‘You’re quite a girl,’ he said, his voice husky.
‘I didn’t know kissing could be like that,’ Sophie grinned, feeling unsteady.
‘A pretty girl under a beech tree has that effect on me,’ he teased.
She hoped there would be more kissing but Tam took her hand and walked her back to Clerk Street.
As the time drew nearer for Tam and the other students to leave for their forestry camp on the Continent, Sophie’s heart grew sore. How would she manage without seeing him for so long? She physically ached with the thought of his absence. And then he would only be back a couple of weeks before going to Oxford to sit his final exams, and after that he sailed for India ...
She gave herself sleepless nights with tortured thoughts of never seeing Tam again, of him disappearing on his adventure to India where he would be surrounded by young women from the ‘Fishing Fleet’ – those husband-hunters who sailed out east – all eager to marry a handsome and ambitious Scot with a government job. Perhaps she could go out to India and visit Tilly and somehow engineer to see Tam? But then Tilly was going to Assam to join James Robson, whereas Tam was being posted to the Punjab on the other side of India. Her yearning to return to the country of her birth grew with each day and would give her no peace.
One evening, returning home from dancing and stopping to kiss under their special tree, Sophie spoke of her fears.
‘What will happen once you go away, Tam?’ she asked. ‘What will become of us?’
He laughed. ‘I’m only going for a month. We won’t pine away and die in that time. And I’ll write, of course.’
‘But after that,’ Sophie persisted, ‘what will I do when you go to India?’
For a long moment he was silent. She couldn’t read the expression on his lean face as he stood in dark shadow but she felt his thoughts were far away.
‘We’ll write to each other,’ he said breezily, ‘and see where it leads.’ Then he kissed her again and gave her no more chance to talk.
On the day before Tam left for France and Switzerland, Sophie went to watch him in a rowing race. Boz was there with Rafi and McGinty. Boz was friendly but bashful and soon sauntered off, but Rafi was talking enthusiastically of their pending trip.
‘We’re going to take a look at our old trenches and some of the wartime haunts,’ he said. ‘Our first camp’s a train ride away from the Somme valley.’
‘Really?’ Sophie asked in amazement.
‘Yes, it’s Tam’s idea. Has he not told you?’
‘No.’ She felt a moment’s pang that he had told her nothing about his plans but then she had hardly encouraged him to talk of the trip, resenting that it took him away for so long. ‘Why on earth would you want to revisit war sites?’
Rafi took a drag on his cigarette and considered. ‘It was a time of camaraderie – living for the day,’ he admitted. ‘Terrifying at times, but also exhilarating.’
‘For those who were lucky enough to survive,’ McGinty snorted. ‘As a stretcher bearer, I saw too many of the unlucky. I’d never want to go back.’
‘I think I understand why you might want to,’ Sophie said on reflexion.
‘Really?’ Rafi gave her a long considering look. She could see that she’d surprised him but she held his look.
‘Going back is a bit like laying ghosts to rest?’
He nodded, his smile wistful. ‘Yes, I suppose that’s it.’
Sophie never had time to question Tam about it. There was tea at the rowing club and then he had to go home and finish his packing. His sister was preparing him a special meal. Sophie hoped he might invite her – she had yet to meet his family – but he joked that he wouldn’t subject her to Flora’s Christian Science friends until he returned.
‘I’ll come to see you off at the station tomorrow,’ Sophie said. ‘I could pick you up on The Memsahib with your luggage.’
Tam gave an awkward laugh. ‘Can’t have you waking up the street with the noisy Memsahib at such an early hour – or expect you to turn out at dawn.’
‘I don’t mind.’
‘No,’ Tam was firm, ‘let’s just say our goodbyes now. No fuss, eh?’
Sophie felt her throat constrict and tears prick her eyes. There were others at the tram stand and it was too public for a proper farewell. He squeezed her hands in his.
‘Don’t let me see your beautiful brown eyes looking so sad,’ he murmured. ‘I promise I will write and tell you everything. And you must write too.’
Sophie nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
‘I bet you will have a high old time with Tilly coming to visit,’ he smiled, ‘and Miss Gorrie will be glad to see you back at work after your absconding with me.’
