The Towers Of Silence (The Raj quartet) (52 page)

‘There isn’t any risk. It was just a fit. But if you prefer to stay outside until the vet comes by all means do so. Fenny’s been on to him and he’s coming right away. And you must stay to lunch. I’ll need you to cheer Sarah up. Kevin rang me, incidentally. I know about her not feeling well at the daftar. I’m grateful to you for tipping me off.’

‘I felt pretty shabby because she’d made me promise not to mention it in case of worrying you. But I thought her health more important than my word.’

‘Absolutely right.’ She looked down at the heap of sacking. ‘I expect this will be the last straw. But we’ve been cooking up a scheme for Fenny to take her down to Calcutta and get her out of it for a bit. I shall ring Dick Rankin this evening and tell him she oughtn’t to go into the daftar between now and then. Come along, Dicky. Don’t let’s stand here. I’m not feeling so hot myself.’

She moved away. In a moment or two Dicky was walking at her side.

‘There’s something I’ve got to tell you, Mrs Layton. And something I want to ask you about. I was going to tell Sarah this morning, that’s why I was looking for her and found her – like she was.’

Mildred had stopped. She smiled. She said, ‘I hope it’s nothing unpleasant.’

‘Not unpleasant exactly. I mean – I’ve been posted. The order came this morning. I’ve got to report to the military secretary at Fourteenth Army.’

‘When?’

‘I must leave tonight. There’s some transport going down to Ranpur. I’m flying from Ranagunj tomorrow morning.’

‘To Comilla?’

‘Yes.’

‘Is it promotion?’

‘I’ve no idea what’s entailed. My guess is I’ll be in Imphal inside a week.’

‘I won’t commiserate,’ Mildred said. ‘I expect you’re glad. No young officer wants to be stuck in a place like this for long. But we’re going to miss you. You’ve been an absolute brick. Like part of the family.’

Dicky blushed.

‘You’ve been very kind to me,’ he said.

‘You had something to ask me about.’

‘Yes. I’m sorry because it seems the wrong sort of time.’

‘But it’s the only time you have, isn’t it?’

‘I don’t quite know how to put it. Probably you guess. I mean, you have a right to. I’ve taken up a great deal of your daughters’ time – Sarah’s
and
Susan’s. What you said, about being part of the family, that’s what it’s been like for me. I was terrifically pleased being asked to be godfather to Susan’s baby. The thing is, one day I’d like really to be part of it.’

Dicky’s blush had deepened. But he kept his eyes manfully on hers.

‘I know there can’t be anything offiical,’ he continued. ‘I mean, in the circumstances. But I didn’t want to leave without telling you what I feel and asking if you think there’s a chance, and of course if you’d approve.’

‘Are you saying you’d like to be John’s and my son-in-law, Dicky?’

‘Yes.’

Mildred put a hand on his arm.

‘My dear chap. I can’t actually think of anything nicer. That’s all I
can
say. But you’ve already appreciated that. I’m sorry you have to go without being able to say anything to her, but perhaps it’s as well. I made up my mind some time ago that all questions of this kind would have to wait until my husband comes home. But an understanding – not necessarily binding – but an understanding between the two of you would have been a different matter. You’ve thought hard about it, haven’t you Dicky? It isn’t just a case of your feeling sorry for her?’

‘Sorry? No, why should I feel sorry––?’

‘People exaggerate so. But it’s only a temporary set-back and she’s getting better every day. She’s had the most ghastly luck when you work it out. Later on she’ll need someone like you, Dicky, but I wouldn’t want you to take it all on unless you were absolutely sure. I must confess I was rather hoping for something like this to give her back a feeling of stability. I’m sure it’s all she needs. That, and someone she can lean on, really depend on in the future. Personally, I couldn’t be happier. I think the form is for me to talk to her, when that’s possible, and to let you know what sort of reaction I get and then for you to start writing to her to tell her a bit of what you feel, but not too much. She needs time as well as reassurance.’

She tapped his arm. ‘Now come along in and have a drink. I suggest we keep this entirely to ourselves, at least for the time being, but you and I will know what we’re drinking to.’

‘Mrs Layton—’

‘What, Dicky?’

