The Sapphire Child (The Raj Hotel #2) - Janet MacLeod Trotter Page 0,143

you, Stella. That means a lot.’

For a long moment they held each other’s look. Stella felt her heart brimming with affection. She glanced down at their hands touching; it was such a comforting feeling. She ran the tips of her fingers over his.

‘You still bite your nails,’ she said.

‘Habit,’ Andrew admitted.

Stella said, ‘They’re not as bad as they used to be though.’

‘I remember how you would sometimes try and kiss them better,’ he said wryly.

She raised his hand and gently kissed his fingertips. ‘That better?’

‘Much.’

She saw the glint of emotion in his eyes and swiftly let go her hold.

Andrew cleared his throat. ‘Will you give my love to Dad and Esmie?’ he asked. ‘Tell them I’m sorry I didn’t get to see them before leaving the Punjab.’

‘Of course I will.’

‘Are they happy, Stella?’ he asked abruptly. ‘With the new baby?’

‘Very,’ Stella said truthfully. ‘They adore her – and your father has started painting again. That’s always a sign that he’s in good spirits.’

‘I’m glad,’ Andrew said, smiling wistfully. ‘I hope one day I’ll meet my sister.’

She leaned towards him and lightly kissed his cheek. As she brushed against him, she was aware of his unshaven chin. It gave her the same frisson she’d experienced the day before when he’d kissed her hair. Quickly she stood up.

‘Let me ride back with you,’ Andrew said.

‘No, it’s the wrong direction for you,’ Stella replied, ‘and you’ll only slow me down.’

Andrew laughed. ‘Oh, Stella, I’ve missed your teasing.’

Hastily, she pushed off and pedalled hard. To linger would be too distressing and she didn’t dare look back. She had waited over nine years to see Andrew again and their time together had been so tantalisingly brief. She had forgotten just how much she cared for him. The tears came, and a confusing mix of sadness and yearning pressed on her chest. Stella sent up a prayer that she would see him again, safe and unharmed.

Chapter 49

A week after Andrew left Rawalpindi, Stella entered Winifred Shankley’s room and knew something was wrong. There was no reply to her morning greeting. The old woman lay still and when Stella approached, she didn’t move. But leaning over Winifred, she could hear her shallow breathing.

‘Mrs S, are you all right?’ Stella smoothed back wispy white hair from the missionary’s brow.

Winifred’s eyes flickered open. Her expression was confused. She didn’t answer; her hand fumbled for Stella’s and tried to hold it, but her thin fingers were too weak. Stella sat on the bed and, lifting Winifred’s hand to her lips, kissed it. Winifred smiled and closed her eyes. Her rapid shallow breathing continued. A lump formed in Stella’s throat; instinctively she knew that her old friend’s life was finally ebbing away.

‘Would you like me to sing to you?’ Stella asked gently.

Winifred gave the slightest of nods. Stella began singing the missionary’s favourite hymn, ‘There is a Green Hill Far Away’.

As she sang, the old woman’s face relaxed and her breathing grew calmer. Stella wondered if she should go for help and get Jimmy to call the doctor, but when she tried to draw away, Winifred’s fingers fluttered in agitation. So, Stella stayed and kept on singing hymns while stroking the missionary’s brow.

Abruptly, Winifred’s breathing changed. It grew deep and ragged, and she gasped as a bronchial, rattling noise sounded in her chest.

In alarm, Stella broke off singing. ‘Mrs S?’

Winifred’s eyes opened wide. She saw Stella leaning over her and smiled. ‘Glory to God!’ Then she closed her eyes again.

Stella bent down and kissed her tenderly on the forehead. ‘Glory to God, Mrs S,’ she whispered.

A few minutes later, Winifred Shankley stopped breathing.

Mrs Shankley’s death spurred on Stella to volunteer for general service with the WAC. By December, news was seeping out that Indian and British forces were engaged in battle with the Japanese in the Arakan, a coastal area inside Burma close to Chittagong in East Bengal. She didn’t know for sure, but it was likely that Andrew was involved in the fighting. While she worried about him, it made her the more determined to do her bit.

‘I’m spending most of my time volunteering as it is,’ she explained to her mother. ‘And there’s no reason why a single woman like me shouldn’t be prepared to go where I’m most needed.’

‘What about next season?’ her mother questioned. ‘Won’t the Lomaxes expect you to help at The Raj-in-the-Hills?’

Stella felt a now familiar feeling of anxiety and sadness at the mention of the Lomaxes. ‘Not if I’m volunteering full-time in general service.