‘Well, maybe . . .’
‘They all love the fabulous Fatima,’ said Deborah with a roll of her eyes. ‘Sam will have to form an orderly queue behind Sundar and Boz.’
‘It’s just not fair,’ Prue said and sighed. ‘She’s not the slightest bit interested in men as far as I can see.’
‘It’s not that she isn’t interested,’ said Adela, ‘it’s more that men aren’t a priority. She’s already made excuses not to come on to the dance with us tonight.’
‘Girls, that’s the secret,’ Deborah said, laughing, ‘stay aloof and unobtainable – drives the men wild.’
‘If you stay aloof,’ said Prue, ‘you don’t get asked to dance. At least that’s what happens in Jubbulpore.’
‘Jubbulpore!’ Adela and Deborah crowed at once.
‘The hundred and tenth mention tonight,’ Deborah said. ‘Let’s make it our code word for action with any boys this evening.’
The three friends spat on their palms, shook hands and hurried downstairs shrieking with laughter.
Davico’s Ballroom was ablaze with electric lights, perched on its steep slope like a sentinel overlooking the lamplit native bazaar and the shadow-filled valleys. The night air was warm and scented with roses and pines.
Colonel Baxter greeted them and ushered them into the ballroom, introducing Fluffy’s party to his own and making a fuss of Adela.
‘I first met this beautiful young lady when she was three years old,’ he announced, ‘and I was ADC to the Raja of Gulgat. We were camping at Um Shirpi at the invitation of her father – tea planter and excellent shot, Wesley Robson.’
Adela laughed. ‘I remember a huge dog on a gold chain that I thought was a wolf. And I was so excited to have a prince camping close to the gardens.’
‘Ah, so you are the girl from the tea garden.’ A tall, distinguished-looking man with iron grey hair and pale blue eyes viewed her with interest. ‘Boswell has talked about you. Bit of an actress, I hear.’
Boz, red-faced, leapt forward and introduced them. ‘Adela, this is Mr Bracknall, the Chief Conservator of Forests in the Punjab.’
Adela noted Boz’s discomfort and tried to remember what he’d said about his boss. Some complaint about Mrs Bracknall refusing to let her husband retire because she didn’t want to return to England and do without the luxury of servants. Promotion for men like Boz was being denied as long as Bracknall stayed in post.
‘How do you do, Mr Bracknall?’ Adela shook his hand. He had a crushing grip, and she tried not to wince.
‘Very well.’ His smile was brief, his eyes assessing. ‘Let me put my name on your dance card before all the young bucks fill it up, eh? I insist on the first waltz – leave the more energetic dances to the youths.’
Adela hid her dismay; she had hoped to waltz with Sam. ‘Of course,’ she agreed, taking her card out of her evening bag and writing his name with the short pencil attached to its gold cord.
Soon all three girls were being booked for dances and whirled around the floor to the beat of the ten-piece dance band. Theatre friends, army subalterns and junior officers of the Indian Civil Service flocked around Colonel Baxter’s lively party. There were a smattering of Indians in the room: magistrates and their wives up from Delhi, a maharajah from Bengal and a film producer from Bombay, along with some middle-ranking officials in the Indian branch of the ICS.
Bracknall complained about it as he pulled Adela around the dance floor. ‘Would never have been allowed when I was starting out in the service. First World War was when the rot set in. It’s not that I object to mixing with Indians – I work with them all day long with absolutely no problem – but it’s a class thing, isn’t it? You just want to socialise with your own kind, don’t you?’
‘I would have thought that a maharajah ranks rather higher than any of us, Mr Bracknall,’ Adela replied.
‘Oh well, yes,’ he blustered. ‘There’s always an exception to the rule. Indian royalty is quite acceptable.’
Adela wondered if it was attitudes like Bracknall’s that kept Fatima away from social events like the Full Moon Dance, even though there was no bar to Indians entering Davico’s. Sundar had also stayed away, insisting on escorting Fatima safely home to her flat in Lakkar Bazaar. It was only a five-minute walk from the ballroom, and he could have joined them later, but for all that Sundar championed the institutions of the British Raj, Adela suspected he still felt an outsider when it came to socialising with its elite.
