The Kashmir Shawl (61 page)
‘I just wanted to do that.’
Wind riffled the dry leaves and smoke blew across the roofs of low brick houses. Bruno took her face between his hands and with his thumbs he stroked the corners of her mouth. They stood together, listening to the breeze and the ripple of water.
Mair remembered Leh, almost a year ago, and the day she had first met Karen and Lotus. And then came the memory of the terrible morning in the snow at Lamayuru. She had done a back-flip to please Lotus and the dog had streaked out of nowhere.
She closed her eyes, and opened them again.
A year had changed everything.
I won’t do that again, she thought. No more acrobatics. The circus was over.
Happiness unexpectedly possessed her: its reality seemed as
perfect and as indestructible and as fleeting as the moment of flight itself.
‘It will be dark soon,’ Bruno murmured.
He held her hand as they headed across the meadow. At the margin a group of women in fluttering black
burqas
hurried by as the call to prayer sounded over the low roofs. This was a strictly orthodox Muslim neighbourhood, more like Saudi than Srinagar. Mair and Bruno released each other and decorously followed the path that led to the Jhelum river.
When they reached the smeared-glass walls of the hotel Bruno sighed. ‘Do we have to stay another night in this place?’ he asked.
‘No, we don’t. Where shall we go?’
He turned in a half-circle towards the glimmering waters of the lake. A handful of
shikaras
swayed at a jetty, hoping to pick up a fare before curfew. A pair of jeeps loaded with soldiers crawled by.
Across the water a few yellow lights winked in a row of houseboats. Dusk concealed their peeling paint and sagging timbers.
‘What about … There?’
Half an hour later, without luggage or anything but the clothes they stood in, they had taken possession of the
Rose of Kashmir
. Proudly the house-boy conducted them through carved rooms hung with embroideries and miniature chandeliers. The boards creaked loudly underfoot and the ornate mirrors were veiled with dust.
‘I make dinner,’ he told them, and sprang down the plank leading to the kitchen boat.
Mair and Bruno stood out on the pillared veranda. A moon like a silver ball floated over the high mountains. The last
shikara
glided by, its wake punctuated by drips from the paddle.
He sighed. ‘It’s all very beautiful. But Kashmir would only be a picture postcard if it … if it were not for you. Is it all right to say that, Mair? I did say I’m not sure I understand anything any more. If I’m wrong about this …’
Tomorrow, she thought, there would be other questions, and no doubt some things that would be more wrong than right, but for tonight there was nothing out of place, nothing missing, nothing but now.
‘You’re not wrong at all,’ she said.
It was dark, but still they could see each other’s face.
From the trees on the bank an owl hooted.
Bob and Carolyn Wilkins originally drew my attention to the effects of the veterinary drug Diclofenac on the vulture populations of Asia, and the consequent rise in the numbers of feral dogs and the spread of rabies. Drs Wilkins were also wonderful companions on a lengthy trek in the Zanskar mountains of the Indian Himalaya, as were Jane Maxim, Stephen Barnard and Graham Francis. Our guide was the inestimable Seb Mankelow, who shared his deep knowledge and love of the region with us, and who helped in many ways with the early research for this book. Our local guide was Sonam ‘Jimmy’ Stobges, whose energy and good humour made long days in difficult terrain seem easy. I am grateful to him and to his wife who welcomed us to the family home in Padum, and also to the camp staff and pony men. Dr Tsering Tashi of the Community Health Centre in Padum gave me an afternoon of his time to discuss the threat and the effects of rabies. Another Tashi was my resourceful driver on the long and difficult drive across the mountains from Ladakh via Kargil to Srinagar in Kashmir.
In Srinagar I was greatly helped by the owners and staff of Gurkha Houseboats on Nagin lake. I am grateful to the spinners, dyers, weavers and embroiderers of Srinagar and the Vale of Kashmir who invited me into their workshops, demonstrated their working methods and patiently explained the processes involved in producing fine shawls. Thanks are due
to Justine Hardy for her generous advice, and also to Sara Wheeler.
My brother-in-law Arwyn Thomas was born in India to Welsh missionary parents, and he gave me helpful information about their work.
I would also like to thank Lynne Drew and everyone at HarperCollins, Hazel Orme, Annabel Robinson and the entire team at FMcM Associates, the London Library, and my unsurpassable agent Jonathan Lloyd.
As always, thank you to my supportive family, Charlie, Flora and Theo.
Rosie Thomas is the author of a number of celebrated novels, including the bestsellers
Sun at Midnight
,
Iris and Ruby
and
Constance
. A keen traveller, she has climbed in the Alps and the Himalayas, competed in the Peking to Paris car rally, spent time on a tiny Bulgarian research station in Antarctica and travelled in Ladakh and Kashmir to research this novel. She lives in London.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.
Other Books By the same author:
Celebration
Follies
Sunrise
The White Dove
Strangers
Bad Girls, Good Women
A Woman of Our Times
All My Sins Remembered
Other People’s Marriages
A Simple Life
Every Woman Knows a Secret
Moon Island
White
The Potter’s House
If My Father Loved Me
Sun at Midnight
Iris and Ruby
Constance
Lovers and Newcomers
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First published in Great Britain by
HarperCollins
Publishers
2011
THE KASHMIR SHAWL
. Copyright © Rosie Thomas 2011. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Rosie Thomas asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN: 978 0 00 728596 9
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
EPub Edition © JUNE 2011 ISBN: 978-0-00-744999-6
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