In the Shadow of a Dream (28 page)

‘With some help from your genes…was it a boarding school?’

‘St Thomas’s? No, I lived with him. Nine years, we were like father and son.’

‘Alone? Was there any…you know?’

‘What? Ah, I know what you’re thinking about.’

‘Sorry. Was it so obvious? It’s just that we too had a “kind” teacher here, till we discovered he had abused several children—boys. It was what the row was about and led to accusations and the resignation of Monica Das. She was head of the Christian Mission at Nurpur, and the Tibetan School founded by Bill Clayton.’

‘Sam wasn’t a homosexual. He married, but his wife left him. That was before my time. Quite simply, he was a good man. These things are possible.’

‘Anyway. Here’s my address in England. I’ll write back, I promise. And I’ll give your proposal serious thought. There is no one else I’d want to marry. I know, I’m going to disappoint my father. He did think I had found someone and had hopes. But I assure you Dad hasn’t a grain of prejudice in him. As you well know.’

‘So, you and Ted fly the day after tomorrow.’

‘No, there has had to be a change of plans. Dad is going ahead as he can’t alter his flight. I’ll join him a week later. Sam, there’s been some terrible developments.’

‘Good Lord! Can I be of any help?’

‘Oh, Sam, if you can, it will be such a weight of my mind, and Dad’s. I’ve been leading up to this bit by bit. Remember, Dinesh? Well, with the help of his servant Anthony, he caught Shanti red-handed.’

‘Sorry, you’ve lost me. Don’t be reluctant or embarrassed. Explain in clear frank terms. Shanti, I recall is Dinesh’s wife, now go back and on from there.’

‘Right. Their marriage, semi-arranged and celebrated with open display before the Dharamsala community, has been on the rocks for sometime.’

‘Yes, I wondered about that, since you said Shanti is living with her father.’

‘Shanti, fun as she can be, has been thoroughly spoiled by her doting father. Well, for sometime Dinesh has suspected her of infidelity and in Bombay, as I said, with the help of his servant, he caught her, as they say, in flagrante delicto. He has filed for divorce, but Sethji, her father, dreading the shame of publicity, has threatened to kill him if he goes ahead. The Seth—Seth Agarwal, that’s his full name—is a man greatly to be feared. He has spies and henchmen all over the country. Dinesh did not climb down. He’s been sacked from his job as Manager of Agarwal Hotels—it was a sinecure, the Seth’s gift. Anthony was waylaid, beaten up, but he did not betray his master’s whereabouts and both, he and Dinesh, have escaped; disappeared.’

‘How do you know all this?’

‘Because I’ve seen Shanti and the Seth—for some reason he’s rather fond of me.’

‘And who wouldn’t be?’

‘None of your…The man is gross, over fifty. Where was I? Yes. They lost track of Dinesh. But now, he’s been discovered in a Poona ashram. Even the Seth wouldn’t dare violate an ashram. But he had a spy there, disguised as a Brahmin. He reported that Dinesh had struck up a close friendship with a woman, a white disciple of the Guru or Maharishi or whatever. But the Seth’s man has been flushed out, denounced as a fraud. The latest news: Dinesh has vanished again and it is rumoured that the Seth will direct his revenge elsewhere. This last bit was picked up by Ransingh. He and Sona are coming to Fern Cottage to keep watch while I’m away. My father feared this kind of reaction from the Seth. The Cottage will be vulnerable while I’m away.’

‘What do you want me to do? By the way, why not bring in the police?

‘We can’t prove anything. Without concrete evidence the police won’t question a man of the Seth’s high standing. You now know Ransingh and Sona. Keep in touch with them. So that, if there are any serious developments, we can communicate and you could advise me.’

‘Right. Then my first bit of advice is. Don’t hang around. Go with your father.’

‘It might be too late now.’

‘We’ve got thirty-six hours. Most flights have VIP seats for last minute situations. I’ll get Brigadier Chopra to help. In the circs, he’ll make sure you’re on the plane.’

Less than a week later, Dusty got a telephone call from Kitty. ‘Thank you for your call, yesterday. Sam, I can’t blame you for not leaving your number, but I’d lost the number you gave me. Luckily I had Vikram’s and he gave me yours. There’s still no news of Dinesh.’

‘Plenty of news from this end. Grave news too. Mohan Singh has written to your father all about it in great detail, and he knows more than I do. But the upshot is that the Cottage has been torched, Sona’s been killed and Ransingh arrested for murder. Apparently on learning of Sona’s death, he raged about like a mad bull, caught a man he suspected was involved and axed him on the spot. You know how strong he is. All this happened two days ago. I was on exercise, and only learned all about it this morning. The police are no help as far as the fire is concerned; and have only acted on the obvious. There is no doubt that Ransingh is guilty, he’s proud to admit it. But we know who must be behind the dastardly arson. Please Kitty, don’t…’

‘Oh, Sam! Sam! I loved Sona. She meant so much to me; and more each time we were together. I would fly back if I could, but I need a couple of weeks to straighten matters out here. It’s important for both of us that I do. And, yes Sam, I will marry you. Bye Darling.’

‘Yes to marriage! And we haven’t even kissed…Exclamation!’

‘So here’s twenty by proxy, five more than the number of times we met.’

