The Secrets of the Tea Garden

by Janet MacLeod Trotter

  Sophie and Rafi exchanged knowing looks.

  ‘Not just that,’ said Sophie. ‘This picking on Rafi has taken a worrying turn. The palace cabal are using the excuse of him being Muslim to attack his character further.’

  ‘That’s terrible!’ cried Libby. She remembered Ghulam confiding in her that Rafi’s job might no longer be safe under Sanjay’s careless rule.

  ‘But surely,’ said James, ‘the Rajah won’t hold with that?’

  ‘Sanjay’s too weak to stand up to his grandmother,’ said Sophie.

  ‘And he’s hardly been there this past month,’ said Rafi. ‘He’s in Delhi being sweet-talked by Mountbatten. The Viceroy’s putting all his charm into persuading the princely states to give up their autonomy and join either India or Pakistan.’

  ‘The old Rani is putting about the rumour that Rafi is trying to force Sanjay to join Pakistan,’ said Sophie.

  ‘It’s nonsense of course,’ said Rafi. ‘When Sanjay asked me, I told him it would make sense to join India as most of the population of Gulgat is Hindu. And Gulgat is too small to stand on its own.’

  ‘But since Sanjay has been away,’ said Sophie, ‘there have been disturbances in the east of the state.’

  ‘What kind of disturbances?’ Clarrie asked in concern.

  ‘Some refugees have arrived from East Bengal,’ Sophie explained. ‘Horror stories are spreading like wildfire of how Hindus were butchered by Muslim gangs.’

  ‘Some Gulgat Muslim fishermen have had their boats and homes set on fire,’ said Rafi. ‘Nothing has been done to stop the retaliation.’

  ‘Rafi has telegrammed Sanjay about it,’ said Sophie, ‘but he says it’s a matter for his chief of police and not to worry.’

  Clarrie stretched across the table and put a hand over Sophie’s. ‘I’m so glad you’ve decided to come here while Rafi’s in Delhi, my dear. You can stay as long as you want.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Sophie said with a grateful smile.

  ‘Quite right,’ said James. ‘You can’t possibly go back to Gulgat until things have settled down. The Rajah will have to put his house in order first.’

  Rafi cleared his throat. ‘We won’t be going back, ever.’

  They all looked at him, startled.

  ‘What do you mean, not ever?’ gasped James.

  ‘I have no confidence in Sanjay keeping Sophie and me safe,’ said Rafi. ‘There is a backlash going on already over Partition and we will be in a vulnerable minority if we stay in Gulgat.’

  ‘But if Gulgat becomes a part of a democratic India,’ said Libby, ‘you’ll be safe from the scheming in the palace, won’t you?’

  ‘We will still be at the mercy of this Hindu nationalism that is being stoked up everywhere,’ Rafi said. ‘It will only get worse. Sanjay’s grandmother will see to that.’

  ‘We couldn’t risk telling you this in a letter or telegram,’ said Sophie, ‘in case the palace got wind that we were escaping for good. They might have whipped up a crowd to cause us trouble.’

  Libby felt her stomach churn. Were things really so bad in Gulgat? Ghulam had feared they might be. She remembered him telling her of a letter from Rafi that hinted he was contemplating moving back to the Punjab if Pakistan became a reality. How despicable Rajah Sanjay was, not to stand up for Rafi who had served the royal family so loyally. But knowing how Sanjay had manipulated and used Adela for his own gratification, Libby wasn’t surprised to learn that he was a weak and selfish man. So if it was unsafe for a couple like the Khans, who were well integrated into the princely state where they had lived happily for years, then how much worse would it be for Muslims like Ghulam and Fatima in the overheated cauldron of Calcutta?

  ‘I think it’s awful that you’re being harassed out of Gulgat,’ said Libby, her eyes stinging with angry tears. ‘Is there nothing that can be done?’

  ‘I don’t see what,’ said Rafi, sadness clouding his eyes.

  They sat in silence as the enormity of the Khans’ situation sank in.

  Eventually James asked, ‘So what will you do?’

  Clarrie hazarded a guess. ‘Go back to Scotland?’

  Sophie leant close to her husband and said, ‘Neither of us wants to leave India.’

  Rafi raised his chin in a defiant gesture that reminded Libby of Ghulam. She tensed, fearing what he was about to say.

