By Eastern windows (20 page)

Bappoo agreed with her, clapping his hands for the two household servants to see to the Captain-Sahib's food.

While he ate, Jane sat at his left hand and continued to ply him with eager questions, which he attempted to answer between mouthfuls of food.

He told her about the conquest of Cochin, which had been won with only two deaths on the British side.

He told her about the slave-trader and the Mussulman, and how the boy seemed to have no proper name as his mother had always called him her ‘Prince’ because his ancestors were kings.
 
And that had given Edward Grant the idea of calling the boy George, after King George, which the boy had liked very much – although he had to be persuaded that he could
not
be called ‘King George’ but simply George.

He told her about the Jews of Mattancheri and Mr. Wredé. The only thing he did not tell her about was the night he had been invited by Colonel Petrie to join his staff on an official visit to the Hindu Palace of Mattancheri.

The Hindus didn't seem to care which set of Europeans ruled them, so long as their customs and religious practices were not interfered with. Although they accepted the British with more resignation than they did the Dutch, because it had been predicted by the Brahmins that the British would rule India for not less than one hundred years before the sword could be raised against all
feringhis
in a war for Hind to rule herself.
  

He didn't tell her that on arrival at the Hindu Palace of Mattancheri, the British officers were all graciously welcomed and, once luxuriously seated in a chamber of silk cushions, dishes of opium had been handed round to them in the same easy manner that snuff or tobacco is offered in England; although she would not have been too surprised at that.

He didn't tell her because of her questioning and curious mind, and if he had once in conversation led her through the doors of the Hindu palace, erotic frescos painted on every wall and ceiling, she would want to know everything – absolutely
everything
– in true Jane style.

And how could he tell her about the black-eyed, bare-breasted, dancing girls who had later been brought into the all-male chamber for their entertainment. Young beauties of considerable personal charms who had danced before them, bells jingling on their ankles and wrists, expressing with every movement of their hands and hips all the delights of passion and pleasure that all lovers know and which needed no translation or language.

He suddenly laid down his fork, took a drink of his wine, then rose and pushed back his chair.

Jane frowned at his unfinished plate. ‘Where are you going?’ she asked.

‘Bed,’ he said with a brief smile. ‘And so are you.’

NINE

Jane's maternal instinct, which was growing stronger every day, was now being poured over George, the little Cochin boy whom she had taken to with a strange sense of possession, mothering him in the same loving way that Mammy Dinah had mothered her.

George's initial attachment to Lachlan had now transferred completely to Jane whom he had fallen head over heels in love with, literally; for his favourite trick was doing spinning cartwheels from one end of the garden to the other when his happiness overcame him.

And George's greatest happiness came when Jane decided he must possess more than one name, and gave to him her own maiden name of Jarvis, even going so far as to write to her lawyers instructing a legal deed to that effect.

From that day on, George, a proud boy, insisted that he was always called by his two names of George Jarvis, and not just George.

 
Bappoo was appalled at the behaviour of his mistress.
 
He thought it disgraceful that this boy – this
slave
boy – should be treated almost like the son of a sahib and not like a servant, which is what he was, a rascally servant.

‘Yes, by God, by Jove, my dear!’ Bappoo admonished George severely. ‘You unworthy of name George
Jarvees.
You only rascally servant! You son of slave!’

`My father was a prince and my ancestors were kings!' George answered proudly, then ran behind Bappoo and cheekily tugged hard on his baggy pantaloons.

A moment later Lachlan stepped into the garden to be met with the astonishing sight of Bappoo's enormous bare brown backside as he bent to pull up his pantaloons – gasping out a hail of Hindi curses against the slave boy and every member of his ancestry.

Lachlan listened with a straight face to Bappoo's angry complaints about the boy, but only until he was forced to excuse himself and stride back into the house, ostensibly to find George, but really to find a safe haven where he could throw himself onto the cushioned sofa beside Jane and laugh and laugh until she thought his hysterical laughing must be the result of an oncoming bout of heat-fever.

‘You spoil that boy, he told her in the end, wiping the tears from his eyes. ‘Soon he will think he is the
Burra-Sahib
and will be telling us all what to do.’

‘He deserves a little spoiling.’ Jane moved closer to him on the sofa and slipped an arm across his waist. ‘I want a child of my own, Lachlan,' she said quietly. `A child that is half you and half me.’

He looked at her wryly. ‘I should hope so.’
 

‘
Our
child,’ she whispered. ‘That's all I want, Lachlan, nothing more. I don't even ask for two or three. I would be ecstatic with even one.’

She gazed at him seriously. ‘Why has it not happened yet? Why am I still not pregnant? Do you think there could be something wrong with me?’

 
He could only look back at her and wonder. He had tried not to notice the months and years passing without a sign of Jane becoming pregnant, but he had told himself it did not matter. He would prefer her without a child to another woman who might give him a brood. He had not married her for the purpose of breeding children, just as he had not married her for her money. And now it seemed that what he had not sought, he was not to gain.

‘What if we never have a child,’ she said anxiously. ‘Some couples never do.’

He sat thoughtful, not knowing how to answer her. She seemed to be waiting for him to speak, and when he did not, she confessed that for a long time now she had been secretly pining for a child, secretly
longing
to add to their marriage with the start of a family.

‘Why secretly?’ he asked.

‘Because I think...’ she said in a breaking voice, ‘after all this time there
must
be something wrong with me, and we will
never
have a baby of our own.’ Slow silent tears began to roll down her cheeks.

He pulled her against his chest and held her tightly. She held him as desperately. It was a mystery that united them, a shared bewilderment.

 
‘
Kooie-hai!’

