The Emerald Affair

by Trotter, Janet MacLeod

  In mid-November a letter came from Lydia, anxious for her to join them in the Christmas trip back to Ebbsmouth.

  ‘. . . you simply must come! Your passage is booked. There is no reason for you to stay. Please Esmie, come with us. If only to give yourself a holiday and allow us Templetons to spoil you rotten! If you like, we could invite your Aunt Isobel down for Christmas too. We sail on the 29th from Bombay to Marseilles. I’ve booked trains from there so we get home more quickly and well in time for the festivities. Come, come, come! Please, please, please!’

  Esmie heard the desperation in Lydia’s letter. She wondered if Tom would be able to get his wife to return with him to India once she was back with her parents. Lydia was a home-bird and she had had such a terrible experience on the Frontier, Esmie was worried about her. Perhaps she ought to go with her and make sure she was all right. Esmie see-sawed about what to do. The Templetons would be kind to her and part of her longed for their warm-hearted attention – and there would be a chance to see Aunt Isobel too while she was in Scotland.

  Yet Esmie did not think she could endure spending several weeks in Tom’s company, trying to pretend to Lydia and everyone else that she had no feelings for him. She couldn’t do it. In fact, it would come as a relief to think of the Lomaxes leaving India for a while and not having to be faced with subduing her love for Tom.

  Esmie wrote back to Lydia, declining the kind offer and explaining that she wasn’t ready to leave India.

  More and more, Esmie was thinking that she might move somewhere else in the sub-continent to work, far away from the Punjab and Rawalpindi. Standing on the veranda at dusk, wrapped in a shawl and listening to the birds settling in the trees and voices carrying on the sharp air, she knew she wanted to stay in this country. She had come to love India; its mix of people, its smells and sounds. India was a place of bright stars, vivid colours and of living outdoors. There was so much more still to learn about the country and its people. This was what had drawn Harold east – and she too felt its pull.

  Having made this tentative decision – and with nothing but a vague plan to stay – Esmie went back to the hospital and began to work again.

  Chapter 42

  Rawalpindi, November

  ‘She’s not coming with us!’ Lydia tore up Esmie’s letter and threw it onto the fire before giving Tom a chance to read it.

  ‘I didn’t think she would,’ he replied.

  ‘You would have thought she’d be more grateful,’ Lydia said moodily. ‘I’ve been through hell but my best friend has turned her back on me.’

  ‘For goodness’ sake! Esmie’s just lost her husband,’ Tom chided.

  ‘That’s right, take her side as usual. I know you prefer Esmie to me.’

  ‘I haven’t time to listen to this. There’s too much to do at the hotel with Charlie being off sick. I thought you had something important to tell me.’

  He had come rushing round to the bungalow in Buchanan Road at Lydia’s command. He should have known it wouldn’t be a matter of life or death. Daily, she sent chits to say he was needed immediately, only to find she had locked herself into the house because she was convinced there was an intruder in the garden or the tonga driver at the end of the road was plotting to snatch her. But she refused his suggestion that they move back into the hotel where she might feel safer.

  ‘It is important,’ Lydia said, resorting to tears. ‘I need you here.’

  ‘I have a hotel to run. My manager is in bed with bronchitis and we have a railway club dinner to prepare for tonight. You have to let me get on with my job,’ Tom said with a sigh.

  ‘But I’m frightened here on my own,’ Lydia said tearfully. ‘Why do you always choose the hotel over me?’

  ‘If you would agree to move back into the hotel, I wouldn’t need to,’ he said in exasperation.

  At times Tom felt sorry for her; she was often nervy and on edge, refusing to go near the bazaar and suspicious of any man dressed in the garb of a Pathan. Lydia had returned to a flood of publicity and interest in her plight. At first her friends had pressed her for details of her ordeal and Lydia had been happy to oblige, turning the story of her abduction into a lurid drama. There had been articles and interviews in the newspapers about the brave Englishwoman and the plucky Scottish nurse, and Lydia had basked in the sympathy of the men at the club.

