He remained silent with that remark for longer than felt comfortable. Then he shifted, swallowed the tea and I immediately poured him a second; the more he drank of this, the better. ‘We had Brackenridge and our childhoods in common, that’s all. He doesn’t get on with me.’
I resisted a sarcastic remark along the lines of I wonder why. Instead I said: ‘Is he married?’
‘Yes. Three children.’
‘What does Rex do?’
‘He’s a solicitor. He isn’t a happy man.’
‘How come?’
‘He was one for the easy path: not terribly good at anything, including the law, but mostly because he was lazy rather than lacking in intelligence. Instead of applying himself he decided to marry well.’
‘For money, you mean?’
He nodded. ‘Rex chose with great care – but not too long after the wedding his wife’s family suffered terrible losses financially. I don’t know the cause. They were involved in mining at home and abroad in Africa and I have a suspicion they were involved with the Titanic and lost plenty on that. Anyway, the wife he thought would be an heiress became a near pauper overnight.’
I lifted a shoulder in confusion. ‘Why does that affect you . . . your relationship with him, I mean?’
‘Because I also married well. My wife inherited handsomely from her grandparents and from her father – a modern man who believed that the daughter he loved as much as his son deserved equality. Anyway, for Frances, her fortune remains intact.’
I felt as though something invisible and mean had just clawed my throat. So far while dwelling on Saxon I had managed to keep thoughts of his wife apart. He barely referred to her, so it had been easy to convince myself she didn’t exist. And I suppose until the tea gardens I’d never felt the investment in him as strongly as I did now. Ownership felt like an ugly word, and I wouldn’t permit myself to regard him that way, and somehow friendship was, under the circumstances, a little too vague. We were more than friends but less than lovers; a wife and fiancé hadn’t needed serious consideration but suddenly I felt I was deliberately blinkering myself. And I knew this because at the mention of her name stings accompanied my swallow and I realised it was jealousy; suddenly she was a real person standing beside us. I tried to drink away those green thorns.
Oblivious, he continued, pressing those invisible but painfully sharp needles into me. ‘She is a generous woman, educated, a will of iron and boundless confidence that comes from wealth. However, her affection for me, I’ve come to realise, is equally boundless, as is her tolerance of my needs.’
‘Your needs?’ I choked out.
‘To be here and not there with her,’ he explained and his voice suddenly sounded raw.
I backed away from seeing him so naked. ‘And Rex envies you your wife, you mean?’
‘Not the person. His wife is beautiful, you see, but he envies me my wife’s money and her affection for me, which is why he punishes me.’
‘In what way?’
He had finished the second cup of tea and I’d only sipped my first. He looked wearied from the talking, or was it the remembering? ‘After my father died, everything was left to Mother. And when she died, everything, including Brackenridge, was left to Rex.’
I showed the shock – it wrote itself across my face with astonishment and the cup of tea held halfway to my mouth paused in dismay. ‘That doesn’t sound fair.’
‘I agree, but they were never fair parents so I was not as shocked as others were on my behalf. However, Rex always hated life at Brackenridge, while I never really wanted to be anywhere else. I’ve offered to buy it off him many times.’
‘But he refuses out of spite because of your wife’s fortune?’
‘Something like that,’ he conceded and returned a gaze to me that despite his dismissive tone held grief.
‘So what will happen?’
‘To Brackenridge?’
I nodded.
‘He keeps it ticking over for the income it gives him, although he takes no interest in the tea industry or the potential of these tea gardens or the enrichment, education, housing and medical care of the families who look after it. He does the bare minimum required. Worse, he lets the house idle here without any regard for it. It will gradually disintegrate or he may sell it off as a guesthouse, or most likely he’ll unload the whole concern to a hotel group. The tea business is growing but we need to invest in the plant and equipment, bring in more expertise as well. Rex could easily run it himself but his wife refuses to so much as visit and frankly he hates India. He needs the city noise and buzz around him; makes him feel important in his pinstripes and London address.’
