Anila's Journey (28 page)

It was only then that the tall birds became aware of us. They started telling each other the news and shifting and some made anxious little runs and looked back again to see if we had advanced.

Arjun had tears in his eyes too as we turned back towards his house.

“Your mother never saw these birds,” he said, and I knew that was true for otherwise they would have danced for ever in her stories.

“They first came here to our stretch of the river the winter after she left for the city with your father. The priests say that they are from the sacred places, that they bless young couples because of their own sweet bird marriages. This is the only village all along the river, as far as we travel, where these birds will come. You see, I think Annapurna sent them here. Another gift from Durga.”

I took his hand and pressed it between my own. There was nobody but myself and my grandfather in that water meadow and perhaps there was something of another world blowing in the sweet air around us.

We walked back in silence.

Everyone was outside Arjun's house when we returned, everyone except Meenakshi and Jonaki, who was trying in her baby way to help her mother clear the remains of the great meal. I stayed behind for a moment as Arjun joined the others.

“May I give her something?” I asked Meenakshi.

She stared at me, not understanding. I reached into my bag and took out my mother's fine scarf and one of the gold mohurs.

“This scarf was my mother's. If you keep it for Jonaki there will always be a memory of her in the village. You can tell her whose it was. And the gold, that was a kindness from my friend Miss Hickey and I would like Jonaki to share some of it. For luck.”

Meenakshi was speechless. But Jonaki smiled at me with her baby pearl teeth and took the two gifts in her sticky hands. That woke her mother, who rushed to wipe them.

We all walked towards the jetty, where Hari stood on board our boat, ready to cast away the ropes. Once again I knelt to honour Arjun. But then Manik, poor thing, threw himself round my legs and cried, for he finally understood that he was staying and we were leaving. Benu crouched down and said something to him, and after a moment Manik loosened his grip. He went to stand with Arjun, took his hand and stood proudly with him. Meenakshi popped something into his mouth, a sweet or a fruit, and his little mouth closed over it.

“I told him he was to protect his new dadamoshay and that Madan and I would be back very soon to race him in his new boat,” Benu whispered to me, as we went on board the
Hera
. He went directly to take his tiller seat and I noticed that his father did not call on him to help cast off, as was his custom.

What I saw then, for the longest time, as we set sail in the low evening sun, was the bright purple of my mother's scarf, twisted round little Jonaki's head and waving like a ship's pennant in the breeze that was carrying us down to Calcutta.

WHEN I WALKED INTO
Mrs Panossian's shop the day after our return to the city I confess that I felt as smug as the Female Quixote herself. Nobody could have better news to tell. All our adventures and excitements, these were my clutch of golden eggs.

I could count them off, right hand, left hand. Good things like discovering the incredible story of my father. Meeting my grandfather and walking in my mother's world. And, every day we were away, learning the ways of birds, the sweetness of the river, the kindness of Madan, Hari and Benu.

And the bad things. Carlen. No matter that he'd been essential to me, or that his death had made him seem noble, Carlen still had the power to twist a knife in my belly. There was the terror of Manik's life before we rescued him. And, though it must be counted in lesser degree, there had been the hardship of saying goodbye to Madan and Benu only yesterday, outside their riverbank home.

Oh yes, that was fresh in my mind.

While we waited for a carriage, Madan asked his wife, Aparna, to bring us some food. I offered to help but this tall woman, still pretty in her red-bordered sari, drew back and sucked in her breath so that she would not have to share the same air as me. When she brought out her bowl of spiced rice and hot brinjal slices she placed it farthest from me, the unclean spirit. She moved inside then, and I was sorry because she did not see what happened when the carriage came.

Mr Walker, Hari and Madan stood up but Benu stayed. He laid a folded leaf in front of me, tied up with a thin strand of rope as if it were a fancy box.

“For you,” he said. But he would not meet my eyes.