  But soon the tone of the stories had changed. Rumours began to surface that Lydia had been rushing to Razmak to meet a lover. No self-respecting British woman would have behaved in such a way, said the gossips; the hotelier’s wife should take a large part of the blame for her kidnap.

  Her so-called friends were proving fickle. After a couple of weeks of notoriety, invitations to dinner parties and club dances had begun to dry up. People snubbed Tom too. They openly talked about his faults, which the more waspish of Lydia’s friends repeated to her. ‘They say he left the Rifles in disgrace – heard it from someone who’d heard it from a captain in the Victoria Barracks. Is it true? My husband says that’s why he drinks too much.’

  Tom cared little for the tittle-tattle about him but it gave Lydia yet another reason to berate him for being a useless husband.

  ‘I refuse to go back to that tiresome hotel,’ she pouted.

  ‘Well, I have a business to run,’ said Tom, striding to the door and wrenching it open.

  ‘Go on! Walk out on me again,’ Lydia cried, pursuing him. ‘Well, I tell you this, Tom Lomax; I can’t wait to leave Pindi and I’m never coming back. So sooner or later you’re going to have to choose between that bloody hotel and me!’

  He spun round. ‘Don’t tempt me.’

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘You’d love that, wouldn’t you? Blame me for the break-up of our marriage, when it’s you that’s neglected me. You promised me this fairy-tale life in India but it’s been nothing but a disappointment. Worse that that; it’s been the most terrible year of my life! If I hadn’t been so desperately unhappy, I would never have gone after Dickie and been snatched by those barbarians.’

  Tom’s heart drummed. It was the first time she had admitted that it was Dickie she was trying to reach when she’d been kidnapped.

  ‘So you were having an affair with Mason?’ he accused.

  She looked at him in defiance. ‘Yes! All summer.’

  Tom balled his fists in anger. ‘I’ve gone out of my way to placate you and please you, and all this time you’ve been sleeping with another man.’

  ‘Don’t play the wronged husband with me,’ Lydia railed, stabbing his chest with her finger. ‘Ever since we were married you’ve been lusting after Esmie. Isn’t that true? I saw the way you looked at her when she wore my emerald dress – you couldn’t take your eyes off her. You’d have turned it into an affair if she’d given you an ounce of encouragement. I know you didn’t go all that way across the Frontier to rescue me – you did it because of her. You wish you’d married my friend instead of me. You do, don’t you? Don’t you!’

  Tom ground his teeth.

  ‘Well, I wish you had too!’ she yelled. ‘I should have married Colin Fleming. He would have taken care of me and made sure I was safe. I’d be living a life of luxury in the south of France if you hadn’t won me with false promises.’

  Tom looked at her in contempt. ‘I never promised you anything more than you got or pretended to be someone I wasn’t. I’m sorry if you thought I did.’

  ‘Oh, you did, Tom,’ she said, her face red with anger. ‘You played on being a war hero – Captain Lomax with an aristocratic pedigree. Of course my head was turned. What a fool I was! You’re nothing but a failure – even your own father’s ashamed of you. The only thing you’ve got to your name is a second-rate hotel.’

  Tom could not bear to hear any more of her vicious words. He turned away. But she chased him across the veranda.

  ‘Don’t turn your back on me,’ she shouted.

  He stopped and faced her, his jaw clenched. All the months of frustration and heartache over his wife’s demand
ing ways made him snap. ‘It’ll be a relief when you go,’ he retaliated. ‘And you’ll be glad to hear I shan’t be coming with you. I don’t mind what you do, Lydia – go to Fleming if it makes you any happier.’

  For a moment she stared at him as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Had she really expected him to take her vitriol without being provoked? Things had been said that could never be unsaid.

  ‘Well, that’s fine by me,’ she hissed. ‘I don’t want you to come. But I’m taking Andrew.’

  ‘Andrew?’ Tom felt winded.

  ‘Yes, my son.’ Lydia challenged him with her look.

  ‘But he’s mine too.’

  ‘Well, you have a choice to make,’ she said, glaring at him. ‘Give up the hotel and come back to Scotland or don’t see your son again.’

  Tom’s head spun. He was too shocked to move.

