The Sandalwood Tree by Elle Newmark

was against her rough exterior
.
    I will always love Katie & Felicity, but one is lost to me and the other can be naught but my sister. Still, I have love in my heart; that is a gift, & I am grateful
.
    Felicity & I hung lanterns & fire-pots inside & outside the house, & when the servants brought us baskets of carrot halwa & almond cakes, we gave them baksheesh in exchange
.
    Felicity’s Indian friend also brought us a basket that reminded me of
treasure from a shipwreck, an elaborate affair heaped with fresh fruits, chutneys, glazed lotus seeds, Persian dates & bunches of marigolds in leaf cups. Well, he is a wealthy man. I thanked him as I thanked the others, but Felicity held his hand in both of hers, & I had the impression that something unsaid passed between them
.
    At night, we sat on the verandah with marigolds in our hair, & watched fireworks breach the night sky, spitting like fat in a fire, & I was touched. On the darkest night of the year in one of the most destitute countries in the world, people celebrate the light. We retired to our beds humbled by their indefatigable hope
.
    November 1856
    Felicity’s cough has worsened & she has expressed a wish to go up to Pragpur to take the pure, high-country air. But when I asked Lalita to begin packing for us, I was shocked to hear that Felicity intended to go alone. She made light of it, saying, “Someone must stay to keep the servants from absconding with the house,” & she kissed my cheek sweetly. “I promise to make sketches of everything,” she said, “& I shall return fit & kicking.”
    But there is something evasive in her demeanour. I do not understand
.
    December 1856
    I miss her
.
    December 1856
    Felicity returned in the pink, & all my fears have vanished
.
    The air has gone frigid & we shiver luxuriously in the snapping cold. There is nothing more delightful than to sit in the sunshine, wrapped in an Indian shawl, & admire the distant peaks. Those mountains! When God gave us speech, he did not expect us to talk about the Himalayas. They appear like a mirage, an hallucination painted on the sky & at the sight of them one can only babble foolishly or remain silent
.
    In the evening the drawing room looks cheerful with a fire crackling in the grate. The moon on these clear winter nights is startlingly bright, & it is a
pleasant novelty to embroider our pillow covers by moonlight. Can this crisp white moon be the same one that hides behind grey clouds in London? A local woman with bangles on her arms, bells on her ankles & a ring in her nose sells us goose feathers to stuff our pillows. These bejewelled women in their vivid saris look like tropical birds fluttering through a dusty landscape, & I believe the earth gods must have conceived the notion of gold when first they beheld brown skin
.
    December 1856
    Christmas! We have decorated the bungalow with pine boughs & Lalita created a rangoli on the tea table, a marvellous display of red poinsettias & wild orchids arranged in concentric circles. We sat on the verandah singing “Adeste Fideles” & the servants once again came bearing baskets of fruits & cakes, & we again gave them baksheesh
.
    Felicity’s Indian friend visited, this time with a surprising basket filled with tins of mincemeat, sardines & smoked oysters, a bottle of tawny port & a wheel of genuine Stilton, all nestled in a bed of marigolds. He must have sent to an import shop in Calcutta months ago to accomplish this Christmas miracle. His largesse was surprising, but Felicity gushed on & on like an excitable girl. It made me uncomfortable
.
    Felicity & I went to the bazaar & bought heaps of sultanas & raisins for the plum pudding. At the spice merchant’s stall, we bought cinnamon & nutmeg scooped from sacks & weighed on a copper scale. We also purchased plenty of raw sugar to make the golden syrup for treacle tarts
.
    While Hakim roasted a peacock, which he later carved like an Oriental assassin wielding a sword, we made pudding & tarts in