The Sapphire Child (The Raj Hotel #2) - Janet MacLeod Trotter Page 0,140

nothing. He was distracted at dinner and took a late walk up the Mall with half a mind to call in at the Raj, but turned back. He could hardly contain his impatience to see Stella again, yet guilt made him retreat to the barracks. Just before leaving Razmak, he’d received a long newsy letter from Felicity – the first one for weeks – and he knew he should be spending the evening writing back to his fiancée.

He stood smoking and looking up at the inky night sky. The stars were obscured by hazy smoke from fires. He had grown used to seeing the glittering galaxy overhead in the rarefied air of the frontier mountains. In a couple of days, he would be far from this northern region and into unknown territory. Andrew regretted that he hadn’t been able to go to Kashmir and make his peace with his father and Esmie – to meet his half-sister. How he longed to be reunited with them and show them that they were loved. It was possible that he might never get the chance to do so now.

Seeing Stella again after all these years had brought back to him how much he still cherished this place and its people. The minute he caught sight of her – her heart-shaped face flushed from her walk and her stylish fair hair rippling over her shoulders – it was like a punch in the guts. All the yearning for India and for his family here – for Stella – which he’d buried so deep for so long had come surging back.

He had dreamt of putting his arms about her, but hadn’t expected her to welcome him so enthusiastically. Yet, he should have known that Stella would not hold any grudges against him for how he had behaved in the past; she was as engaging and warm-hearted as he’d remembered. And as attractive. Perhaps her face had aged subtly – there were lines across her forehead and the girlish plumpness had gone, leaving her cheekbones more prominent. At thirty, she now had the face and figure of a beautiful woman.

He ground out his cigarette and thrust his hands in his pockets. How hard he’d found it, when she’d been in his arms, not to tilt her chin up and kiss her on the lips. She would have been shocked and maybe a little offended. But he hadn’t been able to resist brushing her hair with a kiss. Even that, he thought, had probably gone too far. She had pulled away from him.

Andrew sighed. He could hardly wait for the morning to see her again and yet was already dreading a final farewell.

Stella was up and ready before the dawn broke. She slipped out of the family bungalow before anyone was awake and wheeled her bicycle round the side of the hotel. The air was sharp and she stood, muffled in jacket, scarf and woollen beret, blowing into her hands to warm them up. From the direction of Saddar Bazaar, she heard the muezzin’s call to prayer. It was echoed by another call to the faithful from further away.

A short time later, she heard the soft tinkle of a bicycle bell and Andrew appeared out of the semi-darkness. She felt so nervous and yet excited that she was trembling slightly, although she said to herself it must be the cold. She pushed her bicycle up the path to meet him. Their breath rose in clouds as they greeted each another.

Without another word, they set off down deserted Nichol Road, cycling side by side. Turning into Dalhousie Road they soon reached the Mall. As they rode down it, Stella saw the first flush of dawn seeping into the sky above the distant Himalayan foothills. Behind them, stars were still out and the ghostly sliver of a crescent moon hung low over the city.

The trees along the Mall were almost bare, save for a few leaves that began to turn golden in the rising sun. Stella could have ridden for much longer, but she was aware that their time together was brief and so she pulled ahead.

‘Race you to the cricket pavilion!’ she shouted.

She pedalled faster and veered left towards the cricket ground. Along the cinder track she heard Andrew gaining on her. They arrived at the pavilion in a dead heat and dismounted laughing. There wasn’t a soul around.

‘Lost your touch, Master Andrew,’ she teased, panting for breath. ‘Too many mess dinners?’

‘Just being gentlemanly towards my old nanny,’