Harold gave her a startled look. ‘Yes, it does. Is that significant?’
Esmie swallowed. ‘It could be. But I can’t believe she would contemplate such a journey . . .’
‘Why would Lydia go to Razmak?’ Harold asked.
Before answering, Esmie hurried into Harold’s bedroom and began to search it. Why hadn’t she thought of doing so before? At first glance, it appeared that nothing was missing; there were still clothes hanging in the wardrobe and strewn over the back of a chair. But then Esmie noticed that Lydia’s small portmanteau was gone, along with toiletries and her nightgown. Harold had followed her into the room.
‘She’s taken some overnight things,’ said Esmie. ‘So she’s planned to go and stay somewhere.’
‘Why on earth would she do that?’ Harold questioned. ‘And where? Esmie, why did you ask about Razmak?’
Esmie thought she would be sick. ‘Because I think that’s where Dickie might be stationed.’
‘Dickie Mason?’ Harold looked baffled.
‘Yes,’ Esmie said. Then she began to tell her husband all about the summer affair between Lydia and Dickie.
Chapter 34
Harold reproached her for not telling him about Lydia and Dickie.
‘So that’s the real reason you and Lydia had a falling out, is it?’
‘Yes,’ Esmie admitted.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Because I thought it was all over. And I didn’t want you to think less of Lydia because of it. I know how dear she is to you.’
Harold looked deeply hurt. ‘Is that the real reason she came here – as a way of meeting up with Dickie?’
‘That’s what I was wondering,’ Esmie admitted. ‘But we don’t know yet that that’s where she’s definitely gone. She might have taken off on a whim and gone to Kohat for the night.’
Harold sighed heavily. ‘My poor friend Lomax. He’ll have to be told.’
Esmie’s insides tensed. ‘Tom doesn’t know about me finding Dickie with Lydia – I promised Lydia I wouldn’t tell him. He thinks Lydia’s infatuation with Dickie is over. Let’s not send word to Tom yet. If Lydia turns up, there’s no point distressing Tom over the matter. I might be quite wrong in my suspicions.’
Esmie got no sleep that night. She dozed in a sitting-room chair, alert to any small sound that might be Lydia returning. She imagined her creeping in, drunk and a little contrite, explaining that she’d decided on a whim to drive to Kohat and drink gin slings at the club. But Lydia didn’t come.
An exhausted Harold, at Esmie’s insistence, had gone to lie on his bed to snatch some sleep before dawn. She could tell from the way he protected his left hand that the wound was causing him discomfort.
They were both up as early as the servants. In tense silence, they shared a pot of tea on the veranda, watching the sky lighten and the rooftops of the old town emerge out of a thin mist. The muezzin called.
‘Let me come with you today,’ Esmie entreated. ‘I can’t bear sitting around all day doing nothing.’
Harold’s look softened. ‘I know it’s intolerable, but I don’t think the police will thank us if they have to worry about another woman roaming the roads.’ He stood up. ‘I’ll go and speak to Baz about our Razmak theory – and get the Brigadier to contact the barracks – and Dickie. See if he knows anything.’
Esmie nodded. These were all ideas that she had been turning over in her mind through the night. They were interrupted by the sound of Alec walking up the path. The padre waved in greeting. Esmie knew he would have had a sleepless night too.
Harold said to Esmie, ‘You should go to the hospital – at least it will keep your mind occupied. And I feel bad that I won’t be there today.’
Esmie watched him hurry away to join Alec. A lively twittering of birds was beginning in the trees and the acrid smoke from dung fires filled the air. It seemed the beginning to a normal day. But Esmie knew it wouldn’t be. Wherever Lydia was, she had shattered the calm of the Taha community by her sudden disappearance.
Esmie spent the morning at the hospital, working through without stopping for a break. In the early afternoon, Rupa told her to go home.
‘Rest and come back tomorrow. I know you want to be at home with baby Andrew. Perhaps there will be word soon.’
Esmie needed no further persuasion; despite driving herself at work, her mind was never far from anxious thoughts about Lydia. She joined Sarah and Karo with the children. There had been no word from the sahibs searching for Lomax Mem’.
