The Girl from Cobb Street

by Merryn Allingham

  ‘Take this. It might help.’ He passed Daisy a large, white handkerchief and then turned to go.

  Her last sight of him was plunging back into the rioting crowd, this time accompanied by two burly soldiers, their rifles raised. She heard shots ring out, but there was no time to worry over what was happening. She had a more urgent concern. As Jocelyn concentrated on driving as fast as she could along the narrow street, Daisy used the square of linen to try and staunch the boy’s blood. It was flowing far too freely and she resigned herself to the ruin of her dress. But it was the young man who took all her attention. His face was waxen and he appeared to have lost consciousness. She felt thoroughly scared, for she was not sure they would get to the Infirmary in time.

  It was fortunate the building was situated on the very edge of the civil station and a notice announcing Indian Medical Service was reached within minutes. That was just as well, Daisy thought, cradling the boy’s limp form in her arms. She had tried to keep the blood from trickling into his eyes and mouth, but she could see that beneath the dark plaster of his hair the wound he’d received was very deep.

  ‘Hallo there,’ Jocelyn was calling out. ‘Dr Lane, we need help please. Help!’

  Her voice crackled through the silence that lay over the civil station. Surely someone must hear. She called again and again until finally a harrassed-looking man, grey-haired and spectacled, emerged from the door and looked at them in surprise.

  ‘There’s been an accident,’ Jocelyn began, and then without warning, tears flooded down her cheeks. The fright she’d suffered was taking its toll.

  ‘I can see that.’ The doctor’s tone verged on irascible. At least, Daisy imagined, he must be the doctor. He called to some people behind him, and two large orderlies appeared and very gently extricated the young man from the back of the carriage.

  Daisy climbed down from her seat but when her friend, still tearful, made to do the same, she stopped her with a grateful clasp of her hand. Jocelyn had been scared half to death but had driven them out of danger.

  ‘You’ve done enough today. And you’ve a long journey tomorrow. You should drive home and get some rest.’

  ‘But the man …’

  ‘He’s in good hands. The doctor will put him right in no time, I’m sure. And I’ll stay for a while in case there’s anything I can do.’

  ‘I have to return the pony and trap to the Adjutant.’

  ‘Of course you have. Go now before he gets worried. News of the riot will already be circulating.’

  Jocelyn nodded but still seemed reluctant to leave. ‘How will you get home?’

  ‘I’m sure I’ll manage. I’m on the civil station, not in the wilds of the jungle.’

  Her companion smiled weakly. ‘If you’re really sure.’

  ‘I’m really sure.’

  The girl picked up the reins and then smiled down at Daisy, almost her old self again. ‘I do wish you were coming with me. To Simla, I mean. Promise that as soon as I get back, you’ll come over and see me, or invite me to tea at the bungalow.’

  ‘I promise. You’ll have plenty to tell me.’

  ‘I certainly will, though I won’t be home for long to do the telling. Just a few weeks.’ She said it with regret. ‘But we’ll make the most of them.’

  ‘Why, where are you going?’ Daisy was disconcerted.

  ‘Back to England. Once we’ve returned from Simla, I’m to be packed off again. To Sussex this time. Ma has family there, and I’m to spend the winter enjoying myself. Or at least that’s what she says. I’m sure there’s quite a different scheme though. One that involves me finding a husband!’

  ‘Wouldn’t India be a better place to find one?’ That seemed to make a lot more sense. ‘There must be plenty of young officers desperate to marry.’

  ‘That’s the problem. I can’t be seen to favour anyone in the regiment, not with Pa as the Colonel.’ She screwed up her nose. ‘And to be honest, none of them interest me sufficiently.’

  ‘None of them?’

  ‘There was a young man a few years ago.’ Jocelyn’s cheeks grew pink. ‘He was on the Unattached List. He was with us while he decided which regiment he wanted to join. In the end he got into Skinners Horse. He was very good at his job. Either that or he had the right connections.’

  ‘Did you lose touch then?’

  ‘Yes, at least we did until a week ago. He wrote to me out of the blue.’ The pink had changed to a fiery red. ‘Actually, that was why I fell over the doormat. I saw the envelope lying there and recognised his writing—he’d written me a few notes while he was here. I couldn’t quite believe he’d got back in touch.’

  ‘And where is he now?’

  ‘Well, that’s the thing. He thought I was back home. I was supposed to be returning to England when I last saw him but, for one reason or another, I never got there. Anyway he was waiting until he got home leave before he contacted me. He’ll be in England next month.’

  ‘So you’ll meet up?’

  ‘That’s the plan. I don’t know if anything will come of it. It’s ages since we saw each other but I liked him enormously.’

