The Sapphire Child (The Raj Hotel #2) - Janet MacLeod Trotter Page 0,169
along fine. Good luck, Miss Dubois.’
‘Thank you,’ Stella said huskily.
Half an hour later, she was waving goodbye and leaving Srinagar in the forester’s car.
Stella spent most of the drive in silence. She stared out of the window at the spectacular mountain views as the car bumped over icy ruts on the winding road up to Gulmarg.
Her heart pounded faster the nearer they drew to the mountain resort. When the cluster of chalets and hotels appeared, Stella’s vision blurred with fresh tears. The receding snow and the sprinkling of spring flowers across the marg reminded her poignantly of the weeks she’d spent here after giving birth to Belle.
Stella thanked and parted from the forester at the foot of the settlement where he was meeting a colleague. Glad that she had packed stout walking shoes despite the Delhi heat, she swung her canvas bag over her shoulder and trudged up the soggy paths through the village.
The Raj-in-the-Hills came into view. Stella halted, panting for breath. It all looked dearly familiar: the green corrugated roof and the sweep of veranda that was still shuttered and awaiting the summer guests. The lawns and rockery were emerging from the snow in a flurry of alpine flowers. It made Stella think of John Grant and how she had encouraged him to visit Gulmarg. When she felt stronger, she would write to him and thank him for sending on Andrew’s letter – and tell him how she would treasure it till the end of her days.
There appeared to be no one about, so Stella made her way around the side of the hotel to the annex. Tom’s studio looked locked up – the door bolted and the windows shuttered – but there was no surprise in that. Would he ever paint again after losing his beloved son? As she rounded the corner, she saw movement on the annex veranda.
A small child, dressed in a pale-blue knitted jacket and tartan skirt, was pushing a wooden toy at the top of the steps. Stella’s heart missed a beat. It was the toy mouse that she’d sent as a Christmas present. Pulse racing, Stella walked forward. As she reached the steps, the infant looked up and stopped her playing. She observed Stella with large blue eyes full of curiosity. Stella was winded by their similarity to Hugh’s. But then the impression passed, and she saw that the girl had the same-shaped face as hers with a delicate chin and cupid-bow lips. Stella’s throat was so tight that she couldn’t speak. She stood rooted to the spot, swallowing hard.
‘Hello, lady,’ the girl said unexpectedly.
Stella gulped back a sob. ‘Hello. You must be Belle.’
‘Me, Belle,’ the girl agreed.
At once a woman appeared out of the shadowed veranda and grabbed Belle’s hand to stop her toppling off the steps.
It was Gabina. She gasped in surprise. ‘Stella-Mem’!’
Stella mounted the steps. ‘Hello, Gabina. Didn’t you get my telegram?’
‘No,’ the ayah answered. ‘But please, come, come. Lomax Memsahib will be so happy to see you. It’s been too long, Stella-Mem’!’
They hugged. Belle clung to Gabina’s salwar kameez and stared up at Stella.
‘Who lady?’ she asked.
Gabina and Stella exchanged looks. Quickly Gabina said, ‘This is your Auntie Stella.’
‘Auntie S’ella,’ the girl repeated.
Stella crouched down and smiled, drinking in the sight of her daughter after all this time. She noticed that the colour of her hair had lightened to a pale brown. It was wavy, just like Myrtle’s.
Stella touched her jacket lightly with a finger. ‘I sent you this for Christmas. It suits you. And I’m glad to see you like your wooden mouse.’
Belle suddenly remembered she’d been playing and rushed to pick up the thick string of the toy. She began tugging it across the veranda, where it bumped off the furniture and overturned. Stella hurried to help right it.
‘What does the mouse say?’ Stella asked. ‘Squeak, squeak!’
Belle gave a smile of delight. ‘Squeak, squeak,’ she imitated.
They laughed and made mouse noises at each other. Stella had to resist pulling the girl into a hug; she didn’t want to alarm her. She could hardly believe she was right there beside her.
A voice made her jump. ‘Stella? Can it be you?’ Standing up, she saw Esmie in the doorway.
‘How wonderful!’ cried Esmie, holding out her arms.
Stella stumbled towards her, suddenly on the verge of tears. ‘Esmie, I had to come!’
Esmie enveloped her in a warm hug. Stella burst out crying.
‘Oh, lassie,’ Esmie crooned, stroking her hair. ‘I’m so glad you did.’