A Division Of The Spoils (Raj Quartet 4) (16 page)

‘Will the person coming up be you, Ronald?’

‘Possibly.’

They concentrated on their food.

Presently Perron said to her, ‘I suppose it’ll be quite a homecoming on Wednesday? Is there a special train laid on for the regiment?’

‘There was hardly a train-load left. But they went back about three weeks ago. My father stayed on in Bombay because when the boat docked there were some men who had to go straight to hospital and he didn’t want to leave them behind at this stage of the game.’

‘That was very nice of him.’

‘Yes, I thought so. The men appreciated it. A bit tough on my mother of course. She couldn’t come to Bombay because my sister hasn’t been well. But she’s talked to the sick men’s families and passed on messages and of course father’s visited the hospital every day and been able to cheer them up.’

‘How many sick men were there?’

‘Only six. Five sepoys and a havildar.’ She spoke across the table. ‘If Father’s obstinate about getting off at Delhi to get permission to see Havildar Muzzafir Khan we’ll probably find the sick men obstinate about not going on alone to Pankot, especially the havildar because he and Karim Muzzafir Khan were friends. In fact they’re related.’ She turned again to Perron. ‘The first battalion is very close knit. Hill regiments often are. My father can look at the nominal roll and draw a family tree of nearly every man on it. I mean if Naik X is married to a daughter of ex-Havildar Y, he’d know. Does that strike you as silly?’

‘No,’ Perron said. ‘As admirable.’

‘Yes. Admirable. And sad. Wouldn’t you say sad? Particularly if you’d watched most of them die and seen the rest carted off as prisoners, and felt responsible.’

Merrick put his fork down. Nazimuddin offered him the tray but he declined another helping. Throughout the meal the gloved hand and artificial arm had been disposed on the surface of the table. He leant back, hooked the good arm over the back of his chair and stared at his empty plate, waited for
the others to finish. When they had done so Nazimuddin came in with the shape: shapes, rather – three of them, turned out into glass bowls from individual fluted moulds. The shapes were white and looked tasteless but there was a bowl of jam to liven them up. Having served Miss Layton Nazimuddin went across to Merrick.

‘Since your Aunt Fenny isn’t here to feel hurt, do you mind if I say no?’ Without waiting for her answer he said to the servant, ‘Give mine to the sergeant. It will build him up. Not that you look starved exactly, but then sergeants seldom do. You manage to do yourselves pretty well, I suppose.’

‘Usually, sir.’

‘Even in India?’

‘I think rather better in India, sir. One doesn’t depend so much on diverting rations meant for the officers as one does at home.’

Merrick looked at the mat that marked his place at table, and at the spoon and fork he was not going to use. Miss Layton said, ‘I’m afraid there’s no savoury, Ronald. Perhaps you’d like to go and talk to Father, then we could all have coffee and Mr Perron could be on his way.’

‘Perhaps that will be as well.’ He began to get up, rather awkwardly, tucking the artificial arm close to his body. When he had gone Miss Layton said, ‘You must have known someone called Rowan, too.’

‘Nigel Rowan?’

She nodded.

‘Only as one of the minor figures on Olympus would know Zeus. He came out here to the army, didn’t he? I remember, because he was always walking away with prizes for classics and I thought he’d carry on in that field or at least go into the
ICS
if he really wanted an Indian career.’

‘Yes, he is in the army, but he was transferred to the political department in ’thirty-eight or ’thirty-nine. He had to go back to his regiment when the war started. He was in the first Burma campaign and got fever badly. At the moment he’s
ADC
to the Governor in Ranpur. He told me he was trying to get back into the Political.’

‘Does he still have what I recall as a very detached and patrician manner?’

She smiled. ‘I think it is only a manner. Will you have the other shape?’

‘No, thank you.’

‘They weren’t very good, were they? Shall we go in then?’

Nazimuddin had carried the coffee tray through into the livingroom. Following her, he stood for a moment and studied the Zoffany-style pictures and then watched while she poured coffee from a silver-plated pot. He took the cup from her, sat down.

‘What does your uncle do?’

‘He runs a course about civil and military administration in India in peace time. To attract young officers into the
ICS
or the police when the war’s over.’

‘English officers?’

‘Indians too. But mostly English.’