‘Would you like to run it?’
He blinked as if cut by the question. ‘Of course I would.’
‘Could you give up medicine?’
‘I wouldn’t have to. I could set up a clinic in Darjeeling and service the whole of the foothills.’
‘And would Frances be prepared to live here?’ My throat wanted to close at speaking her name aloud.
He looked away again. ‘I doubt it.’
‘Will you tell me more about her?’ I had so many questions.
‘No,’ he replied in that flat way of his.
‘Why?’
‘Because there’s no reason to know anything more than I’ve already mentioned.’
‘I’d like to, though.’
‘Why?’
‘Insight?’
‘Into me? Or is it just curiosity about the woman in my life?’
I swallowed. ‘Please yourself,’ I said in a breezy, dismissive tone, although the thorns pushed deeper.
‘I usually do.’ He waited a few beats. ‘To answer your query, there’s just not enough to keep her interested here – she’s a woman of the world.’
‘I see.’
‘Do you?’ He regarded me again with a spearing look that caused me pain in my chest.
I took a deep breath and smiled. ‘Of course. India is hard work. Up here, beautiful or not, it is likely even tougher and I suspect isolating, if you aren’t a loner like yourself.’
‘Or you,’ he added and he watched me now.
I opened my mouth to reply but realised I had nothing to say, for he knew me too well. I nodded and stood, began to clear away the cups as I formulated something bland to respond with. ‘Yes, except I have responsibilities, although I hope to return to India sometime.’
‘As a married woman?’
‘Yes,’ I said quickly. ‘Jove’s a great explorer of other lands and is determined to take me travelling. His favourites, I gather, are Australia and the Levant. India feels far enough away so I can’t imagine how long it will take us to sail to the underneath of our planet.’ I wanted to show him I wasn’t guarded about Jove. I could speak about him without feeling awkward or guilty.
‘Sounds like you both have plenty in common.’
‘I hope so. I’ve known Jove since I was a child – adored him as that child.’ I frowned. ‘The oddity is I don’t know much about him but I know how I feel when I’m with him.’
‘And how is that?’
I left myself open to that question and I wasn’t sure how to reply to it. ‘I can’t explain. Different to how I feel when I’m with you.’ I was sidestepping the question.
‘And how is that?’ he asked, a keener edge to his tone now; clearly it was his turn to interrogate and I was obliged to answer.
I looked back at him but picked up the tray so I had an excuse to leave. ‘Awkward most of the time,’ and I added a smile so he couldn’t take offence but also to give me something to hide the truth behind. ‘I think you should head back inside, please. Do you want some help?’
‘No. I thought I might stay a little longer.’ He sounded as if asking for approval.
I couldn’t give it. ‘Perhaps tomorrow. Cool, fresh air is vital for your recovery but getting too cold is not helpful . . . as you well know.’
And yet as our gazes found each other awkwardly a
ll my treacherous body could feel was heat.
22
The following day after changing bandages, delivering more painkiller and getting Saxon back off to sleep, I found myself climbing a hill. I’d gamely suggested to Adri that I didn’t need him to fetch food supplies and that I would enjoy stretching my legs and walking with a niece of his to one of the villages above us. I understood now why Adri gave me a look that was a mix of pity as much as concern. He knew what I didn’t.
‘It’s a trek and will take you a long time,’ he pressed.
I had shrugged. ‘Our patient needs rest, not company, right now and I’ll enjoy the exercise and getting higher to look out towards the plains.’
He had already tried to dissuade me twice so at that point had simply nodded. ‘My niece speaks only a little English but I have told her where to take you.’ He had looked at my shoes doubtfully. ‘Wear your stoutest shoes, Doctor,’ he offered, as clearly my soft cream leather lace-ups were inappropriate.
