Sea of Poppies (20 page)

The judge had shown Paulette the letter: it was prefaced with the line: ‘Above all things have fervent charity among yourselves: for charity shall cover the multitude of sins.' To her shame, Paulette had not been able to identify the provenance of the verse: it was the judge who told her that it was from ‘The Book of the Lord: I Peter, chapter 4, verse 8'. Mr Kendalbushe had then proceeded to ask her a few simple scriptural questions; her answers, or rather, the lack of them, had shocked him into delivering a caustic judgement: ‘Miss Lambert, your godlessness is a disgrace to the ruling race: there is many a Gentoo and Mom'den in this city who is better informed than yourself. You are but a step away from chanting like a Sammy or shrieking like a Sheer. In the opinion of this court you will be better served by Mr Burnham's tutelage than ever you were by your father's. It falls to you now to show yourself worthy of this good fortune.'

In the months she had spent at Bethel, Paulette's knowledge of Scripture had grown apace, for Mr Burnham had undertaken to personally instruct her. As with her predecessors, it had been made clear to her that nothing would be asked of her other than regular churchgoing, good behaviour and a willingness to open herself to
religious instruction. Before her arrival, Paulette had imagined that the Burnhams would expect her to make herself useful in the manner of a poor relative: the discovery that she had little to offer them, by way of compensatory services, had come as something of a shock. Her offers of help in tutoring Annabel had been politely declined, for reasons that had soon become apparent to Paulette: not only was her command of English far from perfect, her education had followed a path exactly contrary to that which Mrs Burnham deemed appropriate for a girl.

For the most part, Paulette's schooling had consisted of assisting her father as he went about his work. This provided a wider range of instruction than might be supposed, for it was Pierre Lambert's practice to label his plants, when possible, in Bengali and Sanskrit, as well as in accordance with the system recently invented by Linnaeus. This meant that Paulette had learnt a good deal of Latin from her father, while also absorbing Indian languages from the learned munshis who had been enlisted to assist the curator with his collections. French she had studied of her own volition, reading and re-reading her father's books until she knew them almost by heart. Thus, through effort and observation, Paulette had become, while still quite young, an accomplished botanist and a devout reader of Voltaire, Rousseau, and most particularly M. Bernardin de Saint-Pierre, who had once been her father's teacher and mentor. But Paulette had not thought to mention any of this at Bethel, knowing that the Burnhams would not wish to have Annabel instructed in botany or philosophy or Latin, their dislike of Romish popery being almost equal to their detestation of Hindus and Muslims – or ‘Gentoos and Musselmen' as they liked to put it.

By default, since it was not in her nature to be idle, Paulette had assigned herself the task of overseeing the Burnhams' gardens. But this too had proved no easy matter, for the Head Malley had quickly made it clear that he would not willingly take instructions from a girl of her age. It was over his objections that she had planted a chalta tree by the chabutra, and only with the greatest difficulty had she prevailed on him to put a pair of latanias in a bed on the main driveway: these palms, a great favourite of her father's, were another slender link with her past.

Not the least of the reasons why Paulette so often found herself slipping into a state of melancholy was that she had not yet been able to find a way of being properly useful to her benefactors. Now, just as a wave of despair was beginning to build, Paulette was startled out of her despondency by the sound of hoofs and wheels, crackling urgently on the conkers of the gravelled driveway that led to the main entrance of Bethel. She glanced up at the sky and saw that the darkness of night had begun to yield to the first rosy streaks of dawn: but even so, it was very early for a visitor. Opening her door, she crossed the vestibule that ran past her room and unlatched a window on the far side of the house. She was just in time to see a carriage pulling up to the portico of the Burnham mansion: the vehicle was a caranchie, a ramshackle coach constructed from the remains of an old hackney carriage. These humble carriages were common in the Bengali quarters of the city, but Paulette could not remember ever having seen one at Bethel; certainly none had ever pulled up to the main entrance of the house. As she was looking down from above, a man dressed in a kurta and dhoti climbed out and leant over to spit a mouthful of paan into a bed of cobra-lilies: Paulette caught a glimpse of a braided tail of hair hanging down from an enormous head and she knew that the visitor was Baboo Nobokrishna Panda, Mr Burnham's gomusta – the agent responsible for the shipping of indentured migrants. Paulette had seen him about the house a few times, usually carrying armloads of paper for Mr Burnham's perusal – but never before had he presented himself so early in the morning and nor had he ever summoned the courage to bring his caranchie up the main driveway, to the front door.