‘Does he have much success?’

‘More in Bombay than in Calcutta. He expects even more in view of the result of the election in England.’

‘Yes, I suppose some people must think the prospects at home are now pretty bleak. But aren’t the prospects for an Indian career even bleaker?’

She was stirring
ghur
in to her coffee, occasionally stopping, tapping the spoon on the rim of the cup and then resuming. ‘It’s some years since anyone in their right mind thought of India as a career, if you mean India as a place where you could expect to spend the whole of your working life.’

‘Is your father coming up to retiring age?’

‘He hasn’t long to go now. He’ll be one of the lucky ones, I should think. The hardest hit will be men like Nigel Rowan, I mean men of his age. It depends on how power’s eventually transferred. If there’s a prolonged handing-over period, and if Uncle Arthur’s right when he says the Indians will be glad to have experienced Englishmen working with them, then men like Nigel might have quite a few more years useful working life out here. But I don’t think Uncle Arthur’s right, do you? I don’t think there’ll be a prolonged handing-over period.’

‘Why?’

‘Because that would be the logical thing and I think the whole situation’s become too emotional for logic to come into it.’

He waited for her to continue but she seemed to have come to a stop. He said, ‘How will you feel about it, when it happens?’

‘I shouldn’t want to stay on.’

‘Why, especially?’

‘I don’t think it’s a country one can be happy in.’

‘You’d be happy in England?’

‘I didn’t care for it much when I first went home as a child. But it’s where I really grew up and started to think for myself. It’s where I feel I belong. I know India much better, but ever since my sister and I came out again after going home to school I’ve only felt like a visitor.’

‘Does your sister feel the same?’

‘I think a bit the same. She tried not to. But it’s difficult to say what she feels nowadays. She’s had rather a bad time.’

‘Major Merrick told me what happened to her husband. I’m sorry.’

‘Did he mention his part in it?’

‘Yes.’

She drank her coffee. She said, ‘I’m sorry you don’t remember Hari Kumar. Nigel does.’

He thought she intended to say more but just then they heard Merrick’s footsteps.

‘I think that’s settled,’ he said. She glanced at him as if to judge from his expression how gently he had dealt with her father. Perron glanced at him too but could tell nothing. As in the dockyard-hut the night of Karim Muzzafir Khan’s interrogation, Merrick lifted his right hand and looked at the watch which he wore with the face on the inner-side of the wrist.

‘I’ll skip coffee if you don’t mind. I’ve got some work to finish back at the hotel. And before that, of course, I must help the sergeant to find his jeep.’ He nodded at Perron. ‘If you’re ready.’

‘There’s surely time for a cup? Mr Perron, perhaps you’d like another? Or the drink you never got?’

‘The sergeant has to drive.’

‘Does he really have to? Weren’t you on duty of some sort at the Maharanee’s party, Mr Perron?’

‘Yes, I was.’

‘Well who’s to say when it might have ended? If you don’t really have to report back to Kalyan tonight we could always give you a shake-down here. Frankly I don’t think you should go all that way after the sort of evening you’ve had. We can send Nazimuddin out scouting for a taxi if your work is all that urgent, Ronald. Or you could wait until Uncle Arthur’s back. He’s using the staff-car.’

‘I think you’re asking the sergeant to risk getting into trouble.’

‘There’d be no risk of that, sir. I’m allowed to use my discretion to a great extent and there are a number of perfectly adequate reasons why I might stay in Bombay overnight if that’s what I decided.’

‘Good. Then you’ll stay, Mr Perron?’

Momentarily he was tempted to accept, help her get rid of Merrick which is what it seemed she wanted, and be alone with her for a while. But very soon the flat would be invaded by its owners, her aunt and uncle, and there would be explanations to make, chat about Purvis, chat about the course, chat about staying on in India.
Raj
chat. And she would fade back into that dreary predictable background. He was sorry for her. He felt she deserved better of life. But so many of them did. There was nothing he could do. Their lives were not his affair. He had his own to live. Their dissatisfaction, their boredom, the strain they always seemed to be under, were largely their own fault. The real world was outside. Impatient, he stood up. If you allowed yourself to sympathize too much they would destroy you. You would lose what you valued most. Your objectivity.

