‘Got it!’ shouted the Resident. ‘Bloody well got the beast.’
‘Good shot, Stourton,’ Jay called.
The shikaris appeared from among the elephants to survey the tiger, making a din with whistles and firing off into the air to make sure that any other tiger or wild animal was chased away before the hunters descended from the machans. The Resident was cock-a-hoop with his kill.
‘Rafi, take a photograph of Stourton with his tiger,’ the Raja ordered.
Stourton posed, rifle in hand and foot on the head of the beast, while Rafi took shots with his box camera. It made Adela think of Sam and his passion for taking pictures. She had thrown away all but one of the photos he had left for her at Fluffy Hogg’s; she couldn’t bear to be reminded of those happy, innocent times in Narkanda. Yet she hadn’t been able to bring herself to part with the one of her and Sam leaning against the veranda balustrade, arms touching as they smiled down at Fatima.
She stared in awe at the huge muscled tiger, with its jaws locked in a snarl at the point of death. It had white patches above its eyes that looked like another pair of eyes staring blindly up at them. Its teeth were like daggers and its claws curved like deadly miniature kukris. Her heart banged in relief to be so near a tiger that could no longer harm them, yet she felt a stab of pity for the animal. Her pet Molly, long ago released into the jungle, would now be a fully-grown tiger trying to outwit hunters like them.
There was much animated discussion about how best to transport the hefty animal back to camp without damaging its magnificent pelt.
‘It’ll make a wonderful rug for Mama’s hearth at home,’ said Stourton. ‘I’ll keep the head for my bungalow – get it sent to Van Ingen’s to have it stuffed.’
With the help of half a dozen shikaris, the dead beast was loaded on the back of an elephant and transported back to camp. The hunting party retreated to the nearby village for a late tiffin.
‘We could shoot some partridge or blackbuck on our way back to camp,’ suggested Kishan.
‘We can’t go back yet,’ Jay protested. ‘There’s still the tigress out there – and she’s the dangerous one.’
His uncle gave a weary laugh. ‘We’ll return to the ravine tomorrow and hunt her down.’
‘She might have gone by then,’ said Jay. ‘This could be our only chance.’
‘Your uncle is tired,’ Rafi said.
‘No one who is tired needs to stay,’ Jay said, ‘but some of us have plenty of appetite for more shikar. Don’t we, Adela?’
She jolted at his sudden attention on her. Before she could answer, Jay went on persuasively, ‘And you haven’t had a chance to fire a shot yet. This shikar is especially for your birthday, is it not?’
‘You are right, Sanjay,’ said Kishan. ‘Stourton was most ungallant for bagging Miss Robson’s tiger.’
‘I’m awfully sorry.’ The Resident looked sheepish.
‘No, really, I don’t mind at all,’ Adela assured him.
‘But you must be allowed to stay longer if you wish it,’ the Raja insisted.
‘What do you say, Adela?’ Jay challenged. ‘Shall we go back and see if the tigress has returned for the bait?’
She didn’t want Jay to think her weak, and she did want the chance to shoot at the man-eater.
‘Yes, let’s,’ she agreed.
‘Are you sure?’ Wesley gave her a warning look.
Ignoring it, she smiled. ‘Yes, I am. This might be my one chance of bagging a tiger before going back to England.’
‘Then I will come with you both,’ Wesley declared, casting a stormy look at the prince.
‘There’s no need,’ said Jay. ‘Your daughter is quite grown-up enough to look after herself.’
‘No doubt of that,’ said Wesley, ‘but I’m not letting her out of my sight on this trip. I promised her mother that.’ He gave a tight smile.
The Raja, Rafi and Stourton set off back to camp, the latter in a state of exhilaration and keen to oversee the gutting and beheading of his tiger. Adela, Wesley and Jay took a smaller number of shikaris and set off in the other direction.
‘Be back by nightfall,’ the Raja called out. ‘We’ll have a celebratory dinner!’
Back at the machans, Jay declared they should each have their own hideout. The heat was still intense and the large lunch had made Adela drowsy. She must have fallen asleep because she was roused by the machan being shaken. She sat up with a start. Was the tigress back? Then she realised someone was climbing the rope ladder up to her machan.
