The Girl from Cobb Street (25 page)

‘They might be a step too far,’ she laughed. ‘And maybe I won’t have much time for “entertainments”. I might still be working here. There’s been no further trouble but the Infirmary has still been very busy.’

‘No further trouble so far, but you’re right to expect it. It won’t be quiet for long, I’m sure. Until independence is granted, if it ever is, there’s likely to be nothing but trouble.’

‘As bad as the riot last week? That was savage.’

‘Quite possibly worse. Has your husband spoken to you? Arms have gone missing from the cantonment. Imagine that scene on the maiden, but with a legion of guns.’

Gerald had said nothing of guns being stolen. It was a frightening situation and he must have wished not to worry her.

‘I don’t like what’s happening in Jasirapur,’ Grayson went on. ‘And I don’t like the fact that you’re living so far from the civil station in what could be difficult times.’

She batted away his fears. ‘You mustn’t worry. I’m really not that feeble.’

‘On the contrary. I know you’re not easily daunted, but none of us really understands what we’re dealing with, and I don’t want to see you hurt.’

‘But you know the men involved?’ She tried to sound upbeat. ‘The ones who started the riot. I thought I recognised one of them during the fighting. Do you remember, when you helped me with Sanjay at the bazaar, there was a man—’

‘Yes, I remember. He’s one of the ringleaders and we have him under lock and key, but he’s not alone. More and more agitators are coming into the area intent on confrontation. You could keep your eye out for another man you might recognise and let me know if you see him. One of the men from
The Viceroy.
’

She looked puzzled.

‘One of the prisoners who knocked you down. You must remember. He was in the ship’s gaol, being deported from England, but somehow he managed to escape with several others and went on a rampage.’

Her face suddenly lost its colour. ‘And he’s still free?’

‘He was recaptured on board ship but, then I’m afraid, he escaped again. In Delhi this time. But don’t worry,’ he was looking anxiously at her, ‘he can’t possibly harm you.’

She was sheet-white, and seeing it, he steered her to a chair.

‘I’m so sorry, Daisy. I had no intention of scaring you.’

‘You haven’t.’ Her voice was little more than a whisper.

‘But then what—what did I say to upset you so badly?’

‘You mentioned the boat, the accident. I was being foolish. A silly moment but it’s over now.’

He looked directly into her face, his blue eyes searching. ‘Why do I have the feeling that it isn’t?’

She looked back at him and saw only kindness. ‘It’s nearly over.’

‘What happened on board? I felt at the time there was something bad. Worse than just a tumble on the deck, but I didn’t know you well enough to ask.’ When she stayed silent, he said hopefully, ‘Perhaps you can tell me now.’

Perhaps she could. Ever since it happened, she’d felt the need to tell somebody, somebody who would listen, somebody who would recognise her loss, recognise that there had been a baby once, in a way Gerald refused to.

‘I lost my child,’ she said.

‘I’m so sorry. I had no idea. Well, if I’m honest, perhaps a small suspicion but I thought …’

He was unwilling to spell out what he’d thought, so she did it for him. ‘You knew I was unmarried, and you didn’t wish to think badly of me.’

‘It wasn’t that black and white. It was more that you seemed so young, in many ways unworldly.’

‘I was.’ Unworldly was just another word for naïve, she thought. And naïvety had certainly marked her relations with Gerald. The unaccustomed drink, the soft words, the promise to marry. She had been gullible and swallowed it all. ‘It wasn’t meant to happen, the baby I mean, it was an accident.’

‘You’re hardly alone in that,’ he soothed. ‘But Gerald—I hope he’s been a comfort?’

‘He … he has not been so badly affected as me. He never wanted to marry, you see.’ She felt scorched by her own confession.

‘I see.’ And the dawning comprehension on his face told her that he did.

He reached out for her hand and took it in a strong clasp. ‘I’ll make sure the prisoner who escaped is behind bars very shortly. And that’s a promise.’ It was the best he could do for her, she saw, the only compensation he could offer.

She gave a weak smile. ‘I’m sure you will.’

‘And in the meantime, keep drinking the goji berries. You’re still sleeping well?’

‘I seem to be. Rajiv makes me the drink every night.’

‘That’s good.’ He rose as Dr Lane poked his head around the door. ‘I’ll make sure I keep them coming.’

CHAPTER TWELVE

T
hat evening, she sat in the unyielding cane chair, pretending to read. Gerald had left by the time she’d finally made it back to the bungalow and when they met again at dinner, he’d shown little interest in her earlier absence. The flimsy story she’d concocted around a lack of tongas to drive her from the bazaar seem to have satisfied him. But she wasn’t satisfied. The incident at the Infirmary was still puzzling her. She was mystified that she’d managed to collect two punctures in a short ride to the hospital, and mystified too, at Grayson’s appearance. It was providential that he’d turned up when he did. He’d come for Javinder, he said, and that was plausible enough but he must have been close by for some time. She knew she hadn’t heard a car arrive. And then just when she needed rescue, the very moment she’d fallen from her bicycle, he was there right on cue. It seemed to fit too well the pattern Gerald had been at pains to point out and it was making her wary.

From their first meeting, she’d been charmed by Grayson but had never completely rid herself of distrust. He was vague and evasive and refused to answer her questions directly. The memory of the riot and his battered and blood-stained figure sitting beside her on the hospital bench was still vivid, but no matter how many times she’d gone over the events of that day in her mind, she could not fathom what Grayson had been doing at the parade. She’d been at a distance from the action but it seemed to her that, with Javinder alongside, he’d plunged into the crowd trying to reach the protesters. A District Officer was responsible for administering law in the villages, she knew, but how could he be involved in keeping order in Jasirapur, if that indeed was what he’d been doing?

