Barbara Cleverly (24 page)

As her inspection drew to a close, Nancy was obviously subjected to a barrage of questions most of which seemed to relate to Joe himself.

‘They assume,’ said Nancy, ‘that you are my husband. And look, Joe — seriously now — for the purposes of this conversation we have to be married. The idea of an unmarried lady in the deep jungle with an unmarried gentleman would be incomprehensible and impossible.’

‘Isn’t that rather awkward?’ said Joe. ‘Supposing the Collector should call?’

‘Oh, he often does. They assume he’s my father so that doesn’t present a problem. But the fact that we have no children does. That they can’t understand, and perhaps you’d like to know that they assume that it’s all your fault!’ She turned and, speaking in Bengali, obviously had this confirmed in a shrill chorus.

‘One of their problems,’ she said, ‘is that they’ve never seen such a white sahib before. It’s all right though — they guess that you come from the far north. They assume the scar on your forehead is the mark of a wild animal, a panther perhaps. Oh, no — there’s going to be a legend about this!’ And judging by the flood of questions which ensued and the peals of laughter which Nancy’s responses elicited, the legend was growing.

‘I don’t mind,’ thought Joe.

‘Aspirin and quinine,’ Nancy said in an aside to Joe as she handed packages to Supriya. ‘I’ve taught her how to administer them. They’re beginning to trust me. They call me in now for eye problems, ticks and tapeworms and for childbirth. It was difficult at first to make them understand that it’s not wise to wait for four days when a girl is in labour. Trouble is, they think it’ll turn out all right if they say enough spells. The first baby I delivered here was four days overdue, it was the girl’s first baby and it was my first baby if you see what I mean. Terrifying! I added my prayers to their spells and got busy. They worked on the top end, combing her hair and plaiting charms into it, and I worked on what you might call the business end. It was a boy and they both survived. And now they think I’m very good at delivering boys and if they call me in it’s likely to be a boy. Supriya is able to help me now and her little sister, Malobika, is keen to learn too. So maybe I’m having a beneficent impact, or something of the sort.’

More sticky cakes were produced from one of the huts and another bowl of milk. Nancy explained that as a child she would not have been allowed cakes or sweets. ‘What a lot of nonsense!’ she said. ‘Mind you, if they’d been lying open in the bazaar with all the flies in Bengal on them it would be a different story, but up here what harm can it do?’

They took their farewells at last, remounted and, accompanied by a contingent of children to the edge of the village, they turned their ponies to follow a track which led to the stream that fed the village water wheel.

‘Well, what did you think of the real India?’

‘I thought Lasra Kot was charming. But I wouldn’t call it the real India.’

‘No?’ she asked in surprise. “Then what is?’

He shook his head, wishing he had not so casually introduced a false note into their day, but Nancy waited for him to go on. ‘I’ve been spending my lonely evenings in Calcutta reading, trying to understand this strange place where I’ve fetched up. I came across an Indian writer called Sri Aurobindo

’

The tightening of Nancy’s lips gave away her opinion of Joe’s reading matter.

‘Yes, I know he was imprisoned by the British — all the best people are at some time or other! — and he’s generally considered a trouble maker, an insurgent, whatever word you’re using at the moment, but he had something to say which has stayed with me — “We do not belong to past dawns but to the noon of the future.” Naurung, his father, their friends, they are the noon of the future, if you like. Not a romantic vision perhaps and certainly not a reassuring one but, for me, that’s where the real India lies.’

He instantly regretted having spoken the truth. Her look of shining confidence was for a moment dimmed by foreboding and he feared that he might have spoiled their day. But she recovered her good humour quickly and said cheerfully, ‘Then I haven’t shown you enough. Come this way. We’ll take the road into the hills.’

They went on to climb beside a rushing stream. The track became more stony and led between great creeper-clad boulders until it ended by a pool and a waterfall.

The tension between them was by now extreme.

Nancy threw her leg over the horse’s head and slid to the ground, leading him to the water to drink.

‘I’m hot,’ said Joe and, feeling gently round the back of Nancy’s neck, ‘you’re hot too. Can you think of any reason why we shouldn’t swim — I mean — is it safe?’

‘Safe?’ said Nancy, breathlessly. ‘Oh, I think so. As high as this it’s very cold and surely safe to drink.’

‘I didn’t mean that,’ said Joe. ‘What about water snakes?’

