It's November 1866 and I'm living in our hill station bungalow near Shimla, it's much cooler up here and safer too after the revolt of 1857, we still took precautions of course especially where my wife was concerned, but the troubles where mostly forgotten. I'm Sam 57 years of age and a retired civil service administrator, my wife Sarah is currently away at her sisters with her ladies maid, which just leaves me and Jonathan the house boy. All very simple and economical as well as all we have is my pension, my wife's inheritance and some investment income from our time in London. There's a live out cook and occasionally some extra servants when we entertain, a simple life but rewarding in this beautiful country.
The bungalow has one master bedroom, four guest rooms, a large lounge and a kitchen and out houses. All the windows have sturdy shutters and can be locked from within. Both doors are very well built with sliding cross bars, when all locked up we feel very safe and importantly no one can see in. We have a well and a kitchen garden and we keep chickens and goats too. I'd had two water tanks built on the flat roof and if filled early in the day they catch the sun and provide a good quantity of heated water for the evening, it has to hand pumped up there of course but that's Jonathan's duty.
My wife was at her sisters for the arrival of her third baby which was due in about a week, and we'd agreed she stay two weeks after the birth, she wrote regularly and could send a telegram if urgent enough. All quite normal, we ourselves where childless although God knows we'd tried enough, so I understood Sarah liked to be around children and babies, I did miss her and indeed our regular sexual congress.
That Saturday had been hot and we'd been out mending a fence in the bottom paddock and had returned hot and sweaty at five. Cook had left a curry on the stove and gone back to her family. We ate together in the kitchen and I left Jonathan to tidy and wash up. We had a simple shower room and I found the water agreeably hot and washed all the days grime off me. I called through to Johnathan that he could shower too and dressed in our bedroom. On those hot nights I liked to redress in just a thin silk dressing gown, much cooler and modest enough if firmly belted.
Back in the lounge I found he'd lit the oil lamps, mixed my whisky and soda and laid out my paper. Jonathan had put on simple stripped cotton pyjamas and was standing by the door.
'You can sit if you want, no need for formality when there's just the two of us, take a sherry too.'
I meant it too, I liked to be informal around him when the occasion allowed. He was taller than me, but much thinner and lighter, he thought he was 19 but wasn't really sure. We spent a companionable evening reading and he would refill my drink every now and then and I'd point at the sherry decanter so he could refill his own. Of course he was unused to drink, unlike me so by about 10 he swayed a bit on his feet.
