The Girl from Cobb Street (6 page)

Flushed with success, she asked the shopkeeper for his pattern book. She would make a start this very day, once the sun’s warmth had begun to wane. Sanjay shook his head and instead showed her a picture from a magazine. She was repeating her request, thinking he’d not understood her, when a voice from the front of the shop called her name.

‘Miss Driscoll?’

She was taken aback to see Grayson Harte standing a few feet away. When they’d spoken on the ship, he’d told her little of his plans and she hadn’t realised that he, too, was headed for Jasirapur. If she’d thought about his destination at all, it would have been to imagine him many miles away by now. His tall, slim figure looked absurdly cool in linen slacks and a short-sleeved shirt, as though the punishing heat of the bazaar had decided not to take up his time but instead slide gently from his shoulders.

‘Mr Harte, how nice to see you. But I’m no longer Miss Driscoll. I’ve become Mrs Mortimer since we last met.’ If only in name, she thought, and blushed slightly.

‘Of course, forgive me. You were to be married immediately we docked, now I remember.’

‘Mr Harte …’

‘Grayson,’ he corrected.

‘I wonder if you could help me, Grayson? I can’t make this gentleman understand that I need paper patterns for the materials I’ve bought.’

He stepped forward and spoke in what Daisy imagined was fluent Hindi. ‘You don’t need a pattern apparently,’ he translated. ‘You choose a picture that you like, a dress you see illustrated in a magazine, for instance—like the one Sanjay was showing you—and the
durzi
will make it for you.’

Her mouth fell open at this news. ‘It is pretty amazing, isn’t it,’ he went on. ‘I knew you could get a suit made in that fashion, but I wondered whether ladies’ clothes might be a bit more tricky. Not so, though.’

She turned to the stallholder to say goodbye and Grayson translated for her. ‘He thanks you for your custom and he’ll deliver your purchases later today. What’s your address by the way? He probably has it, but better to check.’

She gave it and he looked surprised. ‘You’re not in the cantonment then? I would have thought you’d be living alongside the other military families. But perhaps your bungalow has its own attractions?’

She wouldn’t have described the cheerless house as having any attractions, but felt compelled to defend Gerald’s choice, though why if there were accommodation within the cantonment he’d not taken it, she was at a loss to think. ‘I believe Gerald—my husband—chose it for its tranquillity,’ she managed to say.

‘It will certainly have that,’ Grayson agreed. ‘It must be the last building on that side of Jasirapur.’ But he had a frown on his face as he spoke.

‘How is your job going?’ she asked abruptly, hoping she might deflect him from finding fault in Gerald.

‘I have the feeling that it will suit me very well, but thank you for asking—Daisy? I hope I may call you that.’

They were standing outside the bazaar and Sanjay had retreated into his small, airless office.

‘Yes, of course. I’m glad it’s working out for you. I expect you much prefer it to sugar cane.’ She remembered his telling her that one small personal detail, that he’d spent three years in a neighbouring region, working in the sugar business and hating every minute.

‘I was never cut out to be a businessman but the experience hasn’t been a complete waste of time. The languages I learnt eased me into the Foreign Office and then helped me land this job.’

‘I suppose you’ll use them when you start travelling. I don’t expect you’ll be staying in Jasirapur for long.’ From what Gerald had said, a District Officer spent most of his time on the road.

He seemed uncertain of how to answer. ‘At the moment I’m not sure of my movements. But even in town, it can be useful to speak the local language. As we’ve just discovered.’ He grinned and waved his hand towards the shop behind them. She was following his direction when a severe crash from a stall several yards to their left startled her. The crash was followed by a body hurling its way towards them. A bareheaded man in a dirty white kurta came rushing down the alley, knocking everything and everybody aside, a uniformed policeman in hot pursuit. Grayson grabbed her arm and pulled her out of harm’s way.

‘You seem fated to attract wrongdoers. But this time fortunately you’ve stayed on your feet.’ He was holding her in a loose clasp.

