Free East of the Sun by Julia Gregson Page A

married.

Chapter Nine
    Gibraltar
    Mr. and Mrs. Percival Wetherby
    Park House
    Nr. Middle Wallop
    Hampshire
    October 21, 1928
    Darling Daddy and Mummy,
    We arrive in Gibraltar in about an hour’s time, so will try and post this then.
    I’ve been lying in my bunk—Tor is still asleep—reading my Spanish phrase book, and have just read this: Gracias a la vida, que me ha dado tanto. (Thanks be to life, which has given me so much.) Isn’t that lovely? It made me think about all the splendid things you have given me: not just Park House as a place to grow up, but the ponies, the dogs, the camping trips, you and all the wonderful times we have had together.
    I hope you are not too sad at not having your Froggie at home, but rest assured she is excited about all that lies ahead, and Tor and I are having the most balloon times.
    There are so many nice people in first class, and also, don’t worry about Miss Holloway being so young. She is very kind and keeps a good eye on us and knows India like the back of her hand because she grew up there. We are also very spoiled by our cabin steward, Suday. I don’t know why people talk down to natives. I have nothing against them at all, and he is perfectly sweet.
    Every night there are parties or entertainments planned and supervised, and we have found it easy to join in. One of our new best friends is Nigel, who has a junior post in the civil service somewhere in the west of India; he is fairly quiet, but very clever and has a good sense of humor. Unlike most people on the Kaisar he is sick at heart at having to go back to India because he’s done four years there in a remote province and wants to stay home. Last year he said a local man came to him with his wife’s ear wrapped up in a piece of newspaper. He had cut it off in a jealous rage, but now he had forgiven her and was wondering if Nigel could think of any way of putting it back! The other bods on board are tea planters, army officers, and so on, also quite a few children and their ayahs.
    We’ve also met a friend of Mrs. Mallinson’s, Jane Burrell (rather horsey and noisy) and her three friends. Frank, the ship’s junior doctor, is a very good egg. He’s working his passage to India so he can do some research out there on some sort of malaria, can’t remember what, but a kind I hadn’t heard of. He’s also keeping an eye on us and now tells us lots of gruesome things about suicides at sea and doing operations during force-nine gales. He isgreat fun and very good-looking. I think Tor has her eye on him!
    Later.
    Sorry, didn’t finish! Will post in Malta.
    A party of eight of us went ashore, so there were lots of people to keep an eye on us. Frank (the doctor) knew a respectable restaurant overlooking the harbor with sawdust on the floor and a fat senorita who waddled around in her sandals.
    For lunch we had some sort of fish, caught that morning, and prawns, then she laid out three puddings of such deliciousness I thought I was dreaming. (Much more of this and I shall simply waddle down the aisle. Food is an obsession on board. There are about fifty dishes on the menu each night.) Frank made us laugh by telling us a story about one Fishing Fleet girl who got so fat on board that when she arrived in India her new husband didn’t recognize her.
    It was almost dark by the time we got out and Tor and I and assorted bods from the ship walked down toward the harbor and the sight of it all lit up and with music wafting out and so much for me to look forward to made me feel how wonderful it was to be alive.
    Mummy, darling, help, please. I’ve been reading my wedding etiquette book and getting into a fizz. For example, they say that speeches are out of fashion but if someone must prepare a toast it should be some old family friend. Who should I ask? I hardly know Ci Ci Mallinson so it seems rather forward. Could you write to Jack and ask? Also is it de rigueur in India to have a wedding breakfast? Do you think I should wear