The Girl From the Tea Garden

by Janet MacLeod Trotter

  ‘Well,’ Adela said and gave a dry smile, ‘doesn’t sound much like Tommy – except he could probably bash out a tune on the guitar. He’s great on the piano.’

  Sophie laughed. ‘If he’s been a good friend to you, I’d be happy to have a brother like Tommy.’

  Adela turned the conversation to Jay, unburdening herself to Sophie. ‘I’m in love with him and I thought he was with me, but I’ve heard nothing since all that Nerikot business. Has he said anything to you about me?’

  Sophie shook her head. ‘He’s been up at the old palace since he came back, so I’ve hardly seen him. Stourton has told him to keep his head down. Jay and Rita argue whenever he’s at the new palace; Rafi tries not to interfere. From what Rafi can gather from Stourton, the Simla authorities are backing the Raja of Nerikot – a case of self-defence against armed communists. If that’s the case, Jay will be able to go where he wants again, and I imagine it won’t be hanging around Gulgat.’

  ‘What a relief that would be if the Raja and Jay are cleared.’

  ‘Rafi is more worried about Ghulam. Fatima told him everything in the letter you brought from her. But Ghulam cares nothing for his own safety.’

  Adela told her aunt about the incident at the Sipi Fair and how she’d seen Sam push Ghulam out of harm’s way.

  ‘I think Sam Jackman saved him from being caught by the police, but landed himself in a terrible mess. Goodness knows what Sam’s doing now.’

  Sophie stroked Adela’s hair. ‘You were fond of Sam, weren’t you?’

  ‘Very,’ Adela admitted. She didn’t want to think of Sam; it made her sad and angry and aching inside. ‘But it’s Jay I love now. I just want to see him again to find out . . . Can you get Rafi to invite him on shikar?’

  ‘Adela, you worry me.’

  ‘Please!’

  ‘You know it can’t come to anything even if Jay loves you back.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘He’s already betrothed to another – has been since he was twelve. They’re not married yet – she’s in East Bengal – but it’s just a matter of time. Surely you knew?’

  Adela felt punched in the stomach. Betrothed? Why had he never told her? He’d asked her to marry him! She’d believed it could be possible.

  ‘No, he said we could be together.’

  ‘Oh, that wretched boy,’ Sophie said angrily. ‘He was leading you on.’

  Adela thought she was going to be sick. She got up from the garden bench, gasping for breath and retching.

  ‘Adela, darling,’ Sophie said, rising, ‘are you all right?’

  Adela croaked, ‘No, I must—’ She ran across the lawn and down the drive and didn’t stop until she was hidden in tea bushes. She crumpled to her knees and sobbed out her pain.

  She spent the next day in bed with stomach cramps. She didn’t know what her parents and the Khans were saying, but she could hear hushed conversation beyond her room and knew they were talking about her. Perhaps Sophie was telling of her humiliation at being led on by Jay. At least she had stopped herself from telling Sophie that she had lost her virginity to the prince; she would keep that secret to the grave. How stupid she felt. He was deceitful! She was furious with him. But she couldn’t banish his handsome face; it was there whenever she closed her eyes, and her sleep was disturbed with dreams of him.

  The Khans left. To Adela’s relief, no one mentioned Jay, so perhaps Sophie hadn’t told her parents about her foolish infatuation. She emerged to sit listlessly on the veranda. Harry annoyed her with his boisterousness, clambering over her and twanging her with a rubber band he said was his catapult.

  ‘Perhaps we should call off the shikar,’ Wesley suggested. ‘If you’re not feeling up to it.’

  He looked so disappointed that Adela roused herself. ‘You mustn’t do that. I’ll be okay. Just a tummy bug.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Of course I am.’ She forced a smile. ‘I’m really looking forward to it.’

  Wesley brightened and kissed the top of her head. ‘So am I, my darling.’

  Three days later Wesley and Adela were waved away by Clarrie and Harry – the latter tearful at being left behind – and drove to Gulgat. The temperature soared as they descended from the misty pine-covered Khassia Hills to the undulating jungle and river valleys of Gulgat. They stuck to the leather seats in the humid air; the sky pulsed with heat and reduced the vivid green of bamboo and banana trees to shimmering grey.