She felt herself trembling and when she attempted to reassure him with a smile, it didn’t quite make it to her face. The memories were too painful for her to do better.

He let go of her arm but his expression was anxious. ‘You don’t look at all well. You should make for home.’

‘I’m fine, really I am. Gerald is meeting me and he’ll be here very soon.’ She made herself say it with a conviction she didn’t feel.

Grayson looked relieved. ‘In that case, I hope you won’t mind if I leave you. Please forgive the sudden departure but I should go. Have fun with your dresses.’

And in an instant he’d disappeared in the wake of the fleeing man and his uniformed pursuer. It happened so quickly that Daisy could only blink. One minute he was standing beside her, shielding her with his arm, and the next he had melted into the crowd that had gathered to debate with great volubility the incident they’d just witnessed. Grayson Harte was in the civil service, a pen pusher, Gerald had said, but his conduct hardly seemed to match the job and raised all kinds of questions. What was he doing still in Jasirapur when rightly he should be miles away, dispensing justice to a clutch of outlying villages? And why had he taken off after the two running men? It seemed very odd and she could only conclude that somehow she’d got things wrong. Perhaps District Officers had to train in town before being let loose on the population, and today he’d simply remembered that he needed to be back at his desk for an important meeting.

From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Gerald waving at her from a nearby alleyway. She felt real gratitude that he’d managed to come, and walked towards him as swiftly as the heat allowed. The burning air was dancing ever more energetically through the bazaar and she felt drained by its onslaught. Drained, too, by the recent unwelcome reminder of what had happened on board ship. The memory was never far away and for the moment she was thoroughly shaken.

Beneath the shade of his
topi
, Gerald’s expression was unreadable, but his words made his feelings clear. ‘Buck up, Daisy. I’ve been waving at you for an age. I borrowed a regimental motor to come, and it has to be returned straight after lunch.’

He marched forward, leaving her to follow meekly behind. In single file they retraced their steps to the road and the waiting car. She didn’t see Grayson Harte, once more mingling with the crowd and all but invisible. Didn’t see that from beneath the awning of a nearby stall, he was watching them and watching them intently.

Their journey back to the bungalow was conducted in silence, both of them exhausted by the oppressive atmosphere of early afternoon. The once bright blue sky had turned leaden but a pewter sun was no less powerful, bouncing its rays off the
topi
she’d remembered to wear. She tried to blot the discomfort from her mind and concentrate instead on gathering her thoughts into some kind of order. She was looking forward to eating dinner with her husband that night. ‘Looking forward’ was perhaps optimistic; the prospect was making her apprehensive, even a little scared, but she knew she must make the attempt to clear the air between them, and very soon.

She had been in India three entire days and the conversation she’d been waiting to have remained unbroached. She would have liked the meal to be special but this morning she hadn’t felt brave enough to give Rajiv a menu. Ten to one he would pretend he didn’t understand, or the food she chose would not be available. And then Anish had arrived and taken her to the bazaar and she’d pushed the thought of the meal to the back of her mind. So whatever Rajiv chose to cook tonight would have to suffice. And the food itself was unimportant, it was what she must say to Gerald that was vital. What
would
she say? How would she say it? She could begin perhaps by recounting the details of her day. He wouldn’t be interested in cottons and trimmings, she knew, but it might give her the confidence she needed, the courage to speak the difficult words.

The driver swerved to a halt in front of the bungalow and Gerald said something to him in Hindi.

‘He’ll be returning at five,’ he explained. And before she could question him further, he’d strode up the front path and across the veranda, calling loudly for his servant.

‘We won’t require dinner tonight, Rajiv.’

Her heart gave a small lurch. There was to be no meal after all and the words she had been rehearsing dissolved into the sticky air.

‘Where are we eating, Gerald?’

‘At the Club. Sorry—I should have mentioned it but things have been a bit hectic at camp.’

