Page 57 of The Sapphire Child
‘Oh my goodness!’ Stella had been shocked. ‘No wonder MrLomax is upset.’
‘He can’t think of anything else,’ Esmie had said in distress. ‘He wants to know how long Lydia has been seeing Dickie – whether he’s married or unmarried. Tom thinks he might be the reason why Lydia finally agreed to a divorce. And it may be true. For myself, I don’t care – we got what we finally wanted – but for Tom it’s different. He’s torturing himself that his son is taking advice from that cheating man rather than him.’
Neither Esmie nor Stella had been able to prevent Tom from succumbing to another bout of depression. In October, when the hotel was closing up, Stella had offered to stay on with Esmie and keep her company. Tom was fighting his ‘black monsoons’ by trying to paint, but more often than not was to be found restlessly walking the high margs and bivouacking in the woods. He seemed to lose all track of time and sometimes called Esmie ‘Mary’ when she came to coax him back home.
Esmie, knowing how Jimmy’s wedding was imminent, had insisted that she go home. ‘That’s very kind of you, lassie, but your family will be needing you and looking forward to having you back. We’ll see you at Jimmy’s wedding.’
Stella had left Gulmarg deeply worried about the Lomaxes and Tom’s fragile mental state. How long would they be able to run The Raj-in-the-Hills if his health continued to deteriorate? She was desperately sorry for Esmie, who had finally been able to marryTom after all these years only to find she was increasingly becoming his nurse.
As she watched the guests enjoying her parents’ hospitality, Stella couldn’t help wondering what made the best kind of marriage. Was she foolish to continue to put Monty off because of some unattainable ideal of a love match that she still hoped for?
The truth was that Stella still hankered after someone who she knew now almost certainly didn’t even give her a passing thought. Hugh Keating was her measure of the ideal man; handsome, fun, interesting and with the most charming accent she’d ever heard. Whenever Monty tried to kiss her, all she could think of was how much better Hugh’s passionate embraces had been. Five years later she was still filled with longing for him. But the letter she’d sent to Baluchistan at the end of 1933 had eventually been returned nearly a year later with ‘gone away’ written across it.
Had he been moved to another posting in India or left the service and returned to Ireland? Stella had tried to find out by contacting the local agricultural office in Rawalpindi, the ‘Grass Department’ as it was nicknamed by the other governmental services. But the officer in charge had been a little suspicious and not very helpful.
The Indian clerk had seen her disappointment and offered to send a note of enquiry on her behalf. It was three months before she heard back.
... MrKeating is no longer with the Agricultural Department. He resigned his post in November 1933. I am sorry to say they will not give out a forwarding address to non-family members...
Assuming Hugh had never returned to India from Ireland, she wrote again to the sister in Dublin in the vain hope that a letter might reach him, even though she didn’t have the correct address.
That had been back in 1935. Over three years later, Stella had not heard back. She knew it was hopeless to hanker after him. If he’d really wanted her to be his girl, he would have tried harder to stay in touch.
Stella tried to quell thoughts of Hugh. She should be looking forward to the future and not back at what might have been.
The servants were clearing tables and pushing back chairs to make more room for dancing. Her father announced the Grand March and they all fell into a procession around the room while Jimmy’s friends made a human arch for them to duck under. Then the bride and groom cut the magnificent three-tiered cake that Stella’s parents had commissioned and shortly afterwards the hired band struck up for the first dance.
‘May I, Miss Dubois?’ Monty stood there grinning.
‘Of course,’ Stella said, allowing him to take her hand and lead her onto the dance floor.
He was a good dancer and she knew that her mother was keeping a keen eye on them as they moved effortlessly around the floor. He chatted and she half-listened.
Later she did the two-step with her father.
‘This is all going swimmingly, don’t you think, Sweet Pea?’
‘It’s been a lovely day,’ Stella agreed. ‘I think Jimmy and Yvonne really appreciate what you’ve done for them.’
‘We’ll do the same for you,’ he said with a smile of affection. ‘In fact, we will push the boat out further to sea for our beloved daughter!’
‘Pa!’
‘But only when you are ready,’ he added quickly.
She swiftly changed the subject. ‘It’s very kind of the Lomaxes to let Jimmy and Yvonne use their flat in the hotel. It’ll be so much better than squeezing into the bungalow with us.’
Charlie nodded. ‘It saddens me, though, to think that our dear Lomaxes are not intending to visit much any more.’
‘Well, they can still use one of the hotel rooms,’ said Stella. ‘It doesn’t mean they’ll never come.’
‘I so hoped they would be here today...’
Stella had kept to herself just how difficult things were for Tom and Esmie, not wanting the Lomaxes’ business being discussed around Rawalpindi.
Soon the newly-weds were getting ready to leave. Although the first snow had already come to the foothills, they were honeymooning in Murree, where Jimmy had secured an off-season rate at The Birchwood Hotel. He was borrowing his Uncle Toby’s car and was keen to get his bride up the mountainside before dark descended.
The guests crowded together under the blue-roofed portico and waved them away with much noise and shouts of encouragement. Clive and Monty had tied tin cans to the car bumper which made a din as Jimmy drove up the street. Rick led the Dixon cousins in running behind letting off firecrackers. On the hotel lawn, the resident peacock gave a cry of alarm and displayed its feathers.