Sophie smiled and blinked away a tear. The tram rattled to a stop in front of them. Tam bent and gave her a swift kiss on the cheek and pushed her forward. She climbed on, her chest constricting with emotion, and tried to keep him in sight for as long as she could. He stood, looking casually handsome in his rowing blazer and flannels, and waved her away. Sophie sat numbly, silent tears trickling down her face. If parting from Tam for a month was so painful, what would it be like when he sailed for India?
Chapter 10
‘So what’s the dragon of a sister like?’ Tilly asked, as they sat munching potato scones by the gas fire.
‘I haven’t met Flora yet,’ Sophie admitted. She didn’t like the look that passed between her cousin and aunt. ‘But it’s only because he thought I might be intimidated by her evangelising – she’s more ardent about Christian Science than Tam.’
‘You’ve never been intimidated by anything,’ Tilly retorted.
‘Anyway, I’m sure he’ll introduce me when he gets back next week.’
‘Counting the days?’ Tilly teased.
Sophie nodded, unabashed.
‘I know how that feels,’ Tilly sighed. ‘I won’t be seeing James until December. It seems a lifetime away. I sometimes think getting married last month was all a dream.’
‘So you miss him, dearie?’ Amy asked.
‘More than I thought I would. I mean, I hardly know him, do I? Between you, me and the gatepost, I only said yes so I didn’t have to go to Dunbar with Mother or join the ‘Fishing Fleet’ of husband-seekers in India, being at the beck and call of my sister-in-law Helena. Is that terribly shallow of me?’
‘Very,’ Sophie laughed.
‘But it’s all worked out for the best,’ Amy said. ‘Your mother wrote to tell me how happy she was at your marriage.’
‘Relieved more likely,’ Tilly giggled. ‘Silly Tilly off her hands.’
‘Not a bit of it,’ said Amy, ‘she could see how happy you both were – but going into it with your eyes open and determined to make a success of it; no unrealistic romantic expectations. That’s the recipe for a long partnership, as far as I can see.’
Sophie felt annoyance; she knew her aunt was having a dig at her being so love-struck over Tam. It had been a source of rancour between them these past three weeks. Why could Amy not be as fulsome over her courtship? When no letters had come from Tam in the first two weeks, Amy had clucked, ‘it’s probably for the best; he’s too ambitious for you.’
Sophie was hurt, insisting the letters had probably gone astray or Tam had been too much on the move. Sharp words had been exchanged.
‘You’re just being selfish Auntie,’ Sophie had accused, ‘you don’t want me to marry anyone just so I’ll stay here forever and look after you!’
‘You ungrateful little madam!’ Amy had cried. ‘I know a social climber when I see one. He’s just toying with your affections! That man’s got bigger fish to fry – he’ll not settle for less than a Governor’s daughter.’
But a few days ago she had received a long affectionate letter from Switzerland and waved it in triumph at her tight-lipped aunt. Tam was full of enthusiasm for his work.
‘... went to see a log-catching scheme near Interlaken. Very clever the way they use the torrents to float timber d
ownstream from the high mountains; much more simple and efficient than putting in miles of roads. Your aunt would like the wood carving here. Tell her I’m taking photographs for her – pears seem to be popular – give her some food for thought!’
He had ended it with words that she had read and re-read countless times.
‘Your letters cheer me up no end. They make me miss you all the more, but don’t stop writing as it brings Edinburgh and your dear self so vividly to me. I kiss tenderly the words that have been written by your own fair hand, and must be content with that until I can kiss those sweet lips that I long for more and more each day.’
Sophie’s heart had soared at his loving words; she had not thought that a man of action like Tam could have created such a tender letter.
Later that night, when the cousins were bedding down in Sophie’s room, she showed Tilly the letter.
‘What a romantic this forester of yours is,’ Tilly gasped. ‘All I’ve had from James is a telegram telling me he’s back in Assam. I don’t think it occurs to him to write.’
‘Here’s a photograph of Tam.’ Sophie pointed proudly to an athletic figure in shorts and singlet. ‘It’s his rowing team. I cut it out of the newspaper.’
