In the Shadow of a Dream (12 page)

The man stared at Sam. With officious gestures he tucked a green and red flag under one arm, removed a whistle from his mouth and beamed a bureaucratic smile. ‘My name is Deshpande. I ham train guard.’

‘Sam gave a nod and offered his hand, which Deshpande shook with great vigour. ‘You see, gentleman, there’s been hold-up. Train will now depart in haff hour. But it is electric train, gentleman, and so it will make up time. Worry not.’

Sam thanked him and turned to Dusty. He felt in the inside pocket of his jacket and took out a letter which he unfolded. ‘Since we have time, Dusty, read this.’

Dusty took the letter, glanced at it and returned it. ‘Tell me the good bits, Sam.’

‘It’s all good. I wouldn’t have mentioned it otherwise; not when you’re going for a crucial interview. Although, noting your calm and absolute control, I needn’t have worried. Such maturity in one so young! You know how to protect yourself. That is good. Good for you.’

Dusty took the letter again. It read. “Dear Mr Dustoor. From my last letter you would have expected to hear from me sooner. Forgive me, but although inquiries in Goa confirmed my belief that your young ward is indeed my nephew and that his mother may indeed be Dom D’Silva’s sister…” ‘So he’s Dom not Denzil?’

‘Yes. I knew the initial was D. There, I must have known a Denzil. Read on.’

Dusty nodded and read on: “may indeed be Dom D’Silva’s sister, I have decided not to make the trip to Bombay and to let matters lie. Upsetting the status quo would, as you wisely stated solve nothing. I was curious, even keen, (in the circumstances, who wouldn’t be), but having met Dom—he was in Goa to help with my inquiries—certain facts remain unanswered. Also, having met the rather large D’Silva clan, I got the impression that many of the D’Silvas may wish to settle in England. That would put some strain on my family. So, as I would rather not be involved in sponsoring or supporting applications to the Home Office, my South London address is for you alone. For Dusty too, should he wish to use it. From what you have said that seems unlikely and I’ll respect the young man’s sensitivities. You have rehabilitated the boy and deserve his undivided loyalty, but I hope he won’t mind if you send me a photograph of him.”

Dusty handed the letter back to Sam, but before he could speak, the stocky, pith helmeted guard returned. ‘Please to board the train, gentlemen. It is about to depart. I am about to blow the whistle and wave the green flag.’

Sam nodded and Dusty climbed into the compartment, shut the door behind him, lowered the window and leaned out. They shook hands and boxed each other’s chins in a coy show of affection. ‘Good luck,’ Sam said, and turning round, saw the plump Mr Deshpande spring up into the Guards Van with unexpected agility.

‘Keep up the regime,’ Dusty said. ‘I haven’t seen you looking so well for ages.’

Sam grinned. ‘From now on you’re on your own. Write.’

‘You’re joking. I’ll be back in four days.’

‘I’m getting myself a Red Irish Setter.’

‘I was being selfish. I know how much you missed Bonny.’

‘We both loved that Golden Retriever. So you approve?’

‘Yes. Bonny’s death shook me. I didn’t want to go through all that again; but you should’ve insisted. Still, “I bid you beware/ Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.”’

‘Ah! Kipling.’ Sam smiled. With a plangent moan the train lurched forward. There was a metallic clang as the couplings engaged, jerked and lunged. Sam held up a grey felt bag, ‘in case you’ve forgotten to pack yours. Best razor I could find.’

‘Thanks. Take care, the train’s picking up…I did shave this morning.’

‘Next time get closer to the razor,’ Sam teased.

Dusty compressed his lips. ‘I do care, Sam. In my own way, I really do.’

‘I know,’ Sam shouted, as the train picked up speed. ‘Look out of the window when you go over the Ghats, the views are worth it.’ He waited and waved till the train drew out of sight.

Chapter Five
 

‘S
orry young man, but that’s my berth. Yours is the bunk above.’ The uniformed Sikh scarcely moved his lips, or so it seemed, for the general demeanour of his face was taut. Dusty put it down to his beard. It was neat and tightly tucked inside a hair net that went round his chin from under his turban. ‘No offence meant.’

‘None taken,’ Dusty assured him. He took in the Ashoka lions on the Sikh’s olive green shoulder lapels and added: ‘Sir!’

‘Don’t tell me you’re a brother officer. What, subaltern or a gentleman cadet?’