‘And now that you are out in Simla society,’ Bracknall said, winking, ‘no doubt you’re planning a full season of balls and picnics.’
‘Not really,’ Adela said, ‘apart from performing in the musical next month. In fact I’ll have to go home to Assam before the summer ends if I don’t find a job here. Mrs Hogg has been so kind to me; I don’t want to take advantage of her generosity more than I already have.’ She decided to be bold. ‘Mr Bracknall, do you need any clerical help in your office? I’m very tidy and organised.’
For a moment he seemed taken aback. ‘Well, hiring menial staff is not really my concern.’ Then his hold on her tightened, and he smiled. ‘But I’m sure we can find something here to keep you occupied.’
‘I’d be so grateful,’ Adela enthused. ‘I really want to be able to stay.’ She didn’t like to admit how her desire to remain in Simla had now increased tenfold since discovering Sam was living a few hours’ ride into the hills.
Bracknall gave her that assessing look again, which made her feel acutely aware of his hot hand on her back and the way he brushed his barrel chest against her breasts as he twirled her around.
‘We can always do with some extra help in the Forest Office,’ he suggested. ‘Though I can’t promise you’ll get paid much. Can you bash away at a typewriter?’
‘Oh yes. I used to help my father with letters,’ Adela exaggerated, having only done so a couple of times.
‘I’ll have a word with Boswell; see what we can do, eh?’
‘Thank you, Mr Bracknall, you’re so kind.’ She smiled. ‘That would be wonderful.’
As soon as the waltz was over, she disengaged quickly. ‘Just need to powder my nose.’ She grabbed her bag and slipped from the hall.
Outside, Adela stood under a deodar tree and gulped in the cooling night air, thrilled that she had so easily found a way of staying on in Simla. Lifting over the dark forested hills, the huge shimmering disc of the full moon lit the earth below, casting shadows like sunlight. She sighed at its beauty.
‘Not running away again, are you?’ The voice, so close by, startled her. Her hand flew to her chest. Sam stepped round the tree.
She laughed with a mix of relief and excitement. ‘No, but it looks like you are.’
‘Mrs Hogg saw you bolt from the dance. Wanted me to make sure you were all right.’
‘Oh.’ Adela felt a pang of disappointment. He hadn’t come after her of his own accord. ‘Well, I’m fine. Just needed fresh air, so there’s no need to worry. You can report back to Auntie.’
Sam leant against the tree and pulled out a squashed packet of bidis from his too-tight jacket. He offered her one. Adela hesitated, then took it. He struck a match and lit hers before his, the flame flaring between them. She held the bidi gingerly between finger and thumb and inhaled. The fiery taste stung her tongue, but she managed not to cough. She and Deborah had experimented with cigarettes – Camels – that Mr Halliday had been given by an American oilman. The Indian cigarette was more pungent and raw in her mouth and yet more calming.
They stood close, smoking in silence, Sam pulling free his tie and unbuttoning his collar. It had left a welt across his neck that was visible in the moonlight. Adela resisted the urge to trace her finger over it.
Abruptly he asked, ‘What do you want to do with your life, Adela?’
She was taken by surprise; it wasn’t the usual grown-up enquiry such as, what are you going to do after school? Or, what are your plans for the cold season?
‘More than
anything I want to act – go on the stage, sing and dance. That’s when I’m happiest. I want to be as famous as Gracie Fields. My cousins in Newcastle went to hear her sing, and so many people wanted to hear her that she sang on the cinema roof! Imagine giving that much pleasure.’ She watched his lean profile, the straight nose and the firm mouth and chin. ‘You probably think that’s a very frivolous thing to want to do.’
He shook his head. ‘If it’s what you’ve always wanted, then you must do it. You’re lucky to know at your age what you really want.’ He smiled. ‘So what are you doing about it? Are you going to apply for drama school?’
Adela laughed. ‘My parents couldn’t afford it – the tea garden has been struggling for a few years now – but I really want to stay here and keep performing at the Gaiety and maybe do some touring. I’ve asked Mr Bracknall for a job in the Forest Office. Even if it’s not much, I can live simply. All I need is to cover my rent at Auntie’s. I don’t mind eating in the bazaar if I have to.’
