Page 20 of The Sapphire Child
She had soon revived. For the past two days, Stella and Moira had entered into the evening revelry of deck quoits and dancing. They were never short of suitors from among the young menwho had spent the last couple of years in remote postings in the mofussil where the only European women were either married or missionaries.
Hugh, despite being on crutches, took part in the quoit-throwing with great gusto, but couldn’t compete on the dance floor for Stella’s attention. Instead, for the past two nights he’d kept Andrew company on deck. Last night Hugh had offered him sips of whisky from a hip flask and cigarettes, and he had accepted both.
Sitting on deck now, trying to keep in the shade, Andrew’s temples throbbed and his throat was parched. Was that what whisky did to you? Why on earth was it so popular? He thought of his father’s erratic moods after drinking liquor and wondered why he bothered. It just seemed to be something that all the British in India did – or at least the men. He’d never seen Esmie drink more than a glass of sherry on special occasions.
Andrew went in search of lemonade. Sauntering along deck he saw that Moira was playing cards with Hugh and felt a twinge of jealousy on Stella’s behalf.
He flopped down beside them and asked, ‘Where’s Stella?’
‘Probably writing up that diary of hers,’ said Moira, fanning herself with her cards. ‘She won’t let me read any of it which just makes me all the more curious. Your go, Hughie.’
He picked up a card and eyed Andrew in amusement. ‘How’re you feeling today, young man?’
‘Felt better.’ He grimaced.
‘So, what were you two up to last night?’ Moira asked, raising an eyebrow.
‘Man talk over a few nightcaps,’ said Hugh with a wink.
Andrew hardly remembered their conversation. Had he told Hugh about Nicholson’s or just wittered on about The Raj-in-the-Hills and Kashmir? He hoped he hadn’t opened up about his surge of feelings towards Stella.
To his relief, Stella appeared and diverted the conversation. She was looking fresh and pink-cheeked under a straw hat, wearing a yellow frock with a heart-shaped neckline that he was pretty sure belonged to Moira. It suited Stella better, showing off her fuller figure. Andrew felt himself blushing and looked away.
Stella smiled. ‘Playing cards without me?’
‘Join us,’ Hugh insisted at once, using a crutch to pull a deckchair into position beside him.
She ignored this and sat down beside Andrew. ‘Are you okay? You look a bit feverish.’ She put a hand to his forehead. It was deliciously cool against his hot skin.
‘Nothing an aspirin and some baking soda won’t cure,’ Moira said with a laugh.
‘Meaning?’
‘Too many chota pegs with MrKeating last night,’ Moira explained, a tease in her voice. ‘Hurry up and play, Hugh.’
Stella sat back in shock. ‘Andy? Tell me you haven’t been drinking alcohol.’
Andrew’s flush deepened. ‘Just a few sips.’
‘MrKeating!’ Stella rebuked. ‘What were you thinking? He’s only thirteen.’
‘Is he?’ Hugh looked aghast. ‘He doesn’t look it. I thought he was sixteen—’
‘Oops,’ said Moira, pulling a mock-serious face. ‘Everyone’s in trouble. And I’m supposed to be the chaperone. Naughty me.’
Stella gave Andrew a stern look. ‘From now on I’m watching you like a hawk.’
‘Don’t be too hard on the lad,’ said Hugh. ‘And we don’t want to keep you off the dance floor, Miss Dubois. I promise you it won’t happen again. Will it, Andrew?’
Andrew shook his head. He felt utterly humiliated. He itched to be on land again playing cricket or out riding. He experienced astab of homesickness for Gulmarg. He hadn’t been gone a fortnight and he was missing home.
Stella brushed his hand as if guessing his state of mind. ‘How about we sit inside and write letters home while it’s too hot to do anything else? Then perhaps MrKeating will give you a game of quoits later.’
Andrew saw a look pass between Stella and Hugh and wondered what it meant. Was she challenging the Irishman to behave more responsibly?
Andrew stood up, eager to leave and just be with Stella.
‘See you for a sundowner,’ Moira called as they walked away.
