Unsettled by the anxious talk and the doubt over the hotel’s future, Esmie decided that she should be gone by the time the Lomaxes – or Tom on his own – returned. As Lydia had never responded to her letter, Esmie guessed that her words had been unwelcome and she didn’t want to exacerbate the situation by being there when they got back, so she began to plan her onward journey.
The residents were full of suggestions of where she should visit in India.
‘Taj Mahal is a must,’ Ansom declared.
‘Oh, yes,’ agreed Hester, ‘especially by moonlight, darling.’
‘Lucknow and the site of the Mutiny,’ suggested Fritwell. ‘And they say the new Victoria Memorial in Calcutta is very impressive.’
‘Jaipur’s fascinating,’ said Hester, ‘and the deserted city of Fatehpur Sikri. I’ve friends in Rajputana you can stay with.’
‘Of course you should go to Simla,’ said Hoffman. ‘A delight once the snow has gone.’
‘And Kashmir,’ enthused Hester. ‘You must come and stay with me in Srinagar once the hot season comes. I have the use of a houseboat.’
Stella grinned. ‘Yes, I went last year with Mrs Shankley. It’s the most lovely place I’ve ever, ever been. Everything comes on little canoes so you can shop in your own house!’
‘Shikaras, darling,’ said Hester. ‘Those little canoes are called shikaras.’
‘Oh, I’d love to do that.’ Esmie smiled, remembering how Tom had enthused about Kashmir. ‘I’ve been told that swimming in Dal Lake is paradise.’
Hester laughed. ‘You can swim if you like, darling. I’ll sit and watch and drink nimbu pani.’
Esmie booked a train to Lahore for the beginning of April and a room in Nedous Hotel. She was going to start her tour by visiting the ancient Punjabi city with its mix of Moghul buildings and cosmopolitan grandeur. The Duboises had offered to store her trunk so that she could travel lightly with only one suitcase and a large bag. She was lending her sewing machine to Karo, who was proving useful to Myrtle in running up new curtains for some of the bedrooms. The Waziri woman had chosen to stay in the hotel compound and work for the Duboises while Esmie was away.
On her final morning in Rawalpindi, she took breakfast with the Duboises and waved Stella off to school. Halfway down the path, the girl ran back and threw her arms about Esmie’s waist for one last hug.
‘You will come back and see us, won’t you?’ Stella said tearfully.
Esmie squeezed her tight. ‘Of course I will, I promise. You’re like family to me now.’ She kissed the top of her head and gently disengaged.
Before her train, she went for a short walk with the baroness.
‘I mean what I say about visiting me in Kashmir, darling,’ Hester said.
‘And I intend coming,’ Esmie replied, smiling.
Arm in arm, they made a stately progress back to the hotel. An hour later, she was being hugged and kissed goodbye by Myrtle and the residents, and then Charlie drove her to the station.
‘I thank you with all my heart, Esmie, for helping us,’ said Charlie.
‘It’s me who should be thanking you,’ Esmie said, as they shook hands. ‘You and your family have helped me through a difficult time – I’ll always be so grateful.’
As she boarded the train, Charlie pulled a lilac silk handkerchief from his breast pocket and waved. ‘Bon voyage!’
‘Au revoir!’ Esmie called and waved back, and then climbed on board.
Five days after Esmie left, Tom returned alone to the Raj Hotel. He felt the burden of the past weeks lifting as he paused on the front lawn to take in the dearly familiar sight of the white-washed building with its blue-roofed portico and window frames and welcoming open doorway. It confirmed in his own mind that he had made the right decision.
He turned to Charlie, who had met him at the station, and said, ‘We’ll have to take down the sign with my name on as proprietor.’
Charlie’s face fell. ‘But I thought . . .?’
‘I want the title captain replaced with mister,’ Tom clarified. ‘Don’t worry, Charlie, I won’t be selling the Raj to anyone. I’m sorry if you’ve all been worrying.’
Tom was greeted like royalty by the residents. They ushered him into a seat and handed him a large whisky as if he were the guest and asked him about his furlough in Scotland. Tom said little about the past months of wrangling with Lydia and was glad they didn’t press him on his marital situation.
