The Emerald Affair

by Trotter, Janet MacLeod

  My friendship and love to you always.

  Your best friend,

  Esmie xxx

  Esmie sealed the airmail letter and gave it to Draman to post. She busied herself for the rest of the day sorting through clothes and books, putting aside a pile of Harold’s to offer to the mission. At the bottom of her chest she found the emerald dress. Her eyes prickled with tears as she held it close and remembered the night she had danced with Tom – the only time he had held her in his arms – and she had known for certain the strength of her passion for him. She would probably never wear it again but she couldn’t yet bear to part with it. Knowing she was being sentimental, Esmie laid it on the pile she was keeping.

  A week later, her possessions – reduced to a trunkful – were sent on ahead to the Raj Hotel. The furniture and furnishings that didn’t belong to the mission, she distributed among the servants. On her last evening, Rupa gave her supper and the following morning she got up at dawn to lay flowers on Harold’s grave. Her tears made her skin smart in the cold. It was a year to the day that they had left Taha to spend Christmas with Tom and Lydia at the hotel. How much had happened in the intervening time. Esmie’s heart was sore with distressing memories. Yet she did not regret coming to work and live among the Waziris of Taha.

  ‘This isn’t goodbye,’ she whispered over the grave. ‘I’ll come back when I can to bring you flowers and say a prayer. I’m sorry we had such a short time together, Harold. But you know that I cared for you a lot. Malik is going to tend your grave for me. Thank you for bringing me to this place. I would never have met these special people without you. Karo and Gabina are going with me, so their temporary stay lasted longer than even I thought it would.’ Esmie gave a teary smile. ‘Till we meet again, my dearest.’ She kissed her fingertips and touched the newly carved gravestone, and then turned and hurried from the cemetery.

  An hour later, as the houses of Taha glowed golden in the rising winter sun, Alec drove Esmie, Karo and Gabina to Kohat. By midday he was waving them off on the train to Rawalpindi.

  Chapter 43

  The Raj Hotel, New Year’s Eve

  After dinner, Stella organised them into a game of charades. Jimmy and Mr Hoffman were acting out the title of a book, trying to convey the meaning of the middle word of a three-word title. Jimmy was jumping about and Mr Hoffman was pulling his lugubrious face in ever increasing expressions of pain. Suggestions were shouted out.

  ‘Anger?’

  ‘Horror?’

  ‘Dracula!’ Stella squealed with laughter.

  ‘There’s only one word in that title, darling,’ said Hester.

  ‘Hoffman looks decidedly ill,’ said Fritwell.

  ‘Desperate Remedies!’ called out Ansom.

  ‘That’s two words,’ Hester reminded him.

  Hoffman sank to his knees and Jimmy mimed climbing a rope.

  ‘The Ancient Mariner?’ suggested Charlie.

  ‘That’s a poem,’ said Ansom. ‘Are you allowed to do poems?’

  ‘No,’ said Stella.

  ‘It’s not a poem,’ protested Jimmy.

  ‘No speaking!’ ordered Stella.

  Mrs Shankley waved her ear trumpet in excitement. ‘Return of the Native!’

  ‘That’s four words,’ pointed out Hester. ‘But a nice try, darling.’

  ‘Jude the Obscure,’ said Fritwell.

  ‘How could it possibly be that?’ Ansom laughed.

  ‘Well, it all looks dashed obscure to me,’ grunted his friend.

  ‘Do the whole title, Jimmy,’ Myrtle advised her son. ‘Or no one else will get a turn.’

  In desperation, Jimmy whispered to Hoffman. The retired policeman went on all fours and Jimmy did the same behind him. They moved about the floor, stopping to wave an arm in front and then continue on.

  ‘The Pilgrim’s Progress?’ Charlie queried.

  Helpless with laughter, Esmie said, ‘I think they’re supposed to be animals.’

  ‘Could be elephants,’ said Fritwell.

  ‘Good thinking, Fritters,’ said Ansom. ‘What’s that one about the elephants crossing the Alps?’

  Stella leapt up and waved her hand in the air. ‘I’ve got it, I’ve got it! It’s The Jungle Book!’

  Jimmy sprang to his feet, grinning. ‘Yes, it is.’

  Hoffman sighed in relief and pulled out a handkerchief to mop his brow. Ansom and Charlie helped him to his feet and into a chair.