I opened the leaf flat on the stone. Inside was a page of my drawing paper on which the English letters A-N-I-L-A were written, as neatly executed as any script I had ever made. Sitting on the paper was a tiny pearl, the size of a nose-stud, a black pearl with a sugar sheen. It was beautiful.

“I found it in the river the day you found Manik,” he said. “I could not give it to you before even though you gave me your gift. But it was for you always. To remind you.”

He stopped.

“Benu, it is beautiful. When I see you again I will have had it made into a ring. I will always keep it. And your writing, you must…”

His face twisted. Then he was up on his feet and running away, to be useful with the other men. He stood back and did not catch my eye when everything was loaded on top and we gathered at the carriage door to say our farewells. That was as well because my own eyes were dangerously wet. But I was glad to see that Mr Walker sought him out and slipped some coins into his hand.

Madan clasped my own right hand in one of his and then took Mr Walker's in the other. I wanted to touch his moustache, to reach up and stroke his shining head. If only Madan could be a maharajah of all the world, I thought. A child's thought.

“We will hear from you again,” he said, simply. “We will hear good things.”

And so we had left them, left our river behind, even though we made our lumbering way beside it for the most part. When we reached the city's broad streets the white world slipped back around us like a glove.

The little pearl had gone back into its leaf and joined the other precious things in my bag. I had it with me now to show Anoush.

The shop's bell gave me away at once. I would have preferred to have stolen unannounced to the end of the counter where Anoush was sitting on a stool, head bent over the ledger and a long pen in her hand. There was nobody else in the shop.

“Anila! I can't believe what I see! You're home again, safe!”

She lifted the hatch in the counter and came out to me. She hugged me so hard that I could feel her laugh underneath like water on the boil. She smelt of lemons and ink.

“And I have so much to tell you! I can't believe what I have to tell you,” she said. “My life has changed in just a few weeks. But you, look at you. You've changed too. I can't say how exactly but it's in your face.”

Gently, she touched my cheek.

“Anoush, I've found my father.”

She stepped back and her mouth made an O just like the little hallelujah boys of St John's.

“Well, not quite, I've not come upon him yet but I know where to find him. All that is needed is to book a passage to Madras and Mr Walker is doing that right now.”

I tried to make my story brief, in case Mrs Panossian or the shop boys disturbed us. But that only served to leave Anoush with more questions, so then I had to start over again, and fill in the gaps until she was satisfied. One bearer came in with an order but he was gone in quick time and I could get back to recounting exactly how Benu and I had rescued little Manik. For after she had grasped the events concerning my father, this was the part of our adventure that thrilled Anoush most.

“And Manik is now with your grandfather. So, he is like a little brother for you.”

I hadn't quite thought of that. Suddenly another notion came to my mind. Suppose my father had found another woman, perhaps even married one, since he knew no better? Then indeed I might have a little brother, or a sister. But Carlen hadn't mentioned such a thing and if it were the case he surely would have, to plague me with more misery.

Anoush sighed with pleasure. She hadn't noticed my silence.

“Anila, we both saved little boys by accident and look what has happened to us. Now I must tell you my news. I'm to marry. Look!”

She held out her left hand. A golden bronze stone set into silver made a star shape on her pale finger.

“To
marry?
But who, when? What happened? It's only a few weeks since I saw you! Anoush, what do you mean?”

My friend was pink but she was not giggling in her usual fashion. She touched the star ring to her mouth as if to check it, as a blind person might, and then looked directly at me.

“It's not a secret, so it doesn't matter who interrupts us now. We marry at Easter. Do you remember the picnic we had on Christmas Day? The horseman who helped me up?”

I nodded.

“He so much wanted you to speak to him. He was tall and very pale and you made him a namashkar because you wanted him to know you were not English so he might add that to your limp and reckon all your disadvantages at once.”

That was what she had told me afterwards.

Anoush's blush deepened.

