A Sahib's Daughter (17 page)

Lorraine gasped at the blast of cold air that hit them as they stepped outside the terminal. They’d forgotten how it felt to be cold. Despite the dismal sky and the bleak countryside, it was very good indeed to be home. They had six weeks to reconnect with family and friends. They planned to split their time between both families and perhaps visit Donegal for a few days. But first, they needed to go to the Royal Victoria Hospital in Belfast.

The next morning, they went to the hospital for their scheduled appointments, regarding the foreboding façade of the Royal Victoria Hospital with feelings of dread. Lorraine clung to Justin’s arm. The lingering hospital smell sank to the pit of her stomach. They walked through long, echoing corridors, and she waited shivering with cold and fear, while Justin was whisked away by one of the nurses. She felt she would never be warm again. Scruffy men in anoraks and dirty sneakers and women in ugly, comfortable shoes patiently waited beside her. Her feet froze in her high-heeled pumps despite the stockings she was wearing for the first time in years. Finally, her name was called. She panicked momentarily, wishing Justin was with her. But, almost as if to compensate for the hospital’s austerity, the nurses teemed with kindness and goodwill.

“Now just you follow me, dearie. Go you behind that curtain and put this on, with the opening at the back.” She was handed a hospital gown. She gave blood and urine and had her blood pressure taken. There was another long wait to see the doctor, who was gruff and unsympathetic.

Finally, the ordeal was over, and she was reunited with a pale, subdued Justin. This was his first hospital experience. They couldn’t wait to get away from the cold dankness of the hospital. In Calcutta, it had been totally different. There Lorraine was a Memsahib, and the hospital was for the privileged, with all the facilities and comforts of a luxury hotel.

Once in the bracing air outside, they found they were starving and dived into a pub for some lunch.

“I think the occasion calls for a drink. I need something to steady my nerves. What d’you say?” said Lorraine.

“I absolutely agree,” said Justin, who needed a drink like never before in his life. They ordered sausage rolls, the first they’d had in years. They were hot and delicious, just as they remembered them. They both started to feel better and decided that a second round of drinks was in order.

They were at Edward and Irene’s house in Newcastle a few days later when the phone rang. Edward was home from the bakery, and they were about to cook dinner. It was the urologist who asked to speak to Justin.

“We have a full report out to you in the mail,” he said, “but I thought I’d call you as it’s a Friday. I’m afraid the news isn’t good.”

“I see,” said Justin, his heart sinking. “What is it?”

“The problem is not with Lorraine. It’s with you. It’s a very unusual condition, and there are no symptoms. Some men produce abnormal antibodies against their own sperm. The antibodies attack the sperm on the way to the egg, preventing fertilization.”

“In other words?”

“In other words…permanent infertility. I am truly sorry.”

“But surely, there must be some treatment, some kind of remedy?” Justin struggled to digest the implications of what the doctor was saying.

“I will do some further research. Believe me, if there is anything that can be done, I will do it. And if you and your wife require counseling of any kind, I’ll gladly arrange it.”

“Thank you kindly,” said Justin. “And thanks for taking the trouble to call me.”

It was obvious to Lorraine, Edward and Irene that the news was not good from the tone of Justin’s voice in the hallway. They waited silently as he entered the room and sat on the sofa beside Lorraine.

“That was the doctor,” he said. “It seems the problem lies with me, something to do with my sperm preventing fertilization.”

There was shocked silence.

“Well, at least now that they know what the problem is, so you can get treated for it,” said Edward.

“Apparently, it’s something that can’t be treated,” Justin said. “It’s my fault we can’t have a baby, Lorraine. It’s me, not you.”

Irene started to weep. “Now, don’t be carrying on like that.”

Lorraine clung to Justin’s hand, weak with disappointment, but filled with sympathy for her husband.

“It’s okay,” she said, struggling to keep her voice steady. “It’s not a question of fault. At least we know now. So we can’t have a baby. It’s not the end of the world.”

Justin was filled with gratitude toward her. She never failed to amaze him. He knew, more than anyone, how much she wanted a family and how children would transform their lonely existence in Assam.

“We can consider adoption or maybe focus on other things,” she continued. “Now, did I hear anyone mention a hot Scotch? There’s got to be a few advantages in not being pregnant!”

“Aye, you certainly did.” Edward jumped up, always happy to oblige where alcohol was concerned.

Irene was still struggling to come to terms with the realization that there were to be no grandchildren in her future. Not from Justin at any rate. But despite her intense disappointment, she appreciated Lorraine’s stoicism. Many women would have been bitter and resentful in her situation.

“I’ll go and get dinner started,” she said. “Now, you just sit here, the both of you. You’re not to do a thing except comfort each another.”

She followed Ed into the kitchen. He was heating the water for the scotch.

“Let them alone a while,” she said to him. “Give them their drinks and come and help me with dinner, if you would.”

In the other room, Justin stared at the fire trying to digest the implications of the news. Of course, adoption had always been an option in the back of their minds, but it wasn’t something they had ever discussed. That would have been like admitting defeat.

“How can I make it up to you?” he said to his wife.

