The Girl from Cobb Street (17 page)

Anish looked at her measuringly. ‘We must find you somewhere to rest. There’s a village a mile back and we can stay there a while. Just let me clear the bike to one side of the road. Gerald will have to collect it later but it will be safe enough in the ditch.’

When he returned to her side, he gave her a second long look. ‘You’re not in any shape to be walking, so it’s another ride for you. Only this time, Gertie will do the honours.’

And before she could protest, he’d led the horse to her and tossed her up onto its back, adjusting the stirrups to suit her much shorter legs. She had never in her life been on a horse before, never in fact been on speaking terms with one, except for the coalman’s faithful dray who had delivered rain or shine all the years she’d been with Miss Maddox.

Anish had taken the reins and was leading the mare forward. ‘Just hang on tightly. To the saddle, to her mane, wherever you can—we’ll soon be there.’

The village was small. No more than a dozen or so thatched huts, their walls plastered in clay and cow dung, and clustered around a saucer-shaped well. But a solitary shack of corrugated iron stood to one side, selling tea and soft drinks beneath its tattered, striped awning. Daisy almost fell off the horse into Anish’s arms. As graceful as a sack of coal, she thought. He grinned and settled her into one of the stall’s folding metal chairs. The owner brought
chai
for his two customers and water for the horse.

Anish leaned across the table towards her. ‘Something happened to upset you badly. Tell me what it is.’

She took a long gulp of the sweet tea, trying to find the courage to speak. She must tell someone; she couldn’t keep this latest misfortune to herself and who else could she tell? It was unlikely Gerald would be interested, and Grayson Harte wasn’t here. But Anish was and his kind, brown eyes were fixed on her.

Eventually she said, ‘I went to the temple.’

‘To the ruins? To Nandni Mata’s shrine?’

‘Yes.’ She was grateful that he knew the place immediately. ‘To Nandni Mata’s temple.’

‘I can’t blame you for wanting to visit. It’s very beautiful.’

‘It is.’ She nodded enthusiastically, for the moment forgetting her bad experience. ‘I’d been there before, you see, and loved it.’

His eyebrows rose questioningly and she hurried on. ‘Grayson Harte—he’s a District Officer based in Jasirapur, I met him on the boat coming out—he took me. He knew the ruins well and thought I’d enjoy them.’

‘I’m acquainted with Mr Harte,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘And how strange you should mention his name. I saw him only minutes ago. I was turning onto the main road. One of my
sowars
, privates that is, comes from a village just the other side and I was visiting.’

Daisy stared at him, her tale suspended. Anish had seen Grayson, so he must have been nearby, perhaps even in the vicinity of the temple. Had he decided to visit the ruins today? She recalled the uncanny feeling she’d had of eyes following her. Could it have been Grayson watching? But if he’d been there and seen what happened, why hadn’t he rushed to help? Or … a cold hand laid itself across her chest. Was it what her husband claimed, that the District Officer was following her around, stalking her for his own reasons? It had sounded absurd when Gerald suggested the man was trying to impress her, but it was beginning to sound a little less absurd. But he was hardly going to impress his victim by sending her fleeing for her life. And how, in any case, could he have managed it? He knew the ruins well, her mind told her, so perhaps there was a way to reach the top of what was left of the temple roof. But even if he’d climbed there, why on earth would he have sent that rock plummeting earthwards? It couldn’t have been an accident, not a boulder that size. It had to be deliberate, but surely he wouldn’t want to harm her.

Yet she hadn’t been harmed. The rock had fallen a yard away, perilously close it was true, but it could have come closer. It could have been aimed to kill. Had it then been targeted to scare but deliberately miss? Dislodged perhaps at an angle? If so, things had gone badly wrong. If Grayson had wanted to scare her and then rush to her rescue, she’d scuppered his plan by running away as fast as her legs could take her, running and cycling at full speed before he could find his way down from the roof and play the white knight.

Anish was looking at her, perturbed. ‘Daisy?’ She realised she’d been silent for minutes while her mind tossed crazy thoughts, crazy speculations, this way and that. ‘What were you saying about the temple?’

