Page 156 of The Sapphire Child
As soon as Stella stepped out of the car, she was hit by the cool freshness of the air. Thick clumps of snow still clung to the side ofthe road, but all around she could hear the sound of ice melting and streams gurgling.
They were on the edge of a town on a small plateau, surrounded by fresh green fields and orchards. Stella gasped at the sight of apple and cherry blossom like puffs of cloud enveloping the branches.
‘It’s so beautiful!’ she murmured. ‘Where are we?’
‘It’s called Islamabad. They say some Mughal governor once built a garden here.’
Stella breathed in deeply. She had forgotten quite how entrancing Kashmir could be. If anywhere could soothe her bruised heart then it was here: the balm of sweet-scented air, the April blossom and the awe-inspiring jagged peaks of the Himalayas.
By late afternoon, they were driving along the straight road of the Vale of Kashmir with its long avenue of tall poplars and reaching the customs post on the outskirts of Srinagar. Half an hour later the major was parking up outside the elegant Nedous Hotel where he’d booked them in for the night.
Stella was impatient to reach Gulmarg, but realised that it would soon be getting dark and it was still a two-hour drive away. She had insisted to Maclagan that she would make her own way the following day and that he wasn’t to go further out of his way to take her there.
‘I’ll get a lift onwards in one of the traders’ vans,’ she’d said. ‘There’ll be plenty of traffic with businesses getting ready for the season.’
What she hadn’t told him was that the road might not yet be fully open after the winter snowfalls. It was still nearly a month before the hotel would be up and running for the hot season. The baroness would not be at her houseboat yet, although the town wasalready busy with military personnel on leave. At the sight of men in uniform, Stella experienced a fresh wave of grief for Andrew. She could only imagine what depths of despair Tom and Esmie must be feeling. God forbid that such a loss would turn Tom suicidal.
She went for a walk to view Dal Lake as the weakening sun sank behind the mountains and spilled golden light over its glassy surface. Across the lake, the vivid green trees of the former Mughal gardens formed perfect reflections in the water. A shikara laden with fodder glided by.
Stella’s eyes stung with tears at the memory of swimming there with Andrew long ago, diving off the baroness’s shikara into the cold water. One day, she would teach Belle to swim and bring her to the lake.
Suddenly Stella was comforted by her surroundings; it was as if she could feel Andrew’s presence with her, urging her to be strong.
‘Andy...!’ She breathed out his name, blinded by tears.
She would make sure that her girl would grow up with the same zest for life and love of this place as Andy. Painful as that thought was, it also brought her solace. She turned back, curbing her impatience to be reunited with her daughter.
At the hotel, the major had got chatting to a fellow forester who was driving up to Gulmarg the following day.
‘He’s happy to give you a lift,’ said Maclagan. ‘And it would put my mind at rest to know you weren’t attempting the journey on some unreliable cart or lorry.’
‘That’s very kind.’ Stella accepted readily.
She slept little and was up and packed before dawn. She grew tearful as she said goodbye to the major.
‘You’ve been so good to me, sir. I couldn’t have got through these past few days without you.’
He patted her hand. ‘Not at all. You’re to take as much time with the Lomaxes as you need,’ he insisted. ‘I’ll muddle along fine. Good luck, Miss Dubois.’
‘Thank you,’ Stella said huskily.
Half an hour later, she was waving goodbye and leaving Srinagar in the forester’s car.
Stella spent most of the drive in silence. She stared out of the window at the spectacular mountain views as the car bumped over icy ruts on the winding road up to Gulmarg.
Her heart pounded faster the nearer they drew to the mountain resort. When the cluster of chalets and hotels appeared, Stella’s vision blurred with fresh tears. The receding snow and the sprinkling of spring flowers across the marg reminded her poignantly of the weeks she’d spent here after giving birth to Belle.
Stella thanked and parted from the forester at the foot of the settlement where he was meeting a colleague. Glad that she had packed stout walking shoes despite the Delhi heat, she swung her canvas bag over her shoulder and trudged up the soggy paths through the village.
The Raj-in-the-Hills came into view. Stella halted, panting for breath. It all looked dearly familiar: the green corrugated roof and the sweep of veranda that was still shuttered and awaiting the summer guests. The lawns and rockery were emerging from the snow in a flurry of alpine flowers. It made Stella think of John Grant and how she had encouraged him to visit Gulmarg. When she felt stronger, she would write to him and thank him for sending onAndrew’s letter – and tell him how she would treasure it till the end of her days.
There appeared to be no one about, so Stella made her way around the side of the hotel to the annex. Tom’s studio looked locked up – the door bolted and the windows shuttered – but there was no surprise in that. Would he ever paint again after losing his beloved son? As she rounded the corner, she saw movement on the annex veranda.
A small child, dressed in a pale-blue knitted jacket and tartan skirt, was pushing a wooden toy at the top of the steps. Stella’s heart missed a beat. It was the toy mouse that she’d sent as a Christmas present. Pulse racing, Stella walked forward. As she reached the steps, the infant looked up and stopped her playing. She observed Stella with large blue eyes full of curiosity. Stella was winded by their similarity to Hugh’s. But then the impression passed, and she saw that the girl had the same-shaped face as hers with a delicate chin and cupid-bow lips. Stella’s throat was so tight that she couldn’t speak. She stood rooted to the spot, swallowing hard.
‘Hello, lady,’ the girl said unexpectedly.
Stella gulped back a sob. ‘Hello. You must be Belle.’
