A Garland of Marigolds (22 page)

“
No? You must be feeling very obtuse!
”

I made an irate gesture and we very nearly left the dusty strip that passed as a road. With an effort I pulled at the wheel to find that Gideon
’
s hand was already there. As soon as we were straight he placed his hand over mine and it was as much as I could do to steer at all.

“
It isn
’
t kind to play with other people
’
s feelings!
”
I tossed at him.

His eyebrows shot up.

“
Is that what I
’
m doing? How interesting! By the way, I
’
ve been meaning to tell you all afternoon that there
’
s a letter waiting for you at the station.
”

“
For me?
”
I stammered.

“
That
’
s right. A pale blue envelope with an American stamp on it!
”

My mouth suddenly went dry. I put my foot on the accelerator
and we shot forward. I braked very nearly as sharply and almost stalled the engine.

“
Timothy,
”
I whispered.

He grinned.
“
It seems likely, though if I
’
d known it was going to have this effect on you I would have waited until we were home before telling you about it!
”

I apologized and concentrated harder on my driving.

“
It isn
’
t really very exciting,
”
I tried to explain.
“
It
’
s only the answer to my letter to him.
”

“
So you did write?
”
he prompted me.

I nodded.
“
I don
’
t suppose you
’
ll ever understand,
”
I said with a sudden burst of confidence.
“
I can
’
t understand it myself! I was so sure that I was in love with Timothy!
”

He turned off the ignition key and the jeep slowly came to a halt. For a second I thought my driving had fallen to pieces, but I didn
’
t really care. For the first time that day I felt cool and almost happy.

“
Why did you do that?
”
I demanded.

He shrugged his shoulders.

“
I just wanted to sit here forever and watch the clouds blow overhead.
”

I looked up at the sky.

“
Besides,
”
Gideon went on,
“
I want to hear about your letter to Timothy.
”

I bit my lip, forgetting all about the clouds.

“
There
’
s nothing to tell,
”
I said.
“
That
’
s the trouble. There never was anything to tell, but I only realized it a week or so ago. I suddenly couldn
’
t even remember his face properly!
”

“
Had you ever really looked at it?
”
he asked.

I was indignant, but I shook my head.

“
Okay,
”
he said.
“
Now that you
’
ve admitted it, you can drive us both home and read your letter.
”

“
Do you think it will thunder?
”
I asked.

He put out his hands just as the first drops of rain began to descend from the sky.

“
I think it
’
s going to rain,
”
he said, and we laughed like a couple of children. I only stopped laughing when I thought of all the welding that still had to be done.

CHAPTER TWELVE

I
had never seen it rain so hard. By day I worked on the dam, the water dripping down the back of my neck. As soon as the welding was completed, the men covered the shiny black surface with mud. Gideon, his leg so much better that they had pared away at the plaster until his movements were considerably less restricted, used the roller on the edges, weighting it down and rolling it into the soil until there was no chance of any of it breaking free and tearing.

The narrow stream swelled into a river and the two tanks of the reservoir began to fill. The actual dam was not yet necessary and would have caused flooding, but everything was ready to control the flow of the water. At last, it seemed, the project was complete and there was no reason why the village should ever be short of water again.

And still it rained. Not the mild, caressing rain of the temperate lands, but a pouring torrent of raindrops bouncing off the earth again and again and penetrating deep into the earth until the land became a sea of mud.

“
And to think that I thought the heat was trying!
”
I remarked one day to Camilla. We were both lying on our beds.

“
It wouldn
’
t be so bad if Julie went home!
”
she said mournfully.

I didn
’
t trust myself to answer. The thought of Julie was a constant burden, weighing down my spirits and making me less and less sure of myself. She was like a cat in the rain, bad-tempered and spiteful, and she never went out if she could help it. It was only at night that she really came alive, and she and Gideon would sit for hours on the verandah until the early hours of the morning. It had become impossible for me to sleep until I heard her high heels clattering down the corridor to her bedroom.

“
Perhaps she will never leave,
”
I said thoughtlessly.

Camilla sat up with a bounce.
“
What do you mean?
”

I got off the bed decisively.
“
Nothing! Gideon likes having her here, though, so why shouldn
’
t she stay?
”

“
I could give you any number of reasons!
”
Camilla
said
flatly.
I ruffled through the papers on the table and
came across
Timothy
’
s letter. How funny, I thought, that I had hardly
bothered
to read it that evening. I had been so taken up with Gideon and
so
hopeful of so many things.

“
I think she
’
s mad, like her parents!
”
Camilla announced quite casually.

“
Very likely!
”
I agreed.

Timothy
’
s handwriting was practically incomprehensible. He was glad I was happy in India because it was extremely unlikely that he would ever return to England. The work he was doing was interesting and, he thought, valuable to the Western world. He was making a good salary and thought he would probably marry and settle down in America.