The waiting was purgatory for Esmie. At one point, she walked round to Alec’s house to see if there was any news but the padre had not yet returned. She called on Mrs McCabe but her husband was out and the brigadier’s wife was lying down, incapacitated by a nervous headache. Esmie left a message to say she would send round a sedative to help her sleep.
It was almost dark when Harold returned to the bungalow, covered in a film of dust and his usually ruddy face looking drawn and anxious. Esmie’s stomach knotted as she braced herself for bad news.
‘Tell me,’ she urged.
Harold sank into a chair. ‘I’ve just come from McCabe’s office. His aide-de-camp has returned from Razmak. Lydia’s not there. You were right about Dickie being at the barracks though. He claims not to have seen Lydia since Murree and has made no attempt to contact her. He did admit that Lydia has written to him several times in recent weeks but says he’s never encouraged her.’
‘That doesn’t mean she hasn’t set off to try and see him,’ Esmie said.
‘That’s true, but the police have combed the road to Razmak too and there’s no sign of Alec’s car.’
For an instant, Esmie’s hopes lifted. ‘Then perhaps she did go to Kohat?’
Harold shook his head. ‘Baz has informed the police there. She’s not at the club and no one has seen her.’
‘She can’t just disappear!’ Esmie began to tremble. ‘Oh, Harold! What’s happened to her?’
He looked at her bleakly. ‘Tomorrow we carry on searching – spread the net wider. In the meantime, Baz’s men are gathering intelligence.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ Esmie asked in alarm.
‘Putting their ear to the ground in the bazaar – picking up any rumours about a missing memsahib.’
Esmie gasped. ‘Does Baz think there’s something more sinister going on? That it’s not simply that the car’s broken down and she’s taken shelter somewhere?’
‘You know how thorough Baz is,’ said Harold. ‘He’s just doing his job. It doesn’t mean anything more than that.’
But Esmie could tell that her husband was deeply worried. He looked as if he had aged ten years in the past day and night. She knew he would do anything to get Lydia back safely. She tried to calm her jangling nerves; she must be strong for Harold.
‘You must be tired out,’ she said. ‘I’ll get Draman to arrange a hot bath and then we’ll eat.’
Harold stared out at the dusk, his mind far away. Esmie doubted that he’d heard her.
‘Tomorrow, Tom will have to be told,’ he said quietly. ‘He’ll want to come and search too.’
Esmie’s throat constricted. She could not stop shaking and all she could do was nod in agreement. She could hardly bear the thought of the anxiety this would inflict on Tom. She should have done more to get to the root of Lydia’s unhappiness. How could she have let her friend go off like that, knowing that she was acting irrationally and increasingly manic? She hardly dared face Tom. As she went to instruct the bearer, Esmie made a silent plea: please let Lydia be alive!
The next day, Harold wired Tom and then went off with Alec to join the search. Esmie went to the hospital. It was mid-morning when Harold suddenly appeared. He steered her outside onto the veranda, his face a tight mask. Esmie’s heart was hammering so hard she could barely breathe.
‘Tell me,’ she whispered.
‘The police have found Alec’s car,’ he said, ‘but not Lydia.’
Esm
ie felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. ‘Where?’
‘About five miles off the Razmak road – on the way to Kanki-Khel.’
‘Kanki-Khel?’ Esmie was dumbstruck. ‘What? Why?’
She stared at her husband in incomprehension.
‘Baz thinks it might be kidnap. He’s informing the Superintendent of Police in Kohat.’
Esmie clenched her teeth. This could not be happening. ‘Who would want to do such a thing?’
Something about Harold’s harrowed look made Esmie feel dread in the pit of her stomach.
He didn’t answer directly. ‘Baz wants to speak to you – and to Karo.’
Esmie grabbed onto Harold to steady herself. ‘Why? What does he think?’
Harold hesitated and glanced around before dropping his voice. ‘From the rumours in the bazaar, he suspects the Otmanzai – especially if they’ve taken her to Kanki-Khel or beyond.’
Esmie’s head reeled. ‘Does he think it’s Karo’s husband, Baram Wali?’