  ‘I’m going to Lahore after the ceremony in Delhi,’ said Rafi, ‘to see about a forestry job back in the Punjab.’

  ‘It’s where Rafi first started as a forester,’ said Sophie.

  ‘Yes, I remember,’ said Clarrie. ‘And your family are there too.’

  Rafi nodded.

  ‘It’s time Rafi made peace with his father,’ said Sophie. ‘For years he hasn’t gone because his family wouldn’t accept me as his wife.’

  ‘But,’ said Rafi, ‘now that I’m considering returning to help in the new state of Pakistan, I think my father will relent and want to meet Sophie.’

  Libby gaped at them in dismay. Ghulam would be deeply saddened at the news. His words rang in her head: ‘We need Muslims like Rafi to stay and help build the new India.’

  ‘But Ghulam says Lahore is a tinderbox,’ said Libby. ‘Surely you won’t risk going there at the moment?’

  ‘You’re in touch with Ghulam?’ Sophie asked in surprise.

  Libby flushed. ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘The dak from Calcutta is almost daily,’ teased Clarrie.

  ‘Well, well,’ said Rafi, ‘my little brother showing some sense at last.’

  ‘I think that’s wonderful,’ encouraged Sophie. ‘I can see that you both would have a lot in common.’

  ‘Apart from Khan being rabidly anti-British,’ exclaimed James, ‘and Libby being half his age.’

  ‘Like Tilly was to you, James,’ Sophie said with a wry smile.

  Libby felt a surge of gratitude to the Khans for their approval. She saw her father go red; he looked about to protest but Rafi swiftly intervened and said, ‘I’m sure the reports about Lahore are exaggerated – I hope so at least.’

  ‘Rafi’s family no longer live in the old city,’ said Sophie. ‘After the death of his mother, they moved to a quiet suburb that hasn’t seen any violence.’

  ‘So when do you hope to join Rafi?’ Clarrie asked.

  ‘That depends on how quickly Rafi can find a job,’ said Sophie. ‘But with him being an experienced forester and a Punjabi, it shouldn’t take long.’

  ‘I’d rather Sophie waited here till after Independence,’ cautioned Rafi, ‘just in case . . .’

  Libby’s heart thudded. ‘So you are expecting trouble in Lahore?’

  Rafi tried to hide his concern. ‘No, I just think it will take longer than Sophie thinks to arrange a forestry job and somewhere to live.’

  ‘It’s such a big step to take,’ Libby said. ‘Do Ghulam and Fatima know you are leaving Gulgat for good?’

  Rafi shook his head. ‘They know I’ve been thinking about it but we decided not to tell anyone until we were safely out of Gulgat.’

  ‘Ghulam is so upset about the whole Partition thing,’ said Libby. ‘He’s very against the idea of a separate Muslim state.’

  ‘We didn’t want it either,’ said Sophie, ‘but we’re just being realistic about the future.’

  ‘It won’t last,’ said James.

  ‘What won’t?’ Libby asked.

  ‘Partitioning Bengal and Punjab. The borders won’t work – the people on either side are too alike. Give it five years and it’ll all be one country again.’

  Rafi smiled. ‘I hope you are right.’

  After that, Clarrie steered the conversation to lighter topics, planning picnics with Sophie and a shopping trip to Shillong. Rafi spoke about the regimental dinner planned in Delhi and his excitement at seeing his old Sikh comrade, Sundar Singh, again.

  ‘Adela and Sam always said how Sundar had a soft spot for your sister Fatima,’ Clarrie said.

  ‘Really?’ Libby’s eyes widened. ‘
Did Fatima like him too? I’ve never heard her talk romantically about anyone.’

  ‘My sister is too dedicated to her work,’ laughed Rafi. ‘Always has been.’

  ‘I think Adela thought Fatima was fond of Sundar,’ answered Clarrie, ‘but not enough to marry him.’

  ‘Because he’s a Sikh?’ asked Libby.

  ‘That’s possible,’ admitted Rafi. ‘My parents would never have approved.’

  ‘I think if Fatima had wanted to marry,’ said Sophie, ‘she wouldn’t have let that put her off. Poor Sundar, he’s such a nice man – and widowed so young. He has a son in the Punjab, doesn’t he?’

  ‘Rawalpindi, I think,’ said Rafi. ‘His sister was caring for him while Sundar worked in Simla.’

