A Sahib's Daughter Read Online Free PDF Page B

He held out ten rupees. Jetha stared in disbelief, holding up his palm as if to stop him. Charles wondered if it was too little, until he saw Jetha hold up five fingers. Five rupees? He figured that was less than a shilling. What could one buy with a shilling? He had been wondering where his groceries came from and was planning to ask Greg about it later. He gestured that he would not be needing dinner that evening and went to his bedroom to bathe and change. He badly needed to cool off and freshen up after a day in the heat. He shaved and changed into khaki trousers and a white shirt hoping that this was the correct interpretation of “casual.”
    A thicket of lychee trees and a giant bougainvillea bush concealed the Burra Bungalow from the road. As Charles stepped out of the jeep Greg came down the steps to greet him.
    “Good to see you. Welcome to our home away from home! This is my wife, Lorna. Darling, meet Charles.”
    Lorna stretched out her hand. Sophisticated and self-assured, her blond hair was impeccably styled. She wore red lipstick and a navy blue dress that showed off her white shoulders. She was probably in her mid-twenties and might have been prettier had it not been for her thin lips.
    “Scotch okay for you?” asked Greg. “You don’t mind if we sit outside for a bit?”
    “Wonderful,” replied Charles, who had never been much of a drinker except for the occasional glass of ale or lager at the Pig and Whistle in Barnet High Street.
    “You have a beautiful home,” he said, looking around appreciatively. He’d thought his bungalow was attractive, but this place was magnificent. The scent of roses wafted up from the garden beneath the verandah. Palm trees that bordered the expanse of lawn were silhouetted against a golden sky.
    After cocktails, they went inside for dinner. They sat at one end of a long table served by bearers in white jackets and maroon caps, moving soundlessly in and out of the room. They were served tomato soup followed by an excellent chicken casserole and sherry trifle for dessert.
    “This is delicious,” said Charles, appreciatively. “Did your cook prepare it?”
    “I have to admit that I seldom cook anymore,” smiled Lorna. “Occasionally, I’ll bake a cake or a batch of biscuits, but it’s pretty hot back in the kitchen.”
    “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to being waited on,” Charles said. “I’m afraid I shall become quite spoiled living here.”
    “You’d better believe it,” said Greg. “When Memsahibs return to England after a lifetime in tea, they find themselves at a total loss without servants to do everything for them.”
    “It’s even harder for the Sahibs having no one to give orders to after being in charge of a workforce of thousands,” said Lorna. “I worry that Greg might have to resort to ordering me around.” She laughed. “The only consolation is that planters usually retire with their fortunes made. It’s easy to save money when there’s so little to spend it on.”
    “And it would take a lot of money in Britain to replace the lifestyle we’ve been accustomed to,” said Greg. “Don’t forget that, darling,” he teased his wife, “just enjoy it while you can.”

Chapter 4
    Dooars, 1959-1963

    It was half past five. If the car didn’t start soon, they would have to abandon the whole idea. They had risen before dawn to make the three-hour drive up the mountain to Darjeeling. A jeep could have made the same journey in less than three hours, but Charles was only an assistant manager and did not have access to the company jeep for personal business. In fact, many cars were able to make it in less than three hours. But the Clarke’s gray Ford V8 was no ordinary car.
    It was an unreliable and temperamental old guzzler, prone to over-heating and breaking down just when it was most inconvenient. Today, it wouldn’t even start. Kala the Nepalese driver bent over the engine furiously, muttering something about the choke. Kala