‘It’s possible.’ Harold’s look was grim. ‘If not him then some of his kin.’
Esmie felt faint as a terrible thought struck her. ‘Did they mistake Lydia for me?’ she gasped. ‘Is that what Baz thinks?’
Harold said, ‘It was opportunistic – they couldn’t have known Lydia would be driving that way. But someone took advantage of her being alone and might have thought it was you. They might have recognised the car from the mission.’
Esmie stifled a sob. Harold took hold of her arms.
‘Courage, dearest. At least if it is kidnap it means Lydia is alive. She is valuable to her kidnappers. If that’s the case, Baz expects to hear of a ransom demand soon.’
Sergeant Baz came round later that day to question Karo about her husband’s kin and garner anything useful she could tell them about the situation of the Otmanzai homesteads and fortifications. Esmie felt a stirring of hope that the burly, level-headed Pathan was in charge. He knew the area and people better than most and was encouraging.
‘We will track down Lomax Memsahib,’ he said stoutly, ‘and return her to Taha.’
Before he went, he told Harold, ‘Lomax Sahib is taking the train to Kohat. We shall escort him to Taha tomorrow morning. Shall we bring him here, sahib?’
‘Yes, here,’ said Harold at once. ‘That would be very good of you.’
Esmie clenched her hands to stop them shaking. Tom had already left Rawalpindi. He must have dropped everything and caught the first train west. She felt a sickening mix of dread and longing at the thought of seeing him again.
That evening, Harold and Esmie sat up late on the veranda. At Harold’s insistence, they had spent the afternoon working at the hospital and then Alec had come round for supper. They had all been subdued and he had left soon afterwards, saying, ‘I’ll not expect you, Harold – you’ll want to be with your wife tonight.’
Esmie was grateful to the padre for his sensitivity. He looked as haggard and exhausted as Harold did. He’d also offered to put Tom up for a few days, so Harold would be moving back into his room permanently.
She observed her husband. His expression was so sad and reflective; the worry over Lydia had taken its toll. Esmie’s heart went out to him. How Harold must regret marrying her. His work was his life and anything else was a distraction, however genial he was in company. If she hadn’t come here – or brought Lydia to their door – none of this upset would have happened. Esmie fretted over the decisions she had made – taking Karo into their home and interfering on behalf of the troubled Zakir – actions that might have provoked the Otmanzai to try and kidnap her but had led to her friend falling into enemy hands instead.
What would be the consequences for the mission clinic if trying to rescue Lydia provoked a backlash against the Otmanzai? Once word spread among the British of the kidnap of a British memsahib, there would be moral outrage. If the army or police went after the kidnappers with force, it might lead to greater unrest among the wider Waziri population. People’s lives – not just Lydia’s – would be at risk. Harold’s hopes of reopening the clinic at Kanki-Khel might be dashed forever.
Deep down, Esmie knew that, put in the same position again, she would still try and help Karo and Zakir. She didn’t regret doing so, but she felt a great burden of guilt towards Harold that she might have endangered his work at the mission. Would they ever be able to go back to working in close partnership again? As she gazed at him in pity, she knew that the greatest tension between them might never be resolved: her desire for a baby and his refusal to become a father.
Unexpectedly, Harold spoke. ‘It’s not your fault that Lydia is missing. I know you are blaming yourself – but I don’t.’
Esmie was tearful. ‘Thank you, Harold.’
He looked at her with sudden tenderness. ‘You have been a good friend to Lydia – loyal and selfless – I don’t think she appreciates how much you have always put her first.’
Esmie eyed him, trying not to blush. She thought immediately of how she had done nothing to stand in Lydia’s way over marrying Tom. If she had told her friend that she was in love with Tom, would Lydia have still gone after him? Esmie suspected that she would have.
‘Lydia needs more reassurance than most that she’s loved,’ said Esmie.
‘Yes,’ Harold agreed. ‘I don’t know why that should be. She’s always had people to adore her yet she never seems to be satisfied with what she has.’
Esmie nodded. ‘That’s what’s so sad. She has that beautiful baby boy and—’ she broke off quickly.
