The Girl from Cobb Street (13 page)

‘The workmanship is superb.’ He fingered the elaborate pattern of coiled rings and honeycomb spaces that covered the surface of each arch. ‘And take a look at some of the gods that have been carved out of a different stone and somehow moulded into the arches. Their figures have been protected by the roof and survived pretty well.’

Daisy walked up to one of the arches. Something had attracted her to this particular one and, when she drew close, she saw the figure of a goddess emerging from the stone, triumphant and alive. A goddess with an ornately carved headdress and arms covered in bracelets. A girdle wound its way around her waist and her sinuous form moved as though it would dance out of the black, shiny stone. The eyes were closed in ecstatic appreciation.

The girl traced the line of the two necklaces that wound around the statue’s neck, and stopped when she touched the centre of the lower chain and the pendant-shaped stone that hung from it. Her fingers passed over the emblem almost lovingly. She bent her head to it and her cheeks were flushed.

‘What is it?’

‘I remember this from somewhere. I don’t know where.’

‘A place you’ve visited?’

She wrinkled her nose. The flush had died, and she was intent on recovering a memory. ‘No, not a place. A person. My mother …’

‘She had a necklace similar to this?’

‘That’s it! Not a necklace though. A brooch. It’s in the photograph. I’ve just one picture of her. She’s in nurse’s uniform but she’s wearing a small brooch at the neck of the dress. I noticed it because I thought it strange to see jewellery. I’ve always imagined there were strict rules about what nurses could wear with their uniform. But there was a brooch, and I’m sure it looked just like this.’

‘Do you have the photograph here with you in India?’

Of course she did. She had brought everything with her, every one of her earthly possessions.

‘Yes. I can check when I get back to the house but if I’m right, why would my mother have a brooch the same shape as the necklace of an Indian goddess? And a goddess from this particular district?’

‘All kinds of motifs from temple carvings end up in all kinds of jewellery. Brooches, pendants, earrings. You can buy them in the bazaar any day, and not just the bazaar. I imagine Bridges—it was Bridges you worked for?—might even have some on their jewellery counter.’

‘I suppose so.’ Her voice was wistful. ‘But it’s a strange coincidence.’

‘When you’ve been in India a while, you won’t think so. Coincidence is only another word for fate.’

They turned to go, out from the shadowed arches and into the sun that blazed across the open space. As swiftly as they could, they retraced their path up the terrace of steps, and collapsed beneath the shade of one of the carved columns.

Grayson mopped his face with a large, white handkerchief. It was freshly laundered, she saw. He’d come well prepared, but then he would always be prepared for life’s trials, whatever they were.

They’d rested a while before he said, ‘Is that all you have of your mother—a single photograph?’

She nodded and looked across at the ruins of the temple, her mind for the moment elsewhere. The orphanage had been unwilling to give her even that, and one of the helpers who had a fondness for her had smuggled it to her the night before she left.

‘And your father?’

She supposed it was only fair she answered him. She’d asked him about his own father, though the case was not the same. At least he’d known his parent. It was painful to confess how little information she had, yet she liked her companion well enough to confide what she knew.

‘I don’t know who my father was,’ she murmured. Constraint gripped her for the moment and she found it difficult to continue. Her fingers began to pick at her dress, creasing its smooth folds into tiny lines, but then she volunteered, ‘There’s no name on my birth certificate, you see, and I never had a chance to ask my mother. She died before I was two.’

‘And you have no other relatives who could tell you?’

‘None, or at least none I know of. When my mother died, I was sent to an orphanage. Eden House, Cobb Street, Spitalfields.’

It was almost a mantra. She’d chanted it to herself so many times over the years and its sound was an echo of the loneliness that clung to her. She’d said too much though; what she had told him must remain between them.

‘My husband knows nothing of this,’ she warned.

‘Has he never asked you about your family?’

‘We haven’t talked much of our families. I don’t think Gerald was at home a great deal. He left as a young boy to go to boarding school.’

‘I know. Hanbury.’

