The Girl from Cobb Street (22 page)

Her eyes had closed against the suffocating atmosphere when a step sounded, not from the rooms beyond the green door, but from outside. Grayson Harte sat down, and she felt his warmth settle against her. He was creased and tired. When he leaned forward, she saw that he was covered in blood, and her hand went to her mouth.

‘Don’t worry, the blood isn’t new,’ he reassured her. ‘It’s Javinder’s.’

A strong brown hand reached out to her. ‘I want to say thank you, Daisy, thank you for rescuing him and then staying.’

Her palm nestled in his for a few seconds, and she wished she didn’t look quite as ragged. But he seemed hardly to notice the crumpled and blood-stained dress. ‘Is there any news of him yet?’

‘Your friend needs an operation. The doctor said it was only a small procedure but they have to make sure the wound is clean before they can stitch it. They’ve been a very long time. I think Javinder was badly concussed, so perhaps they’re doing tests for that too.’

Grayson nodded. ‘He’s young and fit. He’ll recover well, I’m sure.’

‘Who is Javinder?’

‘I’m sorry, I should have told you, but there was no time. He’s been assisting me in some of my work. He was unlucky enough to get caught in the violence.’

‘And you were lucky to escape. I heard shots as we left.’

‘The soldiers fired in the air, thank God, and that was enough to scare all but the diehards. They were rounded up shortly afterwards.’

‘But what was it all about? One minute we were watching the parade, and the next we were in the middle of a riot.’

‘It was the parade that triggered the trouble. It was too much of an opportunity for the protesters, particularly with General Pearson there.’

‘The men with the banners—were they followers of Gandhi?’

‘In all probability. But he’s been around a long time and he preaches a strict non violence. Today’s agitators were intent on trouble. Gandhi doesn’t explain why the clamour for independence has become so much more strident of late.’

‘It’s what’s happening in Europe, isn’t it?’ She was recalling Anish’s certainty that war would bring change to India.

Grayson looked at her speculatively. ‘Wherever you got that from, I think it’s right. Europe is the key. The danger of war there is growing all the time and these people know it. They hope that Britain will be too busy putting out fires in its own backyard to defend its possessions overseas, even the jewel in its crown.’

‘It looked a very dangerous confrontation.’

‘It’s getting more dangerous certainly. Agitators are getting arms from somewhere. We were lucky today. Sticks and bottles were the weapons, but it won’t always be like that.’

He seemed remarkably well-informed for a District Officer and she wondered if it was usual to have such a deep knowledge of a region’s politics. But then Grayson Harte was no ordinary District Officer. People knew his name but not the work he did. No one at the Club had any idea of his role, and she’d noticed that he was careful never to volunteer information. Just now, for instance, he’d given her no clue as to how Javinder was assisting him.

She was pondering whether or not to ask him outright what he was doing in Jasirapur, when he broke through her thoughts. ‘I haven’t seen you for days. How have you been since our visit to the temple?’

‘Well, thank you. I’ve been sleeping soundly, except for when the wind has been particularly fierce. The fruit you sent has helped a lot.’

He looked gratified. ‘Goji berries don’t always work but I’m delighted they’re doing you good. I’ll be sure and send you some more. Just as soon as I clear this mess up.’

She didn’t ask what the mess was. Nor did she tell him of her misfortune at the temple. If Anish were to be believed, and why wouldn’t he be, Grayson had been nearby on that day, but he’d made no mention just now of his visit and surely he should have done. If he’d been close, as Anish contended, he must have seen her at the shrine, yet he’d said nothing. They were shadow boxing, she thought, and though she was not as good at it as he, she wouldn’t give herself away. She might be drawn to this attractive man, but that didn’t mean she entirely trusted him.

‘Javinder will be fine.’ The doctor appeared through the green-shuttered door. ‘A trifle sore for a few days, and with a monumental headache, but otherwise he’ll be fine. Do you want to see him? Just a few minutes, mind.’

She got up immediately. ‘I should go now. He’ll want to see you alone.’