‘Very good looking,’ Tilly approved. ‘I hope I get to meet him.’
‘You will. I’ll bring him down on The Memsahib to Dunbar for a visit when he’s back, shall I?’
‘Oh, yes, do!’ cried Tilly. ‘Mona will need smelling salts; I can’t wait.’
‘I wish Auntie was as enthusiastic as you,’ Sophie said. ‘She likes Tam’s friends better than him – she’s said some hurtful things about him – and he’s so charming to her too.’
‘Auntie Amy doesn’t trust charming,’ Tilly teased.
‘Has she said anything about him to you?’ Sophie asked. ‘Please tell me.’
‘She did say she thought he was a bit full of himself – boasting about how quickly he’s going to climb the ladder.’
‘I don’t see that as a fault,’ Sophie defended. ‘I like him for having ambition.’
‘You know how protective your aunt is of you,’ said Tilly. ‘Until he proposes, she’ll worry about you getting hurt.’
Sophie felt a jolt at Tilly’s words; her friend assumed that she and Tam would get engaged. It gave her a thrill of anticipation.
‘She has no need to worry,’ Sophie said, kissing Tam’s letter, ‘this is proof that he loves me.’
‘I hope he does propose and quickly,’ Tilly said, ‘then we could go out to India together. The only thing that makes me sad is the thought of leaving you behind here and not seeing you for years.’
‘Me too,’ Sophie agreed. ‘And I’ve been thinking so much about India these past few weeks that I’m beginning to remember things. It makes me long to go back and see where I lived – try and find out more about my parents and the life they had in Assam.’
They settled down under the covers. ‘Tilly,’ Sophie said, glad that the dark hid her blushes.
‘Umm?’
‘What’s it like being married?’
‘Two days hardly makes me an authority,’ Tilly chuckled.
‘But you must have – you know – the physical side of marriage,’ Sophie whispered.
There was silence and Sophie thought Tilly was cross with her for asking. Maybe sex had been an ordeal.
‘It’s lovely – hot and messy – but fun,’ Tilly gave an earthy laugh. ‘Even more fun than ice-cream and cakes at Herbert’s tearoom.’
‘Ice-cream and cakes?’ Sophie snorted. ‘Lucky you!’
Sophie had almost drifted off to sleep, warmed by thoughts of Tam and his letter, when Tilly’s sleepy voice murmured, ‘I think it’s India that worries her.’
‘Worries who?’ Sophie yawned.
‘Auntie Amy.’
‘Why?’
‘Worries about you going back to India if you marry Tam.’
‘You mean she’d be frightened of me catching a fever like my parents? But there are just as many dangers here at home – accidents and illness.’
Tilly was quiet, then said sleepily, ‘no not disease. Something else.’
‘What then?’
‘She said something about not wanting you to make the same mistake as your mother.’
Sophie came awake, a knot forming in her stomach. ‘What does she mean by that?’
Tilly turned over. ‘Dunno. Ask her in the morning.’
In less than a minute, Tilly was breathing evenly, sound asleep. Sophie was left puzzling over what it was that gave her aunt such concern.
Chapter 11
The next day, Sophie dismissed her worries over her aunt’s opposition to Tam. When she got to know him as well as she did, she would take him to her heart too. And her concerns over India were fanciful; Auntie Amy had grown too parochial in her ways and didn’t see that India was an exciting place full of opportunity for energetic young people, not a place of which to be frightened.
Yet she was still annoyed with her aunt for favouring Tilly’s match with James Robson. Tilly had hardly known James before they married – still knew very little about him – yet Amy gave them her approval.
‘Seeing as it’s Saturday, I’m going to take Tilly up to see Great Uncle Daniel in Perth,’ she declared at breakfast. She ignored Tilly’s look of surprise.
‘Oh, that’s a nice idea,’ Amy paused over her toast. ‘The old boy will be pleased. We could take the train.’
‘I thought we’d take The Memsahib for a spin – she needs a run out.’
‘Ah well,’ Amy said, ‘in that case three would be too many.’
Tilly piped up. ‘You can go in the sidecar, Auntie, and I’ll cling onto the flapper seat.’
