As the bus ground to a halt, the servants dashed from the veranda to collect the luggage or provide umbrellas. Everyone prepared to alight, but their guide held up his hands for silence, asking them to wait for a moment.

‘Welcome to the Rajah Palace Hotel. It is the finest hotel in Calcutta and it is an honour for us that you will be staying here.’ He eyed them all, his smile fading. ‘But it is to my greatest sorrow that I must ask you not to leave the hotel grounds unaccompanied – especially you ladies.’

He quelled the uneasy murmurs by raising his hand again. ‘There is much trouble in our beautiful country,’ he said. ‘There are those who are becoming vociferous in their demands for an independent India, and these trouble-makers are also stirring up unrest amongst the Muslims and Sikhs. The British Rule is under great pressure, with many attacks upon their homes and offices. If you do leave the confines of the Rajah Palace, then I strongly advise you to hire a guide who will also act as a guard.’

He smiled and reached into the top pocket of his sweat-stained jacket. ‘My company is proud to supply such people, so I will give each of you my business card as you leave the bus.’

‘There’s a surprise,’ Jane muttered cynically. ‘And here’s me thinking he was actually concerned for our safety.’

‘Hush. He’ll hear you,’ replied Sarah, joining the shuffling queue to leave the bus.

They took the card from the bowing man and, sheltered by the servants carrying umbrellas, made their way to the veranda. More servants quickly appeared as the luggage was placed in the enormous reception hall which was three floors high and topped by a cupola decorated in filigree gold and bright blue. The reception hall was furnished with deep couches, low tables, large ferns in brass pots, a tinkling water fountain, and numerous fans which cooled the torpid heat of the afternoon.

They were assigned their room and followed the porter up the highly polished teak staircase to the second floor. ‘Goodness,’ breathed Jane as she stepped into a room redolent with the heavenly scent of sandalwood and white lilies. ‘This reminds me of Malaya.’

Sarah tipped the servant and waited for him to close the door before she took in the surroundings. The room was large and airy with plenty of ceiling fans to dispel the heat. There was heavy, dark furniture which had been intricately carved with animals and flowers; a decorative hand-painted screen hid twin bathtubs on clawed feet, and a tiny privy, and the two wide beds were covered with silk spreads and beautifully embroidered cushions. White mosquito nets of the finest mesh had been tied back to the barley-sugar bedposts, and delicate voile curtains gently swayed from the draught of the fans over the floor-to-ceiling shutters that covered the window.

Jane threw the shutters open and exclaimed in delight. ‘Oh, do come and look, Sarah. We’ve got a balcony and the garden below is utterly divine.’