‘Jay,’ she gasped. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Coming to get you,’ he whispered with a soft chuckle.
Her heart began to pound. Had her father seen him? He was so stealthy that she assumed not. She couldn’t see her father’s machan, each of them hidden in the thick foliage.
‘You shouldn’t be here,’ she hissed.
‘I’ve been trying to get you alone all day, but your father is far too possessive.’ He dropped in beside her, jamming his gun in the corner. ‘I’ve missed you, Adela.’
‘Not enough to let me know what had happened to you,’ she accused. ‘Have you any idea the worry you put me through?’
He gave an apologetic smile. ‘I’m glad you care that much about me.’
‘But you don’t care an ounce about me,’ Adela said.
‘I do,’ he insisted, ‘but the situation was very difficult for me. I had to get out of Nerikot without anyone knowing, or I might have been arrested.’
‘Did you fire on any of those men, the protestors?’ she demanded.
‘Don’t waste your pity on such scum,’ he replied. ‘They were armed and dangerous and out to harm my friend and his family.’
‘So you did shoot at them?’ She was appalled.
Jay flinched from her look and glanced away. ‘I fired into the air to warn them off, nothing more. It was some of Nerikot’s guards who lost their heads.’
She didn’t know if she believed him. He took her hand and pressed it to his lips. She snatched it away, despite the pounding in her chest.
‘You led me on,’ she hissed, ‘pretending we could be together when all along you’ve been betrothed to someone else.’
He gave her a bemused look. ‘I never said I wasn’t betrothed.’
‘You never said you were,’ she said, glaring.
‘But you know what it’s like for a man in my position: there are certain duties I have to perform, such as marriage and providing heirs for Gulgat. But what we have is different; we can still be together. You can travel with me when I go abroad; we can live in Delhi or the South of France – anywhere you want.’
‘As your mistress,’ she said with disdain. ‘Never as your wife.’
‘Is that so very bad? You will have anything you want in life, Adela.’ His sensual mouth twisted in amusement. ‘You gave the impression at Eagle’s Nest that you were very happy to be my, er, companion.’
‘I acted foolishly.’ She blushed. ‘I thought you loved me. You said you could defy your elders and do what you wanted. You promised me marriage.’
‘We all say things in the heat of the moment,’ Jay said. ‘You came to me so willingly . . . eagerly—’
She slapped him hard on the cheek. He grabbed her by the wrist, thrusting his face at hers.
‘Don’t pretend to be the virtuous little memsahib now. It wasn’t love we were after, it was pure pleasure.’
Adela swallowed back a denial; for a short while she had been mad with passion for him. She looked away, ashamed. He dropped his hold.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Jay. ‘I should never have gone to Nerikot. If I hadn’t, we might still be having fun in Simla.’
Adela felt leaden. That was all it had ever been for Jay: a bit of fun. Why had she ever thought it would be otherwise? She had ignored the warnings about his reputation, and then the romantic surroundings of Eagle’s Nest had seduced her as much as his charm. Both had proved as transient as a summer’s night. Deep down she kn
ew there was another reason why she had given herself so impulsively to Jay: her anger at Sam for not loving her back. She had wanted Jay to fill the aching void and wipe out her feelings for Sam once and for all. As she sat in the cramped machan with her former lover, Adela realised that she had failed to extinguish her love for Sam – and she no longer wanted Jay.
‘There is no reason I can see,’ said Jay, taking her silence for agreement, ‘that we can’t pick up where we left off. I still find you very desirable.’
‘Jay, I don’t—’
‘What on earth is going on over there?’ Wesley shouted. ‘Adela, are you all right?’
‘Yes, Dad,’ she called back. ‘Prince Jay and I were just talking.’
‘Well, you’ll have frightened off the tigress. Sun’s dipping. Let’s call it a day.’
‘No,’ objected Jay, ‘there’s still time.’
‘Sun down, gun down,’ ordered Wesley. ‘You know it’s too dangerous to hunt after dark.’
