In the Shadow of a Dream (35 page)

For Kitty’s thirty-sixth birthday present, Dusty had ordered a set of cane furniture for the veranda. The pair of two large chairs, a coffee table, and two stools arrived within a week and he was particularly pleased that the table had a lower shelf for magazines. But Kitty was not there to see it. He poured himself a whisky and came out into the veranda, moved one of the chairs nearer the table and picked up V S Naipaul’s book on India, which Jai had given him before the young man set out with twenty boys on a two-day trek in the hills. Ransingh managed to coax Aruna’s husband to go on the trip with them. Dusty had planned to go, but changed his mind before they set out on the long march down the valley. Three adults were enough for twenty boys, besides, the old wound on his right foot was troubling him again. That was not the only reason. He was overwhelmed with sadness and wanted pause to think. He glanced at the book before putting it down; a just published, first hard cover edition, and he wondered how Jai got hold of it. Picking up the glass of whisky, he walked up to the far end of the veranda and stared across the valley. The trekkers had set out early in the mists of the morning and would by now have reached the teak woods of Kalum, their destination. He scanned the distance in the fading light and picked out a flickering glow no bigger than a pin-head. That would be their camp- fire. The gathering pre-monsoon haze cast a rare florescent mauve light, silhouetting the trees and hills in front into the stylised shapes of a Japanese painting. He touched the meshed trellis that kept insects from flying into the house, when the lamps were lit, and felt the cool, moist air. Thinking of lamps reminded him of the next thing he had to do, install an electric generator. Good old Ransingh knew how to work and maintain one. Had he not done that for Sandy and Emma at Fern Cottage? The wind rose with a low whistle and a distinct rustle, but he knew the boys would be sheltered, for it would move up to the higher altitudes.

He returned to his chair and put the glass of whisky down, and was about to pick up the book, when he heard a shuffle of bare feet and heavy breathing. It was Aruna. ‘I put bucket of water in
gussalkhana
,’ she said. He nodded, went into the bathroom, stripped, took a bath using a brass
lota
, dried himself with a large towel and wore his favourite dark blue dressing-gown. He studied himself in the mirror and thought that he looked rather young and handsome for his forty-seven years. In the bedroom he put his slippers on and entered the dining-room. He was surprised to see Aruna by the table. ‘Thank you Aruna-bai, but I’m not hungry. Not now.’

‘Master must eat.’

‘Later. Fruit and a glass of milk.’

She looked at the glass in his hand and snatched it. ‘Is too much drinking I say, master. I bringing milk.’ She left the room and returned a moment later with the milk and fruit in a bowl. Then she went out again and was back with a lighted oil lamp. She held it low so that it lit her face and full bosom. Does master want book?’

‘No, thank you, I will get it, later.’

‘Five months now, madam gone away. Coming soon, master? When coming?’

Dusty did not answer. He brushed his hair back and picked up the glass of milk.

‘Is master needing anything more? I do anything for master.’

He turned towards her. His eyes rested on her face then travelled down to her firm round breasts. Her chest was heaving. He shook his head. ‘No Aruna. But now about Leela. Are you happy for her? In two weeks Leela will be married?’

‘Yes, master. Master very kind and good to us. But my husband, he not care.’

Dusty frowned. ‘He cares, Aru, he cares. Jai will be good for Leela. He is a good young man, and a Christian, like you and Leela.’

‘He tell Leela about how he became Christian in Kalimpong. But we Catholics. Jai, he prostitute.’

Dusty chuckled. ‘You mean, Protestant. Do you mind that?’

‘No, no. He say to Leela, he marry in Catholic Church. St Thomas. It’s okay.’

‘I went to a St Thomas’s School in Bombay. Many years ago. But that was Church of England. Good. Yes, okay. I will write to madam about the wedding.’

‘You get
chitty
today? Madam’s letter?’

Dusty nodded. ‘Goodnight Aruna. Shut the door after you.’ He watched her leave, then resting his elbows on the table, he bowed his head and ran his hands through his hair. Alone, deeply miserable he felt unloved and sorry for himself. With a long sigh he stood up, drank from the tall glass in one long draught, looked at the fruit, picked up the oil lamp, took it to the veranda and collected his book. Then he froze. Pressed against the trellis, waving gently in the soft breeze, a bougainvillaea frond caught the light. It took him back to that night on the veranda of the Black Elephant Institute and the vision of Kitty caressing one such frond, after their first dance. He shook his head sadly, went into the bedroom and placed the lamp on the bedside table. There it was: her dreaded letter. He stared at it, sat down on the edge of the bed and picked it up. She had enclosed two photographs. One was of Ted with, according to the caption on the back, Kay. He thought they made a handsome couple, she a smaller, softer image of Lady Clementine Churchill. The other snap was of Kitty, smiling with the supreme confidence of one who knows she can never look ugly even if she tried. She had an arm round an open-faced young woman with friendly eyes and a broad mouth. So that was Alice! He put the photographs down and read the letter for the third time:

“Darling D, I’m sorry if it seems as if I may never return. The days seem to fly. I so love to be with Alice. I could never leave her till I’m sure she is her happy self again. I know how you must miss me, but here I am with a sister I never had, a father I’ve always loved, a delightful little boy, and Kay, who mothers us all.