‘Mrs Lomax has decided to stay longer with her parents,’ he said, brushing over the subject. ‘I’ll be moving back into the hotel to live.’
‘Delighted to hear it, darling,’ said Hester. ‘I mean about you moving back in.’
The others chorused their approval and Tom was touched by their delight at his return.
He avoided talking about Andrew for to do so would risk an outpouring of emotion. Even thinking about the parting with his young son brought tears to Tom’s eyes. On his final brief visit to Templeton Hall, Tom had squeezed the infant to his chest and kissed his soft dark hair, whispering, ‘I’ll come back for you, my darling boy, I promise.’
Andrew had beamed, showing his new front teeth, and grabbed at his cheek with a sturdy grip. Quickly, he’d handed the baby back to Sarah. His voice breaking, he’d said, ‘I know you’ll look after him well. Please talk to him about me, so he knows that he’s loved.’ Tom had stridden from the nursery before he broke down and wept.
Jumbo and Minnie had said embarrassed goodbyes and wished him good luck, perhaps feeling a little contrite at not doing more to help patch things up between their daughter and son-in-law. At the last minute, Lydia – contrary as ever – seemed upset to see him go.
‘You will take care of yourself, won’t you, Tom?’ she said anxiously, clutching his arm. ‘I’d hate for anything bad to happen to you.’
He had nodded and managed to say, ‘Goodbye, Lydia. I’m sorry I haven’t made you happy. I hope you find happiness here.’
Tom had left to the sound of Lydia sobbing and calling out his name. His insides still clenched to think of it and he wondered what she would have said to him had he stayed. Was it possible in that final moment, she was having second thoughts? He would never be able to fathom what Lydia wanted – and doubted she even knew herself.
Tom was astonished to learn that Esmie had not only stayed at the Raj over Christmas but had helped out for months. He couldn’t stop thinking about it and imagining her being there – chatting to the residents and nursing Charlie back to health. It was tantalising to know she had recently walked these corridors, eaten in the dining room and played cards with the guests. Stella would not stop talking about Esmie and proudly showed Tom each postcard that arrived from the different parts of India where Esmie had last been staying: Delhi, Agra, Jaipur and most recently Benares. Tom was glad that Esmie was coping with her bereavement and forging a new life but it made his heart heavy to think she had left the area and did not intend coming back.
Over the next few weeks, Tom threw all his energies into building up his business. In consultation with the Duboises, he advertised the dining room for hire and offered cut-price accommodation for the coming hot season when many British left for the hills. Building on the contacts he had made the previous year with the railway fraternity and the Chota Club, the hotel began to host children’s birthday parties, club dinners and bridge competitions with afternoon tea.
He kept himself relentlessly busy so that he had no time to dwell on either Esmie or the son he had left behind in Scotland. Yet the painting he had done of baby Andrew was a daily reminder of how much he missed him. Lydia had written once to say that Andrew’s ayah was growing homesick and so Lydia was thinking of sending her back to India and employing a British nanny instead. Tom wondered if it was really because Lydia – or perhaps Colin Fleming – was embarrassed by her reliance on an Indian servant.
He wrote back cautioning such a move. ‘Unless Sarah is so very unhappy that she’s not doing her job, I urge you to keep
her on. Andrew has known her since birth and the two of them are very close. It would be a shame if that bond were to be broken.’
Lydia had not replied. Tom did not know if that was because she agreed with him or was intent on sending the ayah back anyway.
May was the hardest month for Tom to get through without his son. He sent a card for Andrew’s first birthday and a soft toy; a camel made out of leather and brightly decorated in red-and-gold saddle and harnessing. On Andrew’s birthday, Tom took himself off to Topi Park with a bottle of whisky, proceeded to get maudlin drunk and allowed himself to weep.
Charlie came out looking for him and to fetch him home. Once the manager had helped Tom into the passenger seat of the Clement-Talbot, he fished out a brown envelope.
‘There’s a telegram come for you, sir,’ his manager told him.
Tom looked at him, feeling groggy and tired as the effects of the whisky wore off.
‘What telegram?’