So here I was, regretting my casual confidence that ascending a hill of this challenging nature, in the woodlands of the Himalayan foothills, was something this city girl could take in her stride. I felt breathless within an embarrassingly short time, whereas the fourteen-year-old, who was no longer at my side but several yards ahead, looked to me as if she were strolling with no effort required for the sudden gradient we were facing. I told myself it was the age difference but that was a lie. The realisation was that I was not nearly as fit as I had presumed and that this journey was not to be one of pleasurable discovery but a stamina-sucking grind up what was feeling like a mountain rather than a hill.
Her innocent smile came easily as she looked over her shoulder. ‘Are you all right, Auntie?’
I’d got used to this term in Calcutta. It was arresting at first because it always sounded too familiar and as though I was some ancient biddy, but I came to understand this was merely a term accorded to all women, strangers or known, if someone wanted to give respect.
I put a hand to my chest and showed her the struggle.
She grinned kindly. ‘Nice and slow,’ she reiterated, recalling the words she’d heard Adri say to her as we left, although I was sure he’d impressed this in their own language too.
I checked my watch. We’d been moving up the hill for twenty minutes. She offered me a chance to pause, passed me the water flask, which I gratefully swallowed from. We both accepted there was no point in trying to converse as we didn’t understand each other sufficiently to have any meaningful exchange and so through sign language we proceeded. Her name was Shanti and, like any youngster, she skipped, flitted around, intrigued by an insect or a bird; she pointed out flowers to me, giving them names I couldn’t get my tongue around, but I conveyed my pleasure with a smile. We fell into a slow, steady climb and I found losing myself in my thoughts was the best way to conquer the desire to simply stop. I didn’t want to be so weak and, with no view at this stage to admire due to the thick forest our track cut through, I distracted myself by pondering Saxon’s comments of the previous day.
I was glad to be away from him; distance was needed after yesterday’s intimate conversation. It hadn’t occurred to me but now, like a shadow following me, it nagged in my mind. ‘Dangerous’ was his word. Melodramatic? Yes, I thought, ridiculously so, but the shadow taunted me as it dodged the trees and hanging vines, reminding me that there was no melodrama about Saxon Vickery; he was painfully direct and with a starkly straightforward view of life and people. I was sure, as I stared at my thick-soled brown boots, that he was simply being candid with me. Honesty takes courage, especially when it bares one’s true feelings, and he had made himself naked with that confession of not wanting to feel vulnerable around me, so I should be wary of dismissing it as hyperbolic. I still believed, firmly, that I was on my way home to London and only here in Darjeeling because I was exploring a part of the world I would likely never return to and because a friend was sick and needed my help. It seemed a perfectly sound explanation for my presence and still the shadow mocked from the trees. I could swear I heard laughter.
Shanti was pointing with a grin. I came out of my thoughts to follow her line of sight and noted a family of monkeys foraging. I paused to watch them, wanting to pinch myself that I was alongside these wild creatures in their natural living space. I discerned they were macaques, recalling their brown bodies and pinkish faces from the London Zoo. I smiled, watching them licking dewdrops from the low-slung foliage. One mother, with a baby on her back, pulled down a branch to give her youngster a drink. They seemed untroubled by our passing, cooing and grunting contentedly, although Shanti returned to my side and gestured towards a large single monkey that was watching us with the same intensity as we were watching its companions.
Shanti beat her chest and I grinned, understanding. This was their dominant male. She pulled at my sleeve to urge me forward and I presumed she believed we had outstayed our welcome. The male macaque confirmed this with a low shriek and we moved on.
The sounds of the forest lulled me and I became used to the calls of the macaques, the glimpses of birds and their accompanying cries. Perhaps the most striking was a small bird that was scarlet with a black head and markings, easy to pick out. I was astonished by the bright punctuation of colour and presumed that naturally this had to be a male, with its flamboyant colouring. We climbed on, my thoughts drifting back to Saxon and the real reason I was on this journey. I couldn’t hide from it any longer. The shadow had stepped closer, emerging from the woodland of larch and elder, birch and chestnut to join with mine as we headed towards noon and my shadow shortened.