‘The last. I’ll move my stuff in a minute and, when it’s time to turn in, I’ll climb into my bunk. Till then I’ll sit by this window, if I may?’

‘By all means. Most welcome. So, it’s to the Military Academy at Tejpore? Your first term, I guess.’

‘Yes sir.’

‘Good. You’ll do well. I see you’ve been to a top school. St Thomas’s?’

Dusty glanced down at the badge on his blue blazer and smiled. ‘Yes.’

‘The name’s Amarjit. Major Amarjit Singh Grewal, Army Education Corp. You’ll be seeing me. I’m an Instructor at the Academy. Geography, map reading, that’s my subject.’ His already stretched eyebrows moved a little. ‘You are?’

‘Sorry, Dustoor, Sam Dustoor.’

‘Parsee? Not many Parsees in the Army.’

‘Not many Parsees in India.’

The Major frowned. ‘I thought, maybe you are Anglo-Indian. And what are you aiming for? Arms or Services?’ He consulted his watch and sat down facing the door which opened on to the station platform.

‘Arms. The infantry, if I fail to get the Armoured Corps.’ Dusty said evenly.

‘Armoured Corps, Cavalry? Tough. Only the ten best cadets get in. Well, no harm trying.’

‘Indeed, sir. I was warned. But I have strong hopes.’

‘And your worthy father’s name, if I may ask?’

Dusty hesitated a moment. ‘Sam Dustoor.’ He smiled. ‘I’m Sam Dustoor Junior.’

‘How very American.’

‘Well,’ Dusty quickly recovered, ‘Dustoor Senior has a brother in America.’

‘And is there a military tradition in your family? I mean, was your father…’ he broke off to spring at the door. ‘Hey! This is First Class. Are you
andha,
blind?
Jao, jao
!’ He gestured wildly then sat down again. ‘Sorry, but these damned coolies, oh they’re such crooks, you know. Just as train is about to move, they push luggage in, and then you can’t get rid of the passenger and his stuff till the next stop.’ He again consulted his watch. ‘Good. Soon we’ll be moving. Next stop, one hour away.’ The door handle rattled and the door was pushed open. ‘Hey, First Class! Bloody fool!’

‘Get out of the way!’ A voice from outside boomed. ‘I know it’s First Class, I’ve got a reservation, just couldn’t locate the damn compartment! Ah! it’s you, Jiti.’

‘Sorry, Colonel Sahib, let me give you a hand. I’ve been saving your berth.’

Dusty sprang to help. Grabbing a steel trunk by the handle he pulled it in, and as he did so, a tall man in a red striped blazer leapt in, shut the door, and leaned out of the window. ‘Here, coolie!’ He roared. ‘Take it. Come on! Come on, man! Don’t pretend you haven’t got change.’ The train picked up speed. ‘
Jaldi,
blast you!’ He chortled. ‘There goes a fiver. Still, I made it in the nick of time.’

‘Yes, sir. You have but Dhillon missed the boat.’ Major Amarjit laughed.

The new-comer faced his companions. ‘I see, Dhillon hasn’t made it.’ He mopped his brow and brushed his thin moustache. ‘Typical of Monty. Bad form.’

‘Actually sir, Captain Dhillon will board the train at Saharanpur. Next stop. But you won’t have to use the upper bunk. First come, first served.’

The Colonel grunted.

‘This is a five berther,’ the Major went on, ‘and there’s only the four of us.’

‘Thank God. I hate climbing up on to those things,’ said the Colonel, then in an undertone he asked: ‘And who’s the whippersnapper?’

‘A new cadet. Joining the Academy. Dustoor, this is Colonel…’

‘Chaudhary,’ filled in Dusty, ‘pleased to meet you. Your name’s on the trunk.’

‘Well observed, young man. But it’s not my trunk. I’m Colonel Dhanraj…’

‘Chief Instructor,’ piped in the Major. ‘Why the grin, Dustoor?’

‘Sorry, as P G Wodehouse would put it, I feel like a lion in a den of Daniels.’

‘Cheeky,’ growled the Colonel. ‘A word of advice, young man. This is your first term. So you keep a low profile. Cheek will only get you punishments. Watch it.’

‘The Sergeant-Major’ll put him right, sir,’ grinned the Major.

The Colonel nodded. ‘But Jiti, I thought this compartment was reserved for us. That’s you, me, and Dhillon.’ He rubbed his chin with the back of his hand.

