Where Earth Meets Sky

by Annie Murray

  ‘Actually, I spent my first six years in China,’ she said, smiling as she tussled with a dab of cream which attached itself first to her lips and then her hand. ‘Daddy was researching his book – look, I have a copy here.’

  She reached over for a book from the shelf and showed Lily a thick, scholarly-looking work by an author called N. E. O. Brown.

  ‘Goodness,’ Lily said. ‘That looks very clever.’

  ‘Oh, don’t imagine I’ve read the whole thing!’ Jane Brown laughed. ‘I never got involved in Daddy’s work. But I suppose you do get used to living abroad – it gave me my wanderlust. So when I’d done my training I applied to come over here. I was in a nursing home in Calcutta for nearly two years and then I answered the doctor’s advertisement. I liked the sound of the hills and I wanted a change. Goodness . . . I say, that was nice . . .’ She put her cake plate down, wiping her lips on her handkerchief.

  ‘Yes – I liked the sound of it up here too,’ Lily said. She felt comfortable and well fed after the tea and cakes and she began to relax. She told her about Ambala and the Fairfords.

  ‘I don’t know that I’d like cantonment life,’ Jane said. ‘It all seems a bit claustrophobic to my mind. I get the impression there’s a sense of shutting out the rest of the country as if it doesn’t exist . . . That’s what they want, I suppose.’ She shifted back on the bed, kicked her shoes off and tucked her feet up.

  ‘Yes, it does feel like a world of its own in many ways,’ Lily said. ‘I must say, I prefer it here.’

  ‘Course, everyone’s haunted by the Mutiny,’ Jane said. ‘They don’t say much about it but when you think of it, how can it go on? All of us over here.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’ Lily asked.

  ‘Well, they don’t want us here really, do they? We’re foreigners, trespassers. It’s all absurd in a way. And we know it really – what happened back in fifty-seven – if it happened once, the natives getting up and saying “no more”, it can happen again. And it will one day. Don’t you think?’

  Lily thought about it, the strangeness of the British being in this country somehow. She thought of the cemetery on the side of the hill. ‘Yes,’ she said, feeling foolish that she did not have any strong opinions. ‘I suppose you’re right.’

  Jane Brown poured them more tea and their talk turned to the household. Lily wanted to ask more about Muriel McBride, about what had happened to her, and Jane Brown, though not a gossip, obviously needed to relieve her own feelings. She reclined sideways on the bed, leaning on her elbow, her skirt spread over her legs and talked.

  ‘Sometimes when I look at her when she’s asleep, I just boil with rage that anyone should be in the state she’s in. Everyone seems to be doing all they can, but I feel as if I come up against it every day – slap!’ She clapped her hands together. ‘Just like running into a wall. And sometimes I’m so angry with her I just want to shake her and say, “Live! Just get on with it and live! You’ve been given this life and look what you’re doing with it, lying here as if you’re in a tomb when you’re still alive.” She’s the sweetest person, you know, but she can’t do it. She’s forgotten even to want to live.’

  There was a silence in which Lily guessed she was trying not to weep, but when Jane Brown looked up she was dry-eyed.

  ‘I have to get out sometimes or I think I’d go mad. I tend to walk very early in the morning, while she’s still asleep. I quite often see the sun come up . . . Sometimes I just . . .’ She pushed herself more upright again for a moment, her eyes searching Lily’s face. ‘I don’t know . . . I have these doubts . . .’

  ‘What about?’ Lily asked.

  ‘About him. The doctor.’ She was obviously troubled but could not quite identify why. ‘He’s such a nice man, and I feel sorry for him. It’s just that now and then, the way he comes into her room, things he says . . . I almost wonder if it’s him . . .’

  Lily frowned, leaning forwards. ‘I’m sorry. I really don’t . . .’

  ‘No.’ Jane lay down again. ‘I don’t understand what I mean either. It’s more of an intuition. But’ – she gabbled the words as if they needed to be said – ‘it’s almost as if he likes her being so ill. As if he likes feeling in command of it all . . .’

  Lily sat back, shocked. ‘But how could that be? Surely you can’t make someone else ill?’

