The Girl from Cobb Street (24 page)

The women of the regiment would have disapproved highly. Spending time alone with a man not your husband was bad enough; spending it with an Indian officer was beyond the pale. But the women of the regiment were miles away and Daisy settled to enjoy herself. Now that she no longer ached quite as badly, she began to take a real pleasure in the rides. For an hour or so she could forget the unhappiness that too often crept up on her while she was alone in the bungalow. And Anish was fast becoming as much a friend to her as to Gerald. If she asked for advice, he gave it. If she needed information, he talked to her of India. If she wanted to laugh, he related silly anecdotes from the Officers’ Mess.

‘Barton or Richards or Walker,’ he’d begin. And then the story would follow. ‘Walker is on secondment to our regiment and he’s greedy. Always has to have the fullest plate, so we decided he needed punishment. At lunchtime we have to carry our food from the cookhouse across an open space to the dining room. Which is fine, except for the kite hawks nesting nearby.’

Daisy had heard of kite hawks and smiled.

‘You know what I’m going to say, don’t you?’

‘I’ve a good idea—but go on please. The detail is lacking.’

‘Well, here’s the detail. Lunch is a brilliant chance for the hawks to supplement their diet and because of that, we have a klaxon to scare them off. Last week, one of the chaps managed to delay Walker for lunch and then hide the klaxon. When he finally came puffing across the yard, desperate to get stuck into the mound of food he’d shovelled onto his plate, a kite hawk struck. I think it got his potatoes. Walker went very red in the face—redder than usual—and scurried back to the cookhouse for a replacement. Out he came again, with another plate, but this time he made sure to scan the skies. Sure enough, a kite hawk sailed into view but it came from over the shoulder Walker wasn’t watching.’

Daisy began to laugh and had to cling on to Rudolf’s saddle to stop herself slipping. ‘What did it get that time?’

‘The meat, of course. The bird had to have something to go with his potatoes. Anyway Walker rushed back to the cookhouse again but as he came through the door, the Adjutant stopped him and told him he was wanted immediately in the front office. He wasn’t, but it was easy enough to pass on a false message. In the end he missed lunch completely. We thought he was going to burst into tears.’

‘You’re very unkind.’

‘You haven’t met Walker.’

‘But no food at all, Anish!’

‘Poetic justice. Isn’t that what you call it?’

And so they would meander along the lanes, joking, talking, discussing, with Daisy growing easier in the saddle and Anish quietly encouraging her. She was doing well, he said, it was all coming together, and she wanted to believe him.

Her work at the Infirmary was also progressing. Dr Lane had not exaggerated when he said he was badly understaffed. He was the sole medical practitioner and could call on just one permanent nurse to assist him in the minor operations he performed. Patients with more serious problems endured a long and painful journey to the British hospital in Delhi. Daisy had imagined she would be making tea, tidying beds, greeting visitors, but almost immediately she found herself helping the medical staff in the several small wards the Infirmary boasted. She would stand a step away from Dr Lane and Nurse Adams as they worked their way through the day, constantly watching them, constantly learning. Her chores were menial, but when a patient smiled as she changed his bandages, or another held her hand when she offered him a cooling wash, a small kernel of self-belief emerged and began slowly to grow. It was a novel experience. She’d always known herself determined, dogged even, but now she began to feel differently about the person she was. For the first time in her life, she began to feel valued. She wondered what it would be like to be a real nurse but it was unlikely she would ever find out. Her life was already mapped out—she was a wife, Gerald’s wife—and she must remain content with being a volunteer who ‘helped’. It was a helping that tired her considerably. When she returned home at lunchtime, she had to force herself to a liveliness she was far from feeling, in order that Gerald’s suspicions were not aroused.

