A Loving Family (43 page)

Freddie shrugged his shoulders. ‘I doubt it, old man. But thanks for the sport. I didn't realise I was such a good shot.'

‘They trained you well in the Navy,' Harry said, grinning. He tipped his hat to Stella. ‘I'm sorry to hear about Mr Rivenhall. I hope you get better news soon.' He walked off before she could think of a suitable reply.

‘I'll probably be going back to Bombay this trip.' Freddie put his free arm around her shoulders. ‘Maybe I can find out more.'

Stella raised her head to look him in the eyes. ‘Does your ship ever carry passengers, Freddie?'

‘Sometimes we take colonial officers and their wives. Why do you ask?' A look of disbelief crossed his face and he shook his head. ‘No, Stella. No, don't even think about it.'

STELLA INSISTED ON
travelling to Southampton with Freddie. She took a room in a nearby lodging house while she made enquiries as to whether there were any civilians travelling on board his ship. As luck would have it a colonial officer was returning to his duties after a spell of leave accompanied by his wife and children and they had a room in the same house.

When Mrs Jellicoe, a frail-looking young woman, took to her bed with a sick headache Stella looked after the children for two days, leaving Mr Jellicoe free to complete his business and finalise the necessary arrangements to travel on board a Royal Navy vessel. She made herself indispensable, so much so that Mrs Jellicoe begged her husband to allow Stella to accompany them as nanny to the little ones. A harassed man with a sickly wife, Jellicoe did not take much persuading, and Stella was hired.

‘You must understand that it's only as far as Bombay,' Mr Jellicoe said with a worried frown. ‘We will have an ayah to look after the children as soon as we reach our destination.'

Stella could have crowed with delight. ‘I understand perfectly, sir. Your children will be safe with me.'

She had to share a tiny cabin with the Jellicoes' three children, the eldest of whom was Hannah, aged six. Joshua was four and the baby, Michael, was ten months old. Mr and Mrs Jellicoe had a slightly larger cabin a little further down the companionway, next to the captain's day room.

As she sat in the cramped confines of the tiny accommodation, which had no porthole and was dimly lit by an oil lamp swinging from the deckhead, Stella's thoughts were with Kit wherever he might be. Hannah and Joshua slept top to toe in a wooden bunk and baby Michael had a makeshift crib in the drawer below. Stella's sleeping accommodation was the top bunk, where she retired soon after her small charges were asleep. Her days were spent keeping an eye on the children, which was easier said than done on a warship. Hannah was of an age to heed warnings of danger but Joshua was without fear, and if she relaxed her guard for an instant he had the habit of wandering off. Thankfully Michael had not yet learned to walk and he was a sunny child who was happy sitting on a rug playing with a silver rattle and chewing on the red coral tip when teething made his gums sore.

It was almost a foregone conclusion that Mrs Jellicoe would suffer dreadfully from seasickness. She took to her bed for the first two weeks, making brief appearances after that when they reached the relative calm of the Mediterranean, but refusing to do anything more than peck at her food and growing thinner and paler by the day. Mr Jellicoe was kept occupied with a seemingly endless supply of official-looking documents, which he perused and made copious notes in the margins. Stella wondered what could possibly take up so much of his time, but was afraid to ask. Mr Jellicoe was not an approachable man, which she thought might have been one reason for his wife taking refuge in illness.

Stella enjoyed being at sea. She loved the feel of the deck moving beneath her feet and the throb of the engines sounded to her like a beating heart. She could understand why seafarers thought of their vessels as wayward women, especially when they encountered a storm in the eastern Mediterranean and the ship seemed to take on a life of its own. The passage through the Suez Canal was by contrast a tranquil glide into the Red Sea and she revelled in the warmth of the sun. If her mission had not been such a serious one she would have appreciated the voyage even more, but worries for Kit's survival from such a deadly illness were never far from her mind. She was only too well aware that she might arrive in Bombay to find it was too late. Kit would either be on the mend or she would be laying flowers on his grave, and there could be no question of bringing a body back to England. She felt physically sick at the thought and did her best to put it out of her mind.

