Her worry had been about Tam’s health; not that he wouldn’t turn up. What if he’d got cold feet and jilted her at the altar? She was thousands of miles from home – except that she no longer had a home – a half bungalow in Davis Road was her only shelter in the world now, and only if Tam turned up and married her today. She fiddled with her precious elephant-heads bracelet for luck.
A horse-drawn tonga stopped in the road and two men in morning coats clambered out and ran up the path.
‘Tam!’ Sophie almost wept with relief.
‘Sorry lassie,’ he wheezed, shaking rain from his collar, ‘the bloody car didn’t turn up. Boz’s fault. See you inside.’
Boz gave an apologetic look and followed his friend into the dark interior. Johnny took her arm and tucked it firmly into his.
‘Come on, Sophie,’ he smiled, ‘let’s show them how brave and bonny a Scottish bride can be.’
Her eyes blurred with tears at his kind words and she clung onto him gratefully as they marched down the long aisle to the small group of well-wishers clustered at the front, her mind filling with regret that neither her parents nor beloved Auntie Amy and Cousin Tilly were there to see the day.
They sang ‘All People that on Earth do Dwell’ and Padre Rennie said some appropriate words that Sophie hardly registered. When it came to taking their vows, she could not control her shaking limbs – from both cold and nervousness – and her teeth chattered as she spoke her lines. But when Tam slipped the ring onto her finger and gave her a wide loving smile, her heart leapt and a flush of warmth flooded through her. They were going to be all right.
Tam was struck by her beauty; the huge solemn brown eyes fixed on him and fleshy pink lips trembling in emotion, the simple lacy headband holding in place her bobbed blonde hair, the swell of her young woman’s body under the thin layers of soft silk. All the frustrations and doubts of the past months dissolved as he drank in her loveliness. Many times, in dark moments of the night, he had questioned the path his life was taking: India, forestry and marriage to an Edinburgh girl he barely knew. It hadn’t been the original plan. But Nancy’s refusal to marry him had put paid to that dream and he must put it behind him once and for all.
It was the bouts of illness that had left him fatigued and depressed, and made him doubt why he was there. Yet illness was an illusion; a state of imbalance that could just as easily be corrected by thinking himself well again. He just needed to be stronger. When he took Sophie’s long slender fingers in his hands and twisted on the wedding ring, he felt a surge of relief. She would give him the strength to tackle the demons that plagued his health; together with her, he would be twice as powerful.
***
‘I’ve known Cousin Sophie since she was a small girl coming to stay at our house in Newcastle,’ Johnny told the assembled guests, crammed into the Bracknalls’ parlour out of the cold December rain. ‘A bouncing ball of energy who never stopped talking or running about or asking nosey questions. I have a memory of Sophie sliding down the bannisters with her fair pigtails flying and not understanding why she got a smack from our old Nanny for doing so. “Little girls don’t slide,” scolded Nanny. “But I’m an explorer,” wailed Sophie, “and this is the only way down the mountain!” ‘
Sophie covered her face in embarrassment as people around her laughed. She saw young Betty Porter clapping her hands in glee.
‘The house was always brighter and more lively for having our Scottish cousin to stay – even when I grew older and she and Tilly would pester me and my good friend Will Stock – she was always fun to have around.’
Johnny turned to look at Sophie. ‘I know it’s hard for my cousin not to have her beloved Auntie Amy here to see her married. Auntie Amy was a strong and remarkable lady who took it upon herself to bring Sophie up in Edinburgh after she was tragically orphaned. It’s in large part thanks to her that Sophie has grown from that brave wee girl into the beautiful and warm-hearted woman that you see before you today, and I know Auntie Amy would have been so proud. Helena and I are the only ones of our family who are able to be here, but we represent them all when we wish Sophie and Tam the happiest of marriages together.’
Sophie’s eyes flooded with tears at Johnny’s tender words. He raised his glass and proposed a toast to the bride and groom.
‘To the bride and groom!’ the guests echoed, to the chinking of glass and china.