Towards the beginning of her second week at the hospital, she wheeled her bike from its shelter and made ready to return home. She was always concerned that Gerald might arrive before her and question where she’d been, but today she was in good time. As ever, a blanket of silence lay over the cantonment. The Infirmary was on its outskirts and generally very peaceful but, at this time of the day, the quiet intensified even further and an almost eerie hush descended. For several hours all activity was put on hold, and people variously dozed or read their way through the worst of the heat until it was again bearable to begin work. The ride home at this hour was always an effort and though the journey was only a couple of miles along a straight route, the sun’s clamour was unrelenting.

She launched herself forward, eager to be on her way, but almost immediately the bicycle began to wobble in an unnerving fashion. She ignored it. She must be more tired than she realised and was riding badly. It was only when she hit a particularly rough piece of ground a few hundred yards from the hospital, that she saw too late that something was very wrong. The bike stumbled into a hollow in the road and she crashed to the ground, winded but otherwise unhurt. She was scrambling to her feet when she heard footsteps pounding the road. They were running towards her.

‘What happened?’

It was Grayson Harte, and he’d arrived out of nowhere.

‘Whatever made you fall?’ He repeated his question, at the same time pulling the bicycle upright and looking closely at it. ‘You’ve got a puncture, that’s what. Two, in fact, by the look of it.’

What was he doing here? She noticed his arms and legs were deeply tanned and that thick red dust clung to his boots. He wasn’t spending a great deal of time indoors, she thought, despite the pen pushing that Gerald scorned.

‘I can’t have. The bike was fine on the way here, and it’s been locked in the shelter ever since.’

‘It’s possible they’re slow punctures. You may have ridden over something sharp this morning. What’s certain, though, is you won’t be going anywhere on that cycle today.’

‘But I have to get home,’ she protested. ‘Gerald will be waiting lunch for me.’

‘I’ve the jeep parked around the corner. I’ll run you back to the bungalow.’

How long had he been parked there? she wondered. She was sure she hadn’t heard a car arriving and it made her cautious. ‘I’m lucky you turned up then, but why are you here?’

‘I’ve come for Javinder. I’m taking him home as long as Dr Lane gives the all clear. When I visited him last night, he seemed well—well enough to leave.’

‘I’m sure the doctor will agree. Javinder has made very good progress.’

‘And that’s largely down to you. Thank God you got him to the Infirmary in time, or there could have been a very different outcome. I never wanted him to go to the maiden, you know. I was pretty sure there’d be trouble, but the boy insisted.’

‘Jocelyn was the heroine of the day,’ she reminded him. ‘She drove the pony and trap as fast as she could and in very difficult circumstances.’

‘Jocelyn was wonderful, you’re right, but you were splendid too. Clear-headed and compassionate. Just the right qualities, I’d say, for a nurse.’

It was an attractive dream, but only a dream. She tried to smooth her crumpled dress into some kind of order and noticed a small rip in the skirt. She would mend it when she got home. And that’s where she should be heading without further delay.

‘Can we go now, do you think?’

‘Just as soon as I’ve got Javinder in the car.’ And before she could stop him, he’d picked up her bicycle and was heading towards the parked jeep. ‘Come into the Infirmary with me,’ he threw over his shoulder. ‘It’s far too hot to wait out here.’

She didn’t want to follow him. For one thing, there was a pressing need for her to be home but there was also a nagging doubt. She was uneasy that he’d seemed to materialise out of thin air, the very moment she’d fallen from her bike. But there was no walking back to the bungalow, not in this heat, and she could do nothing but follow him into the waiting room.

Dr Lane bustled in almost immediately. ‘Have you come for young Javinder? I’ll have him ready in a jiffy.’ He peered through his half-moon spectacles. ‘Is that you, Daisy? Why are you still here? Well, since you are, you can boil up some
chai
for this poor man while he waits.’

‘We have to be going, doctor,’ Grayson said, much to her relief.

‘I shall be several minutes. In the meantime you can sit and drink.’

There was no escape and Daisy gave up the fight. ‘You’d better come into the sitting room, Grayson. The stove is there.’