She saw little of Freddie, whose duties on board kept him fully occupied. Occasionally, if he was off watch in the evening and the children were safely in bed asleep, she was able to spend some time with him and his fellow officers in the saloon. She had seen her brother at work and she was filled with admiration for the way he conducted himself. She could not wait to tell Ma and Belle how popular Freddie was amongst his peers, and how well he coped with the life on board. She knew that he had had little choice when it came to a career but somehow, perhaps following in his father's footsteps, he seemed to revel in a life at sea. She would no longer worry about him when she returned home, but that seemed a world away. The cold and damp of an approaching English winter with its pea-souper fogs and icy winds was hard to imagine. The sun at its height emitted heat akin to that she could only compare with the blast from the kitchen range when the door was opened. The deck was almost unbearably hot underfoot, even in the shade, and the ship's rail burned with a white heat beneath a blazing sun.

They were nearing the end of their voyage, and the ship was expected to reach its destination late next day. Stella had taken the children for their afternoon visit to their mother, and she was enjoying the brief period of relaxation. It would not last; she knew that only too well. Mrs Jellicoe, although recovered from her bout of seasickness, would soon tire of her lively brood and Mr Jellicoe would summon her back to take care of her charges, but for the moment she was free to gaze down into the deep ultramarine depths of the ocean where jellyfish bobbed beneath the surface like a tangle of glass beads. That morning she had seen a school of whales but Joshua had chosen that particular moment to make a break for freedom and she had had to snatch the baby up under her arm and give chase with Hannah holding her hand. Had it not been for Freddie's sudden appearance she might still be searching for the errant four-year-old. As it was, Freddie scooped Joshua up and paraded him round the deck on his shoulders, much to the amusement of the men who had been holystoning the deck.

‘Thank you, Freddie,' Stella said, relieving him of his lively burden. She set Joshua back on his feet. ‘Now, young man, don't run off again or I will be forced to tell your papa, and he will be very cross with you.'

Joshua plugged his thumb into his mouth and gazed at her with large, spaniel eyes. ‘Butter wouldn't melt in his mouth,' Freddie said, grinning. ‘Listen to what Stella says, Joshua. We don't want you falling overboard and being eaten by sharks, do we?'

Joshua's bottom lip trembled and his eyes filled with tears. Stella put her arm around his shoulders, frowning at her brother. ‘Don't scare him like that, Freddie. He'll have nightmares and keep me up all night.'

‘I was just joking, young 'un,' Freddie said, grinning. ‘Got to get back to work, Stella. We should make landfall tomorrow evening.' His smile faded into a frown. ‘You might be able to stay on board overnight, but you'll have to disembark next day. What will you do then?'

‘What I intended to do all along,' Stella said with more confidence than she was feeling. ‘I'll find lodgings somewhere and make enquiries at all the hospitals in Bombay.'

Freddie stared at her with a frown puckering his forehead. ‘You won't stand a chance on your own. I've been talking to my mates and we've come up with an idea. I don't think you'll like it, but it's the only way we can think of to keep you safe.'

‘I told you, Freddie. I'll do anything to find Kit. Absolutely anything.'

It was dark when Freddie and a couple of his shipmates escorted Stella through the docks and out into the crowded streets of Bombay. She had no idea where she was going but Freddie was adamant that she must not go out alone, especially at night. The heat was less than in the day but it was still oppressive, and the people thronged the narrow alleys as if it were still midday. Charcoal braziers emitted a red glow and the smell of hot meat and unfamiliar spices filled the air, competing with the all-too-familiar stench of overflowing sewers and animal dung. Cows seemed to roam as freely as the local populace and a cacophony of sound assaulted Stella's ears. After the peace and quiet of Heron Park and the silence of the night in rural Essex, it came as something of a shock. She wondered if these people ever slept.

Freddie led her into a narrow alleyway lined with an odd assortment of houses and go-downs. They came to a halt outside a tall, narrow house with wrought-iron grilles protecting the windows and an ornately carved front door. Freddie knocked and moments later it was opened just a crack. A shaft of lantern light spilled into the night air. A young female voice uttered something in a foreign tongue and to Stella's amazement Freddie responded.

She stared at him with renewed respect. ‘You can speak their language?'

‘A few words only.' He ushered her inside as the door opened wide enough to allow them to pass.