‘I’m afraid I must have made the most awful mess of it—’

‘Mess? What do you mean?’

‘You were talking – you were talking about Susan.’

Mildred let go of his arm. She studied his face. The blush had gone. He looked quite pale, for Dicky.

‘Weren’t you?’ she asked.

He shook his head. Briefly she touched her own, tracing the outline of her left eyebrow, and then put her hand to her throat, linking the little finger into the string of seed pearls. She smiled but her eyes showed no amusement nor for that matter embarrassment at having jumped to the wrong conclusion.

‘I’m so sorry. I’d no idea you felt like that about Sarah. Has she?’

‘I hope, a bit. But I don’t know. I was going to speak to her today.’

‘Yes, I see. Of course there was a time when I wondered. But then when Teddie was killed I thought you realized it had been Susan all the time.’

She moved away from him, a pace or two; but stopped and said, ‘It’s up to you of course, but my advice would be to say nothing just yet.’

‘Would you tell me why, Mrs Layton?’

The pearls had become twisted. But this was the only sign of agitation.

‘I shouldn’t want you to leave Pankot with your hopes completely dashed.’

‘I’d risk that. And it might be otherwise, mightn’t it?’

‘Perhaps. But I don’t think so. I don’t get the impression she’s fond of you like that. I must take your word for it that so far as you’re concerned the scales have finally gone down in her favour. You
have
been thrown together more by Susan’s illness. I should be surprised if she feels the same about you but – let’s say I’m wrong. Then I’d have to tell you I have reservations about your coming to any kind of understanding. I’m sorry if that sounds unfair or illogical. But what could have been a good thing in Susan’s case, a good thing for you both, wouldn’t necessarily be in Sarah’s and yours. With Susan there’s the element of dependence, the question of the child, the need she has to feel wanted again, which is why I asked you whether you were sure, absolutely sure, about taking it all on. But Sarah’s very independent. She’s about and around, if you see what I mean. I’d hate you to go off to Burma or wherever, feeling chipper, and then get a letter saying she’s met someone else.’

‘Is there someone else, Mrs Layton?’

‘Someone adored from a distance?’ Mildred smiled. ‘I simply can’t say. Sarah’s never taken me into her confidence. She’s always been the quiet introspective type. But she’s pretty determined and she can be impulsive. Susan’s the one who feels the need to settle down to an orderly kind of existence. I was never absolutely happy about her choice of Teddie and I’m pretty sure she ended up regretting it. But they both rushed into it and I think a lot of her trouble is that she’s feeling guilty about him.’

‘Guilty?’

‘I believe that when you turned up she realized what a mistake she’d made. Perhaps she feels it showed in her letters to him.’

‘Did she ever say anything to you, Mrs Layton?’

Mildred had folded her arms but still played with the necklace. The movements of her fingers were more assured.

‘No, Dicky. And don’t run away with any ideas. It’s all much too complicated. You seem to have made your choice anyway and apparently it’s not Susan. Let’s go in. I’m dying for a drink and I’m sure you are. At least we can drink to your safe return.
That’s
the important thing.’

The verandah was now unoccupied. Everyone had gone indoors to avoid the sight of the heap of sacking. Weeks later, sitting on an empty upturned ammunition box and resting his pad of paper on his knee, Dicky ended a letter to Sarah: ‘There was a lot I wanted to talk about that last afternoon in Pankot but somehow everything conspired against it. My fondest love to you. And to Susan. And of course to my godson.’

II

She woke to the strong sweet smell of roses and did not need to open her eyes to know that they were yellow. In any case if she opened her eyes the scent and the roses would almost certainly go away, dismal proof that she was only dreaming them. She turned her head and slowly let the white room come into focus. The scent was fainter but it had not gone and she guessed she was not alone.

She looked round into the massed pale yellow velvet petals of the flowers which Sarah had placed on the pillow and was holding there with her left hand.

‘Hello, Barbie. Are you feeling better? I’ve brought these from the garden. I remembered the yellow were your favourite.’

Barbie smiled and nodded.

Her voice, of which she had been proud, had become a humiliation. It was weak on the consonants. It cracked on the vowels. When she spoke she could feel the vibrations in the tight drum of her chest.