Paulette guessed that there would be no one about to let the Baboo in at this hour: this was the one time of day when the outdoors durwauns could be counted on to fall asleep, while the indoors khidmutgars would not yet have risen from their charpoys. Always eager to make herself useful, she went flying down the stairs, and after a brief struggle with the brass latches, pushed the durwauza open to find the gomusta standing outside.

The gomusta was a man of middle age, with cheeks that hung down as if weighted with gloom; he was stout in girth, with dark shapeless ears that stuck out from his huge head like outgrowths of
fungus on a mossy rock. Although he still had a full head of hair, his brow was shaven clean, while the locks at the back of his head were braided into a long, priestly tikki. The Baboo was clearly surprised to see her and even though he smiled and dipped his head, in a gesture that was at once a greeting and a signal of submission, she sensed a hesitation in his manner and guessed that it had something to do with an uncertainty about her situation: was she to be treated as an extension of the Burnham family or was she an employee or dependant, not unlike himself? To set him at ease, she joined her hands in the Indian way, and was about to say, in Bengali – Nomoshkar Nobokrishno-babu – when she recalled, just in time, that the gomusta preferred to be spoken to in English, and liked to be addressed by the
anglice
of his name, which was Nob Kissin Pander.

‘Please but enter, Baboo Nob Kissin,' she said, stepping well away from the door to let him in. Noticing the three lines of sandalwood paste on his forehead, she quickly dropped the hand she had almost offered in greeting: the gomusta was a fervent devotee of Sri Krishna, she recalled, and as a celibate Seeker, he might well look askance upon a woman's touch.

‘Miss Lambert, you are well today?' he said, as he came in, nodding and bobbing his head, while also stepping backwards to maintain a safe distance from the possible pollutions of Paulette's person. ‘Motions were not loose, I hope?'

‘Why no, Baboo Nob Kissin. I am very well. And you?'

‘I have come running like anything,' he said. ‘Master only has told to reach message – his caique-boat is urgently required.'

Paulette nodded. ‘I will send word to the boatmen.'

‘That will be most appreciable.'

Looking over her shoulder, Paulette noticed that a khidmutgar had entered the hallway. She sent him off to alert the boatmen and led Baboo Nob Kissin towards the small withdrawing room where visitors and petitioners were usually seated before being admitted to Mr Burnham's presence.

‘Perhaps you would like to attend here until the boat is ready?' she said. She was about to close the door when she noticed, somewhat to her alarm, that the gomusta's expression had changed: baring his
teeth in a smile, he shook his head in such a way as to set his tikki wagging.

‘Oh Miss Lambert,' he said, in a strangely ardent voice, ‘so many times I'm coming to Bethel and always I am wanting to meet and raise up one matter. But never you are lonely with me one minute also – how to commence discussions?'

She drew back, startled. ‘But Baboo Nob Kissin,' she said. ‘If there is anything you wish to say to me, surely it can be said all in the open?'

‘That you only can be judging, Miss Lambert,' he said, and his tikki danced in such a comical way that Paulette could not but bite back a laugh.

Paulette was not alone in seeing something absurd in the gomusta: many years and thousands of miles later, when Baboo Nob Kissin Pander found his way into Deeti's shrine, his was the only likeness to figure as a caricature, a great potato of a head sprouting two fern-like ears. Yet Nob Kissin Pander was always full of surprises, as Paulette was imminently to discover. Now, from the pocket of his black jacket, he pulled out a small object that was wrapped in cloth. ‘Only one minute, Miss: then you dekho.'

