A Garland of Marigolds (3 page)

“
You
’
ll get over it,
”
he said roughly. He smiled down at me and his dark eyes were warm and friendly.
“
He probably isn
’
t worth all the misery.
”

I smiled.
“
It
’
s temporary misery,
”
I said quietly.
“
He
’
ll be back in two years.
”

“
And you
’
re waiting for him?
”

Too honest to lie, I shook my head.

“
There are no strings attached,
”
I said abruptly.

His sympathy died and he looked amused.

“
Well, thank heavens for small mercies!
”
he exclaimed. Then flicked my cheek with his finger.
“
You
’
re not much older than Camilla, are you?
”

Indignantly, I regarded him with something approaching hatred. I wished passionately that I hadn
’
t told him anything at all.

“
Does it matter?
”
I asked languidly.
“
As long as I can grow maize?
”

His laughter rung through the house.

“
Not a rap!
”
he agreed.

And Timothy did seem to matter less as we neared the day of our departure. On the last day, when we finally shut the suitcases and said goodbye to our families and friends, I didn
’
t think about him at all. The only emotion I felt as we made our way to the airport, was a burning sense of anticipation coupled with a juvenile feeling of panic that I might lose either my passport or ticket. Hurry I thought, India, here I come!

CHAPTER TWO

M
other India! I pressed my nose against the window and tried to see Delhi beyond the enormous gray wing of the airplane. From the air the topography of India had surprised me. There were so many empty spaces. Somehow I had always imagined the subcontinent to be crammed full of people.

I hardly felt it at all when we actually landed and taxied across the tarmac. Along with the other passengers, I struggled to my feet, smiling at my stiffness and trying frantically to find all my hand luggage. Camilla and Gideon were on the other side of the aircraft. They looked almost comically alike as he leaned toward his sister and cracked a joke in her ear. She glanced across at me and laughed, and I was annoyed to discover that I was hurt. It was one thing to be excluded from their family group, it was quite another to be the butt of their humor. Was this a sample of what I had to expect for the next two years, I wondered grimly. I thought about Timothy with an increasing sense of panic as I realized that already his features were a trifle blurred in my mind.

The doors were flung open and the incredible heat from outside rushed into the body of the plane. The sunlight danced in a haze of heat along the edge of the runway. Camilla grimaced and made her way to my side.

“
Super flight!
”
she exclaimed ecstatically.

“
Yes, I suppose it was,
”
I agreed.

She grinned, not taken in for a minute by my lack of enthusiasm.

I looked around the fairly modern airport buildings.
“
It isn
’
t quite what I expected.
”
I said.

Her eyes danced.
“
You wait! Gideon has been telling me about the village. He says we shall have to sleep on the local string beds and we
’
re lucky to have them! Does that sound more romantic?
”

I laughed.
“
Certainly!
”
I agreed amiably.

“
Here comes Gideon now!
”
she went on happily.
“
I suppose it
’
s the customs next.
”
Her eyes fell on a group of Indian women dressed in colorful, flowing saris.
“
There,
”
she exclaimed, prodding me in the ribs,
“
there
’
s some local color for you!
”

Gideon
’
s dark eyes met mine.

“
Disappointed already?
”
he asked me smoothly.

I flushed.
“
It isn
’
t that,
”
I assured him hastily, but he wasn
’
t even listening. He had taken off his coat and was swinging it easily between his fingers as he walked toward the terminal. The heat, which had already reduced my crisp cotton frock to a rag, had apparently no effect either on him or his clothes.

Camilla and I followed more slowly, determined not to miss anything. A couple of men, dressed in jodhpurs and long coats, stood in sober conversation by the terminal entrance. Beyond them was a wild-looking character, his hair uncut and unbrushed, his clothing no more than a sheet knotted over one
shoulder. His
staring eyes gave him the appearance of madness,
and I carefully
avoided him.

It was only when I had passed
the man that I realized Gideon
was watching me with
disapproval.

“
Perhaps you and
Camilla had better go outside while I see to
the formalities,
”
he
said sharply.

Determined,
I
shook my head.
“
I
’
d rather make
sure
of my own
luggage,
”
I said coldly.

We stood facing each
other
like a couple of boxers looking for
an
opening.

“
What
’
s the matter with you two?
”
Camilla asked,
puzzled.