‘Then do it,’ Sam encouraged. ‘If you can stand the pompous Bracknall as your boss. Boz says he’s a devil to work for. If he takes a dislike to you, he can make your life hell.’
‘Well, I think he quite likes me.’
‘That’s the other thing,’ warned Sam. ‘Boz says he has a roving eye.’
Adela scoffed. ‘He must be older than my father!’
‘Men like that don’t see themselves as old – they think they are still attractive to women, however young. You might be better finding somewhere else.’
‘Is this my first sermon from Missionary Jackman?’ she teased. ‘Don’t worry, I can look after myself.’
Sam gave a rueful laugh. ‘Yes, I’m sure you can. Far better than me. I’ve no right to lecture.’
She put out a hand and briefly touched his arm. ‘I’m so sorry about Nelson.’
Sam grunted. ‘I thought you’d be more concerned about my rascal monkey than me,’ he teased.
‘You brought all that on yourself,’ Adela said dryly. ‘Poor Nelson didn’t have a choice.’
He swivelled round, propping his hip against the tree trunk, and gazed down at her. ‘You’re quite right. That’s what I like about you, Adela: you say exactly what you think.’
She swivelled to face him too. ‘And what am I thinking?’
‘That you wish it was the young Guy Fellows who was here under the tree in the moonlight with you just now.’
Adela gave a short laugh. ‘Wrong. I’m glad it’s you.’
They stared at each other. Adela’s heart thumped like a bass drum. Maybe it was the dazzling moon or the narcotic effect of the bidi, but she found herself saying, ‘I’ve thought about you a lot over the past years, wondering where you’d gone, whether you ever thought of me. Did you ever think of me, Sam?’
She held her breath. He let out a sigh. ‘Yes,’ he murmured.
‘What did you think?’ Adela’s heart quickened.
‘How brave you were.’
‘Brave?’
‘Sticking to your guns and not going back to St Ninian’s. Standing up to all the adults in your life, making things happen!’ His voice took on that passion she had heard when he’d spoken of Dr Black’s work. ‘After I left Belgooree, I began to realise how empty my life was – my father dead; a mother who had up and left me years ago – how I got no enjoyment any more from working on the river.’ He fixed her with an intense look. ‘It was all so aimless, pointless, and it was little Adela Robson who made me see it.’
Adela swallowed down disappointment and laughed. ‘So I’m still just a plucky little girl in your eyes?’
She dropped the burning bidi and ground it underfoot. He did the same. But as she moved around him, he caught her arm.
‘Yes, you were plucky,’ he said, ‘but I’d have to be blind not to see what a beautiful young woman you’ve become.’
She shivered at his touch and at the way he stood over her, looking into her eyes. She was sure she saw desire in his. Any moment now he was going to kiss her and her life as a woman would really begin. She had been yearning for this moment since the day she climbed out of his car at Belgooree, impatient to be grown-up, impatient to feel his lips on hers.
He swallowed hard and then dropped his hold, turning away.
‘Better get you back into the hall before Mrs Hogg sends out the cavalry to rescue you from the mad missionary.’ He ushered her forward.
Adela’s eyes stung as she held herself erect and walked purposefully back into the dance hall; she didn’t want him to see how much his rejection of her hurt. Her instincts had been wrong; his feelings for her were merely platonic. And if for a moment in the moonlight he had let himself think otherwise, she knew that Sam Jackman the missionary would quell such feelings. She was too young for him, and if ever he began to look for someone to marry, Adela, the would-be actress, would hardly be a suitable wife on an isolated mission. Besides, she wasn’t ready for marriage either; she wanted a lot more fun and experience of life before that. The world beyond school dazzled like the bright footlights of the stage, and she was impatient for it.
For the rest of the evening Adela threw herself into the dancing, accepting every invitation, even another waltz with Bracknall. She avoided Sam and wasn’t sure at what point he left the party.
‘He’s decided to travel back the night wi’ the moon being so bright,’ Boz explained. ‘Said tae thank you, but didn’t want to drag you away frae the dancing.’
Adela pretended not to care. There he was running away again, she thought in exasperation. Perhaps he just didn’t need the company of other people in the way she did. Sam was a puzzle. One minute he was open and friendly, the next impossible to fathom. She gave up trying to work out what it all meant and went back to dance a military two-step with Boz.
