Page 62 of The Sapphire Child
Ruth stirred, yawning and stretching.
‘Good morning,’ Andrew said, leaning over and kissing her.
‘Goodness, what time is it?’ She sat up.
‘No idea. Does it matter?’
She gave a brief laugh, fumbling for her nightgown and slipping out of bed. He watched in dismay as she pulled it on.
‘You don’t have to go, do you?’
‘Yes, I’m sitting for Dawan this morning.’
‘On New Year’s Day?’ Andrew protested.
‘Start the year as we intend to go on.’ She smiled. ‘Nineteen thirty-nine will be the year Dawan receives true recognition – and I will be famous as his muse. Can I borrow this dressing gown?’ she asked, picking the one that hung on the door.
It was his father’s. He never used it, but liked it hanging there as if it still held an essence of Tom.
‘Of course.’ He sat up. ‘Will I see you later?’
‘Won’t you be going back to Mamma?’ Ruth’s mouth twitched.
Andrew reddened. She came back and kissed him on the forehead. ‘You look really handsome with your hair in a mess. Call in and say goodbye before you leave for Sandhurst, won’t you?’
Then she was gone. He felt deflated. It certainly didn’t seem to be the momentous night for Ruth that it had been for him. What a fool he was to think it would.
Andrew reached for his cigarettes. The beginning of 1939 had already been eventful. As he smoked, he wondered where the year would take him. Andrew had a surge of restlessness. He was impatient to get back to officer training and his new comrades.
Chapter 22
The Raj-in-the-Hills Hotel, August 1939
Stella was picking flowers for the hotel dining room when she became aware of Tom and Esmie crossing the lawn towards her. It was a gloriously sunny morning and most of the guests were out for the day, riding, golfing or walking. Shading her eyes, she could tell at once from Tom’s face that something terrible had happened.
‘Stella.’ His handsome, lined face was creased in pity.
‘What’s happened?’ Stella stood up.
‘We’ve had a letter from Pindi. Your mother...’
Stella’s heart lurched. ‘Something’s happened to Ma?’
He shook his head. ‘No, no, she’s fine. Well, not fine, but...’
Esmie said quickly, ‘It’s your father – he’s had a heart attack. I’m so sorry, lassie. He’s...He passed away two days ago.’
Stella stood stunned. She couldn’t take in what they were saying. Tom was mumbling something about his good friend Charlie and then tears were spilling down his cheeks. Esmie reached out and took Stella in her arms, pressing her head into her shoulder and stroking her hair as if she were the one crying. But she wasn’t – couldn’t. She was too shocked. A life without her pa was inconceivable.
Stella pulled away. ‘But he’s not even ill. He never gets ill in the hot season, only in the cold. He can’t be dead. It’s a mistake.’
Esmie spoke calmly. ‘It’s not a mistake. Your mother wrote to us so we could tell you in person rather than you read it in a letter. The doctor thinks Charlie’s heart was weakened by the pneumonia he had last winter.’ Gently, she took Stella by the arm. ‘Come inside, lassie, and sit down. You’re in shock.’
Stella allowed Esmie to shepherd her onto the veranda. A servant was sweeping the floor but with a nod from Esmie, he left them alone. Esmie sat Stella down on the wicker sofa next to her. Tom stood looking out at the view, trying to bring his emotions under control.
Esmie spoke in a low, soft voice. ‘We’ll make arrangements for you to return to Pindi as soon as you can. One of us can take you, if you like? Or you can wait a day or two. Your mother says that Jimmy is arranging the funeral and Yvonne is helping with the hotel, so you’re not to worry about rushing back before then. But I imagine you’ll want to be with your mother...’
‘Funeral?’ Stella repeated.