  ‘What will happen to his son now?’ asked Libby. ‘Will any of the Sikhs stay in West Punjab?’

  Rafi shrugged.

  ‘It’s a bloody mess!’ cried James suddenly.

  ‘A British mess,’ said Libby.

  ‘Not entirely,’ said Rafi gallantly, ‘despite what Ghulam might say.’

  That night, upset by the Khans’ flight from Gulgat and an underlying fear over Ghulam and Fatima’s safety, Libby gave up on sleep and went on to the veranda. She found her father there, slumped in a long chair and staring into an empty whisky glass.

  She pulled a chair next to him, put his glass on the inlaid side table and slipped her hand into his.

  ‘I can’t sleep either, Dad. Penny for your thoughts?’

  He gave out a long anguished sigh. ‘What am I doing here, Libby? I’m behaving like a coward. I’m burying my head in the sand while the world is going mad around me. This business with the Khans has really shaken me up. I had no idea they were in any danger. Now Clarrie’s worried about M.D. and his family and I can’t stop thinking about Manzur and his parents. Are they in danger too? It’s all so ghastly.’

  Libby bit back a soothing platitude. There was no use in pretending things would go back to normal; the old way of life was coming to an abrupt end and none of them knew what the future would bring. She held on to his hand and let him continue talking, encouraged that he was beginning to confide in her.

  ‘I really believed that handing over political power wouldn’t affect us planters,’ said James. ‘India has always needed its box-wallahs – and probably appreciates them more than the snooty British “heaven-born” administrators ever have. But I never expected all this religious division – this hatred that is spreading like a fever. Where’s it all coming from, Libby?’

  Libby grimaced. ‘You might say we British have done our best to play one community off against another for the past century. Our colonial service is second to none at cataloguing and labelling people for our own ends.’

  James muttered, ‘I might have expected you to blame it all on us. No doubt that’s what your comrade Khan says?’

  ‘Actually, it’s not,’ said Libby. ‘He’s been very critical of the Indian political leaders on all sides for stoking up petty nationalism for political gain. But I don’t think he’ll ever forgive the British for not handing over independence a generation ago, before separatist ideas had taken hold. Thirty years ago, Indians died in their thousands helping us win the Great War, but their reward was greater repression. That’s what made Ghulam take up the fight for freedom.’

  ‘India wasn’t ready then,’ said James.

  ‘Only the British thought that,’ Libby answered.

  James sighed again. ‘Perhaps you’re right. Who knows? It’s all too late now.’

  ‘So what do you want to do about Manzur and his family?’ she asked.

  Her father stared into the darkness. She thought he wasn’t going to answer and then he said, ‘I’m not going to do anything until I’ve spoken to Manzur. I’ve spent a lifetime telling people what to do. This time the choice has to be his.’

  Libby squeezed his hand. ‘I think that’s a good idea.’ She smiled, grateful that he was finally being open with her and treating her like an equal. Maybe Clarrie was right and they just needed a little more time.

  James raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. Libby was taken aback by the tender gesture. Her heart swelled with affection. She raised his hand and kissed his back. James gave a soft laugh. It was the first time she had heard him laugh in an age and the sound brought tears to her eyes.

  CHAPTER 22

  Two days later they said farewell to Rafi. Sophie was going as far as Shillong with him, and then returning in the car with Daleep. Libby gave Rafi a fierce hug, trying not to cry. No one knew when they would see him again but no one wanted to say so.

  ‘Have fun in Delhi,’ she said.

  Rafi smiled and kissed her forehead. ‘Tell Ghulam, I’ll look forward to playing cricket with him in Lahore when he comes to visit after Independence.’

  Libby gave him a tearful smile. ‘I’ll write and tell him everything,’ she promised.

  They waved him away with shouts of encouragement, watching as the car bumped down the drive and went out of sight beyond the factory compound.

  Later that day Manzur arrived from the Oxford. Libby saw the strain on his handsome face, despite his smile of greeting.

  Over lunch James asked his assistant what his parents wanted to do.

  Manzur looked embarrassed. ‘Sahib, that depends what you intend to do – whether you will be coming back to Cheviot View. If you return they will stay as long as you want them.’

  ‘And if I don’t?’ asked James. ‘Would they want me to find them another employer?’