‘Well, if you get in first and splash about a bit it ought to be safe for me.’

She turned about and stood very close to Joe, her hands on his shoulders. ‘I have never swum alone with a man in my life and, come to think of it, I’ve never undressed in broad daylight with a man either. Perhaps this hasn’t meant much to you — I’ve no idea of your private life — but I’ll tell you, it’s meant a very great deal to me. More I expect than you could conceivably imagine. And we aren’t within miles of the end of our investigation but I can see that there will be an end and then you’ll go back to your London flat and I’ll go back — I’ve never been away — to my life as the Collector’s wife. And happy enough to be that. But something important will have happened to me. Tell me, if you can, will you be sad when we have to say goodbye to each other? Because goodbye is what we’re going to have to say. I shan’t die but I shall be sad and I’d like you to be a bit sad too.’

‘Nancy, you don’t know the half of it!’ said Joe. ‘The moment hasn’t come but I know it’s coming fast and I shall be very sad. This is the Land of Regrets all right! And I think you’re wonderful

I think you’re very beautiful. But much more than that, I think you’re bright and clever and brave and

’ There was a long pause. ‘I’d trust you with anything. I’d trust you with my life.’

‘That’s a very nice thing to say. I shall treasure it — when it came to the point, you’d trust me with anything. What more could anyone expect to hear? And I’d say exactly the same thing to you.’

For reply, Joe kissed her for a very long time, clumsily trying to unbutton her shirt as he did so.

‘Come on, Joe! For a man with your savoir vivre you’re a terrible unbuttoner! Let me do it. You could be unbuttoning yourself if you like,’ she added and then, in a conversational tone, “These have to be the least erotic clothes we could have chosen! And you haven’t seen it all yet! Not knowing — or rather not being certain — how the day was going to turn out, I’m wearing the most sensible pair of knickers I possess! Just the thing for riding but

’ her voice trailed away while they kissed each other some more, and she finally concluded in a slightly strangled voice, ‘

but not what I’d choose for dalliance.’

‘And I’m not dressed for dalliance either,’ said Joe. ‘In the best of circumstances, it takes me a very long time to get out of these jodhpurs!’

They emerged at last, naked, and hand in hand on the edge of the pool.

‘Swim first?’ said Joe.

‘Yes,’ said Nancy, glancing down at him in some embarrassment, ‘but only if you can contain yourself.’

‘All clear of snakes, are we?’

Nancy stepped off the edge of the rock they were standing on, straight into deep water, and Joe jumped after her. The water was surprisingly cold. Nancy looked down at him once more. ‘Not such a big boy, after all,’ she said. ‘Does that always happen in cold water?’

He looked down with appreciation at Nancy, turned to jade green under the water. ‘You look like a bronze statue,’ he said. ‘Do Indians have Naiads? If so, you will always be the Naiad of this pool and I will always leave a bit of my heart here.’

‘Yes,’ said Nancy, ‘I believe you will.’

They swam the circuit of their pool; they stood for a moment under the waterfall.

‘Bronze, ivory and coral,’ said Joe. ‘Bronze curls, ivory skin

’

‘And coral?’

‘Coral nipples,’ said Joe, stooping to kiss them.

‘The cold water shrinkage system doesn’t seem to be working,’ Nancy said. ‘Time to be ashore.’

Joe made an untidy pile of their clothes and, hand in hand, they sank down on this. Nancy was, to Joe, exotic and familiar; exotic because strange, familiar from their night in Calcutta, tasting as he had remembered and smelling as sweet as he had remembered. They made love with much passion, punctuated by Nancy who squeaked an inconsequential question requiring no answer. At last they fell apart from each other and lay back, each wrapped in silent thought.

After a few minutes Nancy began to stir and abruptly sat up. ‘Tell you something, Joe,’ she said. ‘I’m hungry!’

‘Good Lord! That’s right. So am I! I’d forgotten — we’ve got a perfectly good picnic.’

They settled together to lay out their picnic on a cool flat rock, with appreciative murmurs from Joe as he unpacked sandwiches, two bottles of the inevitable India Pale Ale and a mango each accompanied by a silver fruit knife and fork.

They ate in companionable silence, neither feeling the need to fill the gaps with inconsequential chatter, each lost in thoughts for the moment unsharable.