Grayson put out a hand to detain her. ‘You must let my driver take you home. And thank you again for staying.’

‘Yes, thank you, Mrs Mortimer.’ The doctor’s gruff endorsement surprised her. ‘You did us a good turn. It’s been a madhouse here without sufficient staff. The orderlies are well enough for the heavy stuff but they’re not too adept at the hand holding.’

‘I take it that you’ve not yet had a replacement for Sister Macdonald?’

‘No, Mr Harte, we haven’t, despite my fulminations. But we certainly need one.’

‘There you are, Daisy,’ Grayson joked. ‘Something to keep you busy.’

Dr Lane was quick to follow his lead. ‘If you could spare the time, Mrs Mortimer, we’d be grateful of some help.’

‘But I’m not a nurse,’ she stammered.

‘I’m not suggesting you fill in for Sister, but you could sit with the patients—as you’ve done today. That frees up the one nurse I do have, and it means a lot to people who are sick. And then there are their friends, their colleagues, who come to visit. They all need to be dealt with and it’s the small tasks that take up my nurse’s time.’

Daisy felt awkward. It seemed the Infirmary might offer her something useful to do at last. Yet Gerald would almost certainly veto the idea and it would become another source of tension between them.

Grayson was looking at her enquiringly. ‘Didn’t you tell me you were bored with having nothing to fill your days?’

‘You could come in the early morning and be home by noon,’ the doctor chimed in hopefully. ‘We might even find the funds to pay for your tonga.’

‘I’ll think about it, Dr Lane,’ was all she would promise.

But on the way home, she was already deciding. While the doctor was so short staffed, shouldn’t she try to help? Gerald wouldn’t like it and if she told him, he’d probably forbid her from setting foot in the place. But her mother had been a nurse and the idea that she would be following in Lily’s steps warmed her heart. She would definitely do it, she decided, and somehow make sure that Gerald knew nothing until she was ready to tell him.

He was at home when she arrived and must have seen the ICS jeep bumping its way along the garden track, because he strode onto the veranda as the vehicle pulled to a halt. Even at a distance, she could see that he didn’t look happy.

‘Where have you been?’ was his terse greeting. ‘You should have been back hours ago.’

She thanked the driver and clambered down from the open car. ‘I’m sorry if you’ve been worried. I’ve been at the Infirmary and couldn’t get word to you. Someone got hurt.’ He stared at her impassively. ‘There was a riot,’ she added, hoping this might work some magic, ‘at least I think you’d call it a riot. But it happened after the cavalry had left the maiden.’

‘I know. Some kind of disturbance. The news is all around camp. But I can’t see how that stopped you from getting back. You should have returned as soon as the parade was over. How was I to know what was happening?’

Daisy found herself apologising again. ‘I would have come straight back, of course, but Mr Harte’s assistant was badly injured in the fighting and Jocelyn drove us to the Infirmary and I stayed—with Javinder.’

‘You should have come back here,’ he said doggedly. ‘You shouldn’t be babysitting Harte’s crony. And what is he doing even asking you? It’s a damn cheek.’

‘The boy was badly hurt, Gerald. He was only half-conscious and Dr Lane asked if I would sit with him until he was ready to operate.’

‘Lane’s an old woman,’ he grumbled, unappeased. ‘And as for Harte, didn’t I tell you to be careful? I don’t care how badly hurt the boy was, it had nothing to do with you. Getting you involved is another ploy by Harte to ingratiate himself. I told you to stay clear of him, didn’t I?’

Daisy felt a slow sadness overtake her. It seemed impossible ever to draw close to Gerald before he pushed her away again. Hers had been a simple, benevolent impulse, yet he’d made it sound suspect. ‘I think Mr Harte’s only aim was to get his assistant help,’ she said mildly. ‘There was turmoil after you rode away and it was truly frightening.’

He sniffed disdainfully. ‘A few lunatic Indians shouting the odds. Hardly stirring stuff.’

‘It wasn’t just shouting. There
were
slogans and a few men were waving banners but it didn’t stop at that. The mood was very ugly. When the police tried to arrest the protesters, the crowd turned on them. People were throwing bottles and sticks and there were dozens of injuries. Javinder’s head was cut open.’