After that, the noise level rose as people’s glasses of champagne were refilled. Johnny, as her only male relative, had insisted on helping pay for the wedding tea party, but Sophie was astonished at the lavishness of the spread and the amount of champagne. She mingled among the guests. Helena came bounding to her side, large-limbed in a lilac suit and a matching hat perched on wavy brown hair.
‘Don’t know about you, but Johnny’s words had me nearly in tears. I’m so happy to be a part of his family – you all sound so delightful – can’t wait for us to go on leave and visit his mother and sisters in England.’
Sophie smiled. ‘They all live in Scotland now. And they’re longing to meet you too.’
‘It’s a shame Tilly couldn’t have come on her way to Assam,’ Helena said, ‘I’m so looking forward to meeting her. I think she’s Johnny’s favourite. It’s wonderful you’ve all ended up in old India.’
They chatted for a while about Helena’s army upbringing and her passion for horses; she offered to take Sophie out riding while on honeymoon in Rawalpindi. ‘Not that you’ll want to spend much time with us old marrieds,’ Helena said with a nudge.
Sophie tried to catch Tam’s eye; she was keen now for the party to end and for them to be alone at last. But Tam and his forester friends were gathered in a corner drinking large whiskies and guffawing like schoolboys around Bracknall who was holding court. Only Rafi stood aloof watching them and sipping at his drink. It had annoyed Sophie how Edith Bracknall had deliberately snubbed Rafi, ignoring his attempts to introduce himself and turning to speak to Jimmy Scott instead.
Sophie was grateful for the generous way the Bracknalls had taken her into their home these past few days, but she was determined they would have as little to do with them socially as possible. Bracknall was Tam’s boss and deserved respect, but that didn’t mean they had to be at the Bracknalls’ beck and call, or put up with Mrs B’s petty snobbery.
Finally, Boz extracted Tam from the group. ‘Come on Telfer, there’s a taxi and a wife waiting.’
There was much handshaking and kissing of cheeks; Johnny arranged that they would meet at the Sunnyview Hotel in the morning for the journey north together. The rain had stopped and a watery sun was trying to break through the evening clouds.
Sophie sat close to Tam on the worn green leather seats of the open car, which were still damp despite the driver’s attempts to wipe them dry. They waved goodbye and a few minutes later they were rounding the corner into Davis Road.
Tam’s servants – Hafiz the bearer, Sunbar the cook and a couple of others that Sophie had not met – stood waiting to greet them with smiles and garlands of marigolds.
‘Welcome Telfer Sahib, Telfer Memsahib,’ they nodded and hung the .garlands around their employers’ necks.
‘Thank you,’ Sophie smiled in delight, nodding in return.
There was a fire crackling merrily in the grate of the high-ceilinged parlour and another in their bedroom. Tam left Sophie to change out of her wedding dress.
‘I’ll use my dressing room,’ he said, straining to loosen the studs of his collar. He looked suddenly exhausted.
Sophie hung up her dress on the back of the door where she could see it and remember the day, and pulled on slacks and a woollen jumper, still chilled from the rain. She noticed with a lurch that one of the servants had laid out their nightclothes on the paisley-pattern quilt in readiness for bed. Returning to the parlour, she asked Hafiz to make a pot of tea and sank into a chintz-covered armchair. She could feel the springs beneath the upholstery, but was too tired to find it uncomfortable.
> Tea appeared, but Tam did not. Sophie wished they had a gramophone so that she could have put on soothing music. She was aware of watchful eyes. Two cups of tea later, Sophie got up. Hafiz appeared from nowhere.
‘Do – do you think you could see if Mr Telfer needs a hand?’ she asked, feeling foolish. Tam was unused to drinking whisky and Bracknall had been pouring it down him all afternoon.
Hafiz returned. ‘Sahib is sleeping.’ His look was both amused and apologetic.
She followed him back to Tam’s dressing room, a small box room perhaps meant for a child, with its own separate bathroom. There lay her husband of a few hours, curled up on a rush mat, morning coat and trousers discarded but shirt still on, snoring lightly. He looked peaceful and boyish and she wondered how he could sleep so easily on a hard floor and scratchy matting.