He said, ‘It’s very kind of you, Miss Layton, but what I have to do in Kalyan tomorrow is more important than what I might do in Bombay, so the quicker I get back the better. In any case, I’ve already offered Major Merrick a lift to the Taj.’

‘Then I won’t press you. Incidentally, my father asked me to make sure you know how grateful he is for the whisky and how sorry he was to be so much under the weather.’

They were all on their feet now. Merrick began to go into details of the arrangements for getting to the station the
following day. Perron moved away since none of this concerned him. He retrieved his pack and occupied himself pretending to check the straps. That done he stood up and humped the pack on his left shoulder and waited. Merrick was still talking as he and Miss Layton came through to the archway between dining-room area and passage, where Perron stood. Her arms were folded in the manner Perron assumed was characteristic – hands gripping elbows; one grip loose, the other tight. Too tight? An attitude more of self-control than of self-possession?

Merrick said, ‘Tomorrow, then,’ and with his right hand reached for and held her left shoulder and bent his head. Instinctively she bent hers away so that the kiss was placed somewhere near her right ear. Her eyes were closed. She smiled, as if to herself, and said, ‘Tomorrow.’ Merrick let her go. He nodded at the closed door, mutely commanding its opening. Miss Layton called Nazimuddin and then put out her hand.

‘Goodbye, Mr Perron.’

The hand was cool and dry. The delicate aroma of the scent she used added to his pleasure in holding it. He thanked her for her hospitality and said goodbye. ‘Perhaps we’ll meet again,’ she said. From behind him Nazimuddin asked if a taxi were wanted. Told that it wasn’t he opened the door and salaamed to Perron as he went out. Merrick said goodnight to Miss Layton. Just before the door shut on them Perron caught her slight gestures: a nod, a movement of one hand. They were meant for him.

*

The rain had stopped some time ago but there were no stars, no breaks in the cloud-cover. Neither had the last downpour cooled the air, although there was a hint of freshness in the warm intermittent breeze that played around the palm-fringed
maidan.
He walked a pace or two behind Merrick until they reached an intersection where Merrick stopped. A taxi had drawn up to let its passengers out. ‘We’ll take this, sergeant, since it’s here. It might save us getting wet. I’ll drop you and go on to the hotel.’ He got in after giving the driver
instructions and Perron followed, glad to be saved the walk and the prolonging of the effort of being civil to Merrick which the walk and a jeep drive would have involved. Escape was imminent.

‘A very nice girl, Miss Layton, sir.’

Merrick took his time replying.

‘She has many admirable qualities. Her father certainly has cause to be grateful to her.’

‘Oh?’

‘When a man leaves a family of women behind one of them has to assume responsibility for keeping things going. I think she assumed most of it. But of course it tends to develop a girl’s domineering instinct. As perhaps you noticed.’

‘No, I didn’t notice that, sir.’ He added, ‘This looks familiar. It was somewhere about here.’

‘The next road on the left, in fact. Did she refer at all to Kumar when you were alone?’

‘Only to say she was sorry I didn’t appear to remember him.’

‘What did you say?’

‘Nothing.’

As the taxi pulled up Merrick said, ‘I’ll wait until you’ve made sure of your jeep.’

The gates of the house at which the taxi stopped were shut, perhaps padlocked, and the house apparently in darkness. Perron was almost grateful for Merrick’s suggestion. Arrangements made by Purvis were probably not very reliable.

But in this case they were, in all respects except that of security. Directly Perron reached the closed iron gates a lamp was shone on him and a cockney voice said, ‘Come for your gharry, Sarge?’ Perron said he had and went back to the taxi.

‘Everything’s in order, sir.’

Merrick was looking out of the other window. He did not move.

He said, ‘One case you should find interesting when you join me is that of the brother of the young Indian you met tonight.’

‘Ahmed Kasim?’

Merrick turned his head, put a finger to his lips, and nodded in the driver’s direction. ‘He went over to Bose in Malaya. We got him in Manipur last year. It is interesting when you think
who the father is. Right. I’ll see you in Delhi. In a couple of days or so, I expect.’

Perron shut the door and threw up a smart one which so far as he could make out Merrick acknowledged in the languid manner officers cultivated. The taxi drew away. Perron watched it go down the poorly-lit tree-lined street.