Mr Keating is,’ said Esmie, ‘and make him aware of the situation.’
‘I haven’t heard from him in six weeks,’ Stella said, ‘so I’m not even sure he’s still in Singapore. He may be somewhere else in Malaya.’
‘I’ll send a wire to McSween and Watson in Calcutta,’ Tom said at once.
‘That’s what I thought we should do,’ agreed Esmie.
‘I should have done that before,’ Stella admitted, ‘but I didn’t want to make a fuss until I was sure . . .’
‘Well, I’m not afraid of making a fuss on your behalf,’ said Tom stoutly. ‘We must track Keating down and make him face up to his responsibilities.’
Chapter 33
Ebbsmouth, October 1941
‘Are you in the army now?’ Minnie asked, smiling at Andrew in bemusement. She was dead-heading geraniums in the conservatory while Andrew held a basket for her.
‘Andrew’s been with the Borderers for three years now, Mother!’ Lydia said in exasperation. ‘How many times do I have to tell you?’
‘Have you?’ Minnie exclaimed. ‘You do look very smart in your uniform, Tom.’
His mother retorted, ‘For goodness’ sake, it’s Andrew, not Tom. It’s your grandson!’
‘It’s all right, Grandmamma, you can call me what you want,’ Andrew said quickly. His grandmother often mistook him for his father or muddled up their names.
‘I don’t know what I’m going to tell her once you’ve gone,’ Lydia said reproachfully. ‘She’ll be asking where you are every five minutes.’
‘I am here, Lydia dear,’ said Minnie. ‘You don’t have to talk about me as if I’m not.’
His grandmother’s memory might be failing but she was still attuned to people’s moods.
‘So where are you going?’ Minnie asked him.
‘I’m being posted out east,’ Andrew explained again. ‘India.’
‘Ah, India!’ Minnie seized on the name. ‘Jumbo and I had a lovely holiday there when your mother was first married. What was the name of the place, dear?’
‘Pindi,’ said Lydia.
‘That’s it. Pindi. We stayed at a rather quaint hotel. What was it called?’
Lydia rolled her eyes.
Andrew answered, ‘The Raj, Grandmamma.’
‘That’s it! Such a friendly family running it – Anglo-Indian – charming man, Charlie-something. Made us so welcome.’
‘He was useless at business,’ Lydia said dismissively. ‘It was Tom and I who ran the place. The Duboises were little more than hangers-on. No wonder Tom couldn’t make any money out of it.’
‘The Duboises are fine people.’ Andrew leapt to their defence. ‘Poor old Charlie died two years ago, Grandmamma.’
‘Did he?’ said Minnie. ‘How sad.’
‘I told her that,’ Lydia muttered under her breath.
‘And their daughter,’ Minnie continued. ‘She was a delightful girl – Sylvia . . . ?’
‘Stella,’ Andrew answered.
Minnie’s expression brightened. ‘Yes, I remember her well. Didn’t she come and stay here once?’
Lydia huffed. ‘Yes, she did. We put her up all summer but she did her best to turn Andrew against us – always taking Esmie’s side and painting me out to be the wicked witch.’
Andrew didn’t like to hear his mother malign Stella, so he cut in. ‘Stella’s engaged to be married.’
Lydia gaped at him. ‘Are you still in touch with her?’
‘Tibby told me.’ He tried to sound unconcerned, but could feel the warmth creep into his jaw.
‘Who to? Some half-half railwayman, no doubt?’
‘Mamma!’ Andrew protested. ‘Don’t be unkind. And no, he’s not an Anglo-Indian.’
‘Well, who then?’ Lydia’s interest was piqued.
‘Hugh Keating – the Irishman she met on the ship in ’33.’ Andrew had a twinge of satisfaction telling her. ‘She ended up with Hugh despite your attempts to keep them apart.’
‘What do you mean?’ Lydia was indignant.
‘That letter from Hugh that you never gave her back,’ he reminded her.
Lydia gave a dismissive wave of the hand. ‘I don’t remember any letter. And anyway, why should I care? I’m happy for Stella that she’s found a husband at last. At her age she must have thought she was on the shelf. But she’s not my concern. You are, darling. I’m trying to be brave about you going away. Dickie will simply have to come up from London and console me. And I’m worried that once you get back to India, you’ll forget us and not want to return.’
‘That’s not true,’ said Andrew, putting down the flower basket and going to sit beside her. He put an arm about her shoulders. ‘Of course I’m going to come back.’
‘How can I be sure?’ Lydia demanded. ‘I know the sway your father can have over people.’
‘Not over me,’ Andrew said.
‘I wish you had something pressing to come back for – like being in love with a girl,’ Lydia persisted. ‘What about Felicity? Why did you stop seeing her?’
‘You