Belle pushed the bottle away and Stella put it down, carrying the baby to the window.
‘Look, the sun’s coming up over the mountains, Belle. It’s the most beautiful sight in the world. You’re very lucky to live in such a place. Every morning at sunrise I’ll think of you here and send you a morning prayer full of love.’
Stella gave Belle a long tender kiss on her cheek, breathing in her warm milky smell and committing to memory the softness of her baby skin and the loving look in her beautiful eyes.
‘No one will love you as much as I do, my precious one! If, someday, you ever discover the truth, I hope you will come to realise that I did it to give you the best life I could. And that it was the hardest thing that I’ve ever done in my life!’
Gabina returned. Stella took a deep breath and handed Belle over to her ayah. She resisted the urge to hang onto Belle and cover her in more kisses, fearful that the longer she held her the more impossible it would be to let go.
Gabina said quietly, ‘We will look after her well, Stella-Mem’.’
Stella nodded and gave a tearful smile. ‘Thank you,’ she said hoarsely. ‘I know you will.’
She hurried from the room and out of the annex. The air was cool and sweet from a heavy dew. The sky over the Himalayas was turning pale gold as the sun’s rays poured over the ridge tops, flooding the valley with dawn light. How could the day be so beautiful when her heart was breaking?
Stella wiped her tear-stained face. She must not show her misery. This was the path she had chosen for herself and her daughter. She must be brave for them both – and make the most of a life without Belle.
Chapter 47
The Raj Hotel, Rawalpindi, November 1942
Winifred Shankley rallied when Stella returned to the hotel in Rawalpindi. For a while, Stella managed to coax her out of bed and to sit in the courtyard in the shade of the jacaranda. Stella would read to her or simply sit and hold her hand while the old woman dozed.
Stella was shocked by how much the missionary had aged in the sixteen months she’d been away. Winifred was painfully thin and frail and her back was so bent that she was forced to look at the floor when she walked. But mostly she sat in her wheelchair and talked about her family as if they were present, although Stella knew all her relatives had died long ago.
‘You won’t go away again, will you?’ Winifred fretted.
‘No, Mrs S, I won’t,’ Stella promised, squeezing her hand gently.
‘I missed you, dearie.’
‘And I missed you. But you had my cousin Lucy looking after you well. Yvonne said you got on together like a house on fire.’
‘That other girl was nice,’ Winifred admitted. ‘And I don’t want to complain but you and I are like old friends, aren’t we?’
Stella smiled. ‘Yes, we are, Mrs S. The best of friends.’
Stella resumed her work for the WAC and was thankful that they accepted her reason for being away in Gulmarg for so long. When she wasn’t working at the hotel or doing voluntary service, Stella began making soft furnishings out of old curtains, trousers and jackets as well as offcuts of sari material from the bazaar. She sewed on sequins and buttons and made cushion covers, bedspreads and bags.
Myrtle was full of admiration. ‘I never thought you could be so good with a needle and thread, Stella. You should set up your own business.’
‘Maybe someday,’ she answered. ‘But not while we’re in danger of being invaded by the Japanese. I can’t think beyond helping as much as I can with the WAC.’
Stella was glad that she could please her mother after the disappointment of her not being successfully married. She had told no one about Hugh already having a wife – she didn’t want their pity or to be the focus of Pindi gossip – but had simply said that they had fallen out of love and that Hugh had left India.
Every day she was tempted to ring Gulmarg and ask for news of Belle, longing to hear her gurgling voice down the telephone wire. But she resisted. She had received two letters from Esmie with news – in October Belle was red-cheeked and teething – and recently she’d started to crawl. Stella appreciated these tantalising snippets of news but suspected Esmie did not write more