No, she didn’t completely trust him, and she should have been more reticent today. Instead she’d related the most painful experience of her life: the crumbling of a dream, the loss of a small being for whom she’d already felt unconditional love. Why on earth had she told him? He was young, he was a man, and one not even distantly related to her, yet she’d felt compelled to unburden herself. And he hadn’t disappointed. He had understood, understood even the things she couldn’t say.

Despite that, she kept away from the Infirmary the next day, and for several days following. It was stupid, she knew, but she needed time before she made the journey again. She sent a note to Dr Lane apologising for her absence and assuring him that by the end of the week she would be back at the hospital. In the meantime, she continued to ride out with Anish. She’d grown to love the landscape they travelled on their dawn rides and was always happy to lose herself in the sounds and smells of the Indian countryside. Two days after the contretemps at the Infirmary, Anish arrived at the house very early, but she was already dressed and waiting for him.

It was some time since they’d visited the river but today they intended to attempt a return. He considered her a strong enough rider now, but if she began to feel at all weary, he warned, she was to say and they would turn the horses and head for home. She walked out onto the veranda, impatient to be gone, and saw that Gerald, already in uniform and waiting for his transport, had advanced down the path a short way and was talking with Anish. The two of them had their heads close together in earnest conversation. Momentarily she glimpsed Gerald’s face as he raised it and, even from this distance, she could see the two deep lines raking his forehead. Beside him, Anish’s gestures suggested an increasing frustration. She waited quietly on the veranda, unwilling to interrupt what she thought must be official business, but the men saw her almost immediately and broke off mid-sentence.

‘How are you today?’ Anish greeted her.

‘Feeling fine, thank you.’

She tried not to mind that Gerald was ignoring her. A car had arrived at the end of the lane and her husband was already walking towards it, without bidding her even a brief goodbye. Anish glanced at his friend’s retreating back. ‘Gerald is happy for you to go riding.’

It seemed a strange thing to say. Her husband had most days stood on the veranda, only too pleased to wave her off.

‘I’m glad that something is making him happy.’ She sounded bitter even though she’d not meant to.

‘He has problems, Daisy, and they weigh heavily.’ She knew what they were, of course. Gerald was still in debt and still married to the wrong person. ‘So are you ready for our expedition?’

‘I’m looking forward to it.’

And she was. She felt much stronger now, strong enough to tackle the ride that had given her so much trouble. If she made it to the river in one piece, it would be a small triumph. But well within the hour they’d reached their destination. Without realising, her horsemanship had improved hugely over the weeks and today she’d ridden far more swiftly than she’d ever thought possible. For a while they continued parallel to the river, hearing it lap gently against the muddy banks, and watching from the corner of their eyes several black and white skimmer birds, flying low over the brown water, their bright bills open to scoop up an unwary fish. Anish pointed ahead to a cluster of trees which lay round several deep bends.

‘We’ll make for those. They should give us some shade.’

The sound of laughter came to them, weaving a joyful path through the air. Around the last bend, a party of men and girls were camped by the river’s edge. As Anish and Daisy passed, the group looked up and waved, their faces wide with smiles and their voices raised in fun. A blanket lay between them, plates of cold chicken and glasses of champagne spread across its surface. Two of the girls were lying full length on the grass, their heads in the laps of men dressed in the uniform of army officers. Daisy was astonished by the informality of the scene; she had witnessed nothing like it since coming to India. The girls, she noticed, were extremely pretty—beautifully made up and fashionably dressed. No wonder the men looked happy to be with them.

‘The fishing fleet has departed,’ Anish remarked laconically as they rode on.

‘I don’t understand.’

‘It’s that time of the year. All the marriageable girls have gone back to England and when that happens, the rules relax. Plenty of picnics at dawn, dances in the moonlight, that kind of thing. Plenty of passion too!’

She ignored this tantalising strand to work out who the women might be. ‘I haven’t socialised much since I arrived, I know, but I’ve never seen those girls before.’

‘That’s hardly surprising. They keep a low profile in the cool season when everyone’s daughter or sister or cousin pays us a visit. But once the ladies have left, these girls come out to play.’

‘But who are they?’

‘They’re Eurasian. Not one thing or the other.’

‘And what does that mean?’

‘It means they move in a parallel world. They may live alongside the British but they don’t belong with them. And they don’t belong with Indians either. In fact, they’re despised for being casteless.’

She was shocked at the disdain in his voice. ‘But that’s so sad. They are very lovely.’

‘Lovely they may be, but a gentle warning. You shouldn’t mix with them. They’re considered your social inferior, and you need to keep a strict distance.’

He gave her a searching look, and she remembered the woman’s crass comment at the Club all those weeks ago. A swift glance back at the girls told her that the lightest of their skins was little darker than her own. Anish’s warning loomed unpleasantly but she felt an impulse to defend the carefree young women they’d ridden past.

‘If they
are
socially inferior, it doesn’t seem to be a problem for the young men.’

He shrugged. ‘The girls are young and good looking, as you say. And they’re fun. But what they aren’t are future wives, believe me. Marriage with Anglo-Indians is frowned upon and any man who marries one can never hope to become an officer in the Indian Army, or the British Army for that matter. And if he’s ICS, he’ll never rise to the top of that particular tree.’

Daisy digested this in silence. One more, she thought, to add to the list of barriers that people erected to keep themselves safe.

By now, they had reached the shelter of the trees. Anish helped her to dismount and together they found a spot on the almost bare ground, smooth enough to provide a comfortable resting place. Once Daisy had settled herself against a tree trunk, Anish stretched out his long form along the edge of the riverbank, his hand dipping lazily into the slow moving water. Rudolf and his comrade stood patiently beneath the trees a little way off and chewed at what was left of the grass. She looked across at them with affection.