The Sapphire Child (The Raj Hotel #2) - Janet MacLeod Trotter Page 0,175
again, she was in some trepidation about meeting Lydia, who had been less than enthusiastic about having Stella as a daughter-in-law. But she would face that encounter with Andrew at her side.
Before the sea journey, Tom and Esmie had decided on this pilgrimage to Peshawar. Although not far from Rawalpindi, Stella had never been to this border town – part ancient trading post of the Pathans, part British army cantonment – on the route to Afghanistan.
Belle broke away from Andrew’s other hand and skipped ahead, catching up with Tom and Esmie.
‘Wait for me, Meemee!’
Stella turned to Andrew. ‘Are you okay?’
He nodded. ‘Yes, I want to do this.’
She leaned up and kissed his lips. ‘I love you very much.’
He looked back at her adoringly. She had long got used to him wearing an eye patch over his sightless eye; to her it was part of his charm. Everything about him made her happy.
They caught up with the others. Belle was running around restlessly and jumping on and off a low border of bricks around a graveside.
Stella went to her daughter and whispered, ‘Why don’t you pick some of those wild flowers under the trees for Granddad Tom – to cheer him up?’
‘Is Granddad Tom sad?’ she asked, her sweet face frowning.
‘A little bit.’
‘Why is he sad, Mummy?’
‘Because he’s come to say goodbye to his baby daughter, Amelia,’ Stella explained. ‘She died a long time ago and is buried here.’
‘Like your dog Frisky was buried at Gulmarg?’ Belle asked.
‘Yes, like that.’
Belle dashed off. ‘Back in a minute!’
Stella exchanged amused looks with Andrew. At three and a half, the energetic Belle kept them busy all day long, as well as entertained with her chatter and observations.
They joined Tom and Esmie who were standing in quiet contemplation over two graves: one for Tom’s first wife, Mary, and the second for their infant daughter.
Stella read the inscription on the first headstone.
IN LOVING MEMORY OF MARY MAXWELL LOMAX, DEARLY BELOVED WIFE OF CAPTAIN T. LOMAX OF THE PESHAWAR RIFLES, BORN 2ND JANUARY 1888, DIED 5TH JANUARY 1913. ERECTED BY HER SORROWING HUSBAND.
‘O FOR THE TOUCH OF A VANISHED HAND, AND THE SOUND OF A VOICE THAT IS STILL.’
Stella had a pang of pity as she watched Tom struggle not to weep. But it was the second grave that tore at her heart.
IN MEMORY OF AMELIA MARY, INFANT DAUGHTER OF CAPTAIN T. LOMAX. BORN 5TH JANUARY 1913, LIVED FOUR DAYS.
‘MY FLESH SHALL REST IN LOVE. SAFE IN THE ARMS OF JESUS. OF SUCH IS THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN.’
Seeing the desolate, loving words, Stella understood for the first time just how much of a burden Tom must have carried for so long – grief that he had bottled up and refused to speak about. Only Esmie, patient and caring over many years, had been able to break through Tom’s reserve and show him that he was allowed to grieve for his lost wife and child – owed it to them to acknowledge their existence and pay tribute to their short lives.
Esmie handed Tom a bunch of white chrysanthemums. He placed them on Mary’s grave, crouching down to touch the stone. He rested his hand there a moment. When he stood up, Esmie put her arms around her husband and hugged him in comfort.
Stella turned to Andrew. ‘Are you ready?’
He nodded, clutching the second bouquet that Esmie had just passed to him. Andrew stepped over to the baby’s grave and spoke in a clear voice.
‘Amelia, today I meet you for the first time. All I know about you is that you fought to hang onto life for four days. We don’t know what you looked like. Perhaps you and I might have looked alike. I wish I’d got to know you – my big sister.’
He cleared his throat and glanced at Stella. She gave him a nod of encouragement.
‘But what I do know,’ he carried on, ‘is that you were greatly loved. Your dad – our dad – has never stopped loving you and never will. Because we Lomaxes are loyal to those we love.’ He turned to his father. ‘Let’s lay the flowers together, Dad.’
Tom stepped towards him and, shoulder to shoulder, they bent and laid the flowers at Amelia’s stone. As they stood back up, Tom said hoarsely, ‘Thank you, Andy.’
Abruptly, Tom grabbed Andrew in a fierce hug and began to weep.
Stella exchanged an emotional look with Esmie and went to hold her hand.
Just then, Belle came tearing back, waving a ragged bunch of weeds.
‘Look, I’ve got this for you, Granddad!’
Tom let go of Andrew and wiped his eyes quickly with the heels of his hands. He took the proffered grasses.
‘Thank you, Belle. They’re the best bunch of flowers I’ve ever been given.’
Belle looked at him in disbelief and laughed. ‘Silly Granddad! It’s not flowers, it’s grass.’
Tom smiled. ‘Well, it’s the best grass I’ve ever been given.’
Belle nodded, seemingly satisfied with this. She skipped up to Stella and slipped her hand in hers.
‘Mummy, can we go now?’
Smiling at her daughter, she bent down and kissed the top of her head. ‘Yes, darling.’
Belle reached up to Andrew to take her other hand. ‘Come on, Daddy, we can go.’
Stella’s heart was brimming with such fierce love for them both that she couldn’t speak. She and Andrew grinned at each other over the girl’s head. Then, swinging their daughter between them, they headed for the cemetery gates and into full sunshine.
GLOSSARY
ayah nurse or nanny
box-wallah person in trade
burra big, most important
chaprassy messenger
chota hazri breakfast
chota peg small alcoholic drink/sundowner
chowkidar watchman, gatekeeper, doorman
dak mail/post
jalebi syrupy Indian sweets
mali gardener
marg meadow
memsahib a polite title or form of address for a woman
mofussil countryside
nimbu pani lemon/lime drink
sahib a polite title or form of address for a man
sepoy Indian soldier
shikar hunting
shikara small open boat found on Dal Lake, Kashmir
syce groom/stable boy
tonga two-wheeled, horse-drawn carriage
topee sunhat
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
In researching this novel (as with The Emerald Affair), I would like to acknowledge Ali Khan’s wonderful history book on Rawalpindi: Rawul Pindee: The Raj Years. I hope, one day, to be able to meet Ali and Ayesha in person.
I wish to express my huge gratitude to those who have worked so hard on my behalf during these unprecedented and difficult times of a worldwide pandemic. Thank you, as ever, to my champion editor, Sammia Hamer and to structural editor, Mike Jones, for his very great care and guidance in shaping this novel. Much appreciated. Also, many thanks to Jill Sawyer for her expert touch at the copyediting stage, to Gill Harvey for her sensitive and careful proofreading and to Plum5 Limited for a gorgeous, evocative cover.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Janet MacLeod Trotter is the author of numerous bestselling and acclaimed novels, including The Hungry Hills, which was nominated for the Sunday Times Young Writer of the Year Award, The Tea Planter’s Daughter, which was nominated for the Romantic Novelists’ Association Novel of the Year Award, and In the Far Pashmina Mountains, which was shortlisted for the RNA Historical Romance of the Year Award. Much informed by her own experiences, MacLeod Trotter was raised in the north-east of England by Scottish parents and travelled in India as a young woman. She now divides her time between Northumberland and the Isle of Skye. Find out more about the author and her novels at www.janetmacleodtrotter.com.