Charlie shrugged and handed it over. For a brief euphoric moment, Tom thought it might be from Esmie. He fumbled and tore at the envelope. At first he couldn’t make sense of it.
‘Change of heart STOP please meet boat STOP Bombay June Fifteenth STOP love Lydia.’
Tom was stunned. He gaped at Charlie.
‘Sir?’ he asked in concern. ‘I hope it is not bad news?’
Tom, his mind reeling, replied, ‘I don’t know. Lydia’s coming back to India.’
Chapter 46
Srinagar, Kashmir, late June
On the deck of the houseboat Queen of the Lake, Esmie leaned on the balustrade and gazed out across the Dal Lake. The sun was rising over the mountains of the Zabarwan range and small puffs of pink cloud were being reflected in the still water. The lake was ringed by pleasure gardens that Hester had sent her to explore during the past two weeks; beautiful formal gardens of scented flowers, trickling fountains and trees that gave shade from the intense sun.
Esmie took a deep breath and savoured the cool of early morning. According to the baroness, June was the hottest month in Kashmir, but to Esmie it was a paradise compared to the plains of India that she had been traversing since April. Here she could wander the paths of the Shalimar or Nishat Gardens and find a shaded seat where she would read a book or simply contemplate the scene.
After the constant travel and sightseeing, which had given Esmie a greater insight into the country but had been exhausting in the heat, she revelled in doing little. Sometimes she took a shikara into Srinagar to send letters and every day she swam, always returning to the houseboat for meals with the baroness. Hester was amusing company, with a never-ending supply of tales about places she had lived and people she had met.
Esmie made a vague plan for the day. First, she would check on a friend of Hester’s who had sprained her ankle three days ago while climbing out of a shikara. Esmie had strapped up her ankle and given her tablets for the pain. Then, before it grew too hot, she would go for a swim. Esmie had promised to accompany Hester to a friend’s houseboat for afternoon tea but apart from that her afternoon would be free.
Esmie watched a shikara laden with produce for the market in Srinagar glide across the water, creating ripples in the glass-like surface. How easy it would be to stay here indefinitely, seduced by the lake’s tranquillity and the pampered houseboat life of meals, swims, reading, dozing and keeping the baroness company.
But it was all the more precious because Esmie knew it was a temporary respite from the world. Even if she stayed on through the monsoon season with Hester, the baroness would be returning to the Raj Hotel come September. Besides, once Esmie had decided what to do next, she would have to go back temporarily to Rawalpindi to ask Karo whether she wished to go with her. From the short, neatly written letters that Stella sent her and Hester, Esmie doubted if her Waziri servant would want to uproot again; she and Gabina seemed to have settled well at the Raj.
Esmie still hadn’t made up her mind where she wanted to live or what work she should do. She had hoped that during the weeks of travel she would come across a place where she would want to settle. But here in Kashmir was the first time she had felt instantly at home. Being next to a large lake and mountains reminded her of Vaullay and the friendly, spirited Kashmiris were akin to the Highlanders she had known as a child. With Harold’s money, she did not need to find work immediately but Esmie knew that she would soon grow bored if she did not.
Yet, over the past few weeks she had begun to reassess her vocation as a nurse. She knew her greatest motivation had been to please her Aunt Isobel and honour the memory of her parents; she had become a nurse because of them. But what about now? Was it time to do something different? Esmie had greatly enjoyed her few weeks working at the Raj Hotel. She knew she would always want to work alongside others, meeting new people. Or perhaps she would take a job that helped children . . .? She might look for a position here in Srinagar, for she had fallen in love with the place.
Deep down, she knew that another reason she loved Kashmir was because Tom thought it special too. She felt a familiar pang of longing for him.
A letter to Hester from Ansom confirmed that Tom had returned on his own to the hotel and to everyone’s relief had no intention of selling it. Tom was now insisting on being called Mr Lomax and not captain. He was being ‘tight-lipped’ about whether Mrs Lomax and the boy would be returning too. Hester speculated that they would not.
