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Authors: Louis de Bernieres

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BOOK: The Dust That Falls from Dreams
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107
Et in Arcadia Nos (2)

T
he following morning at seven, seen off by a lachrymose Ali Bey who waved forlornly after them, they departed for Kandy along the road originally built by the British for the purpose of conquering that inaccessible kingdom, at the request of the Kandians themselves, it appeared. Rosie sat in the front of Hugh’s car, with Esther on the back seat. She spent most of the time waving to her father, who was trailing behind on his Henley, trying to avoid the cloud of road dust being thrown up by the vehicle in front.

They stopped in Belummahara to buy pineapples, and in Kajugama, where they bought cashews to snack on during the journey. Near the beginning of the hill country Esther suddenly started shrieking with delight, and when Rosie turned round, she saw that her daughter was pointing to a troupe of monkeys that was hurtling through the roadside trees. She alerted Hugh, and Hugh slowed down to look, whereupon the monkeys slowed too.

‘They’re racing us,’ said Hugh. ‘You often see that. I like to slow down to make it more sporting. Give them more of a chance. Of course, the moment there’s a break in the trees, they have to give up.’

‘Are there lots of monkeys here?’

‘Millions. Sometimes you get a big male setting up house in your garden. They’re extremely aggressive. You have to hire a monkey man with an even bigger male, and it lives in your garden for a few days until it’s driven off the other one, and then the monkey man comes and fetches the giant one away again. You’ll notice in all the hotel rooms there’s a sign saying “Please don’t feed the monkeys”.’

‘Gracious,’ said Rosie. ‘It makes a change from “Don’t feed the seagulls”, doesn’t it?’

‘Look,’ said Esther, ‘there’s a black cow asleep with a bird on it.’

‘It’s an egret,’ said Hugh over his shoulder. ‘The birdlife here is a wonder.’

‘I like all the smart little dogs,’ said Rosie.

‘Chipper little fellows, aren’t they? We’ll stop by a paddy field later and see if we can spot some water buffalo. And there’s a place where the elephants go down to bathe at the same times every day.’

In Kandy they strolled around the lake, looking at the waterfowl, and then they entered the Temple of the Tooth, and got as near to the Buddha’s tooth as they could. Hugh said, ‘You really must try to see the Perahera. It’s something like sixty elephants, all gorgeously got up. It starts here at the Dalada Maligawa. There’s a great ding-donging as the elephants come in from the villages. Anyway, the biggest elephant of all carries the tooth in a golden dome. He’s well worth seeing, a real giant, and they’ve silver-plated his tusks. They put swathes of white cloth in front of him wherever he goes, so that he doesn’t have to be demeaned by touching the earth. You see all the Kandian chiefs in their costumes, and there are dancers and whip-crackers and gong-bashers and God knows what else, for two weeks solid. I’m always amazed by the elephants. They know exactly what to do, somehow. You get tens of thousands of pilgrims and hawkers, and then on the last day they have a huge fancy-dress party at the Queen’s Hotel. You have to book a room months ahead. By the way, all the jaded old sceptics who have seen the tooth think it isn’t human. The original one disappeared because of a conquest, or something, and reappeared miraculously, so they say. Anyway, what does it matter, really? As long as everyone has fun.’

Hugh took them round the botanical gardens at Peradeniya, with its avenues of wondrously tall trees. Daniel was impressed by the thundering, cascading river that surrounded it. He wondered whether the fish in such a furious torrent had a chance of not being swept out to sea. They settled on a bench, and Hugh told them, ‘These gardens were originally built by a Kandian king in the eighteenth century, and I don’t suppose you’ll find nicer ones anywhere in the world. I’ve certainly never found a nicer place to have a picnic. I like to come here and remind myself that civilisations other than ours have achieved things just as great.’

‘That’s something we all know,’ observed Daniel, ‘but somehow we never seem to digest it.’

‘There’s never been an empire as big as ours,’ said Rosie. ‘I think we’re a good thing. Don’t you?’

‘Well, I would say so,’ said Hugh. ‘I’d rather be under the British than the Belgians, that’s certain, but of course I’m biased. It seems to me that in the end all empires just die of fatigue. I’m not sure that we’re tired yet, but I do think that one day we will be, and we’ll be gone, and all the tea plantations will revert to jungle. We’ll be just be a memory, like the pharaohs, or the Aztecs or the Romans.’

‘Gracious me, do you think so?’ said Rosie.

‘Well, I’ve never heard of a civilisation that’s lasted forever. Have you?’