  Adela revelled in having her father to herself – it seemed an age since they had done anything together without her mother or Harry – and he was in high spirits too, singing ‘Tea for Two’ at the top of his voice.

  On the journey they talked of many things: childhood anecdotes of Wesley teaching her to shoot partridge; raising orphaned tiger cub Molly; going to see a troupe of gypsies perform in Shillong on her third birthday.

  ‘It’s one of my very first memories,’ said Adela. ‘I wanted to be a tightrope walker and dance in the sky – it seemed like magic to me.’

  ‘You were terrified of the fire-eaters.’ Wesley chuckled. ‘Hid inside my jacket till they stopped.’

  ‘I thought they were hurting themselves – I still don’t understand how they do that.’ She smiled in bemusement.

  ‘There wasn’t much that made you afraid.’

  ‘I never felt any real fear because you were always there to protect me. And you’ve always stuck up for me, even when I made things difficult – like running away from school. I know I wasn’t a very obedient child. You must have despaired at times.’

  ‘Never! You have my single-mindedness and your mother’s big heart – it’s a powerful combination. Your mother and I wouldn’t want you to be any other way. It doesn’t matter what you do: you’re the joy of our lives.’

  Adela felt a wave of gratitude and leant across to kiss his craggy cheek. ‘Thanks, Dad. I wouldn’t want any other parents but you two.’

  He gave her a tender smile. After a few moments he asked, ‘Did we do the right thing in sending you to Simla? You have been happy there, haven’t you?’

  ‘Most of the time very happy,’ she assured. ‘Aunt Fluffy was the most amazing guardian – firm with me, but always interested in what I was doing and introducing me to some of the best people in Simla. I don’t mean the heaven-born, who think they are the best because they hold the top jobs in government; I mean people like Dr Fatima, Sundar Singh and Boz, who became real friends. And I loved St Mary’s and acting at the theatre and going into the hills with Fatima’s clinic.’

  Wesley glanced over. ‘And seeing young Sam Jackman? For a while your letters were full of him.’

  Adela felt her heart squeeze at his name. ‘Yes, and Sam.’ She found herself telling him all about her time at the mission and riding out with Sam to see the Gaddi nomads and the awful confrontation at the Sipi Fair.

  Wesley put a hand on her knee and gave a comforting squeeze. ‘I’m sorry if he’s messed things up for himself again. I like Jackman, but he seems a troubled soul. And I’m sorry if you were holding out hope for him and you. I wouldn’t have objected.’

  Adela’s eyes prickled with sudden tears.

  ‘So he was the man who broke your heart?’ asked Wesley. ‘The reason why you came home sooner than planned? Sophie said that someone let you down.’

  Her heart jolted. She shook her head. ‘No, that was someone else.’

  ‘Are you going to tell me who?’

  ‘I’d rather not.’

  ‘Well, damn him,’ Wesley said fiercely. ‘We’ll not talk about it. You and I are going to have the best few days’ shikar ever, and to blazes with wretched young men who break my daughter’s heart! What do you say, darling girl?’

  Adela flicked a tear from her cheek. ‘I say that’s the best tonic a girl could have,’ she said, laughing, ‘to go on shikar with her dad.’

  At that moment she made up her mind to put the affair with Jay behind her. She had been just as foolish and selfish in her
desires as he had. But she was determined to get over him. And for the next few days she was going to enjoy life with her father and Uncle Rafi.

  To Adela’s relief they were not going to the palace but meeting the Raja and his party at the camping ground on a clearing by the river. They drove past work gangs of men and women lifting rocks from the riverbed – the Raja’s wealth was partly based on stone sold for building and milling – then afterwards the road deteriorated into a rutted track. Wesley parked up, thankful they had avoided a puncture. Rafi greeted them, linking his arm through Adela’s and giving it a squeeze.

  ‘Bearing up okay?’ he murmured with an anxious smile.

  ‘Fine, thanks,’ said Adela, embarrassed but grateful for his concern.

  She gasped at the magnificent tents furnished with carpets, tables and chairs for dining and proper beds for her and Wesley, with a dressing table and mirror and a tin bath behind a curtain for private bathing. To her amusement the Raja and Rafi preferred canvas camp beds and washing in the river.

