning a hockey stick in place of a walking cane and holding Nelson on his lead. Miss Bensham was looking aghast from the other wing. There was laughter from the hall as Nelson tried to grab the stick and imitate Adela. She improvised, speeding up their act in time to the music and allowing Nelson to chase her around the stage. She tripped over his lead, banging her knee hard, but the audience roared with laughter, so she did it again on purpose.

  The record finished and the girls applauded and cheered. Nelson clapped them back. Miss Bensham was so bemused she forgot to put on the second record. Adela did an exaggerated waddle across and reminded her.

  As ragtime music blared out, Adela began to shed her comic clothing: blazer, hockey boots, baggy trousers. Each time Nelson scampered after her, trying to put them on or hurling them over his head. The youngest girls laughed until they were crying. Adela, now clad in a skimpy flapper’s dress (made out of an old petticoat and fringes from a lampshade), tossed off her hat, and her long, unbound wavy hair fell about her shoulders. She danced and kicked her legs for all she was worth, knowing that the monkey would mimic her. She picked him up and waltzed around the stage, unable to keep the grin off her face at the giggling beyond.

  Then abruptly it died away as the headmistress marched to the front and ordered the curtains to be closed. Her face was thunderous. She hissed at Miss Bensham to stop the music. Adela came to a standstill, Nelson still cavorting across the stage. The giggling audience, hands clapped over mouths, disappeared from Adela’s view as the curtain fell.

  Miss Black’s commanding voice could be heard addressing the hall just feet away.

  ‘This is no laughing matter. I would not have allowed such a spectacle if I had known the content of the surprise entertainment. Quite inappropriate. I hope our honoured guests will not think this sort of thing usually goes on at St Ninian’s. Now, we will have a ten-minute interval while Dr Black and I decide which play we deemed the best in both content and delivery. And I think you will agree what a high standard we have seen here this afternoon – beautiful costumes and stirring patriotic words. Then Dr Black will present the winner with the Inter-House Drama Cup.’

  Adela caught Miss Bensham’s horrified look. They were both in trouble. A moment later Miss Black was stalking backstage, face puce with fury.

  ‘What an unseemly performance,’ she said, glaring. ‘Miss Bensham, I can’t imagine what you were thinking of allowing this.’

  ‘I thought it was just some dancing—’

  ‘I shall deal with you later.’ She turned on Adela. ‘Look at you, dressed like some sleazy cabaret act! And cavorting about with that monkey. Are you deliberately trying to provoke me? You’ve brought this school into disrepute. How ashamed I feel in front of Dr Black. Have you anything to say for yourself?’

  Adela stared back in bewilderment; she thought she had given the performance of her life. How could she have misjudged the situation so badly? Flowers had been right to be afraid of their headmistress: the woman was
stuck in Victorian times.

  ‘I suppose I should go and give Nelson back,’ she mumbled.

  ‘Nelson?’ Miss Black snapped.

  ‘The monkey – I should give him back to Mr Jackman.’

  ‘Miss Bensham will do that,’ the headmistress ordered. ‘You will put some clothes on.’ She pointed at the stage door. ‘Now, get out of my sight. I shall be informing your parents of this.’

  Adela bundled Nelson into Miss Bensham’s arms – the house mother looked stricken – and grabbed at her pile of discarded clothes. Then she fled from the stage, stumbling down the outside steps, numb and humiliated.

  Sam dumped his camera equipment on the seat beside him and drove off into a purplish dusk, leaving behind a frosty-faced Gertrude Black and a waving Norman. He probably hadn’t improved the situation by saying he thought the Robson girl was rather a good dancer and wasn’t it brave of her to go on stage alone?

  Nelson, at least, had had the time of his life and was still leaping around the open-topped car, overexcited from all the attention. As Sam bumped away down the school drive and headed thankfully for home, he hoped Adela wasn’t in too much trouble. Knowing Norman, he was sure the kind doctor would persuade his sister to show some Christian mercy, if not forgiveness.

  Sam found himself whistling the Charleston as he drove through the scented pines leading away from Shillong. A glorious sunset was blazing in the west beyond the treetops as they rattled over the hill road.

  ‘Settle down, Nelson,’ Sam said, trying to calm his companion, but the monkey wouldn’t sit still for a second. He screeched and grabbed Sam around the neck.

  Eventually Sam stopped the car and turned sternly to his pet. ‘I can’t drive with you in this state. What on earth is the matter with you?’

  The monkey hopped over the back seat and squatted on the boot. He began drumming his hands on the metal and screaming. Sam got out of the car and circled it, wondering if there was a tyre going flat or if something had got stuck under the chassis that was making Nelson agitated. It was too dark to see under the car, so he went and fetched a torch from the front shelf. Still the monkey squealed and banged on the boot.