The Sapphire Child (The Raj Hotel #2) - Janet MacLeod Trotter Page 0,23
Queen from Hans Christian Andersen’s tale – beautiful and remote – but not at all motherly. Recently, Stella had been trying to reassure him by telling him little anecdotes of how his mother had been kind to her as a small girl at the Raj. But what would his mother be like with him?
His father kept no pictures of his mother and the only photograph Andrew possessed was one that Esmie had given him out of her battered album. It showed Esmie and his mother standing arm in arm, smiling broadly on the steps of a bungalow. Esmie looked much younger. From what he could see of the tiny black-and-white picture, his mother was pretty and Esmie had told him she was fair-haired. On the back it read, ‘Buchanan Road, Pindi, January 1st 1920.’ So Esmie had still been good friends with his mother in those days – before he was born.
He wondered what had happened to break up their friendship. Was it just Esmie being loyal to his father or was there another reason? George’s poisonous words about Esmie resurfaced. ‘Your father never married her. She’s just his whore . . . they’re like a couple of sewer rats copulating!’
How could anyone speak about his beloved Meemee like that? To stop himself dwelling on it, he thought of Stella again. She must come with him and not go off with the Irishman, however amiable he was.
The next time Andrew was talking to Moira he asked, ‘What do you think of Mr Keating?’
‘He’s very charming – a bit of a ladies’ man, I’d say.’ She smiled. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘He likes you too,’ said Andrew. ‘He told me.’
Moira looked surprised. ‘Really? Did he say so? I got the distinct impression he’s keen on Stella.’
‘Well, he’s nice to Stella but I think he prefers someone a bit – er – more mature.’
‘Goodness, you must have some very grown-up conversations for your age in the Keating cabin,’ Moira said in amusement.
Andrew reddened. He wasn’t lying when he said that Hugh liked Moira, but he was pretty sure if Stella gave him any romantic encouragement, Hugh would press his suit with her rather than the failed governess. It worried Andrew that Stella might already have done things with Hugh, such as kissing, for they’d started calling each other by their first names and he’d witnessed them touching hands under the table and sharing secret smiles.
Moira tweaked his nose playfully. ‘Will you be my little cupid and tell Mr Keating I’ll meet him on the upper deck at cocktail hour?’
‘Of course,’ said Andrew.
Later, when cocktail hour came around and Stella seemed disappointed not to find Hugh in his usual deckchair ready to play backgammon, Andrew felt guilty. She ended up playing dominoes with Andrew and the Werners instead. The next day was suddenly stormy and Stella kept to her cabin trying not to be sick. The day after that was their last at sea and Stella was kept busy packing Andrew’s trunk and her suitcase and marking them for disembarkation.
To Andrew’s relief, Hugh was staying aboard until Tilbury, London. Moira surprised them by saying that she was too.
‘But you’re coming with us on the train, aren’t you?’ Andrew queried.
‘You don’t need me for that,’ said Moira breezily. ‘I’ve decided to stay on the ship and look after poor Hugh with his bad leg.’ She gave a coquettish smile.
Stella flushed at the news but gave her friend a hug. ‘Good luck, Moira. You’ve been a hopeless chaperone but a lot of fun.’
‘We have had fun, haven’t we?’ Moira giggled. ‘Made those snooty memsahibs choke on their cutlets! Perhaps we’ll meet again. I hope so.’
Hugh came to wave them off, propped up on his crutches.
‘All the best with meeting your ma,’ Hugh said, with an encouraging smile at Andrew. ‘I’m sure you’ll have a high old time in Scotland.’
‘Thanks, Mr Keating. I’ve enjoyed being your cabin-mate.’ They shook hands.
Hugh took Stella by the hand. ‘Goodbye, Stella. I’ll have to work on my backgammon before we next meet.’
‘Are we likely to meet again?’ she asked a little stiffly, pulling away from him.
‘I very much hope so,’ he said. ‘One of these days, I’ll come and stay at one of the Raj hotels – escape the heat of Baluchistan.’
‘I’m sure the Lomaxes would be delighted to have you,’ Stella replied.
‘It’s you I would rather be seeing,’ he said, giving her a direct look.
Briefly she nodded at him. ‘Goodbye, Hugh. I’ve enjoyed meeting you.’