  ‘Part of the enjoyment of being on shikar,’ Kishan said smiling, ‘is to get away from all the pomp of the palace.’

  Adela remembered the Raja from early childhood and liked him enormously. He was kind and patient and good-looking, though she thought how he had aged since last seeing him: his brow was scored with worry lines.

  ‘The shikaris have been out looking for tracks,’ he told them as they ate a dinner of curried vegetables, roast fowl and saffron rice. ‘Two days ago they spotted pugmarks in the sand further upriver. They’re certain the pair have retreated into the ravine – a boar was found half-eaten up there.’

  Rafi said, ‘We can go so far by elephant, but not if they’re in a narrow side ravine – we’ll just have to tempt them out with bait.’

  ‘Not with humans,’ joked the Raja, ‘so don’t look so worried, Miss Robson.’

  They got up before dawn and had chota hazri of tea and toast. Just as they were about to set off on the elephants, the noise of a car engine disturbed the quiet, and lights came flooding over the hill.

  ‘Ah, this will be Stourton,’ said Kishan, ‘in the nick of time.’

  In the light of the kerosene lamps, two men climbed from the Resident’s car: Stourton and another more familiar figure. Adela tensed as the second man strolled towards them.

  ‘Sanjay!’ the Raja cried.

  ‘Uncle,’ Jay greeted him respectfully. ‘It’s a good job Stourton told me about the hunt. Wouldn’t have wanted to miss it for anything.’

  ‘I assumed Rafi had,’ said Kishan, turning to his ADC.

  Rafi apologised. ‘Your Highness, I thought Prince Sanjay was keeping to the palace for the time being.’

  ‘No need for that, Khan,’ said the Resident gruffly. ‘Who is going to cause a fuss in such a remote part of Gulgat?’

  Jay smiled. ‘Quite so.’

  Wesley, sensing a slight tension, came forward and greeted Stourton and then the prince. ‘Sir, I believe you know my daughter, Adela. She tells me you’ve acted on stage together.’

  Jay bowed. ‘Indeed we have. Not only acted but ridden together. Miss Robson is an accomplished horsewoman. How is dear Mrs Hogg?’

  Adela’s heart hammered. It was too dark to read the expression on his face.

  ‘Very well, thank you.’ Her voice sounded squeaky and nervous in her ears.

  ‘Your Highness,’ Rafi intervened, ‘the elephants are ready, and we should get started if we are to pick up the fresh tracks.’

  Adela was thankful for the diversion of the trip getting underway. With her rifle, she clambered on to an elephant called Rose, and Wesley climbed into the howdah beside her. One of the Raja’s most experienced mahouts straddled Rose’s neck, and they set off behind the Raja and Rafi, with the others following on behind.

  ‘Darling, you’re shaking,’ Wesley said in concern. ‘Are you feeling all right?’

  ‘Yes.’ Adela breathed in hard. ‘Just a little nervous now it’s happening.’

  ‘Don’t be,’ he said, smiling and patting her shoulder.

  They followed the sandy left bank of the largely dried-up river, where the shikaris had found the tiger footprints, and then moved on into the jungle. As dawn broke over the trees, flocks of green parakeets rose noisily, and monkeys screeched and swung overhead as the elephants advanced. Adela was soon enjoying the rhythmic swaying of the huge animal, amazed at how silent and footsure it was for its size. The dewy freshness of the forest and the apricot light filtering through the leaves and creepers were magical; she would be happy just exploring the jungle all day.

  They emerged into open grassland and some cultivated terraces of peppers and orange trees. Bamboo huts with thatched roofs were dotted about the slope, tall spikes of ginger plants growing around them. A small girl was tending half a dozen goats by the stream. They disembarked for something to eat, making for the awnings that were being erected in the shade of some sal trees.

  ‘This is the village the grass cutter disappeared from,’ Rafi told them.

  ‘Have they found him yet?’ Adela asked.

  Rafi shook his head. ‘He’s unlikely to be found alive now, not if the tigress got him.’

  ‘Poor man.’ She shuddered.

