The Sapphire Child (The Raj Hotel #2) - Janet MacLeod Trotter Page 0,74

did love Andrew, in her own way.

Over the next few days, Stella tried to keep up the Lomaxes’ morale by playing the piano each evening and organising sing-songs with the guests. Esmie joined in, but Tom retreated to his studio. He’d begun to drink heavily again. The women watched helplessly while he became more withdrawn as the news from Europe worsened. Once Belgium had capitulated, the Nazis were racing for the French coast, intent on cutting off the retreating British Expeditionary Force and its allies. The cream of the British Army – tens of thousands of men – were fighting a fierce rear-guard action.

Then in early June, news began to filter through of a miraculous escape by thousands of the beleaguered combatants; a modern-day armada of naval ships and merchant vessels had come to their rescue across the Channel and plucked many of them to safety. Tom chain-smoked as they listened to the hissing broadcast on the wireless as it came and went, one moment clear as a bell and the next an indistinct crackling.

‘Do you think Andrew could be among those who got away?’ Stella asked in hope.

‘We have no way of knowing,’ said Esmie, trying to hold back tears.

Tom gave them a ghost of a smile. ‘My boy won’t give up; wherever he is, he’ll never give up.’

The waiting and not knowing were purgatory. Guests, aware that the distracted hotelier was in daily dread of bad news, spoke in platitudes.

‘It’s not over till it’s over.’

‘I’m sure you’ll hear he’s safe soon.’

‘Chin up, Mr Lomax.’

To the delight of them all, the unexpected arrival of Baroness Cussack from her houseboat raised their spirits. Where others had failed, she managed to tempt Tom out of his den with chota pegs and games of whist. But as June advanced, the daily bulletins grew worse. Fascist Italy entered the war on the side of Germany and immediately invaded France across the Alps and began bombing British dependency Malta. The RAF was already retaliating with raids on Italian air bases in Libya, but it meant that the airmail service to India was suspended. The Nazis were marching on Paris and by the middle of the month had taken the French capital. They heard a little-known French general called De Gaulle exhorting his fellow officers and soldiers who had escaped to Britain to join him and fight on. ‘The flame of the French Resistance must not go out and it will not go out.’

At the same time as France was being overrun, they learnt that the Soviets had invaded the Baltic state of Lithuania. It seemed as if the totalitarian forces were gaining a stranglehold on Europe. Stella knew they were all thinking the same thing, even if they dare not say it; it would only be a matter of time before Britain was Hitler’s next target.

Stella was the one to spot the chaprassy bounding effortlessly up the hill. She was on the veranda playing ludo with Hester, along with a forester’s wife and her small daughter.

‘Girls,’ Hester was saying. ‘Do you know that ludo is based on an ancient Indian game called pachisi? The Mughal emperors used to play it and Akbar had a giant board—’

‘Baroness,’ Stella interrupted, getting to her feet. ‘I think the chaprassy is holding a telegram.’

Hester put a hand to her chest. ‘Oh, my goodness! Go and get Esmie.’

Stella ran into the dark interior of the hotel, calling, ‘Mrs Lomax! Come quickly!’

Esmie came dashing out of the small office. ‘What is it?’

‘The chaprassy’s outside,’ she gabbled. ‘He’s brought a telegram.’

Esmie said calmly, ‘Get Bijal to fetch him a drink while I go and get Tom.’ Then she was hurrying round to the studio.

Stella instructed the bearer to take the messenger round to the kitchen while she and the other women waited on the veranda. The telegram lay unopened on the table. It seemed an eternity before Esmie reappeared, though it could not have been more than a couple of minutes.

‘Tom’s not there,’ she said. ‘He must have gone for a walk.’ She picked up the telegram with a trembling hand and then put it back down again.

‘Open it,’ Hester said. ‘Better to know.’

Esmie looked torn. ‘I can’t – it’s addressed to Tom.’

Stella felt nauseous. ‘Do you want me to go and look for him?’

Esmie replied, ‘No, I’ll go.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ Stella insisted. ‘It’ll be quicker with two.’

Esmie gave a brief smile and nodded. ‘Thank you.’

They swiftly changed into walking shoes and set off up the hill and across the