Now, Stella just wished it to be over. She never wanted to go through such an ordeal again. She panted and cried out.
Abruptly, Esmie ordered, ‘When the next contraction comes, start to push. Ready? Push!’
Stella pushed and howled. She clung onto Karo.
‘Again!’ Esmie urged.
As sweat ran down her face and soaked her body with the exertion, Stella cursed aloud. ‘Hugh-bloody-Keating! I hate you! I wish I’d never met—!’ Her cries were swallowed up by another roar of pain.
‘That’s it,’ Esmie coaxed. ‘Nearly there! One last big push this time. Go on, Stella, push!’
This time, Stella felt the difference. The excruciating red-hot pain was followed by the strangest sensation – as if she were expelling half of her insides – and then sudden relief. Moments later, Esmie let out a triumphant cry.
‘Well done, lassie!’
Stella lay back, heaving for breath, her eyes stinging with sweat. She heard the tiniest bleat of protest. Through blurred vision she watched Esmie and Karo deal with the bloodied newborn; clearing its airways, cutting the cord, wiping off the mucus, wrapping it and cooing over it.
‘Girl or a boy?’ Stella whimpered, euphoric with relief that it was over, and yet anxious.
Esmie gently held up the mewling bundle. ‘It’s a wee lassie. A beautiful girl – just like her mother.’
‘Let me see.’ Stella struggled to sit up. One thing still plagued her thoughts – unspoken to the Lomaxes, although they must have been worrying too: what did the baby look like?
As Esmie brought her daughter close, Stella could see dark sticky hair and a petite crinkled pink face screwed up against the light of the kerosene lamp. Stella’s fears subsided. Apart from the hair colour, the baby didn’t look Anglo-Indian. The dark hair could be passed off as being like Tom’s. But the true mother’s heritage would not betray her. Stella sank back with relief.
‘Would you like to hold her?’ Esmie asked with a tentative smile.
Stella fought the desire to do so. ‘No, you keep her. Show her to Mr Lomax.’
Chapter 39
Stella fell asleep. She woke to a strange sound. The lamp had been turned down low but she could make out the shape of the cradle beside her bed. It was gently rocking. Leaning up, Stella saw Karo sitting cross-legged on the floor, pushing it.
She smiled at Stella and then called out for Esmie.
At once, Esmie appeared in the doorway. ‘How are you, lassie? Could you manage a bowl of soup and some chapatti?’
Stella realised that she was hungry. ‘Yes, I’d like that, thank you.’
Without being asked, Karo rose and went to fetch some food.
Esmie sat down on the edge of the bed. ‘I know you’ll want a bath,’ she said. ‘But do you think you could try and feed the baby after you’ve had a bite to eat yourself? Karo can help show you how.’
They had agreed this was what they would do for the first days; Stella would nurse the baby herself. Then when the hotel opened up again, Karo’s daughter Gabina would return from Srinagar to be the baby’s ayah – and Stella would go back to Rawalpindi.
Stella was sore and still exhausted – and not sure any more that she wanted to nurse the infant. But it didn’t seem a lot to ask; Esmie had done so much for her these past months. Nothing she did could repay the Lomaxes for standing by her when she had needed them so badly.
‘Of course,’ Stella said, wincing as she tried to sit up.
Esmie helped prop her up with pillows and then lifted the baby out of the cradle. The snuffling sound that had woken Stella was growing into a querulous cry.
Esmie held the tiny girl in her arms and stroked her cheek. ‘There, there, wee lamb,’ she crooned. ‘Milk is coming.’
She walked around the small room, patting and soothing. Tears sprang to Stella’s eyes at seeing Esmie – childless for so long – treating the baby with such tenderness. If she’d had doubts about her decision to give her to the Lomaxes, this moment of intimacy dispelled them. Esmie would love her daughter with a devotion that she might not be able to match herself.
Karo returned with an aromatic bean soup, and Stella devoured it. The queasiness she’d experienced for months at the smell of spicy food was miraculously gone. Afterwards, Karo helped Stella put the baby to her breast. Stella gasped at the sharp tug from such a tiny mouth. It was the strangest sensation – neither painful nor comfortable – and she stared