  Jay held court around the table with anecdotes about various hunts he had been on in the hill states around Simla. He spoke to Adela with an easy grace, as if they were friends who shared similar interests, but as if their intimacy had never been. It was astonishing to remember that her last sight of him had been from the warmth of his bed and that since then he had run for his life, leaving her not knowing what had happened to him. She answered him with polite indifference; she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he had hurt her.

  They moved on beyond the village into a high-sided valley of dense jungle, the elephants having to trample down the undergrowth to make a path. In the heat and with the swaying motion of Rose, Adela was lulled almost to sleep when a cry went up from the front of the procession. She started awake. There was a commotion among the trackers. Wesley reached for his double-barrelled shotgun.

  ‘Is it a tiger?’ she gasped.

  Rose padded forward after the other elephants. She swung her trunk at a low branch and pulled something away. The mahout leant forward and took it, holding it up for inspection. It was a shred of red-and-white cotton. He shouted something to the men ahead. There was a quick-fire exchange. The procession halted.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Wesley asked.

  The mahout answered, ‘They have found the drag.’

  ‘Of the boar?’

  ‘No, the villager.’

  Adela’s stomach churned. She knew what he meant by ‘drag’: the remains of the kill that the tiger had dragged away to hide and feast on when hungry again.

  ‘Oh dear God!’ Wesley exclaimed. ‘Adela, you mustn’t look.’

  She stared again at the cloth in the mahout’s hand; it was a bloodied piece of clothing. Suddenly the joy drained out of the day. This was someone’s father or brother or son, carried off and eaten by a savage predator; she could only imagine the terror of the hapless victim as he’d fought in vain for his life.

  They carried on, the Raja ordering one of his men to alert the villagers to come and claim the remains of their neighbour. Adela averted her eyes as they passed, but not in time to avoid catching an unwanted glimpse of a legless torso with its clothes ripped away. She thought she might be sick.

  ‘We must kill the tiger before this happens again,’ she said with vehemence.

  ‘We will,’ her father promised.

  Soon afterwards, they emerged on to a dried-up riverbed. It was strewn with boulders and small islands covered in scraggy trees between isolated pools of water. The head of the river disappeared into a steep ravine; the line of elephants plodded towards it. At the point where a narrower defile cut into the right-hand slope, they halted. Word came back that this was where the boar had been killed. Now a young buffalo stood there, tied
up as bait for the tigers.

  At the mouth of the smaller ravine, the shikaris had been busy erecting machans – hideouts – in the overhanging trees, from which the hunters could survey the hunted. Behind, the slope rose steeply to a ridge just above the height of the trees. Rose knelt down and helped the passengers to the ground with her trunk. Adela hardly had time to stretch before her father was chivvying her up the rope ladder into one of the makeshift bamboo cradles. It was hardly bigger than a child’s cot, but Wesley squeezed in with her. They covered themselves with leaves and waited. Stourton took the next machan, Jay the one beyond, while Rafi and the Raja went to the other side of the ravine and disappeared into the trees.

  The heat was oppressive. Nothing stirred, not even the docile buffalo tethered to its tree. They sat completely still. After a while Adela’s legs grew numb from pins and needles and she longed to move.

  ‘Is it him?’ her father whispered. Adela met his look. Sweat trickled down his face. ‘Is Prince Sanjay the man who trifled with your affections?’

  She could barely breathe. She closed her eyes. Not now; she didn’t want this conversation now.

  ‘I know I’m right,’ he hissed. ‘I can tell by the little comments he makes – the innuendoes. I could punch his arrogant face.’

  ‘Don’t, Dad,’ Adela pleaded. ‘Don’t let him spoil our trip.’

  Just then there was a cry from a deer further up the ravine, and birds flew up from the tightly packed bushes. Something was on the move. They went deadly still. The grass stirred, yet there was no breeze. The tiger was so well camouflaged in the pattern of light and shade between the trees that Adela didn’t see it till it was almost right below them, a huge male about nine feet long. The magnificent beast crept forward, tail twitching, sniffing at the elephant tracks. The buffalo began to bellow and twist in its ropes. The tiger gazed around, swiftly crouched, ready to spring. A shot went off like a deafening firecracker. The tiger dropped to the ground, a bullet lodged in its neck.