‘Thank you, Sarah.’ She tried to whisper it but the first vowel betrayed her. One had to face it. ‘My silly old voice,’ she said in two registers at once. ‘It seems to have packed up on me. Some will think it a blessing if it keeps me quiet.’

The roses trembled as the fractured sounds hit them.

‘You’ve been here before, haven’t you?’

‘Once or twice. But you were very sleepy.’

‘You were in uniform. You brought me a bottle of barley water. I still have some. Would you like a glass?’

‘No, but I’ll give you one.’

‘It would oil the cogs.’ She watched from the pillow-bower of roses while Sarah poured barley water. Helped into a drinking position she could feel her own backbone against Sarah’s hand. Her wasted body filled her with revulsion; in the room it alone lacked the security of shape and form and definition. It was like something the bed had invented, got tired of and left half-finished to fend for itself.

‘I shall be glad to get out of here,’ she said when Sarah had resettled the pillows to support her in the half-upright position the nurses were always trying to keep her in, in an unequal struggle against the gravitational pull of the foot of the bed and the mattress under her bony buttocks. ‘There is something about a hospital bedroom that drains one of self-confidence. One feels anonymous.’

‘You have your name on the door.’

‘Have I? That’s handy. It minimizes error. Was I in this room when you came before?’

‘No, in one with three other beds but only one was occupied. By a Mrs MacGregor whose husband was an engineer.’

‘I remember curtains round the bed with sprigs of forget-me-nots and scarlet pimpernels. And a horrible thing like a bomb. But it was only the oxygen. Why have I been moved to a room on my own?’

‘Captain Travers thought you’d like it. You’ve got a private balcony. When you’re better you’ll be able to sit out and not be bothered by people.’

‘People have never bothered me. It’s been the other way round. Was I very ill?’

‘You had pneumonia.’

‘I know. But Edwina had pneumonia. She wasn’t in hospital more than three weeks. I’ve been that already.’

‘A little over.’

‘Shall I be here much longer?’

‘A week or two I expect. You’re much better today. You’ll make strides now.’

‘Was Clarissa very cross?’

‘What could she have to be cross about?’

‘Cross with me for being ill.’

‘She visited you. She wouldn’t visit you if she were cross, now would she?’

‘I don’t remember her visiting me. I only remember you.’

‘I expect you were asleep.’

‘Will she have me back?’

‘Of course she will. There isn’t any question.’

‘I thought Dr Travers might be keeping me here because he knows Clarissa’s
had
me.’

Sarah smiled. At the turn of phrase presumably. It was what soldiers said. I’ve had it. You’ve had it. It was very expressive.

‘And she knows the mission’s had me too. I showed her the letter.’

‘You mustn’t worry about Clarissa.’

‘Is my trunk still safe?’

Sarah nodded.

‘Still in the mali’s shed?’

‘Yes, still there.’

‘Does your mother know?’

Sarah shook her head.

Barbie looked at the roses. ‘It was wrong of me getting you to hide it. But Clarissa would have drawn the line at the trunk. It had better go to Jalal-Ud-Din’s. If we could move it one day when your mother’s out.’

‘Mother’s unlikely to look in the mali’s shed. Anyway it’s doing no harm. Whenever you want it it’s there. You only have to ask me or mali.’

‘No. Your mother will get to know. And you’ll be in trouble. There are some little toys in it. Things the children made for me. If I give you the key you could get them out. The baby could have them when he’s older. The mali could keep the trunk. Everything else in it can be thrown away.’

‘You said the trunk was your history.’

‘Lying here one has no history. Just each hour of the day.’ She grinned.

‘Yes you do. And you needn’t worry about the trunk or about Clarissa having you back. Just concentrate on getting well.’

‘Is Susan getting well?’

Sarah nodded.

‘And the baby is all right?’

‘The baby’s fine.’

‘Is Susan quite near me?’

‘You can see the nursing home from your balcony.’

‘Then I’ll sit out there and transmit prana to her.’

‘What’s prana?’

‘The goodness in the air. You breathe it in. And out. Like smelling roses. Like blowing dandelions.’

‘Like what?’

‘Blowing dandelions.’