‘No, I haven’t but…all the same.’

‘There used to be an extraordinary civilisation here,’ said Hugh, ‘and the population must have been hugely bigger. They irrigated an entire region. A lot of the lakes and channels are still there and still working. For some reason we call the lakes “tanks”. Anyway, it’s worth coming here just to see the giant bamboos and rubber trees. And these cabbage palms. Let’s go to the golf club at Nuwara Eliya. Do you play golf?’

‘My Squadron Leader forced me to learn,’ said Daniel. ‘I quite enjoy it, actually. Rosie plays, but I wouldn’t say that she finds it all-consuming.’

‘My father’s a fanatic,’ said Rosie, ‘and my mother’s very good too, without even practising. It’s become our family game, all because Daddy’s Scottish. I like golf, but it does seem to cause a sort of madness in some people, doesn’t it? My father’s a hopeless case. He even practises indoors.’

‘Well, I’ll introduce you to the secretary. And tonight we’ll stay in the Grand Hotel. You’ll think it’s straight out of Sussex, apart from the staff, who are all natives, and all frightful snobs. Very quaint and amusing, really.’

‘It’s starting to rain,’ said Rosie.

‘Rains all the time round here,’ said Hugh cheerfully. ‘It’s like Ireland. And when you’re at your bungalow and it rains, you’ll think you’re in the Highlands of Scotland.’

The next day, towards the end of the afternoon, after three hours travel from Nuwara Eliya, Rosie, Daniel and Esther found themselves at their bungalow at last. Daniel was exhausted by all the motorcycling on difficult switchbacked roads, full of intricate curves and sudden inclines, but was both amazed and grateful that he had suffered no punctures, or major breakdowns, other than having to remove and clean the magneto. Rosie and Esther were still surprised by all the sights they had seen in the villages and little towns through which they had passed. People seemed to live their lives with complete openness, in buildings that had no frontage. They had looked into those impassive dark faces with their darker eyes, and the locals had looked back at their red faces and blue eyes, neither understanding what they were seeing, until Esther waved to them from the back of the car, and they waved shyly back. The little settlements were teeming with hommos sellers, pingo bearers, and roadside vendors sitting with heaps of enormous fruit of which Rosie did not even know the names. Tiny brown children frolicked everywhere.

Hugh stopped the car in the road outside the bungalow, and announced that he would have to come in and introduce them to the servants, and fetch water for his radiator, which was beginning to boil.

As they opened the garden gate, there was a sudden rush and patter of feet, and four servants appeared to empty the vehicles of their luggage, disappearing back into the house with it just as suddenly.

‘They’re all Tamils,’ said Hugh, ‘just as you’d expect. Hindus. I think you’ll find them very conscientious and eager to please.’

‘We haven’t really had many servants since before the war,’ said Rosie. ‘This is going to be a bit strange. We all got used to doing things for ourselves. My father says he wished he’d known before what fun it was cleaning your own clubs and decanting wine, and working out whether it needed cinnamon or not. I don’t really need anyone any more.’

‘Well, I think you’ll like them. They’re charming people, and of course one has a duty to find work for people and spread a little prosperity. That’s how I see it, anyway.’

‘You’re quite right,’ said Daniel. ‘Without work, life is completely meaningless.’

‘I’ll line them up and introduce you. You’ll soon learn their names, and very shortly afterwards you’ll find out all their foibles.’

‘Am I going to have any friends?’ asked Esther.

Having been introduced to the servants (three young men in immaculate tunics, and one extraordinarily pretty maid) they sat on the veranda in the declining sun, and were served tea and biscuits by one of the young men, who was both excited and nervous.

‘I think Kandy is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen,’ said Rosie. ‘Not the town itself, I mean the views, and the lake, and the fireflies at night, and the jungle. Luxuriant is hardly the word, is it?’

‘Wait ’til you’ve been found by a leech,’ said Hugh.

‘I like all the monkeys,’ said Esther. ‘Can we have a pet monkey?’

‘They have very horrible habits,’ said Hugh, ‘and very strong opinions.’

‘I have a feeling that this island is going to be inexhaustible,’ said Daniel. ‘It couldn’t be less like the North-West Frontier. I don’t know why, but I was half expecting it to be similar for some reason.’

‘That’s like expecting Norway to be like Spain,’ said Hugh. ‘Oh, and you’ll find that your cook thinks that we eat only mutton chops, by the way. Goat, in other words. If you want anything else you’ll have to educate him into it very gently. Servants here are easily shocked. They’re horrified if you want to try any of the local dishes. They strongly disapprove of us going native. And they won’t cook beef, obviously.’