‘No coffee, I’m afraid,’ said Nancy at last.

‘Who wants coffee?’ said Joe, leaning over to lick an errant drop of mango juice from between her breasts.

‘I do, actually,’ she replied. ‘But there’s something I want more than coffee and that’s you.’ Flushing slightly at her own boldness, she added hurriedly, ‘Look, I’m not sure how men

how you

work. Is this all right?’

‘It depends who you’re with,’ said Joe. ‘I’ll tell you — with you it’s abundantly all right!’

As they rode slowly back together Nancy said, ‘Tell me, Joe — I don’t know anything about you. Where do you come from? What’s your world? What’s your family?’

‘I wondered when you’d get around to checking my pedigree!’ he said easily. ‘I’m from Selkirk, the River Etrick, a place called Drumaulbin on the Borders. My father has a place there. It’s quite big — three farms really — but even so there isn’t enough to support two sons in affluence and I left it to my older brother to take care of and went to read Law in Edinburgh. But then the war came along and I joined the Scots Fusiliers. I and half a dozen lads from Drumaulbin all joined up together and set off south. Blue bonnets over the border, you might say.’

‘But you didn’t go back to the Law after the war?’

‘No. By that time I’d got so identified with the Fusilier Jocks I wanted to do something for them which I didn’t think I could do as a douce Writer for the Signet, called to the Scottish bar, so, after a certain amount of thought, I joined the police.’

‘Now why on earth should you do that? I mean, it’s not the place where you’d expect to find a gentleman, is it?’

‘Well, I thought, in general, boys like the ones I was fighting with have a pretty rotten deal one way or another. I thought I could do more good as a bobby than as a lawyer.’

‘What nonsense! Men don’t join the police to do good!’

‘Don’t judge us all by the example of Bulstrode! But you’re partly right. I had another compulsion. I was wounded in the trenches — shot through the shoulder

’

‘I noticed! Someone did a good repair.’

‘But while I was away from the front recuperating they kept me busy. I was given intelligence work to do. Interrogation of prisoners. I found I was rather good at it and when I came out I wanted to do more. There’s been a big shake-up in the police force since the war. Everyone has a picture of friendly but stern blue-caped bobbies ticking little boys off for stealing apples but it’s not like that at all. There are so many changes, so many developments — fingerprinting, telegraph communication, the flying squad — and I want to be there in the forefront pushing the force in the right direction!’

‘Goodness! I hadn’t realised you were such a missionary!’

‘Missionary?’ Joe laughed. ‘I believe it’s time the police force stopped being a servant of the aristocracy and became the guardian of society and that sounds very pompous so I suppose you’re right. I am a sort of social missionary.’

‘You must have felt you were coming back through time being sent to Bengal?’

‘I’ve loved working with the Bengal Police. They’re clever, eager and effective. There’s nothing I’d like more than a squad of Sikh officers to take back to London with me! Give me twenty Naurungs! That would shake up Whitehall!’

‘So your time hasn’t entirely been wasted here?’

‘No. I suddenly found myself locked in the arms of a dusky charmer and minded never to return. I mean — you don’t pick up a timeless houri on every corner in life’s road. Make the most of your opportunities, I say,’ said Joe lightly. ‘Is there anything else I can tell you about Sandilands of Drumaulbin?’

Nancy gave him a searching look, smiled and shook her head in uncharacteristic confusion. She kicked her pony and drew ahead, leaving Joe to watch her slender figure through narrowed and speculative eyes.

Ť ^ ť

As they rode into Panikhat in the late afternoon the air grew still, the glow of the sky deepened as the sun burned its way westward and wreaths of smoke from cooking fires coiled and flattened over the native town.

Joe looked at Nancy, flushed, sunburned and dishevelled. ‘Shall I,’ he wondered, ‘tell her that she’s got two buttons undone and the label of her blouse is sticking out? This is a little bit embarrassing, I think. Andrew might well be the nicest man I know and I sometimes think he is but — unless-he’s a fool, which I think he isn’t

’

He needn’t have worried. As they drew into the Drummond compound, a syce ran up to take the horses and a bearer hurried to Nancy with a note on a silver tray. She read it quickly and said, ‘Oh, what a shame. Andrew’s been called away to Goshapur. There’s a row brewing apparently between a landlord and some of his tenants. He won’t be back before sunset. Can I offer you a drink, Joe?’