  Manzur shook his head. ‘They only want to work for Robson sahib.’

  James put down his knife and fork, his lunch hardly touched.

  Libby asked, ‘With all the uncertainties going on, are you worried about them staying in such an isolated place?’

  Manzur held her look and nodded. ‘For them, yes. I am not afraid for myself.’

  ‘So if we don’t return to Cheviot View,’ she said, ‘where would you want them to go?’

  ‘They would want to go back to Bengal – to family.’

  ‘Then that is what I will arrange,’ said James. ‘I shan’t be returning to Cheviot View. But I’ll provide them with a pension, so you mustn’t worry about them.’

  ‘There is no need,’ said Manzur at once. ‘I will take care of my parents.’

  ‘I’m sure you will,’ said James, ‘but I insist on giving them something. Aslam has served me and my family loyally since I arrived in India.’

  ‘And Ayah Meera,’ added Libby. ‘Mother would want her to be rewarded too.’

  Manzur looked overwhelmed. ‘They will be very grateful – as am I. Thank you, sahib.’

  ‘That’s settled then,’ said James, relief on his face. ‘You can put the wheels in motion for packing up the house. No point delaying. I imagine your parents will want to travel before . . . before the fifteenth of August.’

  Manzur nodded. ‘And where shall everything be sent?’

  ‘Sent?’ queried James.

  ‘Your household possessions,’ he said. ‘Or will we store them in the godowns till you decide . . . ?’

  James glanced at Libby and then said, ‘No, I want everything sent to Bombay to be shipped to England.’

  ‘Dad?’ said Libby in surprise.

  ‘I’ve decided to return home,’ he said, his voice strained. ‘I’m retiring for good. Leaving India.’

  Libby gaped at the sudden announcement. She saw from Clarrie’s astonished look that she had not known of his decision either. Libby could see tears welling in her father’s eyes and knew he was too overcome to speak.

  Manzur stood up. ‘May I wish you many happy years of retirement, sahib. It has been a pleasure working for you. You have taught me a lot and been a good friend to me and to my parents.’ He looked at Libby. ‘All the Robsons have been like friends to me.’ He put his hand to his heart. ‘Thank you.’

  James nodded as he got to his feet and hurried from the room. Libby heard a strange grunt –
like a strangled sob – before a far door closed. Her heart lurched. She wanted to rush to comfort her father but knew it would only embarrass him. Yet her mind was in a whirl: what did this mean for her? Would she have to leave India with him? How would her mother take the news of his sudden return? She sat, pinned in her chair, unable to speak.

  Despite Clarrie’s protestations that Manzur should stay the night and Harry badgering him to give him some bowling practice, Manzur insisted on getting back to the Oxford. The wind was strengthening and the sky looked heavy with rain. It felt like the monsoon was approaching at last and he didn’t want to get marooned at Belgooree.

  ‘Dad and I will visit before your parents leave,’ Libby promised.

  Her initial shock at her father’s abrupt announcement had given way to relief that he’d finally broken the impasse and come to a decision. Yet now, as she waved Manzur away, she felt weighed down by the realisation that she too was going to have to give up her childhood home for good.

  Only after he had gone, did she realise that no one had actually asked Manzur what he wanted to do. They had all assumed he would stay on at the Oxford to support his parents financially. That’s what he’d said – or at least implied. ‘I am not afraid for myself.’ His words haunted Libby. Why were so many people being put into the position of having to fear for their own safety or that of their loved ones? Her thoughts went at once to the Khans and Ghulam – they were never far from Ghulam – and she sent up a silent prayer for them all.

  As dusk fell, an emotional Sophie returned. Rafi had started his long journey to Delhi. ‘We haven’t been apart for more than an odd night in the last twenty-four years,’ she said tearfully.

  Libby hugged her. ‘You’ll be together again soon. And at least Rafi will be much happier knowing you are safe here at Belgooree.’

  Her father didn’t appear until breakfast the next day. Libby was encouraged to see him more jovial than she had in weeks.

  ‘Libby tells me you’ve decided to go back to Newcastle?’ Sophie quizzed him. ‘Tilly will be so pleased.’

  ‘I hope so,’ said James. ‘I’ll send a telegram once the house is cleared and I’ve sorted a passage for me and Libby. There’s no point hanging around now. If we fly we can be home in a couple of weeks from now.’