By now, she thought, Gerald would have eaten and returned to the cantonment, and before she saw her husband again, she would have to think up a convincing reason for her absence. He would be angry if he knew she’d spent time with Grayson Harte, and might accuse her again of setting tongues to wag. The sitting room was smaller even than the waiting area, with a chipped sink at one end and an ancient primus.

‘Shall I wait outside?’ Grayson pulled a face. The two of them were wedged together with little room to breathe.

‘There’s no need,’ she said briskly, trying to cover her discomfort at having him so close. ‘The tea will be ready in minutes.’

He balanced himself on what had once been a brightly painted blue stool. ‘How are you enjoying working here?’

‘I like it.’ Then enthusiasm overtook her awkwardness. ‘I like it a lot.’

‘I thought you might. I remember your description of your mother in the photograph. Nursing evidently runs in the family.’

‘Maybe.’ She was deliberately non-committal.

‘So might you one day do the training?’

‘I’d enjoy that.’ Her tone was wistful. ‘But I don’t think it’s possible.’

‘It wouldn’t be easy,’ he conceded. ‘In all probability, you’d have to return to England. But Indian Army officers have a long furlough every three or four years. Something like eight months, I think. It might be possible for you to start your training then.’

She was fairly sure Gerald would have no wish to spend such a magnificent leave waiting for her to return from hospital every day, but she wasn’t about to share the thought.

Grayson was now launched into his own enthusiasm. ‘If you decided to take the profession seriously, I’m sure you’d find Dr Lane encouraging. And getting qualified is certainly worth considering. It could stand you in good stead.’

Her questioning look made him explain. ‘You might one day need an occupation.’

Why did he think that? She already had an occupation—as a wife. Was he concerned for her wellbeing, imagining a career would make her happy? Or was it something less charitable? Did he think she might one day be in need of money, might one day be alone again? She wondered if he’d heard that Gerald was in debt. Rumours were probably circulating in the bazaar right now, and it wouldn’t be surprising if Gerald’s name had been dropped into his ear. She had no illusions about her marriage, but if Grayson thought she would walk away at the first sign of difficulty, he was mistaken. The harshest of lives had taught her to persevere.

She brushed his suggestion aside. ‘Do ICS men have the same long holidays as the military?’

‘Unfortunately not. Griffins, that’s new members like me, have to wait eight years before we get the slightest sight of home.’

She handed him the least chipped mug she could find, and he sipped his tea slowly. ‘Of course, if there’s a war, that might change things.’

‘You would have to return to England?’

‘More than likely.’

‘And what would happen to Javinder?’ She’d grown fond of the young man she’d cared for.

‘I can’t be certain. All I know is that life here would change and change greatly. It doesn’t feel like that now, I know. There’s a strange sense of timelessness, as though this world will go on forever. But it won’t. Your husband’s regiment, for instance. Right now all over India the cavalry is mechanising. Soldiers are learning to drive tanks for the battles to come. In time, all their expertise with horses will fade into a folk memory.’

‘That will be sad. But I’ve been gaining some expertise myself.’

‘In horse riding?’

‘Yes. Anish, Anish Rana is teaching me, and I’m doing well. Or so he says.’

Grayson’s face went blank. Quite literally, all expression was wiped clear. He knew Anish, she thought. According to Anish himself he must do, so why this strange reaction? Perhaps there had been some falling out between them. And Gerald must be involved too. He’d warned her several times that Grayson meant trouble. Was it simply that Gerald was frightened his former school mate would reveal his true identity and Anish, as his friend, was similarly concerned? Or had something else happened? One thing was certain: she would never know. This was a man’s world and a woman learnt only those things they chose to tell her.

‘I wish you success,’ Grayson was saying, at his blandest. ‘Everyone rides, and you’ll find it very useful, particularly when the cooler weather arrives. You’ll be able to join in a lot more of the entertainments—paper chases, gymkhanas, that kind of thing.’