‘I’m sorry, I’m in a daze. I had a bit of a shock while I was there.’ How understated, she thought, how English. ‘Part of the roof fell down. I suppose it could only have been a small part but it was a pretty large chunk of rock and it crashed right in front of me. I thought the whole temple might be about to tumble.’ She would be sure not to mention evil spirits and eyes that followed her. Anish would think she had completely lost her mind.

‘It’s an ancient building and it’s slowly rotting. Pieces do break off from time to time, but I would have thought the temple roof secure enough.’

‘Now we know, it isn’t,’ she said a little too brightly. ‘But I don’t think I was in any real danger. The rock fell a good yard in front of me. I’m afraid I got stupidly scared and jumped on my bike and rode without thinking. I’m sorry I frightened your horse.’

‘Gertie is a good girl. Not much upsets her. But why were you there alone and at this time of the day? You should stay out of the midday sun, hasn’t Gerald told you?’

‘Yes,’ she said miserably, remembering for the first time that morning what had driven her from home. ‘But I had to get out of the house and the temple was so beautiful the last time I saw it and I thought it wouldn’t take long to reach. But it did and by the time I got there, the sun was too high in the sky.’

‘I think you must be finding life in Jasirapur very tedious.’ He weighed his words before he continued. ‘There is little for ladies to do here in the hot season—that’s why Simla is so popular. Perhaps you should have gone after all.’

She didn’t answer, for her mind was elsewhere and in a burst of confidence, she said, ‘Something unpleasant happened this morning. That’s why I needed to get out of the bungalow.’

‘More unpleasantness? You have been suffering.’

She wanted to confide in someone and Anish was a close friend of Gerald’s. She thought he might already know something of his brother officer’s difficulties and could give her sensible advice.

‘Is army life very expensive?’ she began.

The question appeared to disconcert him. It was evidently not what he’d been expecting. ‘It depends on what you mean by army life.’

‘For young officers, I was thinking.’

‘There are certainly a good many expenses when you join the regiment. And the cavalry is one of the most expensive in which to serve. There’s quite a lot that needs money. New uniforms, new equipment, gratuities to servants, that kind of thing.’

‘I see.’ There was a pause before she murmured, ‘But don’t most of those debts get paid from salary within a year or two?’

He frowned. ‘What is this, Daisy?’

She looked down at her lap and fidgeted with her fingers. ‘It’s Gerald,’ she confessed. ‘He seems to be in debt.’

‘Everyone is,’ Anish responded cheerfully. ‘An overdraft is normal. Unfortunately the Indian Army still has the attitude that young officers have private means, but nowadays that’s true of only a few.’

‘So Gerald isn’t alone?’

‘No.’ His tone was cautious. ‘Not alone. The temptation to spend is great, particularly if you’re new to the regiment, or maybe if your background is slightly different. You have to fit in, you see.’

She felt his gaze keen, enquiring. Did he know the secret of Gerald’s double identity and was he wondering if she knew too? She hoped he wouldn’t broach the subject, and was relieved when he went on, ‘In the Mess you need to be seen to be generous. Anyone who is—shall we say careful with money—is treated with scorn. That doesn’t mean you can get into serious debt, of course, but—’

‘But?’

‘Gerald has probably been a little more generous than most. And then he may have tried to salvage the situation, recoup some of the money he owes, and that’s landed him in more trouble.’

‘How could he recoup the money?’

‘Oh, you know,’ Anish said vaguely. ‘This and that.’

Jocelyn’s words sounded loudly in her ears. ‘You mean gambling.’

Her companion looked uncomfortable. ‘Yes, but everyone does it. The Mess is one enormous gambling den. It’s a matter of degree.’ There was a pause while Anish drank down his
chai.
‘This shouldn’t be worrying you. All young officers have debts and, as long as they don’t default, everything’s fine.’