‘Dad’s right,’ said Adela, scrambling to her feet. Just as she was stepping on to the rope, there was a low growl right behind. She turned and froze. The tigress was poised on the steep bank behind the trees, tail twitching angrily. She was almost at eye level and a mere ten yards away.
‘Jay,’ she croaked. ‘It’s there.’
He swung round, saw the danger, reached for his rifle, cocked it and fired straight at its head. The tigress roared. For a moment Adela thought the beast would hurl itself right at them, and then abruptly it sprang away along the ridge and disappeared.
‘I got it, I’m sure of it,’ Jay cried.
By the time they’d swung down the rope ladders, Wesley was already waiting for them. Adela, weak-kneed with shock, fell into her father’s arms. He rounded on Sanjay.
‘What were you doing in my daughter’s machan? Can’t you see how you put her in danger with your arguing? You drew the tiger’s attention.’
‘I shot the tigress straight in the neck,’ Jay retorted. ‘She’s mortally wounded. If we send in the shikaris, I bet we’ll find her lying dead on the ridge.’
‘She didn’t look like she was dying to me.’
‘Well, we’ll see, won’t we?’ Jay challenged.
‘We’re not sending anyone after her now,’ Wesley said. ‘It’s almost sunset.’
‘I’m in charge of the shikar, not you,’ Jay rebuffed him.
‘Well, you shouldn’t be putting any of your men in danger.’
‘Please, Jay,’ Adela intervened with a hand on his arm. ‘Let’s leave it till tomorrow. Then you can come back and claim her as yours.’
Jay flicked her a look, then turned to Wesley with a smile of satisfaction.
‘You have a very persuasive daughter, Mr Robson. For her I will do anything.’
They returned to the elephants, Adela aware of her father fuming at Jay’s taunting remarks.
‘Ride back with me, Adela,’ Jay commanded.
‘She will come in my howdah,’ said Wesley angrily.
‘I will ride alone on Rose,’ Adela said, tired of being fought over. How she longed to be back at camp and have a cool bath. Rafi and the Raja would bring peace and conviviality to the fractious hunting party.
Wesley fussed as she climbed into the howdah. ‘I can manage myself,’ she said irritably.
They set off back down the ravine and through the jungle, Rose leading the procession. Within a short while darkness fell as quickly as a curtain. The moon came up. They emerged into the clearing by the village; the temporary camp was gone, and small oil lamps glowed in the doorways of huts. The air was filled with the acrid smoke of cooking fires. Adela felt herself relax in the balmy evening.
The line of elephants plodded on through the trees and emerged on to the sandy riverbank. They were about half an hour’s journey from camp. Something caught Adela’s eye: a flicker of movement in the moonlight. She heard a strange spitting sound and then all of a sudden the tigress was there in front of Rose. Its face was bloodied; Jay must have hit it in the mouth. The beast opened its shattered jaws and roared. The next second the tigress was springing at the elephant. It clawed at Rose’s trunk. The elephant bellowed in pain and tried to shake it off. Adela screamed. Behind, Wesley’s elephant trumpeted in fright.
The mahout shouted a warning. He clung on to Rose’s neck and ears as the elephant bucked and tried to escape its attacker.
‘What’s happening?’ bellowed Wesley.
Adela was too terrified to answer. The howdah tilted dangerously, almost throwing Adela out. She screamed again and grabbed frantically to the sides of the basket. The air was filled with the snarling and roars of the demented tigress; it held on, sinking its remaining teeth into the elephant’s hide.
‘Help me, Dad!’ Adela managed to shriek. ‘Shoot it!’
Rose fought with the tigress, trying to stamp on its hind legs, thrashing from side to side. All at once Rose reared up, and the howdah tipped backwards, hurling Adela out. She landed on the ground with a dizzying thud; pain shot through her shoulder. She tried to get up; Rose’s back feet could crush her at any moment. Screams, shouting, snarling and trumpeting rang out in the dark. Adela whimpered in terror.
Suddenly her father was there beside her.
‘Stay down,’ he barked. Then he took aim and fired. The deafening shot made her ears ring.
Wesley fired again. The tigress roared in fury and fell from the elephant. Rose bolted, with the mahout clinging on with all his might.