  ‘But you don’t want me as your husband,’ Tom gasped. ‘You’d do that just to spite me?’ When she didn’t answer, he said, ‘I won’t let you take him away. If it comes to a fight in court, I’ll tell them about you and Dickie and it’s you who won’t see him again.’

  Lydia’s face suddenly crumpled and she burst into tears. Tom felt wrenched in two. He half-hated her, half-pitied her.

  ‘Please, Tom, don’t bring Dickie into this,’ she sobbed. ‘It’s not his fault and our affair is over.’ She looked at him beseechingly. ‘I just want to go home! Mummy and Daddy are longing to see Andrew. You wouldn’t deny them seeing their grandson, would you? That’s all I ask. Let’s take him home together.’

  Tom stared at her, in too much turmoil to speak. How could she threaten him one minute and make him feel guilty the next? He no longer knew what to think. Living with Lydia was as unpredictable and nerve-racking as walking on quicksand. If it hadn’t been for Andrew he would have left her by now. But for all his bravado about fighting for his son in court, he didn’t want to put his wife through that or use his son as a bargaining chip in their marriage. He would go to the ends of the earth for Andrew – and Lydia knew it.

  Taha

  Esmie had taken to cycling to work, finding the cold air against her cheeks exhilarating in the early morning. On the 29th of November she cycled to work thinking of the Lomaxes in Bombay embarking for home and felt a mixture of sadness and relief. She had not heard from either Tom or Lydia since she’d declined their invitation to join them in Scotland for Christmas. Esmie hoped that Lydia hadn’t taken offence but she had tried to explain that it was too soon after Harold’s death to leave Taha. She felt close to him here and drew comfort from being with colleagues and friends who had known him.

  Each day, Esmie felt a little stronger and, at times, less bereft. She knew that she was not going to stay in Taha much longer and had asked the mission to find a replacement. She planned to travel for a few months, seeing more of India before deciding where to settle next. Somewhat to her surprise she had discovered that, thanks to an insurance policy she had had no idea existed, Harold had left her well provided for and she could afford to take some time off before seeking work again.

  A few days later, Esmie received an unexpected letter from Rawalpindi. Slitting open the envelope, she saw that it was written on Raj Hotel headed notepaper in beautiful copperplate writing. It was from Hester Cussack.

  Darling,

  How are you? Your friends here at the hotel think of you a lot and we worry that you are lonely. We don’t like to think of you on your own at Christmas, so the chaps and I would like to invite you to spend it with us. It was Stella’s idea, so she must get the credit. She is the wisest eight-year-old I have ever come across, wouldn’t you agree?

  We understand if you don’t want to come as it might be a painful reminder of last Christmas when you had your husband with you. But, darling, I too know what it is like to be widowed and I found the best tonic was to surround myself with friends and carry on with life.

  It’s a bit chaotic at the hotel as Charlie has been ill and Captain Lomax isn’t here to supervise but Myrtle and the children are marvellous and have been coping. Plus, it will be more peaceful this year without the memsahib bossing us all about!

  Darling, I know she’s your friend but she has been making life quite impossible for poor Captain Lomax. He spent the past month at her beck and call, dashing from the hotel to the bungalow ten times a day. He looked worn out. We’re all surprised he’s gone with the memsahib to Scotland – the servants say their rows were like fireworks at Diwali. I wouldn’t be surprised if he tips her overboard on the way home!

  The Duboises say the memsahib threatened to take baby Andrew away for good and are convinced that’s the only reason the captain’s gone with her. You know how much he dotes on the small thing. But between you, me and the gatepost, the Duboises are worried Lomax might never come back and so are the chaps and I. The memsahib is trying to get him to sell the hotel. Hey-ho, as you British say. We’ll be parcelled off to the next buyer – if we’re lucky!

  So, darling, if you want to see us all, you better come this Christmas as we might be scattered to the four winds by next!

  Kind regards,

  Hester Cussack

  Esmie was overwhelmed by the unexpected invitation. She was touched to know that the baroness and her friends had not only been thinking about her welfare but wanting to cheer her up. Yet she was deeply upset to think that the Lomaxes were so unhappy and that Lydia was using Andrew to coerce Tom to do her bidding. How cruel! Lydia had undergone a terrible ordeal but it was unfair to take it out on Tom and make a pawn of Andrew.