But everything wasn’t fine, far from it. ‘There were some men,’ she faltered, ‘they came to the house this morning looking for Gerald. They handed me bills they said he owed money on.’

Anish whistled. ‘That’s not good, I agree. Credit is easy to come by and the town’s tradesmen are in competition with each other. But the moment one of the blighters starts pressing for his money, it’s not long before the others join in.’

He saw her appalled expression and patted her hand. ‘Don’t fret. You won’t suffer the entire bazaar descending on you, I promise. Gerald is sure to clear the debts very soon and as long as he does before it reaches the Colonel’s ears, it won’t be a problem.’

That was less than comforting, she thought. ‘What would happen if the Colonel knew?’

‘Gerald would get a severe dressing down and be ordered to pay immediately. Honouring your bills is all important. If you don’t pay your debts, you let the regiment down, you see. Mess bills must be paid by the seventh of the month, no remission, though tradesmen can be made to wait.’

‘These tradesmen aren’t waiting.’

‘You must trust Gerald to sort it out,’ he said soothingly. ‘And remember that a lot of the officers live as though they have the means when they don’t. They live on credit.’

‘And what about you, Anish? Do you live like that?’

‘I can’t afford to.’ The smile did not quite reach his eyes.

She looked puzzled. ‘But surely—your pay—aren’t you the same rank as Gerald?’

‘I am an Indian Commissioned Officer and that makes a difference. We’re supposed to be treated the same as British officers. That’s the theory. But we’re not paid the same so it really wouldn’t be sensible to get into debt. British officers are serving away from home and receive an additional allowance but we’re reckoned not to need it because we serve in our home country.’

‘That seems a little unfair. Doesn’t it make Indian officers resentful?’

‘Some. But it’s largely unexpressed. Indian officers in British regiments are still on probation and it’s not a good idea to voice criticisms too loudly.’

He’d said nothing that suggested his frustration, yet she knew he must feel it. ‘Why are you on probation? Gerald told me there are more and more Indian officers in regiments like his.’

‘I used the wrong word. And he’s correct. There used only to be two Indian officers to each regiment but now you see nearly as many brown faces as white. It’s still wise to walk cautiously, though.’

Once before, she’d had the impression that beneath Anish’s calm façade lay a different man. But he was smiling again and this time she thought the smile was genuine. ‘We should be glad of small mercies. Before the Indian Military Academy was set up at Dehra Dun, it was very different. But the IMA changed all that. We learned there how to be little Englishmen or rather public school Englishmen. They taught us all that school stuff: our word must be our bond, we must own up to our faults, take punishment without a grudge and of course endure hardship without complaint—the stiff upper lip. What a wonderful phrase that is!’

‘So you are all sahibs now.’ She regretted the words as soon as she spoke them. They were trivial and thoughtless. Anish must feel the discriminations of army life deeply and here she was, joking about them.

But he seemed not to mind. ‘Not quite. We’ve come a long way and it can only get better. But what the IMA doesn’t teach you is how to cope with the rules that aren’t written down. Military life has some pretty strange quirks to it.’

‘It’s not just me, then, that thinks so?’ She was relieved they’d found mutual ground again.

‘Not at all. There are too many contradictions to count, shades of meaning that a newcomer will never fathom.’

‘Tell me some.’

‘Let’s see.’ He tipped his head to one side. ‘On no account must a young officer be bumptious.’ He sprang up from his chair and puffed his chest out to ludicrous proportions, his face one of perfect superiority. Daisy smiled broadly.

‘But on the other hand, he mustn’t be dull. That means he has to work hard at coming up with casual remarks that amuse. The kind of comment that’s deliberately offhand but designed to catch attention
—my cook fell into the porridge this morning
—that sort of thing.’

She started to giggle.

‘And, of course, he must never, ever wear brown shoes with a black suit!’ His face pulled itself into an expression of horror.

She couldn’t stop herself from laughing aloud but when he sat down, his voice was serious. ‘It’s silly, I know, but it has consequences that aren’t so silly. If a man lives his life entirely within the regiment, he never has contact with an India that’s real.’