In the Shadow of a Dream (31 page)

‘We’ll breakfast in Mcleodganj, and go on from there on foot to Fern Cottage. You know the full story, but you may want to inspect the damage done by the fire. Mohan Singh will be there.’ He sat back and studied Dinesh’s face. ‘I see you’ve cut yourself trying to shave in a moving train. Why? There was no need for it. You’re not trying to impress Shanti, are you?’

Dinesh laughed and wondered what made Dusty a commanding presence. There was nothing he could pinpoint except those extraordinary brown, penetrating eyes. A woman, he concluded would be defenceless before their gaze. ‘Dusty, may I call you Dusty? I know you won’t mind. Kitty said so.’

‘And she’s right. Everyone does.’

‘You seemed to recognise me immediately, although we’ve never met before?’

‘Elementary, my dear Watson. Having seen Sandy, I assumed anyone from that family had to be reasonably good looking, and, being middle-class, above average height. Also, you looked nervously like someone who didn’t wish to be recognised.’

‘You mean, running scared?’

‘Near enough.’

‘I’m sorry, truly sorry for being such a burden. How is Kitty?’

‘Well. And safe. Now that she’s my responsibility.’

‘Oh, how foolish of me. I’m sorry. I forgot. Congratulations.’

‘No need to apologise. Alice hadn’t. She sent a lovely card from all of you, which Ted brought with him. But, as it happens, a bit premature. We decided to postpone the day and concentrate on getting you back to Alice, safe and sound. Poor Ted came prepared with a very fine and amusing talk for the show. He couldn’t resist telling me bits of it. He’ll get his chance in Goa or maybe the Nilgiri Hills. But I can see you’re tired. Why not take nap? I’ll wake you up when we get there.’

An hour and forty minutes later, Dinesh was surprised to find the car parked at the Circuit House in lower Mcleodganj. ‘You shouldn’t have let me sleep that long, Dusty. Sorry.’

‘No harm done. But now I need your help. You know these parts like the back of your hand. Where’s the Dilkhush Hotel? Mind you, we’ve got masses of coffee and sandwiches and there’s a small garden with benches; and quite deserted.’

‘Why don’t we do that? There are things to talk about and it’ll be better here than in a noisy Hotel. Anyway the place is not as I remember, it would take some finding …somewhere there, hidden by that large Tibetan
chorten
; that white dome-like temple with the large, painted single eye and buntings of coloured prayer flags. All that’s new, and since we’re walking, the best way to Fern Cottage is by a short cut, which starts there, down that descending line of deodars.

‘Good, then I’ll let Lal Singh go. He’ll be back to pick us up here at three. Mohan Singh’s giving us lunch and we won’t be back before then. I’ve told Seth Agarwal, through his strange Munshi, that Uriah Heep of a chap, that I’ll drop you at Ram Niwas at five-ish, this evening.’

‘Thanks. It’s not something I’m looking forward to.’

‘Not to worry. I’ve established what we in the army call, a line of communication, through this Munshi. Strange and extremely cautious as the man is, he’s agreed, after some persuasion, to keep me informed about you. As you know, Kitty and I have seen Seth Agarwal. It was like extracting teeth, getting his promise, re your welfare. Bloody awful man. Tread carefully, Dinesh young man. Take time to disarm the fellow. He’s extremely suspicious. Don’t do anything rash. Wait till you see a way out. Trust no one who works for him.’

‘You and Kitty have been a great help. I can’t thank you enough. I was worried for Kitty staying on in Pathankot.’

‘That’s sharp. So it’s not just looks, you’ve also inherited the family brains. I’m told your uncle Sandy sparkled with them. Now, remember, the plans made in England didn’t take into account last minute changes. But,’ he added, deciding it was simpler to make no mention of Kitty being in Goa, ‘Kitty is safe.’

Dusty picked up the telephone. Kitty was on the line. ‘Yes, Kitty. I met Dinesh at Pathankot Station. All went well. He was a bit weepy at Fern Cottage. But we had a good chat with Mohan. He said Ransingh was quite cheerful. No, Kitty, I wasn’t able to see the Seth. He was having his pre-supper nap. But it’s been three days now and there hasn’t been any bad news…sorry, say that again. Oh, lunch! Lunch is always a feast at Mohan Singh’s. But chiefly I rang to say I had a call from the Munshi. Yes Popatlal, the secretary cum clerk of Seth Agarwal. I’m going over there. Ram Niwas, eleven thirty a.m. tomorrow, to see for myself how far Dinesh has got to establishing himself in the Seth’s good books.’

‘You know he’s hot-headed and can be irresponsible.’ Kitty interposed.

‘Then the Seth must know that too, because he’s obviously working on it.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘The Munshi told me that when I dropped Dinesh at Ram Niwas house, the Seth refused to see him. Dinesh spent the night in the Munshi’s quarters because the Seth told him he’d see him in the morning. One can imagine that fat, sweaty drug baron, saying, with every other word punctuated by foul language: ‘So,
bahainchoot
, at last the
bahainchoot
has returned…’

‘What does banchort, or whatever, mean?’

‘It means sister-fucker.’

Kitty laughed. ‘But he hasn’t got a sister.’

‘Never mind, it’s a popular Indian F word, second only to mother-fucker.’

‘Go on. I was enjoying your mimicry.’