‘The sidecar’s in the garage being fixed,’ Sophie said.
‘Let’s go on the train then,’ Tilly suggested.
Amy looked away. ‘No, no; you lassies go and enjoy yourselves. It’ll be grand to be out in the fresh air on the motorcycle. I should be getting on with the bookcase. It’s taking me much longer than I thought and Dr Forsyth is getting impatient – he wants it twice the size originally agreed, to take all his medical books and journals.’
‘Well, it’s going to be the grandest bookcase in all Edinburgh when you’re finished,’ Tilly said, ‘so he jolly well better be grateful.’
They packed a picnic for the journey, both cousins growing excited at the spontaneous trip. They hadn’t been to see old Daniel Anderson since the previous summer. At the point of leaving, Sophie had a pang of guilt for excluding her aunt. She had immediately regretted her high-handed decision to go on the motorbike.
‘We could still take the train if you wanted to come,’ she said, hovering in the doorway of her aunt’s workroom.
Amy, in overalls, looked up from her chiselling, brushing away a strand of unruly hair.
‘Away you go and enjoy yourselves!’ she smiled. ‘I’m just as happy here. And if you’re having fun, stay the night. Don’t think of driving back in the dark. I won’t worry about you till tomorrow tea time.’
‘Thanks Auntie,’ Sophie smiled and blew her a kiss across the cluttered room. Amy waved and went back to her work.
After the cousins had gone, Amy found she couldn’t settle to her task. She had been sleeping badly and kept waking up listless and anxious. She sighed and went to make a pot of tea. It was Sophie’s infatuation with Tam that troubled her. Was her fear of her niece disappearing to India just being selfish? Or was it guilt? She had failed to help her sister, trapped in a loveless marriage. If Sophie went so far away, she would be unable to protect her either. But her niece was now of age and she couldn’t stop her rushing after Tam if that’s what she wanted.
Amy went to her bedroom and pulled out a battered letter hidden deep in the bottom drawer of her wardrobe. For one final time, she re-read Jessie’s unhappy words; ‘...I’m beginning to despair at Bill’s rudeness to others – he takes offence at the slightest things. I can’t look at anoth
er man (let alone have a conversation) without him flying off the handle. It’s not how it used to be – he doesn’t even find enjoyment in his daughter anymore and yet Sophie is a delight and her sunny nature is what keeps me going. But then poor Bill has had such a bad bout of malaria that he’s not himself. I’m trying to implant the idea of us going away to the hills for a while.
Dearest sister, when are you coming back out to see us? I know how busy you are with your campaigning and your carpentry but I long for you to visit. You would so enjoy our wee girl. She reminds me of you – sharp as a pin. I can’t see Bill allowing me to bring her back to Edinburgh for a visit, so you must come to us.
Your loving sister,
Jessie.’
Amy crushed the letter to her breast, a sob heaving in her chest. She had planned to visit that summer – had meant to do so sooner – but by then her sister and brother-in-law were dead, and Sophie was in her care.
Amy went into the sitting-room, put a match to the letter and threw it into the grate.
‘Forgive me Jessie,’ she whispered, watching till the thin paper was nothing but ash, and then returned to her woodwork with a heavy heart.
***
The Memsahib had a puncture just after the crossing at Queensferry and they had to stop a second time when the engine overheated. So it was early afternoon before they got to the old weaver’s cottage on the banks of the River Tay. He gave them a cheery welcome, and though his sight and hearing were worse than before, his mind was as quick as ever.
‘Married, did you say?’ he exclaimed. ‘Wee Tilly Watson’s got herself a husband!’
‘Don’t sound so surprised, Uncle Daniel,’ Tilly laughed. ‘I am twenty-one now.’
‘So where are you hiding him?’
‘He’s gone back to Assam.’
‘Assynt?’
‘No, Assam in India,’ Tilly shouted. ‘He’s a tea planter.’
‘Well, well,’ Daniel sucked through the gaps in his teeth, ‘tea planter, eh? Just like your father was Sophie.’
THE PLANTER'S BRIDE: A story of intrigue and passion: sequel to THE TEA PLANTER'S DAUGHTER (India Tea Series Book 2) Page 10