“Yes, well, he came to the shop the next day because, remember, you shouted out my name and the Panossian name, and indeed he says Anila Tandy is responsible for everything since then! He came again the next day, and the next. And he was so pleasant always that in the end I said I would let him walk home to the Seropins's with me. He bought me a new sari that day because he said it was his fault that my pink one was torn. It's so beautiful, with gold thread, Anila, you will see it.”

Of course, Mrs Panossian detected something in the air, Anoush explained. Or perhaps Gabriel or Mesrop told her about the young officer who would be served only by Anoush.

“Mesrop was a little jealous at first, I believe. But Philip,” she blushed again, “his name is Lieutenant Philip Tilling and he is from the city of London, he has shown Mesrop so many new mathematical calculations that now I think Mesrop prefers him to me.”

“Anyway, one morning Philip came in and insisted on telling Mrs P what happened on the green and that same day Mrs Herbert – you remember, the little boy's mother? – came in with a basket of English soaps for me and she added the family to the customers' books. So Mrs P thought I was a kind of saint. And then Philip brought a buggy on the Sunday and we took a boat to the Gardens just like you did and that was where he asked me to marry him. Of course he had to ask Mrs P when we returned here but she was not difficult at all, Anila. I couldn't believe it. She said she was glad she had no longer to put effort into thinking about a match for me. But I never thought she did, anyhow. People surprise you, don't they?”

She looked so eager and happy. I perched myself on the counter and smoothed down my cotton trousers as if I might iron them that way.

“He's so kind, Anila. I truly believe we will be happy because I know that from the first he has known about my weakness. He says it makes him love me more. Look, my ring stone is only onyx. He says he will buy another later but I love this one, don't you?”

She wanted me to say something but I was truly confused. Through my soft bag I felt my own little pearl, still wrapped in its leaf bag. I could not show her that now, it was quite another thing altogether, as unfinished as I was myself. My Anoush married? But yes, she was several years older than my mother had been when she left her father's house. She was old enough to marry, nobody could say she was not.

“Anoush, anybody could see how that soldier looked at you that day. He saw everything good about you. I am very happy for you. It's just such a sudden thing to hear about and now I wonder will you be moving away, to England perhaps. I couldn't bear that.”

Anoush wrinkled her nose.

“Oh, but I won't,” she said. “Philip has only just arrived here. He wants nothing more than to spend a very long time in India, he says. He loves it.”

Then she poked my knees gently with her ring.

“Anyway, look at you. You will probably be in Madras always now, by the sea, what with your father
and
the Hickeys. Oh, Anila, do you think you might come out with us on Sunday? To show Philip the little garden house, perhaps?”

Of course our peace could not last. The door from behind opened with a click and Mrs Panossian stepped through, her dress a full black sail.

I jumped down and did a namashkar for her.

“Anila! Well, you are returned to the city as a proven matchmaker if nothing else,” she said. “You have heard my young cousin's news?”

She was smiling so broadly her eyes seemed to disappear into her cheeks.

“You will be our welcome guest at the ceremony, of course. You've never been to an Armenian wedding, I'm sure. But first of all, a clever girl like you will understand that since you have caused Anoush to be stolen from me you must now undo the damage and take up her duties.”

I could say nothing for opening and closing my mouth like a fish.

But Mrs Panossian laughed at my confusion.

“Have no fear, girl,” she said. “I never doubted that your spirit and mine would be soon at odds behind my counter. I make a jest. Besides, there is great competition for your person. Have you told her, Anoush?”

Anoush clapped her hands to her mouth.

“Mercy, no, but I think it's no matter now, Auntie. Anila has discovered where her father is!”

I might as well have been closeted with a gentleman of the law then, for all the questions that I had to answer, though of course Mrs Pan got only a certain version from me. Had I told her that I had slept in a soldier's tent I believe that detail might have compromised me off the premises. Or that the salt she sold in her store had a rival trade up the river, with no tax to pay.

Anoush had to leave us time and again to deal with the late customers but when she closed the door at last she came back to us.