They broke apart and stared at the small figure of George Jarvis standing in the doorway with hands joined in a humble salaam as he apologised most profusely for his bad behaviour to the noble and honourable Bappoo – who was standing smugly behind him with arms folded like a Moor king.

 
‘
Bugger off!
’
 
Lachlan snapped.

The two turned and fled like terrified children.

TEN

Throughout his young life George had always believed that the world began in Surat, and ended in Cochin; and when the Captain-Sahib had taken him on another boat journey, lasting two days and two nights, to this place called Calicut, he believed he had reached the very edge of the world.

And he liked it here. He was so happy here. But now Mem-Jane was saying he must go on a boat again to some place even farther away, and he would have to stay on the boat for
five
days.

‘No, no, I not go,’ George wailed. ‘The boat fall off edge of world and I die!’ His agitation was so great that Jane had to hug him tightly for a long time, assuring him that the boat would not fall off any edge and he would be very safe, before his body finally stopped trembling and his tears ceased.

She drew back and looked into his beautiful black eyes. ‘Have you never heard of Bombay?’

George shook his head.

‘Well, Bombay is where the British Sahibs have their headquarters. Would they do that if it was not a safe place? Would I be going on the same boat if it was not safe? Would the Captain-Sahib?’

Jane smiled at the sudden change of expression on George’s face as he asked, ‘The Captain-Sahib go on boat too?’

‘Yes, George, we are all going, Bappoo and Marianne too. But it is for just a short time, no more than a few weeks, and then we will return here to Calicut.’

George’s faith in his safety on the boat was restored, but still his heart feared something else. ‘The Captain-Sahib – he no sell me there?’

A great gush of sadness swept through Jane, and for moment she could not speak. Her eyes remained fixed on him very seriously as she said slowly, ‘No, George, we will
never
sell you to anyone, in any place.
 
You are one of our household now, one of my children. That is why I gave you my own name of Jarvis. And I give you my promise that I will never allow anyone to harm you, or take you away from me. Do you understand that?’

George looked back at her with eyes like burning lights. He did understand, and her promise to him sounded like a promise from Heaven itself.

‘I promise you,’ she repeated.

George was so overcome with joy he fell to the ground and began covering her shoes in small kisses of gratitude. She smiled and was about to reach down and pull him to his feet when the sudden scud of footsteps in the hallway made them both turn to look towards the open doorway as Bappoo appeared, breathless and furious.

‘You rascally son of slave! Where you hide my new turban?’

George let out a yelp of laughter and sped across the room and past Bappoo like a flash of lightening.

‘
Now I kill you!
’ Bappoo yelled, and bundled after him.

Next morning, as they boarded the ship in time to catch the early tide, Jane noticed that Bappoo’s head was adorned in a bright red turban, instead of the usual white one. He looked as proud as a peacock. She smiled at him. ‘You found it then, Bappoo, your new turban?’

Bappoo heaved a despairing sigh and waved his hand vaguely in the direction of George Jarvis. ‘Slave boy very wicked, Mem-Jane, slave boy naughty naughty. I tell him you sell him to nabob in Bombay and get the Captain-Sahib’s rupees back!’

‘The Captain-Sahib
not
pay!’ George said indignantly. ‘He
take
me – with gun!’ He raised his hand and pointed an invisible gun at Bappoo. ‘Like this!’

‘
Chut!
’ Bappoo almost exploded with laughter. ‘Son of Prince, name of English king, now no pay when sold!’ Still laughing, Bappoo turned to his mistress. ‘Slave boy crazy, Mem-Jane, he tell lies every day. Captain-Sahib must sell him in Bombay to a nabob with a big stick.’

Jane was about to protest and severely admonish Bappoo, but her attention was distracted as Lachlan arrived, the last to step on board. As soon as he appeared George ran over to him and tugged at his coat. ‘Why we go Bombay?’

‘Business,’ Lachlan answered, ‘just military business, George.’ He had received orders to return to Bombay for a meeting at headquarters, but he didn’t know the reason for the meeting. ‘Oh, and Christmas,’ he added, smiling at Jane. ‘As we will be there over Christmas, we might as well enjoy it.’

*

British Bombay was just as they had left it, teeming with life and people and parties every night. As soon as they arrived they were welcomed to stay at the home of Major and Mrs Oakes. The first week whirled by as Bombay society came out to welcome them back. Every afternoon British matrons came with their daughters to drink tea with Jane and hear all the news about Calicut and Cochin.

‘No negotiations about it this time, dear boy,’ Major Oakes was saying to Lachlan. ‘This time we're going straight in.’

Lachlan was not listening. He was watching Jane sitting amongst the women with a baby cuddled in her arms, hugging and petting it, and then holding it in the crook of her arm and tinkling a rattle over its face.

The scene saddened him, reminding him of Jane's genuine love of children, and her desperate longing for a child.

‘Oh yes!’ Major Oakes nodded emphatically. ‘The French won't know a ruddy thing about it until it's too late. They may now have possession of Mauritius, but they won't get Ceylon.’

‘No,’ Lachlan agreed absently.

‘Still, the outcome of these things is never absolutely certain.’ Oakes downed a gulp of his wine. ‘So we may as well make a good bash of Christmas before we go.’

Christmas was a round of suppers and parties at various houses. John Forbes was very pleased with Lachlan. Not only had he paid off all his debts, but also his share of the prize money for reclaiming Cochin on behalf of the Stadtholder had left him with a sizable sum of money in Forbes's bank.

‘Aye, but there’s still one debt I haven’t yet paid,’ Lachlan told him, and then arranged for John to draw up a bank draft and send it to his Uncle Murdoch in Scotland, in repayment of his education fees.