He sniffed again. ‘It sounds like a storm in a teacup.’

She felt a stir of irritation. ‘You said yourself that you were worried about trouble erupting,’ she reminded him.

‘Well, it didn’t. Not while we were on parade, and that’s all that matters. The regiment got a sterling report and my troop received a particular commendation. If you’d been here, I could have told you about it.’

She saw that he’d been itching to pass on the regiment’s success, but rather than the audience he had expected, he’d returned to an empty house. She’d failed to be a good wife and she ought to feel guilty. Instead she felt repelled by his disregard for the fighting and his complete lack of sympathy for Javinder.

‘Rajiv has had lunch ready for the last hour,’ he grumbled. ‘You’d better come in and eat. I haven’t much time.’

A delicious smell floated through the living room and she realised that she was extremely hungry. Rajiv might be her enemy, but he was also an excellent cook and conjured the tastiest of meals from a shelf of handleless saucepans and an oven that was little more than a hole in the ground. As they ate, Gerald recovered his spirits a little and started to talk. He seemed unusually voluble, evidently still boosted by the morning’s triumph. She nodded in what she hoped were the right places and let him talk on without interruption. Her own feelings were very different. She had seen the way the police wielded those terrifying long sticks of theirs, not caring who or where they hit. She could still hear the crack of skulls, see the bleeding faces, the maimed hands. It had been deeply upsetting.

Gerald had hardly paused for breath during the meal but still managed to finish way ahead of her. He put down his fork with a bang and took a last gulp of water. Then abruptly pushed back his chair. ‘Now I know where you are, I must go,’ he announced. ‘I have to get back to camp. I’ve already been away too long.’

She was still eating as he strode to the door. There had been no farewell gesture, not even a kind hand on her shoulder. Was this punishment for her decision to help Grayson Harte? Or was Gerald once more slipping back into unkindness? Over the past week she’d been made subtly aware that the delicate harmony they’d established on their river drive had begun to fracture. It was a slow, steady process but also inevitable. She was not to blame. It was nothing she had done, she reasoned, not until today at least. It was simply that Gerald was unhappy with the marriage he’d made, unhappy with her being here, and nothing was going to change that.

He turned at the door. ‘I forgot to say that since you’re staying on, Anish will be round in the morning. He’s got a pony lined up for you. He’ll be with us at six—you’ll need to ride early.’

That came as a surprise and her reaction was to backpedal. ‘But won’t teaching me take up too much time? He must be as busy as you.’

Gerald pursed his lips. ‘He’s plenty of free time. He doesn’t have my responsibilities.’

She wondered whether those responsibilities really existed, or were simply an excuse for him to stay away.

‘Then please thank him for me.’

Her voice tailed off. No definite promise had been given to Dr Lane but, as she’d journeyed home, she had started to make plans. Tomorrow morning early, once Gerald left for the camp, she’d thought to take the bike and find her way back to the Infirmary. If eyebrows were raised at her visit, she had the perfect reason to be there; she was enquiring about Javinder. Then if the doctor thought she might be of any use that day and wanted her to stay, all well and good. But now the plan must be put on hold. For a while she toyed with the idea of sending a message to delay the ride, but there was only Rajiv to take it and she couldn’t trust him. In any case, she couldn’t turn Anish down, not after he’d gone to the trouble of finding her a horse. When a few hours later, a pair of jodhpurs arrived with a friendly note from Jocelyn, she banished the idea of the hospital from her mind altogether and instead braced herself for the trial ahead.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

A
s promised, Anish was outside the house at six the next morning. She went out to meet him, feeling almost a horsewoman in Jocelyn’s jodhpurs. As her friend had prophesied, they were too large and she’d had to tie a scarf around her middle to secure them. She hoped it gave her a rakish air. With her
topi
crammed firmly on her head, and Jocelyn’s bamboo riding crop in her hand, she felt that she might at least be able to mimic a memsahib.