Zemindar (101 page)

Oliver chuckled and I had to smile.

‘These girls should be disciplined by their parents; kept at home where they belong, instead of being allowed to gallivant all over the entrenchment in the dark with the first private soldier in sight!’

‘At home, is it then?’ objected Kate. ‘Oh, Charles, come now! And do you not know of the conditions in the
tykhanas
of the Resident’s House? The crowding and the stench and the noise? Any young girl who stayed in that “home” when she had a chance of getting out of it would be crazy.’

‘That’s the truth,’ nodded Jessie. ‘And, Mr Charles, if you’re thinkin’ maybe they’d have protection in the
tykhanas
from the ill-doin’ of the lads, you’d be sair mistook. Och, when I mind the sights, and sounds too, aye, I’ve seen and heard nights in those rooms. And not only there, mind. Decency comes hard to the likes of a soldier’s wife, sir, when ye mind that we’re unco’ fortunate if we find ourselves in married quarters. Mostly ’tis a bed behind a cotton sheet at the end of a barracks wi’ a hundred other souls sleepin’ and wakin’ around ye. Privacy. Decency. They’re not for the likes of us, Mr Charles. The lassies learn that young.’

‘Deplorable,’ said Charles. ‘Absolutely deplorable.’

‘Aye, and that it is an’ a’,’ agreed Jess with conviction. When the men had returned to their posts and Jessie had gone in to ready the evening meal—no preparation was necessary since it was the same bullock broth we had eaten at mid-day—Kate and I lingered on in the evening air.

‘So she,’ Kate flicked her head towards our open kitchen door, ‘intends to go to Hassanganj, when all this is finished, to housekeep for Oliver Erskine. You knew, I suppose?’

‘She mentioned it. But he must have been joking. The idea is absurd.’

‘Why so? A mite premature, perhaps, but all in all a good idea. He certainly needs a housekeeper, and she will need a home. Though what Toddy and Ishmial will think of having their fastness invaded by a woman and permanently is perhaps best left unsaid.’

‘Tod gets on with her. There is something similar in their characters for all the dissimilarity in form.’

‘A willingness to call a spade a spade?’

‘And an ability to turn off the conscience when it interferes with comfort.’

‘Quite!’ Kate laughed.

‘Anyway,’ I had to admit, ‘if Oliver says it is right, it will be right—for Tod and Ishmial.’

‘But not for you?’ There was a sly note in Kate’s voice. I looked down at the untended hands lying on my stained and threadbare skirt. We knew each other too well now for dissimulation, but I made no reply.

‘He’s the man for you, woman dear,’ she said. ‘Surely you see it now?’

‘Perhaps. But … there are difficulties.’

‘Whenever were there not? But difficulties are made to be overcome.’

I sighed and watched the monkeys cavorting on the rooftop.

‘Sure, when he first came “in” it was obvious how both of you felt. I thought it would be plain sailing. He’s alive. You’re free. And it isn’t still Charles who holds your fancy, that I do know.’

‘Was it ever?’ I wondered.

‘Ah, yes—when you first arrived in Lucknow. And even later, in Hassanganj. But then, when Oliver began to put himself out to be pleasant and agreeable, I observed a change. I expect you thought it was all for Emily, as I did at first, but I soon realized that the happier he could keep Emily, the easier she was for you to deal with, and the more readily you could leave her in order to spend time with himself in the library, or riding around the estate, and so on. Very clever, he was; cunning.’

‘He was good to poor Emily. She had begun to love him, I believe.’

‘Well, sure and that would be no surprise. She needed love, that girl, like a dog needs a pat; may her soul rest in peace. But he—well, Oliver never had eyes for her.’

It was a relief to know my secret was shared, and being in love, there was joy even in speaking of Oliver, so I did not change the subject.

‘And you,’ Kate went on, ‘I thought at first had eyes for no one but Charles. Oliver must have seen it too, and very exasperating he found it, I’m sure. But before long I realized that, whether you knew it or not, there was a sort of … understanding between the two of you. Can’t guess how he contrived it, but there it was; and often when the two of you were talking, the rest of us were shut out completely, and I would get the impression that what you
said
was not what you were talking about at all.’

‘You’re too shrewd, Kate,’ I answered. ‘Far shrewder than I was, for I never guessed his regard until we were making our way here through all those horrors. And then he had to tell me!’

