mountains had disappeared behind a curtain of grey cloud, but Stella’s excitement wasn’t dimmed as they left the flat green acres around the institute and headed for the tree-covered hills.
The higher the car climbed, the more the roads twisted around hairpin bends. When the rain eased, Stella stuck her head out of the window and breathed in the sweet scent of rain-soaked ferns and pine needles.
‘This reminds me of Murree and the road to Kashmir,’ Stella said, and then realised she had tears on her cheeks. Self-consciously, she wiped her face with her handkerchief. ‘The cold air’s making my eyes water.’
Maclagan gave her a look of understanding. ‘It reminds me of Murree too. For you, it must feel like going home.’
Suddenly unable to speak, Stella nodded and gave a tearful smile.
Chapter 52
Mussoorie, July 1943
Stella was overwhelmed by a feeling of familiarity as she walked with her employer in the evening light along the Mall, which was busy with rickshaws and people strolling. Red tin rooftops of houses and hotels nestled among the trees along the steep ridge of the hill station, and the balconied buildings of the main street leading towards the parish church could have been those of Murree.
As the light waned, the mountains behind emerged out of the mist, glowing pink. The banks of cloud sank below the town and obscured the valley where Dehradun lay.
‘It’s like living above the clouds,’ Stella said, gazing in awe at the scene. ‘Quite magical.’
They stood leaning on one of the ornate railings watching as the town went into shadow and the sun caught them in its final rays, illuminating their faces. Any moment now, they would be in darkness and the air would turn delightfully chilly.
‘Stella?’
Startled by the voice, she turned sideways but couldn’t see the man clearly. He was an indistinct outline in the sunset. She shaded her eyes. He came towards her. Her heart knocked against her chest.
‘Stella, it is you!’
She gasped. ‘Andrew? W-what are you doing here?’
He grinned down at her. ‘I was going to ask you the same question.’
She wanted to throw her arms around him but felt inhibited by the major’s presence. ‘This is Major Maclagan. I’m with him on timber business.’ She tried to keep her voice from trembling. ‘Major, this is my friend Andrew Lomax.’
‘Ah, the brave young officer from the Borderers! Miss Dubois has told me all about you.’
As the men shook hands, Andrew looked a little quizzically at Stella. ‘I don’t know what Stella’s been telling you, but she’s prone to exaggeration,’ he quipped.
The major laughed. ‘Tell me,’ he said, ‘what brings you here?’
‘A week of leave,’ Andrew explained. ‘A friend of mine is recovering from malaria here and wanted some company. And I couldn’t resist a trip to the mountains.’
‘Isn’t it so like Murree?’ Stella exclaimed. She was breathless at standing so close to him.
Andrew’s eyes shone.
‘And where is your friend?’ Maclagan asked.
‘He’s back at the boarding house,’ said Andrew. ‘He’s almost fully recovered – I left him playing chess with a Welsh gunner.’
‘Perhaps I could treat you both to dinner tomorrow night? We’re paying guests at St Mary’s Lodge and the food is plain but plentiful.’
‘That would be very kind,’ said Andrew. ‘I accept on behalf of us both.’
Stella was thrilled. It was like an unexpected gift. They had so much catching up to do since they’d both left Rawalpindi.
The sun set and lights came on along the Mall.
‘I think we should head back to the lodge,’ said Maclagan. ‘I want to be up early to go to the deodar plantation.’
Stella hoped Andrew might walk with them but it appeared his boarding house was in the other direction, so in frustration, she said goodbye and watched him walk away.
Although Stella enjoyed the next day tramping beneath the towering deodar trees helping the major take measurements, she couldn’t wait for the evening and seeing Andrew again. She took care to style her hair and put on some lipstick, and then decided at the last minute to rub her lips clean. She felt ashamed of trying to make herself attractive to a man who was already engaged.
The two officers arrived promptly at six and were served sherry in the airy hallway before being ushered into the communal dining room. Andrew’s friend, John Grant, was an amiable man with well-groomed reddish hair and moustache, though his skin was still sallow from his bout of fever.
They all shared a long table with the other lodgers. Stella, who was sitting between the major and John