The Raj Hotel, New Year’s Eve
After dinner, Stella organised them into a game of charades. Jimmy and Mr Hoffman were acting out the title of a book, trying to convey the meaning of the middle word of a three-word title. Jimmy was jumping about and Mr Hoffman was pulling his lugubrious face in ever increasing expressions of pain. Suggestions were shouted out.
‘Anger?’
‘Horror?’
‘Dracula!’ Stella squealed with laughter.
‘There’s only one word in that title, darling,’ said Hester.
‘Hoffman looks decidedly ill,’ said Fritwell.
‘Desperate Remedies!’ called out Ansom.
‘That’s two words,’ Hester reminded him.
Hoffman sank to his knees and Jimmy mimed climbing a rope.
‘The Ancient Mariner?’ suggested Charlie.
‘That’s a poem,’ said Ansom. ‘Are you allowed to do poems?’
‘No,’ said Stella.
‘It’s not a poem,’ protested Jimmy.
‘No speaking!’ ordered Stella.
Mrs Shankley waved her ear trumpet in excitement. ‘Return of the Native!’
‘That’s four words,’ pointed out Hester. ‘But a nice try, darling.’
‘Jude the Obscure,’ said Fritwell.
‘How could it possibly be that?’ Ansom laughed.
‘Well, it all looks dashed obscure to me,’ grunted his friend.
‘Do the whole title, Jimmy,’ Myrtle advised her son. ‘Or no one else will get a turn.’
In desperation, Jimmy whispered to Hoffman. The retired policeman went on all fours and Jimmy did the same behind him. They moved about the floor, stopping to wave an arm in front and then continue on.
‘The Pilgrim’s Progress?’ Charlie queried.
Helpless with laughter, Esmie said, ‘I think they’re supposed to be animals.’
‘Could be elephants,’ said Fritwell.
‘Good thinking, Fritters,’ said Ansom. ‘What’s that one about the elephants crossing the Alps?’
Stella leapt up and waved her hand in the air. ‘I’ve got it, I’ve got it! It’s The Jungle Book!’
Jimmy sprang to his feet, grinning. ‘Yes, it is.’
Hoffman sighed in relief and pulled out a handkerchief to mop his brow. Ansom and Charlie helped him to his feet and into a chair.
‘Excellent acting, sir,’ praised Charlie. ‘We should have guessed it long before we did.’
While the next couple were chosen from the hat, Myrtle supervised the handing round of cheese pastries while Charlie made sure that drinks were refreshed. Esmie was so full of dinner that she couldn’t manage either. Stella unfurled the strips of paper and read out the names.
‘Ooh, Daddy,’ she giggled, ‘it’s you and Mrs Shankley.’
Charlie gave a gallant bow and led the deaf resident to the corner of the room to discuss their book title in loud whispers.
‘Daddy, we can hear you,’ Stella cried.
‘Put on some music, darling,’ Hester suggested.
Jimmy rushed over to the gramophone and wound it up. Ragtime music filled the room. Abruptly, Esmie was reminded sharply of Ebbsmouth and Lydia. She wondered how life was at Templeton Hall. There had hardly been time for a reply to her letter to come from Lydia, even by airmail, but she doubted she would get one. As time went on, Esmie had questioned whether she should have written at all. Had she added fuel to the fire of Lydia’s resentment towards Tom? Charlie had received a telegram from Tom to say that they had arrived safely in Scotland and wishing them all a happy Christmas. But apart from that, no one knew how the Lomaxes were or when – if ever – they would be returning to Rawalpindi.
Yet, to Esmie’s surprise, Christmas had been a happy one. She was deeply grateful for the Duboises and her friends at the hotel for making her one of the family. From the moment she had arrived they had fussed over her, giving her the secluded Elgin room with its charming view of the jacaranda tree in the courtyard.
On Christmas Eve, Charlie had made his special punch and Esmie had joined in the traditional hotel party for a short while. The next morning Ansom and Fritwell had accompanied her to the Scots Kirk and afterwards she had joined all the residents for lunch in the dining room and then taken herself off for a walk around the tree-lined streets. She had avoided the Mall and the cricket ground, not wanting to run into acquaintances of the Lomaxes or be reminded of the previous year. Instead she had meandered in the mellow sunshine, looping back through the Saddar Bazaar, and found solace in the bustle of Indians going about their day.
On Boxing Day the Duboises had insisted on taking her to spend the day with Myrtle’s family, the Dixons, in Lalkutri Bazaar. Esmie had been overwhelmed by how she had been warmly welcomed into the home of these complete strangers. Their flat was crowded and noisy with family arriving, bringing presents and food to share. All day there was eating and drinking, sing-songs and party games. Stella stuck close to Esmie, showing her off to her cousins and making sure she was enjoying herself.
‘You’re not sad, are you?’ the girl kept asking.
Esmie had to hold back tears at her concern. ‘I’m enjoying every minute,’ she answered, pulling Stella into a hug. ‘Thank you.’
Tonight, as the old year waned, Esmie was glad to be at the Raj Hotel surrounded by friends, amid their laughter and teasing conversation. It was the tonic her bruised heart needed. She stayed up long enough for them to toast in the New Year.
Esmie caught the look of sympathy in Charlie’s eyes as he raised his glass and said, ‘To absent friends!’
Her vision blurred as they all repeated the toast. Her mind was full of memories of Harold – of her Aunt Isobel, Jeanie and Norrie – and of Tom, Lydia and Andrew.
Suddenly she felt Stella’s warm hand slip into hers. Esmie squeezed it in gratitude.
‘To the New Year!’ Charlie cried. ‘To a happy and healthy 1921!’