The fact was today I was running away from Saxon and the very danger he alluded to. I didn’t even farewell him, instead cowardly leaving a bright note as he slept that I was going to explore the area and find us some food. I impressed that I was in the company of Adri’s family so he was not to send out a search party. I added that he should rest and I would see him this evening.
_________
With my bowl of clean water and fresh bandages, late that afternoon, I found him seated on the wall of a patio that I didn’t know was there until Shanti, having packed away all that we had bought, walked me to the edge of the house’s drive and directed my attention below. She waved goodbye and skipped away. Saxon cut a lonely yet romantic figure seated on his walled perch high above the valley. He had dragged a blanket around himself and looked to be lost in its folds as much as in thought. I pulled a shawl around my shoulders, not at all fooled by the mild temperature; it could drop in a few moments as the sun dipped and a breeze whirled up the hillside. I took the steps slowly.
‘Still here?’ He repeated his words from yesterday.
‘Can’t get rid of me, I’m afraid,’ I answered. ‘Besides, it’s time to change those dressings on your arm.’ I arrived to stand beside him. ‘You have good colour in your face.’
He nodded absently. ‘The mountains heal. I’ve only recently stepped out from the house, before you complain. Just had a shower, in fact – brushed my teeth, even shaved.’
‘I can see,’ I replied, noting damp hair.
‘How was your day?’
I began unbandaging his arm, placing it on the towel on my lap and trying not to blush at the intimacy of his action. His fingers were all but curled around my thigh.
‘Shanti took me up to one of the markets in the hills. Nearly killed me but she’s as agile as a mountain goat.’ I grinned. ‘I managed to get some good fresh food. Those markets were fun. You shall eat like a king now.’
‘They must have thought a movie starlet had come into their midst . . . not that they’d know what one is.’
I laughed. ‘I was followed around by an ever-growing troupe of children and in the end had to buy a pile of sweets to distract them. The women all wanted to touch my hair and cheeks.’
He reached to finger the garland of hill flowers I wore, bending forward to inhale their heavy scent. ‘This is a special gift of respect they’ve
bestowed upon you. Flowers of this quality could be sold for a lot of money.’
I nodded, feeling guilty that I hadn’t paid sufficient attention to that, instead enjoying the rush of charm at being hooped by flowers. I didn’t dare mention this was one of half-a-dozen . . . the others I’d donated to Shanti for her family shrine.
‘I didn’t recognise half of the vegetables,’ I admitted and he grinned knowingly. ‘But Shanti chose for us.’
He looked up to regard me. His eyes were much clearer than yesterday and their gaze rested upon me more gently today. ‘Had you better let someone back home know where you are?’
I shrugged. ‘I’ve let the right people know I’m travelling in the north. Adri sent a telegram too for me.’
‘When do you plan to head back?’
‘I have to be home during September. I gave my word.’
‘Keep it.’
‘I intend to, Saxon, but I need to know you’re fine.’
He surprised me by shifting closer, turning his back to the arresting view and fixing me with a firm look.
‘Have you finished?’ he said.
I tied off the bandage. ‘Yes.’
He removed his hand and I keenly felt its absence against my leg. ‘How many different ways can I suggest you leave me be? It seems you’re prepared to risk what I’ve warned against.’
There was no point in pretending I didn’t know to what he alluded. I busied myself folding up the towel, throwing the used rags into the dish.
‘You talk as if I have no say in this . . . or any control. You genuinely believe that I am suffering from your weaknesses.’
He laughed. ‘At least I’m honest.’ He was clearly suggesting by the remark that I was not.
‘No, you’re relentlessly brutish and this is why you have no friends.’
‘I don’t need them.’
‘Nor family who loves you.’
That caught him out. I saw his eyes widen fractionally as though he’d felt me land a blow. ‘That’s unkind.’
‘I’m sorry.’ I felt smaller for attacking him in this way.
The Tea Gardens Page 30