Laying the bundle on his palm, he began to undo the folds, very fastidiously, using just the tips of his fingers, without once touching the thing itself. When the wrappings had been undone and the object lay nested in a bed of cloth, he extended his palm towards Paulette, moving his arm slowly, as if to remind her not to approach too close: ‘Kindly do not catch.' Despite the distance, Paulette recognized instantly the tiny face that smiled up at her from the gold-framed locket in the gomusta's palm; it was an enamelled miniature of a woman with dark hair and grey eyes – her mother, whom she had lost at the very moment of her birth and of whom she possessed no other token or likeness.

Paulette glanced at the gomusta in confusion: ‘But Baboo Nob Kissin!' After her father's death, she had looked for the miniature everywhere, without success, and had been forced to conclude that it had been stolen, in the confusion that befell the house after his sudden passing. ‘But how you have found this? Where?'

‘Lambert-sahib only gave,' said the gomusta. ‘Just one week before shifting to heavenly-abode. His conditions were extremely parlous; hands were trembling like anything and tongue was also coated. Rigorous constipation must have been there, but still he is reaching to my daftar, in Kidderpore. Just imagine!'

She recalled the day, in a clarity of detail that brought tears to her eyes: her father had told her to summon Jodu and his boat and when she asked why, his answer was that he had business in the city and needed to cross the river. She had demanded to know what business he might have that she couldn't see to, but he gave her no answer, insisting that Jodu be called. She'd watched as Jodu's boat made its way slowly across the river: when they were almost at the far side, she was surprised to see that they were heading not towards the centre of the city but to the docks at Kidderpore. What business could he have there? She could not imagine, and he never answered her questions about it; not even Jodu could do anything to enlighten her, upon their return. All he could tell her was that her father had left him to wait in his boat, while he disappeared into the bazar.

‘That time was not his first to my chamber,' the gomusta said. ‘As such, many sahibs and mems are coming when some funds are required. They give some jewelleries and trinkets for disposal. Lambert-sahib graced with his presence only two-three times, but he is not like others – not loocher, not gambler, not shrubber. For him, difficulty is that he is too-much good-hearted, all the time doing charities and giving up funds. Naturally many villains are taking advantage . . .'

This description was neither unjust nor inaccurate, Paulette knew, but that was not how she chose to remember her father: for of course the great majority of those who benefited from his kindness were people desperately in need – waifs and urchins, porters crippled by their loads and boatmen who had lost their boats. And even now, after being thrown into the care of people who were, after all, strangers, no matter how kind, she could not bring herself to reproach her father for the greatest of his virtues, the one thing she had loved in him most. But yes, it was also true, and there was no denying it, that her lot would have been different if he had been – like most other Europeans in the city – bent upon his own enrichment.

‘Lambert-sahib always discussing with me in Bangla,' the gomusta continued. ‘But I am always replying in chaste English.'

But now as if to belie his own pronouncement, he surprised Paulette by switching to Bengali. With the change of language, she noticed, a weight of care seemed to lift from his huge, sagging face:
Shunun
. Listen: when your father came to me for money, I knew, even without his saying so, that he would be giving it away to some beggar or cripple. I'd say to him: ‘Arre Lambert-shaheb, I've seen many a Christian trying to buy his way into heaven, but I've never come across one who worked as hard at it as you do.' He'd laugh like a child – he liked to laugh, your father – but not this time. This time there was no laughter, and hardly a word was said before he stretched out his hand and asked: How much will you give me for this, Nob Kissin Baboo? I knew at once that it was of great value to him; I could tell from the way he held it – but of course, such is the evil of this age that things that are of value to us are not necessarily so to the world at large. Not wishing to disappoint him, I said: ‘Lambert-sahib, tell me, what is the money for? How much do you need?' ‘Not much,' was his answer, ‘just enough for a passage back to France.' I said, in surprise: ‘For yourself, Lambert-sahib?' He shook his head. ‘No,' he said, ‘for my daughter, Putli. Just in case something happens to me. I want to be sure she has the means to return. Without me this city would be no place for her.'