‘Someone hold up a torch!’ Wesley ordered as he frantically tried to reload. In that moment the wounded tigress leapt at him. Adela was so close she heard the claws rip into her father’s bush shirt. He jammed his rifle sideways into her bloodied maw. She thrust him backwards, pawing at him like a kitten with a rag doll. Wesley howled.
‘Jay, do something!’ Adela screamed, scrambling towards her father.
In the flickering of flaming torchlight, Jay stood up high in his howdah. ‘Roll out of the way!’ he shouted at her.
Adela curled up small. Gunfire. The tigress gave a final furious snarl and fell back. There was shouting and confusion, the mahouts trying to control their agitated elephants while torch-bearing shikaris made sure the tigress was dead. Adela, panting and sobbing, crawled to her father.
‘Dad? Daddy speak to me!’
He looked at her calmly. ‘I’m all right, I’m all right.’
She wept with relief and put her arms about him. He moaned. She leant back, her arms sticky. She was covered in his blood. Jay was there beside her, pulling her away.
‘He needs me.’ She fought him off. ‘He’s bleeding.’
Jay began shouting orders. He pulled off his turban and attempted to wrap it around Wesley’s gaping stomach, retching as he did so. Adela could think of nothing to do but hold her father’s hand.
‘You’re going to be fine, Dad.’
As they waited for the men to bring a makeshift stretcher of poles and torn-up clothing, she felt his grip weaken. Her shoulder burned with pain.
‘Send to the camp for help,’ she cried.
‘I’ve already done that,’ Jay said, his eyes dark with horror in the moonlight.
The pole bearers ran with Wesley along the dried-up riverbed, Adela keeping up. She could hear his groans as they bumped and jolted him in their haste. Please, God, let him live! She repeated the words in her head like a mantra. A few minutes from camp, Rafi came out at the head of a rescue party. She ran to him.
‘Help him! He’s lost so much blood,’ she sobbed.
Rafi put his arm about her and steered her back to camp. As soon as he saw the extent of Wesley’s injuries, Rafi took control. ‘The nearest doctor is at the mission hospital an hour away. I’ll drive him there myself.’
‘And I’ll come with you,’ Adela insisted.
The Raja hovered anxiously, his face haggard. ‘How did it happen? Tigers don’t attack elephants. The tigress must have been maddened. Your poor father. So brave to take it on.’
Jay steered Kishan out of the way. ‘Let them go, Uncle. They mustn’t waste a minute.’
Adela half hoped that Jay would offer to go with her, but he didn’t; the Raja sent one of his guards to help.
‘Please can someone fetch my mother,’ Adela pleaded as they laid Wesley on the back seat of one of the Raja’s cars and she climbed in beside him.
‘Of course,’ the Raja promised.
She glanced back, but couldn’t read Jay’s expression. Her last sight of the camp was of workers scraping flesh from the hide of the first tiger by torchlight. She ground her teeth to stop herself being sick.
As they rattled along the track, Adela crouched on the floor, gripping her father’s hand and forcing back tears. The temporary dressings they had hastily bound on top of Jay’s turban were already soaked in blood. The putrid sweet smell of her father’s gored innards made Adela want to vomit.
‘You’re going to be okay, Dad, you’re going to be okay. The doctor will fix your wounds. He’ll make you better.’
He stared at her. She stroked back his hair; his forehead was clammy. Before they left the rutted tracks for the asphalt road, he was shaking uncontrollably.
‘I think he’s in shock,’ Adela hissed at Rafi. ‘He’s cold and shivering.’
Rafi accelerated, bouncing them roughly. Wesley didn’t groan. ‘Talk to him,’ Rafi urged. ‘Keep him conscious.’
Adela gabbled at her father, talking about anything she could think of: his plans for the tea garden; whether they should get another dog; what she could bring back from England for Harry’s fifth birthday.
Abruptly Wesley struggled to sit up. His eyes were clouded with pain. He sank back with an agonised groan.
‘Don’t try to move, Dad,’ Adela said, a hand on his shoulder. ‘We’re taking you to the mission doctor. You’re going to be fine.’
The Girl From the Tea Garden Page 23