  Jane Brown looked thoughtful, and shamefaced. ‘No – you’re probably right. I’m being fanciful. It’s probably being alone with her too much, because it’s all so strange and awful, and I start to imagine things.’ She smiled, as if shaking the thoughts off. ‘Let’s talk about something more cheerful.’

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  As the days passed, Lily found she saw more and more of Dr McBride. He seemed unable to leave her alone. Before, when he was not out attending to patients, the house had been very quiet with the doctor secluded in his study, but now Lily kept meeting him in the hall, the corridors, walking up and down as if he was going somewhere purposefully. But it soon became clear to her that he was looking for opportunities simply to be in her company.

  There were more walks, and his behaviour was always reserved and very correct, he just seemed to want to be with her, until one day, the second time they went back to climb Gun Hill. They had reached the top, able to see the high, snowy peaks of the Himalaya now the monsoon clouds had cleared. Beyond the dark foothills rose the silent white peaks, the sun shining on them.

  ‘Oh!’ Lily was enraptured. She was still panting slightly from the climb, her cheeks glowing with good health. And she had never seen anything so mysteriously beautiful.

  ‘I knew you’d feel like that!’ Dr McBride said, and she felt him gazing intently at her face. She didn’t turn to look back, but a moment later he clasped her hand, holding it in both of his. ‘Oh, my dear girl, you really are so exotic – such a rare flower!’

  Lily froze and Dr McBride swiftly let go of her hand.

  ‘I’m sorry, my dear. I just . . . But you really are lovely.’

  ‘It’s very kind of you, Dr McBride,’ she said breathlessly. She did not know what to do: she mustn’t offend him, she thought. She might lose her job and be sent away! She gave him a careful smile. ‘I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘I know. I apologize.’ Seeming embarrassed, he looked away at the sweeping mountains laid out before them, thoughtfully stroking his thick beard. ‘Perhaps it’s something to do with being up here. Some of the highest peaks in the world over there – Everest, of course. They call it the roof of the world, Lily . . .’ He turned back to her, then away. ‘Oh, good God,’ she heard him say. Then, with an effort, he said soberly, ‘It won’t happen again.’

  As they walked back, she accompanying his long stride, he seemed restored and talked about the things they could see around them. Lily was relieved. How could he expect that she could feel anything for him? He was twice her age and a married man, and there was a great gulf between them when it came to class and upbringing. He was obviously lonely and suffering a temporary madness!

  But that night, he sent for her and asked her, very formally, to have dinner with him. ‘I dine alone night after night. It would be very pleasant to have some company. And especially –’ he cleared his throat – ‘if it were yours.’

  As usual, he ate his evening meal in his study, and when Lily was admitted she found the small table near the window laid for two with candles burning on it. Her palms begin to perspire with nerves. But she told herself, He’s lonely, he just wants some company, that’s all.

  ‘Come in, my dear, do come in.’ He welcomed her at the door and once again she was intimidated by his sheer physical bulk. He was not a fat man, but built on a grand scale, and his large head and square, curling beard only increased his appearance of size.

  ‘I’m so glad you have come, Lily. Come and sit down. Can I offer you a sherry?’

  She realized then just how nervous he was of her as he ushered her to the table. On her side plate she found a single rose, deep
red and still in bud.

  ‘How lovely!’ she cried, without thinking.

  ‘For you.’ He gazed at her solemnly. ‘I saw it and thought of you. Your lovely face is like a mysterious, closed rose.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think so.’ She gave a slight giggle. The first sip of sherry, which she was not used to, was already going to her head. Other than the candlelit table, the rest of the room was in shadow and she felt as if she were somewhere strange and primitive, like a cave.

  Dr McBride seated himself opposite her. ‘Prithvi will bring us our meal in a moment, though I’m afraid it will not be much of a surprise to you. I expect you supervised Stephen in planning it?’

  ‘Yes – we are to have mutton curry and a sweet rice mould,’ she told him. ‘And I think Stephen has done it all very well today.’