Stella blinked as her eyes grew accustomed to the light. A strange scent permeated the whole building. It was sweet and heavy and faintly reminiscent of the red damask roses that grew in the farmhouse garden, but with overtones of something infinitely more exotic and a hint of spice. Freddie's mates shuffled in behind her, closing the door. ‘What is this place?' Stella demanded. The young girl was staring at her, openly curious, and she tried not to stare back, but she was fascinated by the dark-eyed beauty. Her kohl-lined eyes were large and fringed with thick black lashes, giving her the appearance of a young fawn. Her figure was almost childlike in its smallness and yet there was a definite allure in the way she moved, and her voice was soft and melodious. She led them down a narrow passageway to a room at the back of the building. The waft of exotic perfume was almost overpowering as she opened the door. Freddie strode in and came to a halt in front of a low divan on which an older woman reclined, smoking a hookah. Her crimson sari was richly embroidered with gold thread and gold necklaces embraced her neck and generous bosom. She raised a plump hand, heavy with jewelled rings. ‘Be seated, sahib and memsahib.'

Freddie squatted on a pile of cushions, motioning Stella and his companions to follow suit. ‘Good evening, duchess.'

‘You are a cheeky fellow, Freddie sahib. What is it you want from me?'

Briefly and to the point, Freddie explained Stella's mission. ‘She is my sister, and she knows no one in Bombay. I would trust you to look after her like a daughter, duchess.'

The woman smiled, revealing teeth reddened by chewing betel nut. ‘How much will you pay me for such a service?'

Freddie took some money from his pocket and placed it in a brass bowl on the low table in front of the woman. ‘She will be safe here?'

‘Another golden guinea will make her safer.'

He put his hand in his pocket for a second time. ‘I have to return to my ship now, duchess. I'm putting my trust in you.'

‘You do not want to avail yourself of my girls tonight?'

Freddie rose to his feet. ‘We have to be back on board ship or we'll be in trouble, but we'll see you again before long, duchess.' He laid his hand on Stella's shoulder. ‘You'll be safe here, but we'll only be in port for two or three days at most, and I want you back on board in time to sail for home. If you can find Kit he might be repatriated with the rest of the injured men, but I can't promise anything. It's not up to me, Stella. God knows I don't want to leave you, but I must.'

His companions stood up, muttering in agreement. ‘Let's go, Fred.'

Stella watched them leave with a feeling of panic. She had to stop herself from running after them and begging them to take her back to the security of the ship.

‘You are safe with me.' The woman reached out to pick up a small brass bell and rang it. ‘Tomorrow I will send you with Kanu. He will take you where you want to go, but now you will rest.' She looked up as the door opened. ‘Deena, take the memsahib to her room.'

Summarily dismissed, Stella scrambled to her feet. ‘Thank you . . .' She hesitated. ‘I'm sorry, I don't know what to call you.'

‘It is not duchess. That is your brother's joke, I think. My girls call me Mataji.'

‘Thank you, Mataji. I am most grateful.'

Deena held out her hand. ‘Come.'

Stella's head was swimming from the heat and the overpowering perfume, mingled with heady smoke from burning incense. She followed Deena along the corridor and up three flights of stairs, but her head did not seem to be connected to her feet and she felt as unreal as if she were in a dream. She could hear muffled voices and laughter emanating from closed doors on the landings, which confirmed her suspicions that Freddie had left her in the care of a brothel keeper. At home she might have felt outraged at such cavalier treatment, but here in this strange land it seemed like the logical thing to do. After all, she reasoned, Freddie's excursions ashore would hardly have included taking afternoon tea at Government House. She stifled a hysterical giggle as Deena ushered her into a tiny room on the top floor.

‘Sleep here,' she said, indicating a simple wooden bed strung with rope. She smiled sweetly. ‘Good night, memsahib.'

‘Thank you, Deena.' Stella managed a wobbly smile. ‘You are very kind.' She resisted the urge to beg the girl to stay with her but Deena had already bowed out of the room and Stella found herself alone except for cockroaches scuttling across the floor and the whining of mosquitoes. She lay fully clothed on the rope bed and draped a mosquito net over her body like a shroud. Mrs Jellicoe had warned her about the necessity to protect herself from flying insects as well as bed bugs, fleas and lice. Stella had not mentioned the fact that growing up in the East End she was well aware of the latter, but disease-carrying mosquitoes were another matter. She lay down and closed her eyes, picturing Mrs Jellicoe going about her day-to-day life in Delhi wrapped in mosquito netting, her pale hand clutching a doctor's bag containing a battery of medications for everything from the common cold to snakebite, dysentery and cholera. She drifted off to sleep despite the unaccustomed sounds of the house of ill repute and the noises drifting up from the alleyway below.