Harold’s eyes glinted with sadness. ‘I know how much you care for Andrew. I’m so sorry, Esmie.’
Her heart skipped a beat. ‘Sorry?’
‘For not giving you what you want most of all – to be a mother.’
Esmie swallowed. ‘There’s plenty of time. Perhaps after all this is over – when Lydia’s safely returned – we could go on local leave and have some time together. I know you’d make a wonderful father.’
Harold’s expression turned desolate. He shook his head. ‘I—I can’t.’
Esmie’s chest tightened. She had to ask him what had been preying on her mind since they’d married. ‘Is it because of me – that you don’t desire me enough physically?’
Harold didn’t answer. She saw his jaw was clenched.
‘I knew it,’ said Esmie. ‘Harold, I know you love another more than me but surely that doesn’t mean we can’t make the most of our marriage and eventually become parents.’
As she spoke he looked aghast. ‘Another? How did you know?’
‘Because it’s always been obvious to me how you’ve cared for Lydia more,’ said Esmie. ‘I know how upset you were when she got engaged to Tom – why you suddenly took yourself off to Wales.’
Harold’s expression changed. ‘Oh, my dearest, you’re quite wrong. It’s not Lydia that I lo—’ He clamped his mouth shut.
In confusion, Esmie searched his face. ‘Then who?’
Harold’s face turned puce. He had the desperate look of a man drowning. ‘I’ve fought it – prayed about it.’ His voice was husky, his expression guilt-ridden. ‘I thought you must have guessed by now. We should never have married. It was very wrong of me to ask you, knowing that I couldn’t truly be your husband. I’m so sorry, Esmie.’ She heard a sob in his throat. ‘I don’t expect you to forgive me.’
Esmie’s heart was banging in her chest as realisation began to dawn on her. He loved another but not Lydia. Was he one of those men who could only love another man? Was that why he found intimacy with her so impossible?
‘But then you never loved me either, did you?’ Harold said, full of regret.
‘I care for you, Harold,’ Esmie said, colouring.
‘Care, yes. But not love. Neither of us loves each other.’ He held her look. ‘My dear, I know who you’re in love with. I’ve seen how hard you’ve tried to suppress it but it’s written all over your face every time you look at him.’
Esmie was
nauseated. Surely he couldn’t know? She put her hands to her burning cheeks.
‘I’d never do anything to hurt you,’ she whispered. ‘Neither would he.’
Harold’s eyes filled with compassion. ‘I know that.’
Esmie’s voice wavered as she asked, ‘How did you know I felt like that about Tom?’
She thought she would cry at the mournful look on his face. ‘Because I recognise your feelings, Esmie. I feel the same way too.’
Esmie felt winded. She searched his face but knew he was deadly serious. Harold loved Tom; his oldest friend. How had she not guessed? Yet, it made sense of everything. Perhaps deep down she had known, just hadn’t wanted to face the truth.
‘Oh, Harold,’ Esmie said, reaching out and gently touching his bandaged hand. Tears stung her eyes.
He bowed his head. His shoulders began to shake. Esmie heard him quietly sob – and then she was weeping too.
Chapter 35
Early the next morning Baz came to tell them that police at the Kanki-Khel outpost had confirmed the rumour that a white memsahib had been seen on the road up to the border with a handful of Otmanzai. By now, they surmised, she would have been taken into the mountains beyond. They suspected Baram Wali’s gang were responsible but no one would confirm it and no ransom demand had been issued.
Esmie felt numb. She had hardly slept a wink, her mind in turmoil about Harold’s confession and his knowing about her feelings for Tom. Had Harold loved Tom since boyhood, or had it been a gradual falling in love in adulthood? Did Tom have any idea that his friend’s feelings for him went deeper than comradeship? Esmie suspected not. How did she feel about her husband being in love with a man? And the same man as she was!
Esmie didn’t know what to think. How could their marriage survive this? Harold was looking grey and his eyes glassy with lack of sleep. Yet, she forced such problems from her mind to try and concentrate on what Baz was telling them.
The Emerald Affair Page 40