The Girl from Cobb Street (23 page)

Anish came forward, a wide smile on his face. ‘To the manner born, Daisy. You look as though you’ve been riding for years!’

He helped her up into the saddle and she sat stiff and ungainly, not daring to look down at the ground. It seemed a very long way beneath her, even on this small pony.

‘You’re being kind,’ she said. ‘I’ve never felt more awkward in my life.’

‘You soon won’t, believe me. Just try and relax into the saddle. It’s fortunate that women can ride astride now—even here. You would have found side saddle the very devil.’

No doubt, she thought, but it was unlikely she’d find riding astride much better. Anish mounted his horse effortlessly, and sidled up to her. ‘By the way, your pony’s name is Rudolf and he’s a docile beast. In fact, he’s far more likely to stand still than he is to move. You’ll need to be firm with him.’

Rudolf swung his head round and looked at her. She felt like reassuring him that if he wanted to stand still for the next hour, that was perfectly fine with her. But Anish was having none of it. He smacked the pony on the rump and Rudolf ambled into a sedate walk, Daisy rocking from side to side and hoping she didn’t resemble too closely a sack of potatoes on its way to market.

They walked together, horse by horse, along the path and out of the garden, moving off into the dawn mist along the pale, dusky lane. When they reached the road, instead of turning right or left, Anish led them over it and onto a small path she hadn’t noticed before. Already small boys with little sticks were driving cattle from the thorn enclosures of night and into the fields that spread into the distance on either side of them. The boys shouted and whacked the still-sleepy cows as they stumbled along the lane from the nearest village. A smell of dung fires and coffee greeted them as they drew nearer. Dim figures emerged from thatched huts. Daisy saw the women standing at the village well, waiting to draw water. When their pots were full, they took them to the men sitting nearby, who gargled and spat and rinsed their faces, before tying their turbans in preparation for the day’s toil in the fields.

Once out of the village, the horses continued to amble side by side along the lane they’d been following from the main thoroughfare. The colours of the earth, its patterns, its smell, slowly infused Daisy’s mind and body, beckoning her into the landscape she travelled. Very gradually, she began to relax. By the time they had passed through a second village, she felt sufficiently at ease to string a few words together. Yesterday’s events were still vividly in her mind and she wondered if Anish would talk of them.

‘Did you hear what happened after the parade?’ she asked.

‘You mean the protests? I heard you were caught up in them.’

‘For a while.’

‘Then you know more than I do. Tell me what you saw.’

‘There was a lot of shouting, political slogans I think, although most of it was in Hindi and I didn’t understand. Police officers ordered the crowds to disperse but a large group of them refused and then the police charged with
lathis.
That sparked the riot. Then the army came—soldiers on foot but with rifles—and fired shots. Into the air, I think.’

‘And did it work?’

‘I believe so. I wasn’t there at the end. Fortunately, Jocelyn and I managed to escape. I didn’t want to see what would happen if the crowd refused to disperse.’

‘Artillery would have been brought in. Tanks, probably.’

‘That would have been dreadful.’

‘It would, but you shouldn’t be surprised. The army is the last resort and can’t be seen to back down. Otherwise, how would a hundred thousand Europeans control three hundred million Indians?’

She was spared a reply for they were passing through yet another village. Dogs rushed out and barked around their legs, but when Anish cracked his whip at them, they disappeared as quickly as they’d arrived. Peacocks strutted by the side of the dusty lane, and a woman came out to greet them and offered them a glass of milk. Anish declined with thanks and Daisy could only be grateful. She would not have dared to lean from the horse to take the glass and, worse, if she’d had to dismount, she would have found it almost impossible to get back into the saddle again. Already the whole of her lower body had set up a dull ache.

She was finding the ride uncomfortable but Anish was a pleasant companion. They barely knew each other, but somehow it seemed not to matter. She felt more than ever that she could talk to him and be completely honest. And when they were once more in open countryside, she returned to yesterday’s events. She wanted to hear what he’d made of them.