Esmie was sore at heart to think that Lydia had kept Andrew, knowing how much Tom must miss his son. She felt guilty for writing the letter, wondering if it had riled Lydia rather than helping her to see things from Tom’s point of view. Her eyes blurred with tears. Hester had told her not to blame herself and that she was not responsible for the Lomaxes’ troubled marriage.
The sun was spilling golden light onto the lake and illuminating the string of houseboats along the tree-fringed bank. For the umpteenth time, Esmie wondered if she should write to Tom and ask him how he was. But she wasn’t sure what she could say that might be helpful and she couldn’t burden him with how much she missed him. Besides, he had not tried to contact her at any time since leaving for Scotland last November. She had avoided journeying to Kashmir via Rawalpindi, instead making her way there by the southerly route via Sialkot and Jammu. Oh, Tom! How she longed to see him, yet she knew that doing so would only disturb the peace of mind she was managing to find here.
Esmie inhaled deeply to calm her thoughts. She refused to be sad on such a glorious morning. She waved to a young boy paddling a shikara close by and then went inside for breakfast.
Later that day, after a refreshing swim at the club landing where she had lingered until late morning, Esmie returned on the houseboat’s shikara across the shimmering lake. The sun was high and dazzled the eyes. Squinting at the Queen of the Lake, she thought she saw another shikara tied up alongside. It looked like Hester had visitors.
Her hair still damp, she made a half-hearted attempt to smooth its wavy strands as the boatman steered her towards the houseboat steps and the visiting shikara whose seats were hidden by curtains. She peered with interest at the vessel bobbing gently among the reeds and wondered to which of the baroness’s many friends it belonged.
She clambered from the boat, clutching her towel and swimming costume and mounted the steep steps to the houseboat veranda. From the shaded sitting room beyond, she could hear Hester talking to someone.
‘Hello!’ Esmie called. ‘I’m back! Sorry I was so long but the water was perfect.’
‘Come in, darling!’ Hester cried. ‘There’s someone to see you.’
Esmie gave a surprised laugh. ‘To see me?’
She pushed back the gauze curtain and entered. At first she could see nothing in the gloom after the glare of the sun. A tall figure came towards her and spoke her name. ‘Esmie.’
That deep precious voice could belong to no other. Her heart thumped in shock.
‘Tom?’
‘Yes,’ said Hester, ‘isn’t it wonderful.’
Esmie stared. ‘Y-Yes.’ Her voice faltered with the emotion of suddenly seeing him. Then at once she was fearful that something was wrong. ‘Is everything all right? Why have you come?’
He stood before her, extending his hand. ‘I heard you were here so I thought I’d pay a visit.’
Esmie dropped her swimming things onto a chair and grasped his hand, holding on longer than was polite. His smile was full of warmth, yet she was cautious as to why he had come all this way.
‘The baroness tells me you swim every day,’ he said.
‘Of course.’ Esmie smiled back. ‘You were right about this place being a paradise for swimmers.’
‘Perhaps tomorrow I could join you?’ he asked.
Esmie’s hopes leapt. ‘How long are you staying?’
‘For a couple of days,’ he answered. ‘We’re staying on the Golden Horn.’
We. Esmie felt winded. So Lydia must be with him. Was her former friend still too annoyed with her to come aboard with her husband? At least it would mean Tom would have Andrew with him again and that was worth the pain of disappointment.
Fighting down tears, she asked, ‘How are Andrew and Lydia?’
Tom hesitated a moment. ‘They’re fine, thank you.’
‘Good,’ said Esmie, ‘I’m so glad.’ Her throat was too tight to say more.
Tom turned and exchanged glances with Hester. The baroness got up.
‘I’m going to freshen up before luncheon,’ she said, ‘and leave you two to catch up.’
When she had gone, Tom said, ‘Sit with me.’ Taking Esmie by the elbow, he steered her to the sofa.
Esmie, her legs shaking, was glad to sit down.
‘I want to thank you, Esmie, for helping at the Raj – for keeping it going while I was away. Myrtle said you were a godsend, and Stella never stops talking about you. I think she’d have you deified if she could.’
Esmie laughed. ‘Dear Stella. I was happy to help. They were so kind to me and got me through those first difficult months without . . .’
The Emerald Affair Page 51