‘Bless me! And you so intelligent and learned. Ah, well! But don’t tell me you turned him down?’

‘At the time. I reconsidered.’

‘Then what are the difficulties?’

‘Perhaps there are none really. Perhaps I am anticipating what will not, or cannot, happen. After all, however much he may want to return to Hassanganj, there is not much chance that he will be able to do so. Not with all the changes that are bound to come when this is over.’

‘You mean you want him, but in England?’

I nodded.

‘That’s a tall order you’re placing, Laura, and a hard choice you’re giving him. ’Tis his life, Hassanganj.’

‘But, Kate, Hassanganj is gone. He must reconcile himself to that, surely? He’ll never be allowed to run that place again like a … a private kingdom, as Emily used to say. He will have to make other plans, find another life, come home to England and settle down like everyone else.’

The bright blue eyes regarded me doubtfully.

‘’Tis a big stick you are making to beat yourself with. Is it only living in India that is your difficulty? Or do you not truly love him, after all?’

Tears sprang to my eyes and I averted my head as I whispered, ‘I do love him, most dreadfully. But I could not live out here now, Kate. I cannot.’

‘Well, it’s not I that will blame you for feeling so, but I believe in time, quite a short time probably, things will get back to normal. We know so little of what has happened, of course, but …’

‘But I will not get back to “normal”,’ I interposed. ‘I will never forget.’

‘Even though, when things have been settled, living in India will be easier for us all, more comfortable, and certainly much safer? The Government …’

‘Perhaps,’ I broke in again, unwilling to be persuaded. ‘But I want no part of it. I only want to get home and know that the people around me are my own people, speaking my own language, thinking along the lines I have been taught to think. I want to lie down at night knowing there is little chance of the house taking fire and none at all that my neighbours will be shot and killed.’

‘And who would blame you for that, indeed? But don’t be too hasty. Think well. Give yourself time, don’t you see?’

‘It’s the insecurity, Kate. I’d never for a moment feel truly safe here. I just want to go Home now. Home.’

‘Perhaps that will be the best thing. Time works wonders, and he’d wait. He’s a contrary divil, mind, as I’ve often remarked, but not a fickle one, I think. If his mind is set on you, he’ll wait.’

I could only shake my head again, for rare tears were troubling me.

‘Ah, the pity of the way Fate works things out for us all,’ Kate went on with a deep sigh. ‘Here am I, loath to leave India, but with nothing to keep me here, and you, with so much reason to stay, wanting to go. All my old bones seize up with rheumatism at the very thought of leaving the sun and the heat and the big dark bungalows in shady gardens, and all the jollities in the cold weather, and the young men who have counted me a friend over the years—my boys. When I think of the bleak skies and the cold grey seas of Home, and of damp people hurrying down slushy streets, and all the poor creatures like me growing old with their hearts in India and their feet on a stranger’s hearth …’

‘It need not be like that.’

‘For me, it will be. India caught me young. I love it. Here’s where my life’s been, my memories. Here’s where my dead man’s bones are—somewhere,’ she added, blinking her blue eyes very quickly. ‘I belong here, still, despite everything.’

For a moment we were silent with our thoughts.

‘That is how I would have to feel if I were to stay,’ I acknowledged. ‘There was a time when, perhaps, I could have. I was so interested in everything out here; so curious and so anxious to like and understand it. I tried to learn everything I could, everything Oliver wanted to teach me. But India herself has taught me more than I wanted to know. And the wrong things.’

In our kitchen Jessie banged a spoon on a pan to call us to the meal.

‘Laura?’

‘Yes?’

‘Think well. Don’t let him go. To be sure, he’ll pipe you a merry dance; he’s headstrong and so are you, and there’ll be many a time when you’ll disagree and worse. But difficult as he is, he’s the man for you. There won’t be two like him!’

‘I know,’ I agreed sadly. ‘I know.’

I would not let my mind dwell on the choice that I might have to make. I had learned that it is wisest to live in the day for the day. Much might yet happen to obviate the necessity for any choosing on my part, and I was young, in love and recently freed from a terrible fear. So I would not think but laughed and sang, and found everyone around me suddenly and unaccountably lovable.

