too ugly tae marry!’
‘No, you’re not,’ said Stella. ‘You have very pretty eyes.’
Lily laughed again. ‘Well, maybe you and me can gae on the hunt together, eh?’
They struggled inside with the heavy trunk, Lily puffing and wheezing.
‘Would you like to rest for a minute?’ Stella asked her as they re-entered the hallway.
Lily glanced up the stairs where they could hear Lydia talking excitedly to Andrew. ‘Better no,’ she said.
They laboured on, pausing on the turn of the stairs and then again on the landing. Finally, they reached the far end of the corridor and entered a large airy bedroom.
‘Put it on there.’ Lydia pointed at a toy chest.
Lily gave a grunt of relief. Stella looked around. It was still a nursery for a small boy, with a fireguard over a tiled fireplace and an array of pristine teddy bears on a single bed. Andrew was standing at a table in the window peering awkwardly at neat rows of toy soldiers.
‘Stella, these belonged to my grandfather Archibald,’ he said with a guarded look.
‘You’re allowed to touch them,’ Lydia said brusquely.
‘Ma’am,’ Lily interrupted. ‘Shall I unpack the trunk?’
Lydia waved a hand at her. ‘No, you can go and get on with your work. Stella can put Andrew’s things away.’
‘I can do that,’ Andrew said quickly.
‘Certainly not,’ said Lydia. ‘You and I will join Mummy on the terrace for lunch. I want to hear all about your time on the ship.’
‘And Stella can join us too?’
‘Later, perhaps.’ Lydia gave Stella a forthright look. ‘Once you’ve hung up Andrew’s clothes, get Lily to show you to your room. I thought you’d be more comfortable taking your meals with the staff.’
‘But Stella eats with us at Gulmarg,’ Andrew protested.
‘Darling, this isn’t Gulmarg,’ Lydia said firmly. ‘Your father never did know where to draw the line between us and the Duboises. Nothing personal, Stella. It’s just we’ve never eaten with staff at Templeton Hall. Even my own dear nanny always ate in the kitchen.’
Stella said quickly, ‘Whatever you say, Mrs Lomax.’
She gave a worried-looking Andrew a reassuring smile and took over from Lily. Lydia was making it quite plain that she viewed her as no more than Andrew’s ayah and certainly not as a friend of the family. Stella refused to be downhearted. She was lucky to be there and Lydia had been generous in paying for her voyage over. It suited Stella to keep busy so she would do whatever the Templetons asked of her; it was all a great adventure.
Later, she lugged her own suitcase to the top floor. Lily showed her to a small attic room with a narrow bed and a chest of drawers and a thin rug on the bare wooden floor.
‘I’m next door,’ said Lily. ‘It gets stuffy up here in the summer, so I always leave ma windy open.’
As soon as she’d gone, Stella closed her skylight. To her it didn’t seem warm at all, and she put on an extra cardigan.
Miss MacAlpine was a smallish woman with red hair who darted around the kitchen like a restless bird, lifting pot lids, stirring, sniffing, sipping and making suggestions to herself.
She welcomed Stella with a quick smile. ‘You don’t look very Indian, lassie.’
‘I’m not,’ said Stella.
The cook cocked her head. ‘Are you no? The mistress said you were.’
‘I’m Anglo-Indian,’ she explained. ‘I’m British through my mother, and French and British through my father. Both families have lived in India for several generations but we still think of Britain as our home. That’s why it’s so exciting to be here. I’m the first one to come back in four generations.’
‘An-glo-Ind-ian.’ Miss MacAlpine enunciated the words as she ladled out the soup into delicate china bowls. ‘A wee bitty of everything in your blood, aye?’
‘Well . . .’ Stella was unsure.
‘Makes for a rich soup,’ said the cook, nodding sagely. ‘Take these out to the terrace, Lily.’
‘I like to cook,’ Stella said as she watched Miss MacAlpine skin a large blanched tomato and slice it. ‘The chef at The Raj-in-the-Hills has taught me quite a few recipes – curries and how to make Portuguese pastries.’
Miss MacAlpine looked startled. ‘The mistress doesnae like curry – doesnae like anything that reminds her of India. But she has a sweet tooth and will eat pastries and tarts at any time of the day.’
‘Pasteis de nata are like custard tarts,’ said Stella. ‘They’re delicious. I’d love to help you with the cooking if you’d let me.’
The cook eyed her. ‘I dinnae ken if the mistress would