The Sapphire Child (The Raj Hotel #2) - Janet MacLeod Trotter Page 0,158
you with? Is it that navy lad going off to the bar? He’s a bit of a dish.’
‘I’m not really with him as such . . .’
‘Tell me, what are you doing in Delhi?’
‘I’m with the WAC working for a Major Maclagan,’ said Stella. ‘He’s in charge of the timber supply to the forces.’
‘Heavens, that sounds boring.’
‘It’s actually quite interesting.’ Stella smiled. ‘And he’s a very nice man who’s missing his family in Britain.’
Moira arched her brows. ‘Are you having an affair with him, poor lonely man?’
‘Certainly not!’ Stella went red.
Moira burst out laughing. ‘Oh, Stella, you’re still as sweet as ever.’ She seized Stella’s left hand. ‘Still not married, I see.’
‘No, what about you?’
Moira pulled off her evening glove and waggled a ringed finger. ‘Hooked one in the end.’ She grinned. ‘Never thought I’d end up back in India, but my husband’s job is here – well, Calcutta – but we thought it safer if me and the sprog came to Delhi, just in case of the Japs.’
‘You have a child?’ Stella asked, her heart skipping a beat.
‘Yes, a boy – Jonathan – he’s just over a year old. Think he’s going to be a holy terror, just like his dad.’ She laughed. ‘You might remember him.’
Stella looked at her, bemused. ‘Who? Your husband?’
‘Yes, he was on the SS Rajputana. In fact, I think he had a bit of a thing for you at the time. Hugh – Hugh Keating. We met in South Africa of all places. I was out there nannying and he was a refugee from Singapore. Isn’t it strange how life works out?’
Stella was stunned. She stared at Moira, not quite believing what she’d heard. ‘Hugh?’ she said incredulously. ‘That’s not possible . . .’
‘I know it sounds outlandish,’ said Moira, ‘but we did have a bit of a fling on the boat after you’d left. We saw each other for a while, but then he came back out here and we lost touch. When we met again in Cape Town – well, the spark was still there.’ She leaned towards Stella and whispered, ‘Between you and me, we jumped the gun a bit. Jonathan arrived six months after we got married. Still’ – she laughed – ‘no one cares about things like that when there’s a war on, do they?’
Stella suddenly found it hard to breathe and it was almost as if the room around Moira, sat in front of her, her mouth still moving, had begun to spin. Hugh couldn’t possibly be married to Moira. It didn’t make sense. For a wild moment, she wondered if Moira was talking about a different Hugh, but then realised how ridiculous that was. There was only one Hugh Keating, only one man who had stolen her heart and then betrayed her.
She felt clammy and sick. She couldn’t speak.
‘Are you feeling okay?’ Moira asked. ‘Had a few too many cocktails, eh?’
Stella nodded, bile rising in her throat.
‘Oh, look, here he comes with the drinks!’ Moira said, waving. ‘Hughie, over here. You’ll never guess who I’ve found!’
Stella thought she would faint. Limping slightly and coming towards her, followed by a waiter bearing a tray of cocktails, was Hugh. He was dressed immaculately in a modern dinner suit, his wavy hair a little more receding than before but his face still handsome. The smile on his face froze as he caught sight of Stella. They stared at each other.
‘It’s Stella,’ said Moira. ‘Don’t you recognise her? Stella Dubois from the SS Rajputana.’
Hugh recovered quickly. ‘Stella! What a surprise! How very nice to meet you again.’ He held out his hand.
Somehow, Stella managed a brief handshake and found her voice. ‘Hugh, this certainly is unexpected. Moira tells me you’re married – and with a son. Congratulations.’
Seeing him and speaking to him was purgatory, but she had a flicker of satisfaction in seeing him redden and stutter in reply.
‘Y-yes . . . th-thank you.’
He sat down beside Moira and started issuing orders to the waiter. ‘Give one to the other memsahib too.’
‘Not for me, thank you,’ said Stella coolly. His discomfort at the situation was giving her strength. ‘Gerald is getting me a drink.’ She eyed him. ‘So, Hugh, what have you been doing since we last met?’
He seemed flummoxed by the question. ‘Well, let me see. After a visit home to Dublin I – er – stayed in Britain for a while in ’33.’
‘Seeing me,’ said Moira, with a wink.
Hugh ploughed on. ‘Then I went back out to India.’