Each day as the quick dusk closed around us, I could look forward to hearing a certain step on the verandah’s flags and would hold myself in readiness for a stroll through the inner, safer environs of the entrenchment, or a long softly-spoken talk as we sat on the steps under the chilly new stars with his one arm around my shoulders. My first thought in the morning was to count the hours until I saw him, and often I was too impatient to wait until dusk but would saunter past the hospital to the Baillie Guard and stand looking out between the tall, singed doors as though only the new freedom of this larger vista held my attention. But just to my left, as I watched the morning’s work progressing before me, was the battered Treasury building where now Oliver and others, with much ribaldry and laughter, heated lead and filled the moulds for the Lee Enfield bullets, and there was always a chance that I might be glimpsed by him in the course of my early walk. I was, of course, very surprised to find Oliver was already at work, and he would be astonished to find me on my way to the hospital so early. He would walk a few paces of my way with me, enquiring solicitously of the welfare of my ‘family’ until we were out of earshot, then perhaps reduce me to giggles by addressing me as his
Nur Jehan
, his Light of the World, or his
Dil ki Aziz
, his Heart’s Sweetness. If the morning were very blue and gold-limned like an illumination from a Book of Hours, he might recite a few lines from the Urdu poet Ghalib, or a short rhymed poem called a
ghazal
, which, though flattering, was not altogether satisfactory. My Urdu was not up to the high-flown stanzas and, knowing Oliver, I guessed his recitation might just as well have been a lampoon on the unfortunate rotundity of some dead Mohammedan worthy of Lucknow as a paean to my youth or loveliness.

The mornings were now cold enough to require the protection of a coat or cloak, but he owned none and we had nothing suitable to lend him. Eventually Toddy-Bob ‘came by’ a splendid native bedcover of quilted crimson satin in one of the palaces, and this his master was content to wear, with a hole cut in the middle for his head and hanging over his shoulders, much like the garb of some South American natives.

After a few moments, when my day, my life, my world were all offered up and returned to me exalted in the light of two direct amber eyes, he would bow politely and I would climb the slope, humming with happiness, to my hours among the sick.

Sometimes I was ashamed of this happiness, for it kept me from entering fully into the sufferings of those around me. I did my best, and I hope without impatience, but it is difficult truly to sympathize with another’s misery when one’s personal reality is all unbounded joy. I knew enough of life not to wish myself less happy, however, and always at the back of my mind was the nagging awareness that I might have to make a choice that would end my joy.

Once again our rations were cut. Now there was no point in trudging up the hill to the Gaol for a midday meal. I contented myself with dry
chapattis
carried in my pocket, and left the hospital a little earlier in consequence. In the hospital, as soon as a man was capable of thought, he thought of food. So did we all. It was a constant topic of conversation with everyone, and when Jessie leaned her head against the wall with closed eyes to ‘tak’ a spell’ from her knitting, or Kate’s blue gaze grew faraway and misty with longing, I knew it was not their loved ones they were thinking of but legs of mutton, Devonshire cream, gooseberry tarts and hot scones soaked with butter. Often I woke in the morning on the point of tears because my waking dream had been of a bountiful meal which consciousness had kept me from tasting.

Day by day and for all our efforts, we grew dirtier and more unkempt. Gram flour made a poor substitute for soap for washing ourselves, and our clothing we could only rinse out in clear water. Vermin troubled the sick almost as much as wounds and disease, and I took to wearing a species of turban over my short hair to protect myself further from infestation. The boys of the Martinière were a sorrow to behold: ragged, their rags filthy, barefoot often, with uncut hair and pale bony faces they scampered about the entrenchment like a pack of mangy monkeys, shivering with cold. At my request Toddy made it his business to acquire some more native quilts which he halved and handed out to the boys who helped in the hospital.

When Mr Roberts appeared in our quarters one evening looking almost as slovenly as the boys, I knew we must be nearing the end of our endurance. He had brought me a gift— and, of course, information.

‘I am told, and on the best of authority,’ he started, with an attempt at his old didactic manner, ‘that General Outram is actually advising Brigadier Greathed and his Delhi column to meet and finish off a band of insurgents said to be making their way to Cawnpore before making any attempt to relieve us. Can you believe such stupidity, Miss Laura, such depravity, I might almost say? We are his first and most pressing responsibility and he motions away the only succour we can expect. He is jeopardizing the life of every one of us for some stupid … military tactical fancy. Nothing more!’