A Sahib's Daughter (14 page)

They bought a large house perched on a cliff overlooking the sea in Newcastle, in the lea of the Mourne Mountains. It turned out that Irene had a penchant for grandeur, something that Edward was only too happy to indulge. The house was renovated to satisfy her newly established standards and filled with expensive antique furniture and paintings. Of course, Edward being the businessman that he was made sure that they never paid retail for anything. Consequently, they gave the impression of being much more affluent than they really were.

Irene worked conscientiously at the bakery and at rearing the boys. It seemed that her blessings were never ending when the years passed, even when it emerged that she was unable to conceive.

“You see, I already have a family,” she said to Edward. “I have my two sons, which were given to me by the Lord before I knew I could never have children of my own.”

The bakery flourished as the boys grew up. Adrian went to university in Leeds where he studied engineering. He was considered to be the brains of the family. Justin was the clumsy one who lagged behind in class and who couldn’t be relied on to carry out the simplest chore. Anything he was asked to do, he did so badly Edward would say it was easier to just do it himself.

“That fool son of mine can’t even mow the lawn,” he complained to Irene.

But Justin was smart enough to know that if he did a job badly enough he would get out of ever having to do it again. So while Adrian proudly cut the grass in perfect stripes, Justin sat in the house and ate scones with Irene. While Adrian suffered in miserable digs in England, Justin stayed home, his meals cooked and his laundry done by his mother. When this became too cloying and restrictive even for him, he applied for a job in the Sirocco Plant in Belfast where he practiced the engineering Adrian was still studying. There he heard about how their air conditioning and drying machinery were shipped to many destinations across the world, including the tea plantations in India.

He rented a red-brick, terraced house on the Holywood Road in Belfast, convenient to where he worked. He had been reared a Methodist, attending church every week. Like the majority of the population, however, he couldn’t identify with the bigotry that was rampant in the country. The sectarian violence was perpetuated by a surprisingly small percentage and festered only in certain neighborhoods. Unlike Adrian, he didn’t want to escape the troubles by simply crossing the water to the mainland. He felt a certain stigma against his countrymen any time he visited England. So when the opportunity arose at work to conduct inspections and supervise new installations in India, he jumped at it. He had been seeing a young lady, Lorraine McIlroy, who worked at the Harland and Wolff Shipyard, but did not feel a strong sense of commitment to her.

She was tiny, delicate and soft-spoken. He had never seen her without her high heels, nail polish and lipstick, not even when they got together at weekends and visited the zoo or one of the stately homes near Belfast. She had shoulder-length auburn hair and never looked anything short of immaculate. They had great times together. She made him laugh and had unlimited energy. He thought of her as his little bird, colorful like a robin or a canary, with skinny legs, tiny feet and large, hazel eyes. She pecked at her food like a bird and spoke in high-pitched, reedy tones.

“But what about us?” she said to him, with wide eyes when he broke the news that he was going to India.

“Ach, I’ll be back before you know it,” he said. “It’s only for a few months. I’ll write to you every day.”

He knew he couldn’t expect her to wait for him, but this was something he felt had to do. It was his opportunity to see the world, advance his career and escape the province.

His mother was equally upset.

“Why India?” she cried. “Go to France or Spain like everyone else!”

“Ma, it’s business,” he said. “Not a vacation.”

She was petrified at the thought of his travelling somewhere so alien and far away. And dirty! She hated anywhere or anything strange and foreign. Heaven knows what diseases he might catch. She couldn’t sleep from worry. But he was adamant. He took all the vaccinations they said he needed and had to apply for a passport. He had never been overseas.

“Ma, I’ll need my birth certificate,” he said, over the phone. “I’ll pick it up this weekend.” There was silence on the line.

“You there?” he said. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Yes, dear.” She spoke faintly. “Cheerio.”

She was taking it badly. But surely she wouldn’t stand in his way? He took Lorraine home for the weekend with him, separate rooms, of course. Edward tried to tell Justin to come without her, saying there was something important they needed to discuss. But Justin wanted to compensate for leaving Lorraine for so long. He didn’t want to upset her further by not spending the weekend with her. They arrived in Newcastle in time for lunch on Saturday, a feast of chicken soup, pork chops with homemade apple sauce and mashed potatoes.

Both Edward and Irene were subdued over lunch.

“Everything okay?” Justin asked. Surely they were taking things too far. Adrian had left home right after his A Levels at eighteen and never come back apart from the occasional visit.

“Your Da would like to talk to you after lunch,” said Irene. “You can sit in the dining room.”

They were eating lunch in the kitchen. The dining room was reserved for Christmas dinner and sometimes not even that. It was too perfect to be eaten in. The cherry table gleamed, and the matching sideboard was laden with Irene’s collection of silver which she polished every fortnight.

Lorraine and Irene went into the lounge to watch “Crossroads” on television.

“What is it, Da?” asked Justin, genuinely worried now.

“It’s about your birth certificate,” said Edward, uneasily.

“What about it? Is it lost? It’s no big deal if it is, you know?”

“No, it’s not lost. I have it here. There’s something we haven’t told you son.”

“What? Am I adopted or something? Everyone says I look exactly like you.”

“No, you’re not adopted…exactly. It’s that your Ma, well, she’s not really your mother. Now, she’s terrified of what you might do.”