  ‘I’m relieved to hear it,’ Dr McBride laughed, sipping from his own glass of whisky. ‘His cooking, so far, has been a little erratic. I’m not given to fussing about food, though. One has to eat to live, that’s all. Though I must say, now and then it’s good to tuck into something that has not been either charred or boiled to death. Especially,’ he leaned forwards, ‘when one is in such delightful company.’

  Again, Lily felt a sense of panic rise in her for a moment at what all this might mean. She put her sherry glass down, determined to keep a straight head.

  A moment later Prithvi came in. She was wearing a shimmering pink sari, and waited on them with her usual demure shyness, keeping her eyes lowered and silently disappearing without any indication that she found it strange seeing Lily dining with the master.

  ‘Can I treat you to a glass of wine?’ Dr McBride asked. ‘There’s fresh limbopani as well, but I thought you might enjoy a drop of good French wine from the Rhone.’

  ‘Oh no, thank you!’ She felt rather swimmy already, from the sherry. ‘I’d like lemonade, please.’

  ‘As you please, my dear.’

  They began to eat, and Dr McBride talked. Lily was glad that he did not expect much from her in the way of conversation. She took a mouthful of Stephen’s curry and rice and found it to be very good, so she sat and enjoyed her meal while the doctor told her about his childhood in Edinburgh and how he had come to meet Muriel.

  ‘It was a student prank, you see. Arthur’s Seat in the dark – all that kind of foolishness.’ Seeing her puzzled expression he explained that Arthur’s Seat was an old volcano. ‘It’s in Holyrood Park, in Edinburgh, my dear. Anyway, of course I broke my ankle and when they took me to the infirmary, I met Muriel. I’d never seen her before even though I was training in the same hospital, so it all felt rather destined. Oh, she was lovely! You should have seen her – all that pale red hair, freckles and so much life in her face. Lord God . . .’ He shook his head and she could see his emotions surfacing. ‘How could I ever have imagined how she’d come to be . . . Impossible. It’s a torment watching her . . .’ He looked across at her, his expression pitiable, and she was touched. But she could also see that he wanted something from her and she was disturbed and flattered all at once.

  ‘What is the matter with Mrs McBride, exactly?’ she dared to ask.

  ‘Nothing. And everything.’ He sighed and sat back, holding his wine glass and unbuttoning his tweed jacket. He spoke with the creaking slowness of someone unaccustomed to talking about his personal life.

  ‘Muriel and I couldn’t have children. I know where the problem lies. Being a medical man and so on, I looked into it more thoroughly than most. There is nothing wrong with Muriel, as I’ve told her a thousand times. It’s me. I’m infertile.’ These last words came out awkwardly, as a confession of pain. ‘Sometimes that’s the way. So together we can’t conceive. Of course, with another man she could bear a child, but Muriel is a most honourable woman and she loved me, loves me still, I do believe. But from then on, gradually, everything went wrong. We were only in our twenties when we married. Of course, the attempts at childbearing went on for a time, but then she started to eat less. It took time and no one noticed at first, until the weight began to fall off her. She spent her thirties eating like a bird. She was thin as a stick and her looks left her, I must say. She used to have a bloom to her and it just made her fade. Terrible to watch.’ He took another sip of wine. Lily watched his face. She could feel herself being drawn in by him.

  ‘I’ve never talked to anyone about it before,’ he said. ‘Or not in more than cold medical terms. It’s something about you, Lily . . . I seem to be able to say things . . .’ He gazed emotionally at her for a moment, then looked away.

  ‘Muriel’s condition is a sickness of the mind which makes people starve themselves of food, and it’s very hard to understand. It’s so life-denying, yet Muriel has always said she does not want to die. A year ago things became very bad and we reached the point you see us at now. I suggested we go home to Edinburgh, but Muriel begged me to let her stay here. She is afraid that they might force-feed her and she says if they did that she would hang herself. I’ve asked myself day and night for months whether there is anywhere else I could take her that would help. She’s had help from the psychiatric doctor here – the physicians of the mind, Lily – but nothing seems to give her back the key to life and instead we have to exist in this living death, day after day . . .’