‘Shall I put Sahib to bed?’ Hafiz asked.
Sophie hesitated. With a snort of amusement and frustration, she shook her head.
‘Don’t wake him; just cover him with some warm blankets.’ She was tempted to ask the bearer not to mention any of this but knew there was little point. Before sunrise, it would be the talk of the compounds all around that Tam Telfer had spent his wedding night on the floor of his dressing room while his eager bride spent the night alone and virginal in the chilly marriage bed.
Chapter 19
It took a gruelling day of driving on the Grand Trunk Road, with three punctures and frequent stops for Tam to squat behind trees, to reach the northern Punjabi town.
At their picnic lunch spot, Tam vomited up his egg sandwiches and by the time they reached Rawalpindi, his fever was raging again.
‘You’re burning up,’ Sophie said in alarm.
‘You can’t stay at a hotel in your condition,’ Helena was firm, ‘you must come to us in the Lines.’
‘It’s just the change in altitude,’ Tam said in irritation.
‘It’s nothing to do with altitude,’ Johnny was short. ‘You’re a sick man. I’m going to run some blood tests, and give you something for the pain and squitters and bring down your temperature.’
They drove straight to the cantonment, Tam fretting about the cost of the Flashman Hotel that was now going to waste.
‘I’ll send round a chit explaining,’ Helena promised.
After that, Tam made no protest and was happy to crawl under the sheets of a hastily made-up bed in the Watsons’ spare room, even submitting to the ‘filthy medicines’ that Johnny insist he take. A fire was lit but he threw off the covers, drenched in sweat. Sophie sat by his side, wiping his face and neck with a damp cloth, anxious and tearful.
‘Oh lassie,’ he croaked, ‘I’m so sorry. What a terrible start to our married life.’
‘Hush Tam,’ she whispered, ‘we’ve got all our lives ahead together.’
Finally he fell into a fitful sleep and Helena coaxed her out of the room.
‘Come and have a nightcap – let the medicine take its course.’
‘He sees taking it as a failure,’ Sophie sighed, accepting the whisky and soda Johnny offered.
‘I hope you don’t,’ her cousin said sharply.
‘I understand why he thinks that way,’ Sophie defended, ‘given his strong belief in Christian Science.’
‘He has a temperature of 105, dysentery and possible malaria or worse. He’s a fool not to have gone to a doctor earlier.’
Sophie swallowed down tears. ‘I wanted him to see a doctor two days ago but he seemed to recover.’
‘Fever is like that, flaring up if it’s not treated.’
‘It’s not your fault,’ Helena said at once, ‘Johnny don’t be so hard on the poor girl.’
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to.’ He went to her and pulled her into a hug. ‘We’ll make him better again so stop worrying and drink your dram.’
That night, Tam tossed and sweated in their shared bed, babbling incoherently and crying out. At one point he sat up rigid, staring straight ahead in terror at some unseen horror. Sophie tried to calm him but he struck out at her as if she would do him harm, catching a blow on her temple. After that she got up and wrapped herself in a blanket, sitting by the window until the dawn light seeped under the curtains, Tam’s ragged breathing mingling with the sound of early birds and the creak of water from the outside well as the servants stirred.
Sophie dressed and went out onto the veranda in the freezing air to watch the sun strike the distant snow-capped mountains and was filled with a sudden calm. She had a vague memory of someone – her father? – pointing out the Himalayan peaks to her as a child, though where that was she could not say. It had been her hope that she and Tam would visit Murree in the foothills to see where her own parents had honeymooned but she knew that would not happen now. All she wanted was for Tam to shake off the fever that bedevilled him and to regain his former strength. From first meeting him at the forestry camp in the Scottish Borders, she had been struck by his energy and zest for life; this man wracked by illness and lethargy was a stranger to her. Boz’s words about Tam’s war injuries came back to trouble her. He’s not the same man since the gas attack ...
She pushed them from her mind. Tam was going to get better and she would stick by him no matter what happened; that’s what they had promised to do for each other at their wedding.
