The Sapphire Child (The Raj Hotel #2) - Janet MacLeod Trotter Page 0,166

the magical setting – and one that should never be repeated. Stella had come to terms with the reality that Andrew belonged to Felicity Douglas. Her greatest wish was that he would come through the conflict in one piece and have a long life ahead of him back in Scotland.

Maclagan tried to cheer her. ‘Miss Dubois, it may be trite to say that no news is good news, but it’s true. You must take heart from that.’

As winter came to an end, Stella threw herself into long hours at work despite the rising temperature and being hampered by the choking dust that managed to get into everything from the typewriter keys to her shoes. She received a cheery letter from Gerald, the sub-lieutenant she’d met at New Year. In return, she sent him a parcel of jalebi, for which he’d discovered a passion, and hoped that they wouldn’t congeal into a sticky mess by the time they arrived at whatever port he docked at next.

Stella avoided all contact with the Keatings, resisting Moira’s attempts to meet up for lunch. The only thing she would never regret about her time with Hugh was being able to bring Belle into the world. Despite the agony of separation from her daughter, she could not imagine a time without her. From Esmie’s occasional letters, Stella knew that her girl was growing up healthy and loved in the hills of Kashmir.

As the heat of Delhi intensified, Stella turned her thoughts to escaping the city and the impending monsoon for a short break in the hills. She would ask Maclagan for a couple of weeks’ leave. In the past she had resisted his attempts to make her take holiday, saying she would only do so when he did. But she had missed Belle’s second birthday and increasingly longed to see her again – however briefly – and witness for herself that her daughter was happy.

The day after her boss had granted her request for leave, a letter came for Stella in the office dak. It was in an official buff envelope. Intrigued, Stella took it to her desk and slit it open with a letter knife. Inside was another envelope. Her heart leapt to see Andrew’s writing on it: addressed to her, care of the New Delhi office address. With trembling fingers, she pulled out the letter and read. Puzzled, she saw it was dated in January.

My dearest Stella,

I’m in camp sitting watching a glorious sunset over the Bay of Bengal – it’s worth the irritation of moskies to see it. I enclose a sketch, though the pencil doesn’t do the colours justice. I’ve taken up drawing again since we last met – I must say that it helps take my mind off things in these worrying times – and it’s also been a distraction from examining my heart.

Tonight, though, my good friend Grant has impressed on me that time is running out to let my feelings be known, as we will soon be in the fray once more.

Stella, you have been in my life for as long as I can remember – my good friend, my playmate, my confidante, my rival in sport, my nanny! No, that last one was just to tease you. I have never ever thought of you in that way, despite what my mother would wish. Because men don’t fall in love with their nannies – and Stella, I have been in love with you all my life.

I have never loved anyone as strongly as I love you – not even my parents – and I’m ashamed to say, certainly not my poor fiancée.

In the early days, when we went to Scotland together, it was still a boy’s infatuation – a schoolboy crush. I pined for days after you left and only really started being happy again after I went to boarding school and made new friends.

But growing into manhood and meeting other girls, I couldn’t help comparing each one of them against my ideal of womanhood, which was you, Stella. Not in a million years would I have told Felicity this, but when I first saw her, I was struck by how her fair hair and pretty eyes reminded me of you. I was drawn to her because in a very small way it was like having a glimpse of you. I’m not proud of that, Stella, and I don’t think that’s why I asked her to marry me, but I wish you to know that the only woman I’ve