She was tempted to ask what things. They might explain why Gerald had decided not to share her room last night, but he’d turned away from her and strolled across to the table to fill two glasses with the lemonade that Rajiv had mixed for them.

She felt an immense frustration. She needed to put things right as soon as possible and tonight had been her chance. But perhaps she could still persuade him to stay. There had been a time when he hadn’t wanted to leave her side. Very deliberately, she walked towards him and laced her arms about his neck.

‘Couldn’t we spend this evening here?’ she asked quietly, giving a little tug to pull him close. ‘We could go to the Club another night.’

‘Not possible, I’m afraid.’ He was fidgeting beneath her touch. ‘It’s all arranged—I can’t mess things up now.’

She tried to hug him tight, then stood on tiptoe and grazed his cheek with her lips, catching the corner of his mouth as she did so. ‘Surely it won’t matter if we miss one dinner,’ she persisted. ‘I’d like to stay home, Gerald. We’ve hardly spent any time together.’

‘We will,’ he said briskly, looking over her head at the wall beyond and unwrapping her arms from around his neck. ‘But tonight it’s important we go to the Club. You’ll enjoy it. It’s in the cantonment and the centre of social life on the station. There’s lots happening. Dancing, cards, billiards. And a great bar. It’s the Club dinner tonight—there’s one every week—and everyone comes. I’ll be able to introduce you around. It’s a chance for you to meet the other wives. You’ll want to do that.’

She didn’t share his certainty, but as it appeared she was destined to spend a good deal of time in their company, it might be better to get the ordeal over as soon as possible. And the Club dinner couldn’t go on for ever, she reasoned. When they returned, Rajiv would be gone and they would be alone. She would have the opportunity to open her heart. Gerald would be shocked at her news, but sympathetic, she was sure. He would soothe her with words and kisses. They would curl up in bed together and sleep in each other’s arms. She sank down on the sofa, smiling softly at the picture she’d conjured.

The cold trickle of lemonade was reviving her a little. ‘What should I wear?’ she asked.

It was an important question. She wanted to make him proud of her and if she were about to meet the women she would live among for the next few months, it was essential she look her best.

‘The dress you had in Bombay. The one with splashes of colour.’

So he had noticed. She felt her bruised soul sing just a little. Even in his disoriented state, he had noticed what she’d been wearing for their wedding. And that dress was now freshly clean and pressed and hanging in her wardrobe. Thanks to Rajiv, she thought. She must try to feel more charitably towards him.

‘You need some company,’ Gerald was saying bracingly. ‘It’s not good to be on your own too much. The mind can start playing tricks. Rajiv tells me you’ve been seeing ghosts in the garden.’

Her impulse to charity withered. It seemed that Rajiv carried every tale he could to his master, but she was not going to be coerced. ‘I did see someone,’ she said firmly. The more she’d thought about it, the more sure she’d become. ‘And it was no ghost. Unless ghosts are heavy smokers.’

‘Unlikely. Almost as unlikely as seeing a real-life trespasser at that hour. You were over-tired, Daisy, and when you saw what you thought was a figure, you could only have been half-awake.’

‘I was awake enough to be scared that I was alone,’ she retorted. ‘You were nowhere in sight.’

‘I slept in the other room—I didn’t want to disturb you—and
I
heard nothing.‘

It was just as she’d thought, and there was really no need for him to sound defensive. The mystery remained unexplained, but perhaps Gerald was right when he said she’d been in a dream.

He wandered to the table with the empty glasses and seemed keen to change the subject. ‘It will be good for you to get to know a few of the wives before you travel up to Simla.’

There it was again, that place. First Anish and now Gerald. ‘Anish mentioned Simla to me this morning.’

‘I hope he painted its delights for you.’

‘He praised the town highly.’ She debated whether to say more. ‘He also said I’d be going without you.’

Gerald looked taken aback. ‘Whatever made you think I’d be coming? My work is here, you must see that.’