minute he’d been ecstatic at hearing her voice; the next he’d felt punched in the guts at her mistaking him for Hugh. He didn’t know which would be worse; seeing her or not seeing her.
As Andrew climbed down from the tonga he heard a mournful cry and turned to see a peacock strutting towards him across the lawn, which was strewn with a carpet of deep-pink bougainvillea petals.
‘Percy, my old friend!’ Andrew grinned. ‘Glad to see you’re still alive. Or maybe you’re son of Percy?’
The bird gave another shrill call and then bent to peck at the ground. At that moment, a familiar grey-haired figure came hurrying down the path and gave him a toothless grin.
‘Welcome, sahib.’
‘Sunil!’ Andrew cried. ‘How are you? You haven’t changed a bit.’
Sunil nodded and his smile widened further. ‘Very well, sahib.’
‘Manek,’ Andrew said to his bearer, ‘this is the man who taught me the art of smoking. Sunil will help you bring in the bags.’
Andrew walked ahead of them, his confident strides belying the anxiety he felt inside. Petals fell on him as his head brushed against the creeper over the entrance; he’d definitely grown taller since he’d last been here. He entered the gloom of the lobby, which still smelt of beeswax polish and the slight mustiness of overwatered plant pots. To his delight, the décor had remained pale green and the tiled floor was cluttered with cane chairs, drinks tables and drooping ferns as it had been when he was a boy.
A thick-set man with a round face, pencil moustache and dressed in a dark suit came forward, hand outstretched. For a stunned moment, while his eyes adjusted from the glare outside, Andrew thought it was Charlie.
‘Master Andrew!’ The man beamed. ‘You are the image of your father.’
‘Jimmy!’ Andrew shook his hand warmly. ‘And you are the image of yours. I was so very sorry—’
‘Yes, yes.’ Jimmy cut him short. ‘We all miss the old boy like the devil. The residents will be delighted to see you – they have been growing quite giddy at the thought of you coming.’
‘I can’t wait to see them too,’ said Andrew. He asked quickly, ‘But first, how is the rest of the Dubois family? I must congratulate you on becoming a father. From the wedding photograph that Stella sent to my Auntie Tibby, you have a beautiful wife too.’
Jimmy smiled and nodded.
‘And how is your sister? I had the briefest of conversations last month and was surprised to find she’d gone to Gulmarg early this season.’ He hoped his voice sounded neutral despite his drumming heart.
‘Ha, my sister! It’s so long since she’s been here that we’ve forgotten what she looks like!’
Andrew noticed that he immediately felt a slight easing of the tension he’d been feeling. ‘Oh?’ he said, keeping an even tone.
‘Yes,’ said Jimmy, ‘she’s been in Gulmarg since last summer.’
‘Right through the cold season?’ Andrew asked. ‘Why?’
Jimmy’s round face turned pink. ‘Well, helping your parents of course . . .’
Andrew was baffled. ‘But there’s nothing to do there once the snow comes.’ He grew alarmed at the sight of Jimmy’s wary look.
‘Surely you’ve heard?’
‘Heard what? Dad’s all right, isn’t he?’
Jimmy nodded vigorously. ‘Never better. And I’m glad to say that Mr Lomax is on his way here to greet you. I took the liberty of alerting him to your impending arrival.’
‘My father’s coming here?’ Andrew gasped.
‘Yes, sir. You will soon be reunited. Mr Lomax will be here by this evening.’ Jimmy was beaming again. ‘He can explain everything.’
‘Explain what? You’re being very mysterious, Jimmy. Is he coming on his own?’ For a brief moment he hoped Stella would be returning too.
‘Yes, yes, alone.’
Just then, there was a shout from along the corridor. ‘Subaltern Lomax! Is that you? By golly, you’ve grown.’
Andrew turned in amusement to see who was greeting him with the old-fashioned army title for second lieutenant and saw two familiar figures coming towards him.
‘Mr Ansom! Mr Fritwell!’ Andrew greeted them. He wanted to throw his arms around them in delight that they were both still living there, but shook them eagerly by the hand instead.
Jimmy waved them towards the dining room. ‘Master Andrew is going to join you for breakfast.’
‘Best scrambled eggs outside of Britain,’ said Ansom. ‘Even though Chef’s never mastered the art of crisping the bacon.’
‘We want to hear all about your exploits,’ said Fritwell. ‘Heard you were at Dunkirk. Terrible business.’
Andrew gave distracted answers to their volley of questions. He was still reeling from the news that his father