“I write this letter, begging you to help me to make my mind up. And please don’t get cross. Try to understand and maybe you can help us to come to a decision that will be important for our future. I am so mixed up now. I’ve decided to spend some time in a convent, to find peace. The Nun in charge there is Mother Clare. Will write again as soon as I can. I love you as much as I ever did. Be patient because, dearest, I have IMPORTANT NEWS for you, but I need to make sure first. You will make up for all my absence, I know, when we’re together again!! Till then, Ever your doting Kitty.”

Kitty sniffed and dabbed her eyes. ‘I’ve tried. I can’t do it alone.’ She stared sadly into the smiling eyes of the older woman, who looked frail and tiny in the large heavy oak chair she sat in. Kitty knelt before her and took her hands in hers. ‘Help me!’

The woman leant forward and kissed her on the forehead, then she gently pushed Kitty away and stood up with some difficulty. ‘Come,’ she said, and her voice shook more than it did earlier. They walked to the mullion window and looked across a landscape of rolling hills. For a while they drank in the scene. ‘You see that ring of trees on top of that hill?’ The woman pointed with a shaking forefinger. ‘You can’t miss it, it’s the only hill with trees on it. We would walk to it, in dull winter afternoons. Just us. She and I. It was quiet, so peaceful; and so close to God.’

Kitty frowned; a little puzzled. She studied the delicate, soft wrinkled profile next to her and wondered why she wore a wimple and the heavy long black habit, while the rest of the Order of St Mary Magdalene were more comfortably dressed in grey head- scarves, short plain grey dresses and black stockings. She saw a faint smile and a tear roll down the cheek of that serene face. The woman looked away. ‘You’re so like her,’ she said above a whisper. Then she sighed and turned to face to Kitty. ‘It’s never too late or wrong to change your mind. You are not meant for this life.’

‘Were you ever in love?’ Kitty asked, before she could check herself.

‘Oh, yes. Angelically beautiful she was too. I thought we were in love. Sandy took her away from me. I didn’t mind. He was right for her.’

‘Sandy? Yes, of course, Sandy! Oh, Sister Clare…’

‘Mother.’

‘Oh, Mother Clare! I should have known. I thought I knew, but I really didn’t.’

‘Why should you? You were a child then.’

‘So it was with Emma? Those walks on the hill?’

Mother Clare smiled. ‘Yes, I loved her. Deeply, as only a woman can. I would tell myself that it cannot be wrong to love a woman. I did ask for God’s forgiveness; just in case I was wrong.’ She gave a light chuckle. ‘How do we know what we think is true? Plato asked that question. I suppose we all do.’ She looked out of the window. Her lips trembled. You are very like her.’ She opened her arms. Kitty clung to her. ‘Gently my child. I haven’t the strength to take your weight.’

‘Oh, Mother, it can’t be wrong. Even Dusty said he could understand homosexual love in women, because it was close to being pure and spiritual.’ She kissed the old woman thoughtfully on both cheeks. ‘Thank you for loving my beautiful Aunt Emma. People say I am an image of her, but I’ve never thought so. Her beauty had a rare quality, unearthly…How can I put it. I suppose, for want of a better word…spiritual.’

‘Indeed. That’s how it was between us. Spiritual. It gave me great comfort.’

‘And, Mother, when did you learn about Sandy and Emma…you know?’

‘Your father told me, almost as soon as he got the sad news. But now my dear, we must put the past behind us. Do you think of him a lot?’

‘Not for sometime…and not till now.’

‘My dear, you mustn’t deceive yourself, you’re still in love with your husband…what did you say his name is…I used to be good at names…Dusty. That’s a strange epithet.’

‘It’s from Dustoor; which is a Parsee name.’

‘You must go back to him. Especially, now that your father is no longer a worry to you. Remind me. Where did you say Dusty is?’

‘The Nilgiri Hills.’

‘And he’s still running his orphanage. That’s good work. Good work for you too.’

‘He’s obstinate. Refuses to come to England. It makes me cross.’

‘You must indulge people their little whims. Be loyal to him and worry less about loved ones here. And you are carrying his child.’

‘Yes. Oh, Mother,’ and Kitty broke down and sobbed.

‘You love him. I don’t think you’ll ever get over that. You are unhappy here, and when one is unhappy, one is filled with self-pity. And then you can serve neither God nor man. Go back to him child. Go, before it’s too late.’

A week later Dusty received an Air Letter from Kitty. The handwriting was large and betrayed emotion. “Dearest Love, I write in haste. Remember my important news! You are going to be a father, quite soon. I am six months pregnant, so now, my sweet, you must meet me half way. I am prepared to do the same. Here’s the deal. If it’s a girl, I fly back to you. But if it’s a boy, you have to be brave and come over here. But whether it’s boy or girl, I’m going to have the baby in a hospital here in Winchester. Please understand. I am afraid. At my age having a baby is not without risk. And it is going to be a Caesarean birth. Will write at least once a week. I promise. Love you. K.