Page 138 of The Sapphire Child
Stella blushed. ‘No, not now. I was engaged for a while but it ended...’
‘I’m sorry,’ said the major. ‘Was he killed in action?’
‘No, nothing like that. It turned out he was already married.’
He stopped for moment and stared at her, and Stella wondered why on earth she’d told him. Perhaps because he’d been so ready toconfide in her. He wasn’t the buttoned-up military man that others took him for.
‘Well, you’re better off without such a scoundrel,’ he answered. ‘Somewhere, Miss Dubois, there will be a man worthy of you. Don’t you dare settle for less.’
He went swiftly to his desk and from the large bottom drawer pulled out a bottle of sweet sherry. He poured a little into two tea cups and handed her one, saying, ‘It’s medicinal. Drink it, lassie.’
Despite not liking sweet sherry, Stella was touched by his concern.
He raised his cup. ‘To reunions with loved ones!’
‘That I can drink to,’ said Stella with a grateful smile, and clinked his cup.
At times, Major Maclagan had to go away on business, visiting sawmills in Calcutta or inspecting armaments at the gun carriage factory in Jubbulpore. Stella would arrange his travel and accommodation as best she could, and deal with telephone calls, letters and telegrams in his absence.
‘You’ll have a bit of respite while I’m away,’ he said with a smile. ‘Make sure you play some tennis or socialise with your fellow clerks.’
But Stella found that time hung heavy on her hands while he was gone and looked for extra jobs to do, helping out at the WVS canteen rather than going back early to her digs. Yet she was thankful that Maclagan was away in early March on Belle’s first birthday. Stella found the day excruciatingly difficult. She couldn’t settle to typing or even the simplest of filing jobs. She made excuses to a deputy assistant about being unwell and retreated to the YWCA.
She spent the rest of the day stitching flowers onto a sunhat for Belle and crying over the one photograph she carried everywhere. It was of her daughter sitting propped on a pile of cushions in the hotel garden at Gulmarg, looking wide-eyed at the camera, her mouth a little blurred as she was on the point of smiling.
Stella had already sent a birthday card with some money for the Lomaxes to buy clothes or something practical for the girl. Then, as evening descended, she decided to write a letter to her daughter that she never intended to send, but wrote simply to ease the pain of separation.
My darling Belle,
Today is your first birthday and a year since you came into my life like a fierce flame – brightening my existence and at the same time burning a hole in my heart as I knew I wasn’t able to keep you. I wonder what you are doing on this special day? I imagine the Lomaxes are spoiling you with jam sandwiches and cake. Perhaps Gabina has taken you for a walk through the village in your pram – but no, there will still be snow on the paths so maybe MrLomax has put you on his shoulders and carried you to see the first spring blossom? I can just see you riding high like a chubby little goddess, your cheeks red in the cold! Do you wear the knitted outfit I sent or have you already outgrown it?
I feel so desolate that I can’t see you changing day by day – you are no longer a baby – and I know from Esmie that you are beginning to point to things and babble as if you are carrying on a conversation.
But what keeps me going is knowing that you are being cared for by people who love you almost asmuch as I do. One day, I will hold you in my arms again and kiss your soft hair – that day will not come soon enough – and even though you will never be truly mine again I will be happy for any involvement in your growing up. I can no more stop loving you than stop breathing.
Happy birthday my precious girl!
With all the love in the world,
Your adoring Mummy xxxxxxx
After the anniversary passed, Stella settled to her job more easily and with a renewed determination to do her best for the major. The news on the Burma Front was grim, and for the umpteenth time Stella worried over Andrew and whether he was involved.
‘There’s going to be a lot of reorganisation,’ Maclagan predicted. ‘General Slim is being put in charge of rebuilding the 14th Army – and there’s talk of a new command being set up to coordinate all the forces in the east against the Japs. The Americans are insisting on more being done to help them support the Chinese resistance.’
‘Is that why there are so many Americans passing through Delhi?’ asked Stella.
‘Aye, they’re heading for Calcutta and the air bases in Assam,’ said the major.
In May, as the temperature climbed and Delhi became unbearable in the pre-monsoon heat, the major went to a conference in Baroda to speak on soil erosion – his area of expertise – and came back dispirited at the lack of enthusiasm for his suggestions. She knew that his greatest passion was the forestry work that he’d hadto give up while he was seconded to the army for the duration of the war.
‘Perhaps people don’t have the energy to think beyond war work at the moment,’ Stella suggested. ‘One day, they’ll be more grateful for your ideas, sir.’
He brightened. ‘Thank you, Miss Dubois. You’re a great tonic to my flagging spirits at times. I love the optimism of the young.’
She ordered up a jug of lime juice and for a few minutes the major relaxed while she distracted him with talk about The Raj Hotel and its eccentric long-time residents. He too enjoyed reminiscing about his early days in the Punjab, and Stella knew that his love of the region had been one of the reasons he’d chosen a secretary from Rawalpindi, so they would have something in common.
‘I must say I envy you all those summers you worked in Gulmarg. Never got that far into the mountains myself,’ he admitted. ‘But one day I’d like to take Margo there – when she comes back...’