  ‘Excellent acting, sir,’ praised Charlie. ‘We should have guessed it long before we did.’

  While the next couple were chosen from the hat, Myrtle supervised the handing round of cheese pastries while Charlie made sure that drinks were refreshed. Esmie was so full of dinner that she couldn’t manage either. Stella unfurled the strips of paper and read out the names.

  ‘Ooh, Daddy,’ she giggled, ‘it’s you and Mrs Shankley.’

  Charlie gave a gallant bow and led the deaf resident to the corner of the room to discuss their book title in loud whispers.

  ‘Daddy, we can hear you,’ Stella cried.

  ‘Put on some music, darling,’ Hester suggested.

  Jimmy rushed over to the gramophone and wound it up. Ragtime music filled the room. Abruptly, Esmie was reminded sharply of Ebbsmouth and Lydia. She wondered how life was at Templeton Hall. There had hardly been time for a reply to her letter to come from Lydia, even by airmail, but she doubted she would get one. As time went on, Esmie had questioned whether she should have written at all. Had she added fuel to the fire of Lydia’s resentment towards Tom? Charlie had received a telegram from Tom to say that they had arrived safely in Scotland and wishing them all a happy Christmas. But apart from that, no one knew how the Lomaxes were or when – if ever – they would be returning to Rawalpindi.

  Yet, to Esmie’s surprise, Christmas had been a happy one. She was deeply grateful for the Duboises and her friends at the hotel for making her one of the family. From the moment she had arrived they had fussed over her, giving her the secluded Elgin room with its charming view of the jacaranda tree in the courtyard.

  On Christmas Eve, Charlie had made his special punch and Esmie had joined in the traditional hotel party for a short while. The next morning Ansom and Fritwell had accompanied her to the Scots Kirk and afterwards she had joined all the residents for lunch in the dining room and then taken herself off for a walk around the tree-lined streets. She had avoided the Mall and the cricket ground, not wanting to run into acquaintances of the Lomaxes or be reminded of the previous year. Instead she had meandered in the mellow sunshine, looping back through the Saddar Bazaar, and found solace in the bustle of Indians going about their day.

  On Boxing Day the Duboises had insisted on taking her to spend the day with Myrtle’s family, the Dixons, in Lalkutri Bazaar. Esmie had been overwhelmed by how she had been warmly welcomed into the home of these complete strangers. Their flat was crowded and noisy with family arriving, bringing presents and food to share. All day there was eating and drinking, sing-songs and party games. Stella stuck close to Esmie, showing her off to her cousins and making sure she was enjoying herself.

  ‘You’re not sad, are you?’ the girl kept asking.

  Esmie had to hold back tears at her concern. ‘I’m enjoying every minute,’ she answered, pulling Stella into a hug. ‘Thank you.’

  Tonight, as the old year waned, Esmie was glad to be at the Raj Hotel surrounded by friends, amid their laughter and teasing conversation. It was the tonic her bruised heart needed. She stayed up long enough for them to toast in the New Year.

  Esmie caught the look of sympathy in Charlie’s eyes as he raised his glass and said, ‘To absent friends!’

  Her vision blurred as they all repeated the toast. Her mind was full of memories of Harold – of her Aunt Isobel, Jeanie and Norrie – and of Tom, Lydia and Andrew.

  Suddenly she felt Stella’s warm hand slip into hers. Esmie squeezed it in gratitude.

  ‘To the New Year!’ Charlie cried. ‘To a happy and healthy 1
921!’

  Chapter 44

  Ebbsmouth, January 1921

  After New Year, to avoid his wife’s constant criticism, Tom went to stay with Tibby at the Anchorage. It was easy to keep out of his father’s way too, as the old colonel was almost bed-bound and rarely left his study. Tom spent his time fraternising with the artists who lodged with his twin sister – doing a bit of painting himself – and visiting Templeton Hall to take Andrew out for wintry walks.

  He was sorry for the young ayah, Sarah, who had never before experienced the icy east winds blowing off the North Sea in January. He suspected she was lonely and homesick but she never complained and remained stoically loyal to the Lomaxes and attentive to Andrew’s needs.

  At first Tom had an ally in Lydia’s father, Jumbo, who defended his son-in-law’s wish to keep the hotel going in Rawalpindi.

