The Midnight Rose (68 page)

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Ari arrived back at his hotel, had a quick bite to eat in the restaurant, then went up to his room. He collapsed fully clothed onto his bed, exhausted from the tension and emotion of the past few days. He woke at six the following morning, realizing he had to leave immediately if he was to catch his flight. Throwing everything into his carryall, he checked out and hailed a taxi to take him to the airport. He looked at his cell, saw it was out of power and cursed himself for falling asleep last night before he’d put it on the charger. He would have liked to have said good-bye to Rebecca, reminded her how much he’d love to see her again, but now he’d have to wait until he was back home to do so.

Standing in the business-class line, Ari considered what he would be returning to. And it wasn’t palatable. His grand but soulless apartment, followed by a day at the office catching up, did not appeal to him in the slightest. In fact, in the past twenty-four hours he’d been thinking he might sell the business and have done with it. He wanted to do something that felt worthwhile, like Anahita and Dr. Adams had, not just earn himself financial security.

Maybe he would go straight to visit his mother, tell her what he’d discovered in England and ask for her advice. And, of course, he’d give Donald’s diary to Muna, his grandmother.

Receiving his boarding pass, he glanced at the line in economy, thinking that at least his hard work had provided him with a few luxuries. As he did so, he spotted a girl in the line with a rucksack on her back, dressed in a T-shirt, a pair of cut-off jeans and flip-flops. Her dark hair was pulled back into a short ponytail under a baseball cap and she wore no makeup. She looked vaguely familiar but he couldn’t place her.

He was about to turn away when the faint sound of the singing he’d last heard at Astbury gently caressed his ears. He looked again more closely, and this time he did a double take as he watched the girl take slow steps toward the check-in counter.

Walking toward her, his face broke into a smile because he knew as he got closer it was her. He reached over the barrier separating business from economy and tapped her on the shoulder.

She turned around in surprise.

“Hello, what are you doing here?” he asked. “I nearly didn’t recognize you with your dark hair and cap. And may I say”—he smiled—“that you look absolutely nothing like Violet.”

“No.” She shrugged. “I’ve realized that the whole thing was all smoke and mirrors.” She looked at him and frowned. “Didn’t you get the message to call me?”

“No, I have no power on my cell. So, what are you doing?”

“As you can see, I’m going to India.” She grinned at him and they both giggled.

“In economy?”

“Yup, I want to do it properly.”

“I understand,” he said, nodding, “but do you think that, on this one occasion, I might be able to persuade you to join me in club? Remember, I am a native of the country you’re flying to, and it would be sad if I weren’t able to spend the next nine hours helping you work out where you should be looking in order to go and discover yourself, don’t you think?”

She thought for a moment or two, then said, “I do, yes.”

“And perhaps I could come along too for some of it? Continue in my role as your spiritual guide and protector? India can be a pretty dangerous place for a young lady alone, you know.”

“Really? As dangerous as Astbury?” She gave him an ironic smile.

“I seriously doubt it. Well, Rebecca, will you join me?” He reached his hand across the barrier and she took it. They stood there for a few seconds, smiling at each other.

“Yes,” she replied.

“Here, let me take that,” Ari said as he released her hand, slipped the rucksack gently off her shoulders and hauled it over the barrier.

“You next,” he said.

He stood there, waiting for her as she ducked under the barrier that had separated them.

“Hello.” He grinned.

“Hello.”

And then he took her into his arms.

S
o, my story draws to a close, my child. All that remains is to tell you what happened when I returned to India. The Maharani welcomed me back into her arms as if I had never been away. The last ruby I discovered still safe in its hiding place under the pavilion, and I knew that beneath its dull, mud-covered exterior lay the key to my future freedom and independence.

Indira was desperate for me to accompany her back to her palace and take up my old role as her companion, traveling back and forth with her to Europe, but I declined her offer.

For you see, my Moh, I had been given a last gift by your father before he died. Only the heavens can explain how the tiny speck of life implanted inside me on the last night we spent together managed to weather the storms of my imprisonment, grief and subsequent illness, but survive it did. When I arrived back in Cooch Behar, it was confirmed by my old friend Zeena, the wise woman, that I was four months pregnant.

This time, there was no terror, only peace. Even though my heart broke over your loss, whether orchestrated by mere physical absence or death, I felt that at least there was a flowering of new life from the ashes of tragedy.

Indira returned to her own palace, husband and child soon after our arrival, but I stayed in Cooch Behar. A strange, sleepy calm descended upon me as I grew fatter, like a brood mare in a field full of new-mown hay.