The single word startled her. Gerald had often spoken of Hanbury but her companion’s calm announcement had shocked her. It was as though an explosion had been detonated between them. He saw her face and tried to explain. ‘I was at school there too. It’s the kind of place you get sent if your family has military connections. Or wants them. Any connection in fact to the Empire, particularly to India.’

‘So you knew Gerald?’ She held her breath.

‘I recognised him the other day in the bazaar,’ he said carefully.

His tone told her everything. He knew of Gerald’s double life. He had to. ‘And what was Hanbury like?’ She was playing for time, hoping she might lure him into admitting he’d known her husband as Jack Minns.

But if he had, he was keeping his counsel. ‘It was like most such schools. There were good things about it and bad. I remember a good deal of bullying but then there always is at public school and some boys have a knack for it. It’s not always the rough stuff either, the blows, the kicks, the hair yanking. But more insidious things like blackmail. Spying on you, for instance, watching your every move so that if you fall foul of a school rule—and there are plenty to fall foul of—you’re threatened with disclosure. Unless, of course, you polish the boy’s shoes or tidy his room or give him the rather nice cake your aunt has sent.’

It was clear Grayson was relating his own experience. But was it Gerald he was speaking of? His tale was too detailed, too specific, not to have one particular boy in mind. It might have been Gerald, she thought—she’d been on the receiving end of that same cold calculation—but Grayson was not about to enlighten her. She supposed it was not the kind of thing you said to a man’s wife.

She shaded her eyes and looked up at the sky. ‘The sun is much lower now.’

‘It must be time to go then. Our journey back should be cooler.’

He offered her his arm and she felt the warm touch of skin. She looked up and caught his expression just for a moment, then quickly looked away. He was careful not to touch her again as they picked their way back through the scattered boulders to the pony who had been happily grazing by the side of the track.

By the time they approached the village once more, twilight was dropping fast, and wood smoke mixed with the beautiful smell which drifted off the fields on either side. Neither of them spoke during the short journey and when they drove up to the bungalow, Grayson made no move to get down from the buggy. It was better this way, she thought; a meeting with Gerald would be too difficult.

She clambered down unaided and looked up at him, feeling a sudden shyness. ‘Thank you, Grayson, thank you for the temple. I shall remember it.’

She walked a little way towards the house while he remained where he was, watching her. But before she reached the veranda steps, a thought brought her back to the carriage. ‘Thank you, too, for despatching the cobra.’

‘I won’t say it was my pleasure but I’d urge you to tell your husband what happened. He should know there are cobras around. And he needs to make sure your servants come when you call them.’

‘There’s only Rajiv to come.’

‘He’s the only man you employ?’

‘Yes. But I know all about
malis
and
jemaders
and
punkah wallahs.
’

‘Do you indeed?’ He sounded amused. ‘Then you and British India are getting truly acquainted.’

Gerald arrived minutes after the pony and trap had disappeared in a cloud of red dust. He strode through the door, according Daisy a perfunctory nod, and then disappeared to change his clothes. They were creased and sweaty from games at the Club. That was the afternoon’s entertainment, she knew, though at this time of the year little more than billiards or cards. When he reappeared, Rajiv was already waiting to serve dinner. The man had arrived back at the compound as mysteriously as he’d vanished earlier in the day. She wondered whether or not she should tell Gerald of his absence. Grayson had advised her to but Grayson was not here, nor did he know the dire state of their marriage.

The meal was eaten quickly and in silence and, when the last plates had been cleared, Gerald stood up and stretched his long limbs. ‘I’m off to the Mess. A couple of chaps and I have got a game going. Don’t wait up for me. You look all in, you should have an early night. I expect you’ve had too much sun. I did warn you.’

So they were not to discuss their situation and she was to be left alone once more. Her spirit hardened. ‘Something happened today which frightened me a great deal.’

His eyebrows rose slightly but otherwise he looked less than interested. ‘A snake, a cobra found its way into the bathroom. I nearly picked it up.’