‘Perhaps I’ll teach him our cookery if he teaches me his,’ said Rosie. ‘But I suppose I’d have to learn ours first.’

‘I’m not sure that spotted dick with custard and bubble and squeak would appeal very much to the natives,’ said Hugh.

After they had eaten their supper, which had indeed consisted of ‘mutton’ chops, Hugh proposed a long and gracious toast of welcome, and Daniel replied with a short speech thanking him for his time and hospitality. Hugh rose to leave, saying, ‘My bungalow’s the next one along, five hundred yards. Do call by if
you need anything or have any questions.’ He turned to Daniel. ‘Work starts tomorrow. I’ll be calling for you at half past eight, but more often than not we’ll be out at dawn.’

‘I look forward to it,’ said Daniel, shaking his hand warmly, ‘and thank you so much again for your time, and all you’ve done for us.’

‘I needed the little holiday, to tell the truth,’ said Hugh. ‘And I was desperate to meet another flying man.’

‘Do you think there’s a future in aviation here?’ asked Daniel eagerly. ‘I noticed there weren’t any seaplanes in the harbour.’

‘I knew you were going to ask that! It’s something I’ve thought about a great deal. It’s actually a question of the enormous expense of setting up an infrastructure. But let’s talk about it tomorrow. It’s late, and you’ve got to get your little princess tucked up in bed. You must be tired too, if you’re as tired as I am. Come and eat with us tomorrow; I’ll introduce you to my wife.’

That night, as Daniel and Rosie lay in each other’s arms, wide awake as the owls called outside, Rosie said, ‘I’m so glad we came.’

‘It couldn’t be further from Eltham or Birmingham, could it?’ said Daniel. ‘But Argentina would have been nice.’

‘I am sorry about that. I know how disappointed you were.’

‘Well, now I understand the reason. You really should have told me, instead of bottling it all up.’

‘I know. I’m sorry about that too. Anyway, I hope the climate’s as nice as you promised. Esther and I did get terribly sticky and clammy down in Colombo. Any more, and we would have got grumpy.’

‘Well, Kandy was perfect, wasn’t it? This will be even more perfect.’

‘You can’t be more perfect than perfect,’ said Rosie.

‘Pedant.’

The next day, Rosie had a chance to take proper stock of her new domain. There was a wonderful bathroom with a large cast-iron bath on lion’s feet, and black-and-white tiles up the walls and on the floor. In her bedroom she admired all over again the enormous carved four-poster bed draped in white muslin to keep out the mosquitoes, where only last night she and Daniel had set about the creation of their next child. Everywhere there were
gleaming teak floors and clean white walls. She thought of her mother in Eltham, mixing up beeswax and turpentine once a year, just in case Their Majesties should call in and expect to see a polished floor. How she would have loved to have seen the ones here in this bungalow.

Best of all was the roofed veranda, with its tiled floor and wicker chairs. Here she wrote letters home to tell everyone that her new address was a house called Taprobane Bungalow, near the Wanarajah Tea Factory, near Dickoya Village, Central Highlands. As an afterthought she wrote to Mrs Burke in Birmingham, and to Dr Scott, to remind him to keep a close eye on her father.

Daniel returned just before sunset, exhausted, aching and happy. He sat on the veranda with Esther on his lap, thumb in mouth as ever, and French Bear under her arm. He said, ‘You wouldn’t believe what hard work this is going to be. I have a staggering amount to learn in no time at all, and you need legs like a sherpa. It seems that manufacturing tea is 50 per cent science and 50 per cent intuition. It’s a bit worrying, really. I had been hoping it was all science, and then I could get a grip on it straight away. Still, you should see the machinery! It’s perfectly marvellous…quite massive, but beautifully made, a real joy.’ He reached into his pocket and produced a folded piece of paper. ‘Here are my first twenty Tamil words to learn. Would you test me? We should do it before we go to dinner with Hugh.’

‘Ooh, I can learn them too then,’ said Rosie. ‘The cook does know plenty of English, and so do the others, but you can tell they’re never quite sure what you really mean. They’re devastated if they think they’ve disappointed you. I’ve already learned to say “
arre
”.

‘I see you’ve been reading Rupert Brooke again,’ said Daniel, nodding towards the collected verse that lay on the coffee table beside Rosie’s seat.

BOOK: The Dust That Falls from Dreams
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