Your sister, Muna, was born on the fifth of July, 1923, with Zeena in attendance. And my new baby proved to be as relaxed and peaceful as her entry into this world had been. I wondered sometimes, as I nursed her in my arms in the small hours and looked down upon her, whether she had inherited my gift. But it transpired as she grew up
that she had not. However, I know that, somewhere along the line, one of her children, or her children’s children, will inherit it. And that I’ll recognize it immediately when the time comes.

When Muna was five years old, I felt I must at last begin to form my own life, follow my dreams and move away from the protective shield of the palace.

Due mostly to my old matron at the London Hospital forwarding my nursing records from the time of the First World War, and a glowing reference from her, I was offered a placement at a local hospital and I began the official training necessary to become a nurse. Of course, my dream was always to become a doctor, but in 1928 in India, this was very rare for a woman.

But I made the most of my situation, and as India began to change, so did my opportunities. I became vociferous in my support of Gandhi, especially on the subject of women’s rights. My dear son, it might be true to say that I began to gather myself rather a reputation.

As I write this, we are ten years into independence from the British. The country still struggles to find its true identity, to believe it is capable of making decisions for itself after so many years of them being forced upon us. But I do believe we will get there. I’m currently, with the backing of Indira and her mother, setting up the first women’s hospital of its kind in India. With the help of royal connections, we are consulting with some eminent obstetricians from all over the world.

One in particular, a doctor from England, has been most helpful to me. Dr. Noah Adams works in St. Thomas’s Hospital on the women’s wards themselves, and has therefore been of vital practical help, as I struggle to put the nuts and bolts of patient care into place. I hope that, one day, when our hospital is completed, he will have time to visit me here.

My dearest Moh, I have come to the end of my story. If you are alive, as I’ve always believed you are, I wish you happiness, peace and contentment. And I can only pray that, if not in our lifetime, we will meet again when we pass over.

My child, always know that you were truly loved.

Your devoted mother,

Anahita x

I
’d like to thank my publishers around the world, especially Peter Borland at Atria Books, who inspired me to have the confidence to take on such a daunting challenge as
The Midnight Rose.
I hope I’ve met it. A special thank you to Catherine Richards at Pan Macmillan, who so patiently collated the manuscript, Jeremy Trevathan, Almuth Andreae and Georg Reuchlein, Judith Curr, Jorid Mathiassen and Knut Gorvell, Fernando and Milla Baracchini, Annalisa Lottini and Donatella Minuto. Without their friendship, encouragement and support, my books wouldn’t be reaching their audience.

There are many people who helped me with my research, including Raj Chahal, Dr. Preema Vig, Rachel Jaspar at Coram, Line Prasad, Pallavi Narayan, Mark at All Experts, Radhika Artlotto, Greg and his staff at the Dhara Dhevi Hotel, Chiang Mai, for not only giving me the peace I needed to write Anahita’s story, but also a short course in Ayurvedic medicine

My wonderful PA, Olivia Riley (who says family can’t work together successfully?); my fantastic friends and cheerleaders, Jacquelyn Heslop, Susan Boyd and Rita Kalagate; my mother, Janet and my sister, Georgia. And of course, my husband, Stephen, and my children, Harry, Isabella, Leonora and Kit. All of whom make the hard work worthwhile.

And lastly, all the wonderful new friends and readers I’ve made as I’ve traveled around the world, whose enthusiasm and support inspires me to keep writing.

T
he Midnight Rose
is a work of fiction set against a historical background. The sources I’ve used to research the time period and detail on my characters’ lives are listed below:

Gayatri Devi,
A Princess Remembers: The Memoirs of the Maharani of Jaipur
(  Rupa Publications, 1995)

Lucy Moore,
Maharanis: The Lives and Times of Three Generations of Indian Princesses
(  Penguin, 2004)

Vasant Lad,
The Complete Book of Ayurvedic Home Remedies
(  Piatkus Books, 1999)

Amy Stewart,
Wicked Plants
(Algonquin Books, 2010)

Trevor Royle,
Last Days of the Raj
(Michael Joseph Ltd., 1989)

Lionel D. Barnett,
Hindu Gods and Heroes: Studies in the History of the Religion of India
(Crest Publishing, 1995)

E. M. Forster,
A Passage to India
( Penguin, 1974)

Ruth Prawer Jhabvala
, Heat and Dust
(Abacus, 2011)

Rudyard Kipling,
Rewards and Fairies
( Folio Society, 1999)

Paul Scott,
The Raj Quartet
(Arrow; New Ed, 1996)