  Her heart ached for the poor boy. What would his future be like in such an unhappy home? Esmie was alarmed to think that Lydia might get her way and end Tom’s dream of a life as a hotelier. Tom had found something he was good at and enjoyed. And it was not just Tom’s future that was at stake but the employment of the Dubois family and the home of Hester and her friends.

  After a restless night, Esmie wrote back accepting the invitation. The more she thought about it, the keener she was to spend Christmas at the hotel. She had felt more at home there in a short space of time than anywhere else in India. Esmie knew that that was mostly to do with the delightful and eccentric residents and the warm-hearted Duboises.

  Having made the decision, it became clearer in Esmie’s mind that after her holiday at the Raj Hotel, she would leave the mission in Taha and travel on. She began to make arrangements to pack up the house and her few possessions. She asked Karo if she would like to go with her as her maid.

  ‘I will always look after you and Gabina for as long as you want,’ Esmie promised. ‘But I’ll understand if you want to stay in Taha – I’m sure Desai Memsahib would give you a home.’

  ‘No,’ Karo said quickly, ‘I’d like to come with you, Guthrie Mem’. I’m not afraid to travel and go where Allah leads me.’

  ‘I’m so glad!’ Esmie said in relief. She had been dreading the thought of leaving the Waziri woman and the girl behind. In time, she planned that she would take Karo to one of the major hospitals for an operation to reconstruct her nose. Even though few people saw her unveiled, this would be Esmie’s gift to her friend for her bravery and serve as a final riposte to Baram Wali’s cruelty.

  Before she left Taha, Esmie sat down to write the hardest letter of her life.

  Dear Lydia,

  By the time this reaches you, you will be back at Templeton Hall and having a wonderful reunion with your parents. I know how happy you will be and I can imagine your parents’ joy at seeing you again and meeting Andrew for the first time. I can almost hear the chatter and popping of champagne corks! Thinking of you all at dear Templeton Hall gives me great pleasure and I hope it makes you happy to be home. I know you haven’t been so in India.

  You once told me to stop prying into your marriage and so it’s with hesitation that I write this. But you know how interfering nurses can be – and this one in particular! I tell you this only because it may help you understand things better – and to do so
, I must break a promise I made to Tom not to say anything. Yet I know how difficult things have been for you both since your terrible experience in captivity and I don’t think telling you can make things any worse.

  Andrew is all the more precious to Tom because he lost his first baby, a daughter called Amelia. Mary died in childbirth while Tom was on active service and their baby died a few days later. He was so grief-stricken that he never told anyone. Harold and I only found out because we came across the graves of mother and baby in Peshawar. I always thought you should be told about it so that you’d understand why Tom was so anxious about you during the pregnancy and fearful of losing Andrew. But Harold said it wasn’t up to me.

  I think Tom is still afraid of losing Andrew. That’s why he didn’t press you on why you were driving to Razmak to see Dickie and why he’s gone with you to Scotland. You have tested him greatly, Lydia. I can say that as your closest friend who wants the best for you. But if our friendship still means anything and you have any love in your heart for Tom, please don’t take Andrew from him. Come back to India and try again.

  I’ve decided to stay on, though I’m going to work somewhere else than the North-West Frontier. I don’t plan to live near Rawalpindi but you can come and visit me wherever I go. I’ll buy a swing seat for the veranda and we’ll sit and drink gin fizz and you can tell me all the gossip from Ebbsmouth and Pindi.

  Lecture over. Now you can tear up this letter or stick pins in my effigy. (Remember when we did that to Maud Drummond when she banned us from going on the school picnic because we’d defaced a photo of the prime minister for opposing women’s suffrage?!)

  But I hope you won’t take offence. I write about such things because you three are dear to me – and were dear to Harold. He would have shied away from putting such thoughts in a letter but it would have pained him to see his best friends so unhappy.

  Please give my love to your parents and have a happy Christmas together.