‘Gerald didn’t seem to think they were important, the protests I mean.’

‘Gerald sees what he wants to see, and you’ll discover the entire Indian Army is the same. Its soldiers are insulated against politics. Their interests lie in gaining promotion or being successful at polo or taking part in military displays. Everything else is ignored.’

‘But judging by yesterday’s events, the soldiers know there’s trouble in the country and surely it must affect them.’

‘Everyone feels a sense of strain on occasions,’ he admitted. ‘But it never lasts. It’s simply an undercurrent running quietly beneath what really matters: polo tournaments and parades.’

‘Even now when the situation seems to be getting worse?’

‘There’s a conspiracy to keep a stiff upper lip and behave as though loyalty to anyone but the King Emperor could never arise. It won’t last for much longer. Things will change, must change. There have been protests for two hundred years, but they’re getting more frequent and more furious. Too many Indians have suffered loss and been humiliated and they want recompense. Of course, there are grander motives too.’

‘Grander? You mean independence?’

‘I do. Self-determination is a powerful notion.’

He was smiling at her, no trace of bitterness on his face, and she was encouraged to say, ‘Grayson thinks like you, that resistance can only grow, now that England is almost certain to be plunged into war.’

‘Grayson? Ah, yes, the estimable Mr Harte.’ She flushed slightly and hoped Anish had not noticed. ‘He’s right, of course. War will bring enormous upheaval, and not just in Europe. Indian resistance is already looking east for help with its struggle. The Japanese are in China, did you know? I understand they’ve captured a number of key cities.’

He was as well-informed as Grayson, Daisy thought. But unlike Grayson, independence was a deeply personal matter for him. He spoke of loss and humiliation and she knew that must come from his own experience. He worked alongside British officers and if needed, he would fight alongside them, yet he was not considered their equal. He was not good enough to be paid the same or good enough to be welcomed at their Club. The prejudice was stark and Gerald was part of it. She wondered at the way he’d encouraged her to ride out with Anish, since he was eager for advancement, and friendship with Indians was deeply frowned upon. But perhaps their alliance was strong enough to override such snobbishness or perhaps it was simply that Gerald wished to spend as little time as possible with her, and was more than happy to delegate his responsibilities to a man he could trust.

They had fallen silent, relapsing into their own thoughts, with Daisy concentrating hard on holding tight to the saddle. When she looked up at last, it was to see a broad, brown river appearing through a bank of trees.

‘We’re there,’ she exclaimed. It was a different spot to the one she’d driven to with Gerald, but it was the same wide, muddy drift of water.

‘We are. Here, let me help you down. You must be feeling stiff. We’ll sit for a while until you get your breath back.’

She giggled. ‘It was hardly a breath-taking ride.’ With some difficulty she slid from the saddle, and he caught her deftly and put her on her feet.

‘Any time you feel the need to travel faster, just let me know. We might have a bit of a problem with Rudolf though.’

‘No,’ she was quick to say, ‘no thank you. I find walking perfect and I’m sure Rudolf does too.’

‘He prefers to lie.’ She giggled again. ‘But maybe next time we ride out, you’ll feel like risking a gentle trot.’

‘Will you mind bringing me out again? This can’t be much fun for you.’

‘On the contrary, I’m enjoying the morning immensely. You’re good company, Daisy, and I like being with you. You’re hardly a typical memsahib.’

‘Is that a compliment?’

‘I think it must be.’

They sat for long minutes beneath the shade of a line of peepul trees, Daisy watching as the sun glinted on and off rucks in the flowing water. Above them in the branches, green parrots chattered noisily to themselves.

‘One day, I hope you’ll visit some of our palaces,’ Anish said out of the blue. ‘I think you would love them. They are truly magnificent.’

‘I’ve never been to a palace, though Miss Maddox—my mis—my friend,’ she corrected herself quickly, ‘was invited once to Buckingham Palace. She told me about it, and I wanted very much to see it for myself.’