“Ach, don’t you go being a martyr,” she smiled. “The problem could just as easily have lain with me. We are a unit. It doesn’t matter where the fault lies. Surprisingly enough, I feel a sense of relief. At least we know where we stand now. We can get on with our lives. And maybe start to enjoy our holiday a little.”

They spent their days playing golf, tennis and visiting favorite haunts. They drove through Strangford, taking the car ferry across the lough to Portaferry. They had lunch at the Portaferry Inn and continued on to Mount Stewart, a stately home surrounded by spectacular gardens. They travelled up the Antrim Coast, with its cliffs that plunged into the North Sea, to visit the Giants’ Causeway.

Lorraine spent time with her family in Belfast, enjoying shopping sprees with her mother and sisters and just being able to sit in coffee shops and cafes. Justin helped his father in the bakery, which he noted had become run down and badly in need of modernization. He hired roofers to patch leaks in the roof and builders to make structural repairs. Irene picked out some paint, and they painted the building pale yellow with green trim. The final touch was a new green sign with “Irene’s Home Bakery” in gold lettering.

Edward was overcome with emotion when he saw how it had all taken shape. Despite his aches and pains, he could not conceive of closing his business. The renovations gave him fresh impetus and renewed hope that perhaps he might find a buyer soon.

Chapter 14

Assam, India 1975

All too soon, it was time to return to the tea plantation. Lorraine appeared to have put the idea of adopting a child out of her mind. She plunged into the wives’ social round of coffee mornings, lunches and mahjong and even learned to play bridge. In the heat of the afternoon, she began to write stories on the old typewriter they’d bought.

Justin meanwhile threw himself into his job. He was eager to be promoted to manager. He knew he was impatient with the workers and that it was sometimes difficult to handle the emerging labor force, which was more exacting in its demands than the old-school laborers prior to Independence. There was talk of forming a union. As Justin knew from the troubles in Northern Ireland, it only took a few insurgents to stir up far-reaching rebellions.

That year, the Planters Annual General Meeting had been delayed due to renovations at the Assam Golf and Polo Club. Instead of its usual January date, it was postponed to March and then July, the height of the monsoon season. Consequently, the golf and tennis tournaments that usually coincided with the event had to be cancelled. It would simply be too hot and wet. Even if it didn’t rain, the golf course and tennis courts would be water-logged. All the same, it was an occasion everyone looked forward to. Besides the mandatory meetings, there would be fabulous lunches and dinners all weekend, culminating in the Annual Planters Ball.

Lorraine was disappointed that there were to be no tournaments. Her golf handicap was down in the teens, and her tennis game was better than ever before. To compensate, a number of people arranged to go to the nearby Brahmaputra Safari Park on the day following the Annual General Meeting, and Lorraine and Justin decided to join them.

They made the two- hour drive to the Assam Golf and Polo Club in lashing rain. They were being put up for the weekend at one of the plantations near the club. Although it was only a three-day trip, it required a great deal of preparation. Lorraine had to make sure they had everything they needed for two days and two nights of meetings and dinners. She had to pack a ball gown with coordinating shoes and accessories and a dinner jacket and tie for Justin. They also needed outfits for the safari, where they would ride on elephants and in open jeeps. After the servants loaded up the little Standard Herald, there was barely enough room for Lorraine and Justin.

“Just as well there’s no golf,” said Justin. “Or we would have needed a bigger car.”

There were planters from all over Assam at the meeting. Wives and children came along for the social part of the weekend. Lorraine got together with Martha and some of the ladies in the card room, and the days passed quickly for them while the men participated in the business of the day.

On the last evening, it was time for the long awaited ball. A band all the way from Shillong provided the music. Lorraine wore a halter-necked gown of red velvet that she discovered in a boutique on the Lisburn Road in Belfast during their visit home. Justin whistled when he saw her and kissed her bare back.

“As usual, you will be the belle of the ball, but I’ll be the man lucky enough to bring you home.”

“I’m the lucky one,” laughed Lorraine. “You look marvelous in your white dinner jacket.”

“Make sure you save me a few dances,” joked Justin, as they entered the club where the ball was in full swing.

It was a glorious occasion. Red and white streamers festooned the pillars beside the ballroom. Exquisite floral arrangements surrounded tall, red candlesticks on the tables, spread with white linen tablecloths. A feast had been organized by the local planters’ wives whose cooks tried to outdo one another with their lavish and sumptuous preparations. The wine flowed, the music swelled, and the dancers rocked the floor till dawn.

“Thank you for bringing me to this place, darling,” Lorraine murmured to her husband as they spun around the floor for the last dance. “I have never been so happy in all my life, despite… despite everything.”

She seldom alluded to the one shadow that marred their lives.

“And as I keep saying, you are a truly wonderful woman, and you never cease to amaze me,” he said, tenderly.

Lorraine glowed with happiness, gazing into her husband’s eyes – she who had the ability to display her love easily in spoken and unspoken words and looks. Justin thought she had never looked more beautiful.

They managed to snatch a few hours of sleep before leaving for the Brahmaputra Safari Park before dawn. The park was a refuge for wild life whose habitats were increasingly becoming eroded. The mighty Brahmaputra River ran down its eastern border. It cut a swath through the state of Assam and was its life blood and source of much of its water and energy. It was a mile wide in parts, and no bridge could span it.

Lorraine groaned when Justin woke her.