‘You would have had a problem. They weigh a ton.’

He went across to the desk and began gathering together several packs of cards and a small heap of notes and coins.

Daisy bounced up from her chair. ‘I’m serious, Gerald. They’re very dangerous, aren’t they? It was only the fact that Grayson Harte decided to call that saved me.’

‘Harte! What was he doing here?’

‘You know him then?’ He must do, she thought, but he wouldn’t want to acknowledge it. That would bring him perilously close to declaring his true identity.

Her husband didn’t answer and she went on, ‘He came to say hello, nothing more, but it was fortunate that he did. He killed the snake.’

Gerald still said nothing but edged towards the door. She wanted to shake him. He seemed oblivious to the danger she’d been in. ‘I called for Rajiv, two or three times, but he didn’t come. He simply disappeared and for the whole day. At least I think he disappeared. I didn’t go near his quarters so I can’t be sure.’

‘On no account should you. I don’t expect he heard you calling.’

‘I screamed. And if he was in the kitchen, he was only a stone’s throw away. He must have heard me.’

‘Then he wasn’t there. He’d probably gone to the bazaar to buy food.’

‘He didn’t tell me he was going and he usually does. Grayson thought it odd that I was alone here.’

Gerald glared down at her. ‘I find it odd that Grayson Harte has the time to pay social visits. I gather from Club gossip that he’s a District Officer, or supposed to be. So why isn’t he up country? What’s he doing in Jasirapur?’

‘I know nothing about his work, except that he appears to be very busy.’

‘I bet he is, interfering in people’s lives.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, why was he here?’ he repeated. ‘Why appear out of the blue just when you needed help? Was it so he could rush in and play Sir Galahad?’

She looked perplexed, unsure of what he was getting at.

‘You knew him on board ship, didn’t you?’ Her husband was getting into his stride. ‘He was in the bazaar too, you told me. In fact he’s developing quite a habit of hanging around. Perhaps he’s taken a fancy to you and it doesn’t worry him that you’re a married woman. It will worry everyone else though. If you hadn’t noticed, this isn’t London. You’ll be a prize for the gossip mongers.’

‘That’s ridiculous, Gerald. He has no personal interest in me.’ She wasn’t entirely sure that was true, but she must banish the idea from both their minds.

He grunted. ‘Maybe he’s out to impress then, and just likes playing at being a hero.’

‘Are you saying that Grayson planned to rescue me from the snake, so he could show how brave he was?’

‘Pretty much.’

‘But then he would have to know I needed rescuing. He would have to know a cobra would find its way into the bathroom.’

Gerald shrugged his shoulders. ‘Work it out for yourself.’

She gasped. ‘You’re suggesting that he deliberately left the snake there? That’s even more ridiculous.’

‘I’m not suggesting anything,’ he backtracked. ‘All I’m saying is that he’s a pretty odd character, certainly nothing like any of the ICS chaps I know. He doesn’t come to the Club and no one there knows him personally. They know his name but they don’t know him. None of the Civil Service bods have a clue about his work. You should watch your step, Daisy, that’s all I’m saying. It will do neither of us any good if you get talked about.’

‘I don’t think I’m in any danger from Mr Harte.’ She wasn’t entirely sure of that either but she would do well to forget any attraction she felt. And well to say nothing of their visit together to the temple.

Without another word, Gerald strode past her. She was left feeling bewildered. The suggestion that Grayson would deliberately have put her in danger was too crazy to contemplate. And crazy, too, that somehow he liked her more than he should. He was an honourable man, a decent man. Yet this afternoon at the temple … She’d been leaning against the boulder’s warm surface, feeling herself merge with the stones and the statues and the setting sun. And then she’d become conscious of his eyes. They were of the deepest blue, eyes that saw clearly she was sure, but also eyes that were appreciative. She’d felt herself come alive beneath his gaze but had immediately suppressed the feeling. Whatever the truth of Gerald’s absurd accusation, Grayson Harte was one complication she must do without.