  For a moment she thought he was going to weep, but he checked himself and wiped his hand emotionally over his eyes.

  ‘For years now I’ve just closed in on myself. I love the woman – but she doesn’t seem to love me, or herself, enough to nourish herself into life. Part of me has been dying with her. And then you come along, Lily, so alive and so beautiful, with your wonderful, living body and your face . . . God, the sight of your face. You’ve given me such joy, did you know? Just the sight of you each day has given me back my life again!’

  ‘Has it?’ Lily said. She felt more in command of herself now, and smiled at him. Perhaps that was all he wanted, she hoped, just to see her, if it made him feel better. ‘If so, then I’m glad.’

  ‘Glad isn’t a strong enough word for what I feel, Lily.’

  She jumped as he got to his feet and came round the table. He was becoming more and more passionate and he took her hand and held it to his lips.

  ‘I adore you. I want to make you mine. I’m not just the crusty old doctor you’ve seen. There’s far more to me than that, but it’s been shut away more as every year goes by. I’d give anything for you, to be with you even a little of the time . . .’

  Goodness, what was he asking her? Lily thought, panic-stricken. Was this respectable man asking her to become his mistress? Did he think she was some woman of easy virtue who would just do anything he asked? She was in turmoil, half wanting to pull her hand away, but not feeling she could because of the look of longing in his eyes, and the longing inside her which answered it.

  ‘Lily—’ He spoke urgently, words pouring from him. ‘I know what I am saying to you is very shocking. But I’ll lay my cards on the table. I am a quite wealthy man with a dying wife and no offspring to spend my money on. I have entombed myself in my house and my medical practice . . . I don’t want to live like this any more. I’m asking you to help me find life again. I can give you so much, my dear . . . I worship you, I can make a queen of you . . . You would not lose respect, or not for long. I am very highly thought of in this town, and I am also much pitied. I have had many offers from women who feel sorry for me, but no one has ever been like you.’ He paused for a moment, staring at her. ‘Tell me what you want of me, darling one – you only have to ask.’

  Something inside her responded to this. She was alone in the world, with no hope of a real love or marriage, and he was offering an arrangement which she could see might be to her advantage. For the first time in her life Lily felt a real sense of strength. A voice in her answered, Why not? You have nothing to lose and a lot to gain. And amid all her calculations there was a simple longing to be loved and held and desired.

  ‘There’s one thing . . .’ He sounded
bashful now, looking down at his plate. ‘I’m being very forward but I did say I wanted to lay my cards on the table. What I said about my inability to father a child – I know for certain that that is the case. I’ve performed certain tests . . . So if you were to agree to . . . to offer me love in every way possible there would be no issue. You need not trouble yourself about that.’

  Lily had never heard anyone speak so directly, and felt a blush spread all over her body. She looked down, hoping that in the dim light he would not see.

  ‘I feel a little overcome,’ she said carefully. ‘I wasn’t expecting this. You are very kind.’

  The doctor drew Lily to her feet and she obeyed. ‘Please say yes, Lily. I don’t think I could bear it if you turned me down.’

  She made her decision in that split second. A yes to something she barely understood. Standing up, in the candlelight she allowed him to pull her close to him. He seemed so very large as he drew her against him and she was a little afraid, but she quelled her fears. She wanted things from life that she could barely name and this seemed to be a way she could get them.

  ‘Oh, my dearest love,’ he said breathlessly, and pulled her to him. A moment later she was wrapped in Ewan McBride’s arms, his lips hot and ardent on hers.

  Chapter Thirty

  For a short time Lily thought Dr McBride was going to be satisfied with her company on the afternoon walks and an evening meal with a few kisses at the end of the evening. But as the days went by, he became more and more ardent until one evening, as Lily pulled away from him to leave his candlelit study, he said hurriedly, ‘Let me come to you – tonight!’

  Lily turned, hand on the door handle. ‘What do you mean?’

  Dr McBride was at her side again, taking her other hand. ‘Let me lie with you, Lily, my darling! I’m burning for you – you can see.’ A sweat had broken out on his forehead. ‘I want to lie beside you and make you mine, my darling girl.’