“
Joseph says she simply hates you,
”
Camilla told me with relish.
“
Lucky you, that
’
s all I can say. She seems determined that we shall be bosom friends.
”

I laughed.
“
You
’
re Gideon
’
s sister,
”
I said dryly.

She blinked determinedly at
me.

“
I wonder what she
’
ll think when
I marry Joe,
”
she mused.
“
He
says we have to wait until Gideon accepts that his
work
is as
good
as anyone else
’
s, but that
won
’
t take forever!
”

I turned quickly.
“
But Camilla, you
’
re
so
young!
”

Camilla hugged her knees
happily.
“
All
the
better! I
’
ll have
more years with Joseph!
Is that letter
from Timothy?
”

I nodded sadly, because it was
sad,
in a way,
that Timothy
had never been mine and never would be.

“
He says he
’
ll send a card at Christmas,
”
I
said rather
bitterly.
“
And you like him?
”
Camilla demanded, wrinkling up
her
nose in displeasure.

“
Not much,
”
I admitted honestly.
“
But
he
was
there,
and
now
there
’
s no one.
”

Camilla looked very wise and nodded her head.

“
Never mind,
”
she said.
“
You have the
dam,
and
now
that
it
’
s
finished—all but
—
and the rains
have come, you
’
ll be famous!
”
Which was cold comfort indeed and not
at all what I wanted.
With my usual neat, precise
movements, I
tore
Timothy
’
s letter up
into little pieces. One of the best things about
a research station is
that there is always work to be
done
and one can
’
t
feel sorry for
oneself for long with a test tube in
one
hand and a spade
in the
other. If I couldn
’
t be loved at
least
I could
be dedicated.

“
Oh, by the way,
”
Camilla added,
“
you don
’
t really
have
to
worry about Julie, because I have a
plan to deal with her.
I
’
m
not
having her for a sister-in-law,
whatever she might think!
”

I gazed at her helplessly.

“
I don
’
t think you ought to interfere,
”
I
said at last.

But Camilla was not so easily
dissuaded.

“
How many days is it until the last
concrete block is
placed
on
the dam? That will be when
she
decides
to go, you
’
ll
see!
”

I must say I hoped that Camilla was right, but
it seemed
very
unlikely. Julie spread her possessions about
the house, like
a
spider wrapping up its victim. Nothing
escaped her soft
sweetness
or her cloying endearments.

I met her on my way to the
village.

“
Are you going out again?
”
she asked.

I smiled and nodded.
“
Have you seen
Gideon?
”
I
countered.
Her expression didn
’
t change, but she became
still and
watchful.
“
He doesn
’
t want to see you just now,
”
she
said at last.
“
He
’
s
busy with other things.
”

“
I see,
”
I said.
“
Perhaps you
’
d tell him
that the rice
needs weeding at the top of the valley?
”

“
I
’
ll try to remember,
”
she smiled.
“
Have you thought
any more
about going back to England?
”

“
Not yet.
”
It was very difficult to be pleasant
to her when I
wanted to throw her out of the house, to destroy the
pretty image
she maintained. I turned to look at her.
“
Would you like to walk
down to the village with me? It isn
’
t
raining
at
the moment.
”

She retired into herself, looking
small and rather
pathetic.
“
Oh no, I couldn
’
t! The mud would
ruin my
shoes!
”
She
smiled her secret smile.
“
I
’
m not tough like
you,
”
she
added, her voice tinged with malice.

“
No,
”
I agreed comfortably,
“
you
’
re not.
”
And
without waiting to see if the shot had gone
home, I
started off to the village. In the few minutes between downpours of rain everybody had
come outside to shop and gossip with neighbors. Lakshmi
’
s sister came running across the street and touched my arm. We smiled and greeted one another.

The gentlemen of the
panchayat
were waiting for me in the metalsmith
’
s small shop. We went through the shop, with its shavings of copper, tin and other metals and that inimitable smell of hot metal, and into the living space where one of the more venerable of the old men lived. My host greeted me with gentle courtesy and I was surprised to see that Gideon was seated beside him.

“
You
’
re late!
”
he said to me with a grin.

“
I was waiting for it to stop raining,
”
I explained. Try as I would I was quite incapable of sitting comfortably on the floor, but Gideon seemed to manage it, his broken leg sticking out in front of him.

“
We have heard from the government,
”
our host told me in tones pregnant with awed complacency.
“
They are coming to see our dam. They are coming to see for themselves what can be done to preserve water!
”

I looked around at their solemn faces and felt rather proud of our achievement. Gideon was grinning and I smiled back at him.

“
When are they coming?
”
I asked.

The old men stroked their beards in renewed
ecstasy
.

“
On the day of the new moon.
”

“
Next Saturday,
”
Gideon supplied. They all nodded, their eyes shining with excitement, and I was terribly glad that, for the moment at any rate, I was one of them. This was my village and I was extremely proud of it.

“
Will it rain on Saturday?
”
I asked.