The excitement that gripped Dusty, as he hung up, was followed by the chill of a venture into the unknown. Having won his prize, he now felt unsure of himself. The joy in striving, in the heady scent of the chase, and in tasting success when it came to winning a woman with words, was behind him, now a sense of inadequacy began to eat into his complacency. He had lived life by the head and a largely solitary one, but now heart and soul knocked on the door of his inexperience. The years had flown leaving him a youth in middle-age. Not to have known maternal love or any physical intimacy with a woman, now meant a jump into the deep-end of the pool where he yet had to learn how to swim! Soon he would be with a beautiful woman! Twenty kisses! He hadn’t known one save a chaste kiss from Shirley Boston, of the Dancing School in Bombay. But that did not count, because it was the lightest of touch from her and he received it passively. What should he do? Admit it? The humiliation of it angered him. Why this sudden loss of nerve? Making love! He was not ignorant of the mechanics of it, and what could be more natural? Nature had gifted him with physical grace —people were always remarking on it—panache and energy. All that should see him through; enable him to play the consummate lover. But Kitty had known men. She would see through his act. Was it too late to learn now? She didn’t have to know—a noble cause in the interest of their future happiness. But who would be his teacher. Indian women don’t kiss. He had never seen them kiss—just the folding of hands and the shy giggle. Everything else he could imagine them doing, but that… Even on the cinema screens the attempted kiss was invariably a near miss…Cinema! Yes! Yes! Americans films! Yes! They were full of clinches and long lingering kisses. No need for nerves. All he had to do was copy the no-nonsense grip and heavy crashing down kiss on lips not always freely offered. It had been a long time since he had seen an English movie. Those long gone happy days in Bombay’s Metro and Eros Cinemas. Could he emulate? He shuddered. The mouth to mouth slobber had never turned him on. But what a mouth! Kitty’s mouth! The enticing pout of that lower lip was made for kissing. He took a deep breath. Sprang up and laughed out loudly. His natural aplomb had returned. Just as he succeeded in wooing her, he would succeed in making love, and even now he could feel his body needed no coaxing.

He met Kitty at the station. She looked even more beautiful than he remembered. As he advanced towards her, all anxieties fled. With supreme confidence he would make love to her and attribute any fumbling on his part to a new style, his style, of love making. She smiled radiantly as he stopped a few feet from her and ordered two coolies to collect her luggage. Both knew that in India one did not embrace in public, if one did not wish to attract attention, or at worst, disapproval.

The coolies were ready. Dusty pointed to a silver grey Buick. ‘
Uddar
,’ he said and their eyes widening with awe, obediently tottered to towards it. ‘Come with me Kitty, I’ll need to open the boot.’

‘Gosh, Dusty, I was expecting a jeep.’

‘That’s against army regs; no civilians and certainly no women in military vehicles. Of course, one can get round regulations, but I thought, since we’re always going to be together, why not a car. Though I doubt if that jalopy can take the climb to Mcleodganj, but we’ll make trips to the plains. It’s air-conditioned and automatic drive. And Kitty, it’s a present for you, for agreeing to be Mrs Dustoor.’

‘But Dusty! I’ll call you Dusty? I rather like it now.’

‘Calling me anything else is confusing, I assure you. Except, of course, Sam.’

‘Well, Dusty, that’s no contraption. It’s big and sleek and beautiful. Thank you.’

‘Second-hand, I‘m afraid. A sixties model.’

‘It’s special. Dad tried to get hold of a sixties Chev. How did you manage this?’

‘An advantage of the Maharajas being of the fighting caste is their close link with the Army. I bought it off the ex-vizier of the Raja of Chandpur. Viks and I fought for it till I made an offer he couldn’t refuse. The main advantage, which you’ll see the moment I’ve got rid of the coolies, is to be able to drive you to a quiet corner of the woods, and then shower kisses on your upturned face. You promised twenty.’

She laughed. ‘The upturned face needs a wash and some make up.’

‘Gosh! You don’t have to do anything and still look beautiful.’ He held the door open for her to get into the car.

‘I realise,’ she said, as he got into the driving seat, ‘that I must get used to you making frequent literary references.’

‘True,’ he said as he drove off. ‘I keep reminding people, nothing I’ve said or say since the age of six is original. My life is a novel, and I never tell the beginning.’

‘Then I am in for constant surprises. But first things first. As you know, since I can’t possibly stay at the cottage, its Vikram’s place now and Mohan Singh’s later.’

‘I’ve another surprise. The Station know about us. Viks, Chopra, the lot. They’ve allotted me a nice bungalow, four bedrooms and a wide veranda overlooking a small garden. Actually meant for a Colonel. But, they know I’m here for just another year.’

‘But, I couldn’t, not till we’re married.’

‘But we could marry as soon as Ted gets here. He is coming?’

‘Oh, yes. Nothing, he said, would stop him. We’ll be staying, dad and I at Bunty’s place. Bunty is Mohan’s wife.’

‘I know Bunty. Mohan’s got masses of room. His house is huge. I’ve been seeing him, for the sake of Dinesh. But you could stay at my place if your father’s there.’

‘We’d like that, but no. Bunty and Mohan will be disappointed.’

‘By the way I’ve been attending Church regularly, since I arranged for the banns to be read. Two more to go.’

‘At St John’s, Mcleodganj? Sorry. Was that inconvenient?’

‘Not really. It gave me an excuse to have lunch with Mohan Singh on Sundays. He thinks I don’t eat enough.’

‘So you’ve met the Reverend Amos Caleb?’

‘Nice chap. Very protective about you and wondered if I was a baptised Christian, and if so why hadn’t he seen me in Church. It wasn’t till I told him your father would be at the wedding…’