Feeling rather foolish, I turned away and began to walk with
her
toward
the street entrance.
A
row
of taxis had
drawn up outside.
The
chauffeurs
squatted in a circle, gossiping the time
away. They
looked up when I appeared in the doorway, jumping to their
feet
and running toward me, each one anxious that I should choose
his
cab. I moved back out of sight as they gathered around
the door.

At that moment another car drew up outside and a
fair young man
came rushing into the reception lounge.
He
went straight acr
oss
to Gideon and slapped him on the shoulders.

“
So
you
’
re back!
”
He said with
an American accent. Gideon
swung around, a wide smile on his face.
“
And not
alone!
”

The American glanced about him with
interest.
“
Anyone I
know?
”

Gideon beckoned to his sister and introduced
the young man.
“
Camilla, my love, this is my assistant, Joseph Groton. Joseph,
my
young sister. I brought her after all!
”

The American shook her hand warmly and then turned
to me.
His hair was fair and
his
eyes were so blue that
I
could
hardly
believe they were
real.
There was a touch of weakness in his
face,
or it might have been the traces of a childhood illness.
It had left
his mouth too wide and
not
quite under control,
but
it
was
not
too
obvious, and to me it was oddly touching.

“
And this lady?
”
he asked, a particularly charming
smile
breaking up his face. By contrast Gideon
’
s quick frown seemed
all
the sterner.

“
A new employee, Miss Susan King,
”
he introduced us
briefly.

“
In what capacity?
”

I laughed, and the American laughed with me
at the abruptness
of his own question.

“
Cereals ... maize mostly, I expect, but I
’
m hoping for
wheat as
well.
”

“
I daresay we can oblige you there.
”
He turned to me
again,
saying
“
Irrigation and beat-up machinery are my
specialities.
”

I could have hugged him, he was so normal and
nice.
He
bent
over and picked up
my
bags which had now been
cleared
and started to move
off with them to the
waiting taxi.

“
We must get
together,
”
he told me lightly.
“
Two innocents
abroad like us should
deal famously together.
”

“
I
’
m sure we shall!
”
I
agreed, quite as enthusiastic as he.

He grinned.
“
Sticky journey
out?
”
he inquired.

“
Not so much that as a sticky
arrival,
”
I replied dryly.

Joseph Groton was immediately sympathetic.
He, too had
obviously suffered from Gideon Wait and
he
was glad
to have a
fellow sufferer, somebody he could grumble with,
without it
meaning too much.

“
It
’
ll be swell having you about!
”
he said.
“
What
’
s the
kid like?
”

“
I like her,
”
I said simply.

“
That
’
s good enough for me!
”
said Joseph. He swung
the
luggage into the trunk of the taxi and went back inside for
the
remaining pieces. When he returned,
Camilla was eagerly dancing
beside him.

“
Have you ever been so hot in your life?
”
she demanded
of me.
“
When are the monsoons expected? This isn
’
t normal, by
any
chance, is it?
”

“
It depends on the time of year,
”
her brother informed
her.
“
It
’
s
cooler at the village.
”

“
We
’
re a good bit higher than Delhi,
”
Joseph added
by
way
of
explanation.

“
And when do we get there?
”
Camilla demanded. She was
tired
and was suffering badly from the unaccustomed and oppressive heat.

“
We
’
re spending the night in Delhi,
”
Gideon announced.

Joseph looked at his superior in surprise.

“
Oh, but surely, sir—
”

“
Delhi!
”
Gideon snapped.

Camilla and I hurried into the taxi, trying to make ourselves as insignificant as possible.

“
Gideon
’
s feeling
the
heat, too,
”
Camilla confided in my
ear
as we settled down.

“
Nonsense!
”
I retorted
with
some asperity.
“
Look at that beautiful, creaseless
shirt and then
look at our dresses!
”
Camilla giggled.
“
He has
been
stroking your fur the wrong way! I
’
ll tell him to tread more
carefully!
”

“
You
’
ll do nothing of the
sort!
”

She giggled again.
“
We
’
ll
see!
”

“
Camilla,
”
I begged desperately,
“
please
don
’
t
say one word to him. I
’
ll never forgive you if you so much
as
remind him that I exist!
”

Her dark eyes mocked me, and it was with great difficulty that I remembered she was only seventeen.

“
Now I wonder what that means?
”
she said.