“What! You’re joking! How can she not be my mother?” Justin was shocked. “I mean, usually it’s the other way round.”

“Your real mother walked out on you and Adrian when you were three years old. He was old enough to remember her.”

“But he never said anything to me!” Justin said.

“He said he started to a few times. But you didn’t seem to understand. And you were always so fond of Irene.”

So Irene had showered him with love even though she wasn’t really his mother! And now she was afraid what effect the news might have on him.

“Well, she’s still my mother. It doesn’t change anything as far as I’m concerned,” he said.

“Is that so?” said his father, greatly relieved. “We just didn’t know how you might react.”

Not normally demonstrative, the two men embraced, and Justin went to the lounge and put his arms around Irene.

“Really, Ma, did you think I’d just go off you or something?”

“I didn’t know what to think. We thought you’d be angry. Now I don’t know whether to laugh or cry! Bygorra!” She wept tears of relief.

“Well, I’m a bit angry, so I am. You should a told me sooner.”

Lorraine was puzzled, not knowing what was going on. Justin filled her in briefly and Edward said, “Well, I think I need a stiff drink after all that. What d’you say, Ma?”

“For sure!” she agreed. “You have something, too, Lorraine.”

Justin saw in the birth certificate later that his real mother’s name was Doreen McVeigh. He had no curiosity about her and no desire to look for someone who had deserted him when he was only a baby.

Chapter 11

Northern Ireland 1971-1972

Justin flew by B.O.A.C. from Heathrow to Bombay and then on a dilapidated India Airways Dakota to Bangalore in southern India. He visited a number of tea plantations in the Nilgiri Hills before flying to Calcutta and taking a train to the cotton mills outside the city to inspect their Sirocco equipment. Then he flew to Jorhat to make the necessary repairs and recommendations regarding the machinery in the plantations of Assam.

There he encountered a fellow countryman, Tom Davidson, manager of Yong Tung Tea Estate. As there were no hotels, planters were required to provide board and lodging for visiting agents and engineers for a small fee remitted by the tea companies. Tom and Martha, his wife, were from Hillsborough and hadn’t been back in six years. Both were hungry for news of home. She instructed her cook to prepare shepherd’s pie and chips for their visitor.

“Alas, I have no Smithwicks or Guinness to offer you,” Tom said, mournfully. “We’ll have to make do with the local brew.”

“So, Justin,” he said later, puffing on his after-dinner cigarette in the fresh air of the verandah. “How do you like India? Bit of a change from Belfast, eh?”

“It certainly is,” Justin agreed. “But I feel like a change is just what I need. Fact is I almost wish I didn’t have to go back. The lifestyle here suits a fellow like me.”

“Interesting you should say that,” Tom said. “If you really mean it, I know there’s a position in a nearby garden waiting to be filled. It’s for assistant manager. With your experience, it shouldn’t be too long before you get your billet.”

Justin was silent, deep in thought. Things were moving almost too quickly. But the thought of staying here, away from the trouble-stricken city and escaping the dismal Belfast winters, was appealing.

“I have to admit I’m interested,” he said. “really interested. But how do I go about applying?”

“Leave it to me, my friend. I’ll say a few words in the right ears. You’re perfect for the job.”

Justin could scarcely sleep that night as he mulled things over in his mind. Irene would be heartbroken, of that there was no doubt. But he had to live his own life, and this was what he wanted to do. Then there was Lorraine to consider. He was surprised how much he missed her. But she would never fit in here. She was too fragile. Or was she? Under all that lipstick and powder was a resilience that he felt he had underestimated. It could get awful lonely here for a chap on his own. His mind churned all night long.

He made his farewells in the morning and visited the next plantations on his list. He flew back to Belfast and received a phone call from Jefferson Brothers the very next week. They wanted him to fly to their offices in London for an interview. Tom Davidson’s recommendation and his experience with Sirocco and the fact that he had visited a tea plantation made him an ideal candidate. He received a job offer in the mail a few days later, requiring him to report for duty in one months’ time.

This time, it was his turn to visit his parents filled with trepidation. He wanted to tell them two things. One was that he was going to accept the job in India, and the other was that he intended to propose to Lorraine. He didn’t know if she would accept, but he felt that his happiness would be complete if she went with him. He recognized that he was acting impulsively, but it was his way. He wasn’t one to overthink things and talk himself out of them.

His next step was to approach Lorraine’s father and ask for her hand in marriage, still with no knowledge as to whether or not she wanted to marry him. She had missed him and was delighted to see him back, but he didn’t know if it went any deeper than that. Toby, her father, was skeptical. She had a good job in the shipyard. Why would she want to go all the way to India? But wasn’t going to stand in the way of his daughter’s happiness, and if that’s what she wanted, then he was welcome to her. He had plenty more daughters to contend with, heaven alone knew.

Justin went to Rea’s Jewelers near the city hall in Belfast and bought an engagement ring, a diamond surrounded by rubies. Then he took Lorraine to their favorite spot beside the River Lagan and on bended knee, asked her to be his wife. He was going to India to be a tea planter and wanted her to go with him. But he would understand if it was not for her and if he was not the man she wanted to spend her life with.

“I’m shocked,” she cried, her high-pitched voice rising. “Good Lord! What a surprise! You want me to go to India with you?”