  ‘It has a great deal of potential,’ Jumbo told his daughter. ‘There’s no reason why it shouldn’t make a good little business, and maybe expand in the future – other Raj Hotels in some of the more scenic spots.’

  Tom was encouraged by the idea but Lydia dismissed it at once. ‘It would be throwing good money after bad. I can’t see why you can’t set Tom up in business here. I don’t want to go back to India – ever!’

  Tom didn’t tell Lydia’s parents about her affair with Dickie Mason. All they knew was that their daughter had been through a terrible ordeal. Minnie took her daughter’s side and was uncharacteristically forthright.

  ‘I think it’s cruel to expect Lydia to go back to Pindi after all she’s been through,’ she rebuked Tom. ‘Your first duty is to your family – your wife and son.’

  Soon, Jumbo was persuaded round to the women’s point of view.

  ‘Let me introduce you to some of my business associates here,’ he offered. ‘There’s money to be made in the motor industry. Have you ever thought about car manufacture?’

  ‘I know nothing about motor cars,’ Tom said in exasperation. He had forgone his inheritance to escape his father’s controlling influence, so the last thing he wanted was to be beholden to Lydia’s father.

  He and Lydia argued over Esmie’s letter too. She took it as a personal slight that she’d been kept in the dark about Tom’s first baby dying when Esmie knew about it.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Lydia exclaimed.

  Tom struggled to find the words to explain. ‘I . . . I couldn’t speak about it . . .’

  ‘But you could to Esmie.’ Lydia grew upset. ‘I’m your wife, Tom. I should have been told. Poor Mary!’ She became tearful. ‘You never confide in me – always in Esmie.’

  ‘She and Harold found out . . .’

  ‘How can you want to go back to such a dangerous place?’ she asked in bewilderment. ‘Force me to go back!’

  Lydia pored over the letter again. ‘I can’t believe Esmie’s taking your side over mine!’ she said in agitation. ‘How dare she accuse me of taking Andrew away from you?’

  ‘You threatened me with that in Pindi,’ Tom reminded her.

  ‘No, I didn’t! You were the one who said you’d take me to court over the baby.’

  Tom barely held on to his temper. ‘She’s just trying to get us to stay together and try again for Andrew’s sake. Don’t you see that?’

  ‘All I see is that my best friend thinks more about my husband than me.’

  Tom could take no more arguing. Shortly after that particular row, he retreated to The Anchorage and his sister’s uncritical company. He was deeply touched at Esmie’s attempt to protect Andrew but wished she hadn’t interfered; it had only made things worse. Lydia had shown little sympathy over his loss of Amelia; she’d just made him feel anew the guilt at not being there when she was born or able to prevent her death.

  The Raj Hotel

  In January Charlie had a further bout of bronchitis. To stop him fretting, Esmie stayed on to nurse him and help Myrtle with running the hotel. Between them, the women decided that there was no need to trouble Tom with news of his manager’s ill health. Myrtle confided how anxious Tom had been about leaving the hotel to go on furlough and how they had reassured him they would cope while he was away.

  ‘Charlie told him his family must come first – especially after Mrs Lomax had suffered such a terrible time in the North-West Frontier.’

  ‘Besides, Tom’s too far away to do anything about it,’ Esmie agreed, ‘and I don’t mind helping out. I have nothing to rush away for.’

  She found herself enjoying the routine tasks of choosing menus, greeting guests and liaising with staff, happy to be making decisions that didn’t mean the difference between life and death. It made her realise what relentless pressure she’d been under when she had worked as a nurse and the dangers she had faced.

  Sometimes it was the simplest activities that she enjoyed the most; supervising Stella and Jimmy’s homework after school, playing backgammon with Ansom or accompanying the baroness on her daily walk along the Mall. Most of all, she relished her time spent with the Duboises who treated her like family and with whom she was now on first name terms.

  To her delight, Karo and Gabina had settled well into the hotel compound. While Karo made herself useful mending clothes and making new cushion covers for the hotel, Gabina became Stella’s shadow and toddled around after her. The patient Stella was often to be seen staggering around with the small girl balanced on her hip, singing her songs and feeding her titbits.

  Ebbsmouth

  Tom’s relationship with his wife grew ever more strained so her mother suggested taking Lydia on holiday to restore her health.