‘I can’t do it to order. Comes naturally or not at all. Anyway, when they did meet, I’m told they came near to blows. Certainly, the Seth swung out with his hand, Dinesh ducked, and the “Michelin Man” lost his balance and fell flat on his bottom. However, some sort of reconciliation did take place in the end.’

‘Is it beeping? Well, take care. You know Punjabi, so little should escape you.’

The tall, skeletal Munshi Popatlal peered over his thin gold-rimmed glasses and, from his office window studied the incoming traffic of Pathankot’s main bus station. A moment later he saw Lal Singh, in an army jeep, drive Major Dustoor right up to the side door of Ram Niwas. Dusty jumped out and knocked imperiously on the door with the knob of his cane. Bemused by Dusty’s military panache, Popatlal went out to open the door. The rattle of moving bolts on the cast-iron clad, heavy wooden door woke the old Gurkha
chowkidar
, who had been sitting cross-legged and asleep in the sentry niche by the door. Popatlal opened the door with effort, regarded the Gurkha with a reproving wag of his head. Then he bowed low to Dusty, a wide smile revealing pan stained teeth: ‘Welcome, Major sahib, welcome. Punctual to the very second, as is your wont. Come in, good sir. This way. Be pleased to follow me.’

‘I know the way, Munshiji.’

‘You may, indeed, Major Dustoor, but it would not meet the Sethji’s etiquette for you to arrive unaccompanied by me.’

‘Lead on, Munshiji.’ Dusty said with a dramatic flourish, adding sotto voce “you pompous old ass’, and followed him downstairs into the open courtyard, then along the stone flagged columned archway. As they neared the family wing, Dusty spotted Shanti watching him from an open window. There the Munshi stopped to let him enter. It was a large room. Seated on a
high winged-back chair, the grossly obese Seth was trying vainly to button his waistcoat, while his bare feet groped for the shoes under him. The atmosphere in the room was tense. Clearly, some dispute between father and daughter had not been resolved. ‘Why papaji,’ pouted Shanti, ‘vot’s wrong if I say “that’s the sort of husband I should have had”? Look at this clown.’ Shanti pointed to Dinesh, as Dinesh walked past her to meet Dusty.

‘
Chup, beti.
Shut up, I telling you.’ the Seth growled. ‘No more nonsense like we had at
nashta
, breaking fast time. Before
mehman
, before guest, behave, like good Indian wife showing respect. Listen, Dinesh boy, just see. Is that Premchand who is talking to Munshi? Tell him to get coffee and cakes, for the Major…for all of us.’

‘Yes, papaji,’ Dinesh shook Dusty’s hand warmly. ‘God, I’m glad to see you. I’ve been going through hell.’

Dusty stood in the centre of the room and fearlessly surveyed all the occupants. He struck the side of his olive green trousers with his swagger cane. The Seth smiled at him. Dusty thought: ‘You supercilious bastard. I wonder how much crime you’ve been responsible for.’ Aloud he said: ‘I haven’t come for anything in particular. Just a friendly call, to see how Dinesh is getting on.’

‘He is as you see.’ The Seth rolled his head from side to side. ‘Please take seat.’ He wheezed as he spoke and dabbed his sweating face with a large handkerchief. ‘So how is Kitty? You say she’s teaching in Goa. What kind of marriage…’ He checked himself. Dusty, was impressive in his olive green, gabardine uniform, polished Sam Browne belt and shining brass Ashoka Lions on his epaulets. ‘So, you’re indeed a Major.’ The Seth’s body rumbled and he belched. ‘But I’ve seen you with Kitty. So how much respect she’s giving you. I hope plenty.

‘Kitty’s well, enjoying teaching. I’ll be joining her soon for a second honeymoon.’ Dusty lied with impudence.

‘That’s great!’ Shanti exclaimed gesticulating with her hands. ‘
Arrey
,
vee never had first honeymoon, even.’

Dusty studied her. There was something strangely attractive about the fullness of her heavy figure, as there is in a Khajuraho sculpture. In the meantime the Seth shot an irate look at his daughter. ‘Never mind my Shanti, Major sahib. Women, they so loving to gossip talk. So, Kitty’s job is not full time? What teaching?’

‘Teaching? Oh, English and Portuguese.’ Dusty lied again.

‘She knowing Portuguese?’

‘Yes. That’s how she got the job. Goans are quite keen to speak Portuguese.’

Late at night, on the telephone, Dusty entertained Kitty with an account of the meeting. ‘I must say, I surprised myself. And I got a chance to be alone with Dinesh. We were in the garden. He thinks he’s found an ally in the mali.’

‘Not that shrivelled man with legs like dried twigs? He’s a wily old chap. Do you think he can be trusted?’

‘Dinesh will have to make up his mind about that. But he’s convinced the mali means to help and a very good plan it is too. In fact it couldn’t be simpler. He’s got his little hut or rather a lean-to, right against a boundary wall. Dinesh said he was a builder before he turned gardener and that he’ll loosen enough bricks to let Dinesh through and then replace them in a matter of minutes. It makes it easy for me. All I’ll have to do is get one of Chopra’s Gurkha drivers to wait on the other side of the wall and pick up Dinesh when he pops out. Best chap for the job will be the water-truck driver. People are used to seeing the truck moving about town. Then all we need do, is to synchronise the popping out and the picking up.’