‘Our palaces are nothing like your King’s residence.’

Daisy leaned towards him. ‘Do tell me about them.’

‘For a start, they’re built around endless courtyards with arch after arch of carved stone. And every piece of stone is decorated and every small piece of decoration is inlaid with gems. In bright sunlight, the walls flash a rainbow of colour.’

‘You’re right. They sound magnificent.’

He nodded, his eyes half-closed. ‘That’s just the exterior. Inside there are huge audience halls, every wall mirrored and with silk carpets on the floor and tons of crystal hanging above. And the rooms lead out on to broad terraces where you can walk and view the sweep of the mountains or the curve of the Ganga itself. One day I’ll take you to one, if you’re still here.’

‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

‘You may decide you don’t like India after all,’ he answered easily.

The sun’s rays had begun to probe their shade and creep stealthily through the gaps in the dusty leaves. Daisy felt her neck grow uncomfortably hot and changed her position several times. Noticing her discomfort, he jumped to his feet. ‘It is getting too warm for you. We should start back.’

It was none too soon. She found the return journey torture, and by the time they rode up to the bungalow, every part of her body hurt and she was white with fatigue.

‘We’ve been out too long,’ Anish confessed. ‘Forgive me. I should have made sure we turned for home earlier but we were talking and I forgot the time.’

‘Don’t say that. I loved the river and I loved talking with you. I shall be fine, once I’ve rested.’

‘You don’t look fine,’ he scolded. ‘The heat has done for you. Or Rudolf has. I should have known better.’

She almost fell from the horse and into his arms. Mounting the veranda steps, she tried very hard not to wince, or even worse, faint. He was looking at her with concern. ‘You know you really shouldn’t be here in these temperatures. And it’s not too late to go. Miss Forester has only just left, and Gerald could organise transport for you.’

It was true she was growing more tired by the day, and the battle against the heat seemed interminable. For an instant, she was tempted, but only for an instant and when she spoke, her voice was sure.

‘I can’t go.’ She would trust her companion with one small but important confidence. ‘I’ve half-promised to help at the Infirmary and I don’t want to let Dr Lane down.’

Anish’s eyebrows rose. ‘And what does Gerald say to that?’

‘He doesn’t know. At least not yet. I thought I’d see how I got on, and if I’m no help to them or I don’t like the work, there won’t be a problem. Gerald need never know.’

‘And what if you do like it and decide to be the new Miss Nightingale?’

‘Then I’ll tell him, but only when I think the time is right. You won’t say anything?’

‘We’re friends, aren’t we? You can rely on me.’ And with a slight smile, he turned his horse and trotted back up the garden path, leading Rudolf by the bridle.

She went to the Infirmary every other day for an entire week without Gerald knowing, following him out of the bungalow early in the morning but always making sure she was back in time to welcome him home for lunch. She’d thought Rajiv might be a problem, but if he had noticed her constant absences, he evidently said nothing to his master. Her earlier conviction that he’d been trying to scare her into taking the first ship back to England had begun to fade, and she felt safe in leaving him alone when she went to the hospital. She’d watched him closely for days and seen nothing to disturb her. His time was spent cooking and cleaning, and if he left the house, it was to go to the market for an hour at most. For a while she’d toyed with the idea that he might have an accomplice, but she soon realised she was chasing a phantom. There was no evidence to suggest that such a person existed and she’d had to accept her suspicions were wrong. She should have known better than to think she could play detective in a country she hardly knew.

She wasn’t about to unmask a criminal but she was still glad not to have travelled to Simla. Her life had quite suddenly become full and a great deal more interesting. On the two mornings she didn’t work, Anish called at the same early hour, leading the docile Rudolf. He considered a return to the river too ambitious, at least for the time being, but was happy to escort her on whatever gentle ride she chose. Instead they travelled along local paths, crisscrossing their way over fields of soya bean and oil seed, and passing through a great number of small villages.