The Sapphire Child (The Raj Hotel #2) - Janet MacLeod Trotter Page 0,9

grass, breathing in the honey-sweetness of wild flowers. ‘I’ve been dreaming of this moment. Come on, Frisky!’

The dog scrambled from Andrew’s arms and followed at her heels.

‘Wait for me!’ cried Esmie, kicking off her shoes too and catching her up.

Laughing, they set off, arm-in-arm. Ahead, at the top of the meadow, lay the green-roofed hotel – no bigger than a large bungalow – its wide front door thrown open in welcome. Stella relished the whiff of woodsmoke on the clear air. Was it only that morning that they had left the furnace of Rawalpindi for this mountainous scented heaven? Esmie squeezed her arm and whispered, ‘I’m so glad you’re here, lassie.’

‘It’s the high point of my year.’ Stella gave a grateful smile.

By the time they reached the hotel, their legs and the hems of their dresses were damp with dew, but neither cared. They went around the back to the annex where the Lomaxes lived. Bijal laid on tea, whisky and samosas by the sitting room fire and dispatched Maseed with two mules to bring up the luggage from the van.

Tom arched his aching back and downed a large whisky.

‘You should have let me do some of the driving, darling,’ Esmie said, sinking into a comfortable armchair.

‘You know I make a terrible passenger,’ Tom said with a wry smile. ‘Always wanting to grab the wheel.’ He poured himself another drink and lit a cigarette.

Stella sat by the hearth, drying her dress and sipping tea. Andrew played with Frisky, and as their play grew more boisterous the dog knocked over a side table.

‘Bed, Andy,’ his father said abruptly. ‘You’re making the dog too excitable.’

‘He likes it,’ said Andrew, continuing to tickle the dog and ignore the order.

Tom drained his drink and marched over, grabbing his son’s arm. ‘Now!’

‘Tom, not so roughly,’ Esmie cautioned.

Tom snapped at Andrew, ‘You may not be at school but you’re not on holiday either. Your mother and I will set you lessons and you’ll stick to lights-out at nine. Don’t think you’re going to run wild all summer.’

Stella took hold of a barking Frisky and calmed him down. She saw Andrew flush with humiliation as he slunk from the room.

‘I’m ready for my bed too,’ Stella said, exchanging looks with Esmie. ‘Unless there’s anything I can do?’

‘No, thanks, lassie. You must be exhausted. We’re all exhausted.’ She gave Tom a look. He was already pouring a third whisky.

Whisky was sometimes a precursor to one of Tom’s bouts of melancholia. He was obviously upset by Andrew being forced out of Nicholson’s and it had all happened at the start of the busiest time of year, when the Lomaxes were getting the hotel ready for the hot season.

Settling into her tiny bedroom at the back of the hotel, Stella determined to be optimistic. She would do all she could to help smooth things between Andrew and his parents, as well as carrying out her duties around the hotel.

Stella pulled the cool sheet up to her chin and lay back with a contented sigh. From the open window she could gaze at the stars and hear the call of a jackal in the forest beyond. She was asleep in minutes.

Chapter 5

Sometime in the night, Stella woke to the sound of footsteps in the compound. Sleepily she thought it must be the chowkidar carrying out his nightwatchman duties, but then she smelt the familiar aroma of Tom’s cigarettes. Shining her torch on the bedside clock she saw it was two in the morning. What was he doing up at this hour? Sitting up in her narrow single bed, she peered out of the window.

The moon had dipped, but there was just enough light in the starlit sky to make out the tall dark-headed figure gazing upwards and blowing smoke rings. As if sensing he was being watched, he turned and looked towards the hotel. Stella almost gasped. It was Andrew, not Tom!

But then she couldn’t help being amused; Andrew was experimenting with one of his father’s cigarettes. If Tom caught him, he’d be in even bigger trouble than he already was. But then Tom was probably deep in a whisky-induced sleep. Esmie would be more forgiving of her stepson and chase him back to bed. Should she go out there and do so herself? Was there something else worrying him – as Esmie suspected – apart from the upset over the Gotley boy?

Stella had promised to try and find out, but was this the right moment to question Andrew? She could