‘Sir,’ Dusty regarded the Colonel with equanimity well beyond his years. ‘Let me explain. The Guard put me here. My reserved berth was in the coupé next door—the one with two berths. He asked if I’d be kind enough to surrender it to two ladies. VIPs I gather. One is the wife of General Sen Gupta.’

The two officers sat up, looked at each other, and speaking almost simultaneously said. ‘That’ll be Minnie! You did say Sen Gupta?’

Dusty nodded.

After a pause the Major said: ‘So, you’ve already met the Commandant’s wife.’

‘Yes, sir. The Guard confirmed that and the lady herself thanked me.’

‘Don’t let that go to your head, young man,’ warned Colonel Dhanraj. ‘And when we arrive at Tejpore in the morning, it would be for the best to pretend you did not meet any of us. Particularly Min…I mean, the Commandant’s wife. Get that?’

‘That’s as it should to be,’ added the Major. ‘Have you come prepared?’

‘Prepared?’ Dusty frowned. Prepared for what?’

‘For what, SIR! It’s January. Tejpore can be biting cold. Have you got a coat?’

‘Apart from this blazer I’ve got a woollen scarf. But I was given to understand I will be issued with winter uniform and a great coat.’ Dusty noted the Colonel had turned away and was busy spreading a blanket on the spare berth.

‘Oh, yes. But that’ll take some time. He’s from Bombay, sir. These fellows forget how cold it can be up here, in the north. You’re going to be an officer. Cadets, like officer’s uniforms, are tailored. As I said it will take some time. Till then you’ll wear a band with your cadet number, on your sleeve.’

‘I’ll lend him a trench-coat before we get to Tejpore.’ The Colonel said, as he lay full length on the birth. ‘Return it, after you get your stuff. Give it to your batman, I mean orderly, he’ll know how to get it to me.’ He sat up with a swift movement and started to untie his shoelaces. ‘Don’t look lost, young lad. One of the first things you do, after you’re allotted your room in the barracks, is to employ an orderly—actually, they are civilians, just chaps who shine your boots and check your kit. Usually one between two or three cadets, to spread the cost of his salary.’ He suddenly burst out laughing. ‘This is not for you, young man. Shut your ears. Jiti, you know, Sen Gupta, as far as his Minnie is concerned, is in the “being skinned stage”, you know.’

‘Sorry, I don’t get it. What d’you mean, sir?’

‘Remember when Sen Gupta dined with us last month. I thought you were there. Never mind. He said, over the cheese and port, “you know Gentlemen, there are five stages in a man’s love life. Like that of a fish. He is first baited, then hooked, caught, skinned, and finally cooked. Gentleman,” he said, “I am in the being skinned stage.”’

The Major dutifully laughed. ‘Clearly sir, Minnie’s been on a shopping spree with a friend. And you know who that lady friend will be? Malti, the Adjutant’s wife.’

‘You can’t know for certain. Are you just guessing?’

‘But I’ll be surprised if I’m wrong, Rajan.’ The colonel drew himself up, but as Amarjit quickly added “Sir”, he relaxed. ‘They say,’ continued Amarjit, ‘Malti wears the trousers. Bit unfair. That her husband’s appointment was due to an HBE.’

‘Her bloody effort!’ Colonel Dhanraj giggled, then turned to Dusty. ‘Young man, I think, you ought to climb into your bunk and turn in.’

Dusty held up a book. ‘I’m reading.’

‘I’m reading, Sir,’ prompted the Major.

‘But of course, Sir,’ Dusty said. He stood up, removed his blazer and hung it on the hook by the door. He then executed an athletic spring up to the bunk, lay back and turned on the reading lamp.

‘Don’t read for long, I can’t sleep when there’s a light on,’ the Colonel said.

‘I was glad to do a good deed by surrendering my berth, now sir, you’re making me regret it,’ Dusty mumbled, as he got down from the bunk.

‘That’s insolence. You obviously have a lot to learn about the Army, young man. Where are you going now?’

‘Sir? To the toilet. To clean my teeth, before I…or do I have to wait till…’

‘Sorry, young man, do go ahead. Don’t get me wrong.’ Colonel Dhanraj got up and opened the bathroom door. ‘Weren’t you supposed to arrive yesterday? The cadets of your course would be in and safely billeted.’ He looked at his watch.

‘I’ve informed the Academy. My joining up letter gives my ETA a day late. The authorities know the reason. And officially the course starts tomorrow.’