Concerned by Tam’s blood results, Johnny called in the Civil Surgeon, McManners, to diagnose his fever. He had been on a massive dose of quinine for several days but the fever had not broken. Tam suffered blinding headaches and his limbs felt as if they were being crushed in a vice. At night his temperature soared and he could keep down no food.
At times he did not seem to recognise Sophie and called her Nanny, crying out for her. Only when she lay down beside him and held his head on her breast, stroking away the horrors that plagued his fevered brain, did he become calm.
To her distress, Sophie overheard Johnny and McManners having a tense consultation on the veranda.
‘I think it’s dengue fever,’ said the civil surgeon. ‘No amount of quinine will cure him of that.’
‘My God, poor Telfer,’ Johnny gasped. ‘What should we do?’
‘By rights the poor devil shouldn’t be alive – not judging by his blood tests – but he’s got a will of steel. All we can do is keep him comfortable and try to bring his temperature down. The rest is up to God – and that brave girl he’s just married – she might be the only one he’ll respond to.’
‘Oh, dear Sophie,’ Johnny sighed, ‘she’ll not give up on him without a fight.’
After that, Sophie refused to leave Tam’s side, terrified that he might slip away at any moment. She sat up through the long nights, bathing his aching limbs, alternately wrapping him in blankets then cooling him down, as he complained of being either too cold or too hot. She sang to him and told him stories like a child, the sound of her voice appearing to soothe him. She helped change him, staring at his vulnerable naked body, wondering if their marriage would ever be consummated, and then chided herself for such selfish thoughts.
Early one morning, she was startled out of a dose by a rattling sound.
‘Tam?’ she gasped, at once noticing the change in his breathing. She had heard frightening tales of ‘the death rattle’. She seized his hand; it was cooling. ‘Tam!’
He winced in pain.
She relaxed her grip. ‘Speak to me Tam!’
‘Can – can – I,’ he panted, ‘have a wee sip of water, lassie?’
‘Of course,’ she answered, her heart leaping to hear him speak. Quickly she fetched a glass of cooled boiled water from the washstand and helped him drink, supporting his heavy head with the back of her hand.
He sank back from the effort. ‘Thank you.’
Sophie put down the glass and sat on the side of the bed, holding his hand. Could this be the fever breaking at last?
He tried to focus on her with glassy eyes. ‘Where am I?’
‘Johnny and Helena’s house.’
‘Who?’
<
br /> ‘My cousin, Dr Johnny Watson. He gave me away at our wedding remember? We’re at their home in Pindi.’
‘Pindi?’ Tam frowned. ‘Why ...?’
‘We’re on our ... No never mind, we’re just visiting,’ Sophie smiled.
‘I feel as weak as a lamb,’ Tam whispered. ‘How long have I been like this?’
‘Five days.’
Tam’s eyes seemed to clear. ‘Pindi. Is it our honeymoon?’
Sophie nodded.
‘God, what a useless husband I am.’ He turned his head away so that she would not see the tears that welled in his eyes.
Sophie leaned over and kissed his forehead. ‘No you’re not. You’ve been fighting for your life like a tiger these past few days.’
‘Have you been with me the whole time?’ he croaked.
She nodded, her throat tightening. How scared she had been at nearly losing him!
‘Now,’ Sophie smiled through her tears, ‘can you manage something to eat? A little soup? You haven’t had anything for days.’
He nodded. ‘Soup would be nice.’
She stood up and hurried to the door, keen to give the good news to her cousin that Tam was no longer delirious.
‘Sophie,’ he rasped. She turned to see his haggard face breaking into a smile of relief. ‘Thank you, lassie.’
***
It was several more days before Tam was fit enough to get out of bed and walk further than the veranda. He sat in a wicker chair in the chilly air wrapped in blankets and gazing at the far mountains while Helena and Sophie fussed around him, making him eat soft foods and drink plenty of hot sugary tea. Word was sent back to Lahore and he was given an extra week’s paid leave while he recovered.
THE PLANTER'S BRIDE: A story of intrigue and passion: sequel to THE TEA PLANTER'S DAUGHTER (India Tea Series Book 2) Page 19