CHAPTER 6
The musical at the Gaiety was a huge success. For a week they played to a full house every night and for two matinees. Adela’s solo verse and tap dance in ‘Tea for Two’ got loud applause and wolf whistles from an overenthusiastic artillery captain, Jimmy Maitland, who spent his leave dating her. She accepted two invitations from him to tea dances at the Cecil Hotel and a picnic at the racetrack in Annandale, which was cut short by a thunderstorm.
Between her job at the Forest Office and theatre performances, she had little time for socialising, but squeezed in what she could. Forewarned by Sam and Boz about the predatory Bracknall, she made sure she was never left alone with him. Employed to help the junior officers sort dak in the post room, she soon took it upon herself to bring order to the chaos in the godowns, piled high with ancient camping equipment and abandoned kit left behind by former forest officers transferred to other areas.
‘Throw it out,’ Bracknall said without interest. ‘Some of it’s been here since the twenties – they won’t be coming back for it now.’
Adela lost no time in passing on some ancient hats and tennis racquets to the theatre props department; the men’s clothes and a couple of mildewed tents she had taken round to Fatima for her hill clinics.
‘I’m sorry that I don’t have time to help out at the moment,’ Adela said, tracking her down at the hospital.
Fatima smiled. ‘I quite understand, and these are very useful. Thank you so much, kind girl.’
‘Have you seen anything of Sam Jackman?’ Adela couldn’t resist asking.
‘Yes, when I was in Narkanda two weeks ago. He was very busy picking plums.’ Fatima’s look was enquiring. ‘Do you have a message for him? I could take a letter the next time I’m at the clinic.’
‘No.’ Adela blushed. ‘Well, just tell him that it’s working out well at the Forest Office, so he has no need to worry.’
When Maitland, the amorous Scottish captain, left Simla, pleading with Adela to write to him often, she was then pursued by a district officer from Patna who was recuperating from a dose of malaria. He managed to string out his sick leave, taking her riding to the forest glades of Mashobra on her Sundays off, unti
l she discovered from Prue that he was married with two sons, and so ended the liaison.
By this time Adela and Deborah were rehearsing for a Noël Coward play. Adela had won a good speaking part of a society flapper while Deborah was playing the housemaid, a role she was determined to ham up for all it was worth to make up for her lack of dialogue. Tommy Villiers, the leading man, a clerk in the Public Works Department and an enthusiastic amateur actor, took a shine to Adela, telling her, ‘Whenever you get sick of these chaps on leave, my girl, then Tommy is ready and waiting in the wings.’
She liked Tommy, with his curly brown hair and breezy good-natured banter. Thirteen years older than her, but still single, he was one of those British who, like her, had grown up in India. As an actor he was unflappable, rescuing a scene when others forgot their lines and calming nerves backstage. He never got embroiled in theatre rivalries or spats.
‘You can take me to the pictures to see the latest Cary Grant film,’ she said, grinning, ‘but it doesn’t mean we’re courting.’
‘Strictly professional,’ Tommy agreed, ‘to brush up on our acting skills.’
He had a good tenor voice and organised a singing trio with Adela and Prue, naming them The Simla Songsters and organising impromptu performances at parties.
Sometimes Tommy joined Adela on outings with Prue and Deborah; they had an ever-shifting circle of friends, depending on who was on leave or out in camp. Deborah had moved into Fluffy’s home as a paying guest for the summer rather than go back to stifling Rangoon in Burma, before completing one more year at St Mary’s. To the girls’ disappointment, the desirable young forester Guy Fellows had spent most of the monsoon season trekking up the Hindustan-Tibet road with Boz, supervising tree felling in remote camps at Kalpa and Purbani. As the Himalayan snows melted, the sawn timbers were launched from precipitous mountainsides into the churning grey water of the thundering Sutlej River and thrust downstream.
Prue had been to two dances with Guy before he joined the forest camp and was deeply in love. They discussed it one afternoon in Fluffy’s tiny garden, with its view to the distant mountains wreathed in mist.
The Girl From the Tea Garden Page 10