  ‘It’s her nerves,’ Minnie said with worry. ‘She needs a complete rest and change of scene.’

  In February, Lydia and her mother booked a hotel in Nice on the French Riviera for three weeks.

  Lydia needed little persuasion by Tom to leave Andrew and his ayah behind. She overruled her mother who wanted the baby to go with them.

  ‘How is that going to be restful for me?’ Lydia chided.

  After they had gone, Tibby was frank. ‘You do know who they’ll be meeting up with, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, Grace is going to join them for part of the holiday,’ Tom answered.

  ‘Apart from Lydia’s sister.’ Tibby arched her eyebrows.

  ‘Who?’ Tom asked, feeling tense at the pitying look on his sister’s face.

  ‘Well, Colin Fleming has a place in Nice. Remember that wine merchant who was courting Lydia before you came back from the War?’

  Tibby was right. Lydia returned at the end of the month, adamant she wouldn’t go back to India and suggesting a separation from Tom. It wasn’t long before Tom began to hear about Lydia being seen at social events escorted by Colin Fleming. Despite the humiliation of his wife’s blatant flaunting of her new consort – they began to be the gossip of the county – he felt mainly relief. He swiftly booked a passage back to India for himself, his son and ayah.

  That was when he and Lydia had their final row. ‘At such a tender age, Andrew needs his mother more than he needs a father,’ Lydia decreed.

  ‘You spend no time with him as it is,’ Tom said angrily. ‘He’s more attached to his ayah than his mother.’

  ‘How can you say that?’ Lydia accused, resorting to tears. ‘I can’t be without him.’

  For once, the Templetons seemed sympathetic to Tom. Yet they supported their daughter as he knew they would.

  ‘I know you’re a good father to our grandson,’ said Minnie, ‘but you can’t look after him while you’re running a hotel, can you? Whereas Lydia has us here to help her care for Andrew.’

  Jumbo took Tom aside. ‘Man to man – best to leave Andrew here – at least while he’s so young. Lydia’s not acting herself at the moment; I don’t condone the way she’s carrying on with Fleming but I think it’s just a passing phase. Lydia might be persuaded to try again in India given time.’

  Tom thought it unlikely. But he was tired of fighting. The more he thought about the hotel and I
ndia, the more he was impatient to return. Why waste any more time hanging about Ebbsmouth feeling useless and trying to salvage his moribund marriage? He would prove the Templetons wrong. He would go back and make a success of the Raj Hotel and provide for his son, so that one day he could return and claim him.

  Increasingly, he could not get Esmie out of his mind. How was she coping with life in Taha without Harold? He longed to see her and find out what she planned to do. Perhaps in time . . . Tom smothered his yearning for the nurse. He must give her time to grieve for Harold. In the meantime, he would rebuild his life in Rawalpindi alone.

  Chapter 45

  The Raj Hotel

  February came and went. March brought a rise in temperature, some sudden storms and blossom to the city’s gardens. Then a telegram came from Ebbsmouth.

  ‘Embark March nineteenth STOP arrive Bombay April eighth STOP Pindi tenth STOP greetings.’

  This sent the residents into a twitter of excitement and speculation. Was the captain returning on his own or with his family? Was it a good sign that he was coming back or was it to prepare the hotel for sale?

  Charlie, once again in charge, tried to calm their fears. ‘Captain Lomax has expressed no intention of selling this illustrious establishment. You must not worry. We carry on as normal. Everything is ship-shape.’

  But privately, Myrtle voiced her concern to Esmie as they sat sharing a pot of tea after the children had gone to bed.

  ‘Charlie is worried too. Captain Lomax seemed so defeated when he left – resigned to doing whatever Mrs Lomax demanded. I know I shouldn’t speak badly of your friend, Esmie, but part of me dreads her coming back. She’s not been happy in India. It might be better if they did sell to someone else rather than make the captain’s life a misery here.’

  Esmie was deeply saddened at the thought. She put a hand over Myrtle’s in sympathy. ‘We just have to hope that these past weeks on holiday together have been enough to cement their marriage. I just hope for Andrew’s sake that they patch things up.’ She sighed. ‘But you could be right; in the long term the Lomaxes might be happier starting again in Scotland.’