  ‘I wish you luck,’ she said with sincerity, for every one of Jocelyn’s words had made plain that the girl cherished no feelings for Gerald and never had.

  ‘You can wish me double luck when I get back from the hills. And you must help me choose the clothes to take to England. It could be a very important journey.’ The tears and fears of a few moments ago had been forgotten in the swirl of a likely romance.

  ‘You should go now,’ Daisy urged. ‘You must still have plenty to do before you leave.’

  Jocelyn bent down and planted a kiss on her cheek. ‘Thank you, Daisy, and thank you for being with me. I couldn’t have got through it without you.’

  Daisy watched the horse out of sight, as it trotted towards the straight lines of the officers’ bungalows. Then she walked into the Infirmary. No one was around, and she took a seat in the small, stuffy waiting room, not quite knowing what she was doing there. But she’d promised Grayson, if only implicitly, that she would look after his colleague, and she must keep that promise. She sat staring at the faded cream walls for what seemed a very long time before, at last, the doctor appeared from his sanctum and told her that the patient would need an operation. A small operation, it was true, but a delicate one. Splinters of wood had become lodged in the deep wheal in his skull and each fragment would have to be extracted before they could begin to stitch him together. If Daisy were willing, could she sit with the man while he and his nurse made their preparations? The boy had regained consciousness and was restless and in pain, and needed to be watched. There was no one in the hospital Dr Lane could trust to do it; since Sister Macdonald’s departure, they’d been very short staffed.

  The name rang a bell. The bazaar. She’d met the woman in the bazaar, a jolly down-to-earth character, who had spoken baldly of the difficulties Daisy might face with the mems, as she’d called them. Daisy had liked her, and hoped she might get to know her, but that had never happened. The bazaar was to be their one and only encounter.

  The doctor was ushering her through the green-shuttered door into another small room, which was almost filled by the stretcher on which the young man lay. Someone had covered him with a blanket—to ward off shock, Daisy guessed—but his hands were all the time grasping at it, twisting it this way and that between his fingers. A ceiling fan turned slowly overhead, but every part of his body that was visible was covered in sweat. She found a chair and pulled it up beside the stretcher, taking his shaking hands in hers, trying to calm him. The bleeding had stopped, thank heavens, and she felt brave enough to blot his forehead with a moist pad that had been left on the small table nearby. He couldn’t speak but looked at her pleadingly. She tried to tell him that everything would be fine, that the doctor was coming soon and all would be well. She hoped fervently that she would not have to sit with him while they picked the pieces of wood from his wound but, if she had to, sh
e would. When the doctor came, though, he was accompanied by the two orderlies who had come out to the carriage. Together they wheeled the man into an adjoining room she hadn’t noticed before and, through the open door, she caught sight of a nurse standing beside a fearsome tray of instruments.

  Quietly, she went back to the waiting room, and took her seat again. She felt exceedingly sorry for the young Indian, but it was a compassion mixed with relief—every time she thought of Jocelyn’s words. In a stroke, it seemed, she’d lost at least one of her burdens. It was clear that though Gerald might still hanker after Jocelyn, that young lady had quite other ideas. Whatever fondness he’d imagined the girl felt for him, it had been just that—imagined, an illusion, a fantasy that he’d hoped would come true. She wondered at the nature of his fancy. Did he really love the girl, or was it ambition alone that had led him to think of her as a future bride? She was the daughter of the regiment’s most senior officer and would be a prize for any young lieutenant. But it hardly mattered now. Jocelyn would very soon be on her way to England to find a husband for herself. She may already have found one. And Daisy’s friendship with her could remain unclouded.

  An hour passed, then two. She was beginning to think the doctor had forgotten that she was there. It had grown even hotter in the waiting room despite the unaccustomed luxury of an electric fan. But with its endless churning of the same fusty air, it made little difference and she felt trapped in a bubble of stale heat. It was only a sense of duty that kept her in her seat.

  Her eyes had closed against the suffocating atmosphere when a step sounded, not from the rooms beyond the green door, but from outside. Grayson Harte sat down, and she felt his warmth settle against her. He was creased and tired. When he leaned forward, she saw that he was covered in blood, and her hand went to her mouth.

  ‘Don’t worry, the blood isn’t new,’ he reassured her. ‘It’s Javinder’s.’

  A strong brown hand reached out to her. ‘I want to say thank you, Daisy, thank you for rescuing him and then staying.’

  Her palm nestled in his for a few seconds, and she wished she didn’t look quite as ragged. But he seemed hardly to notice the crumpled and blood-stained dress. ‘Is there any news of him yet?’

  ‘Your friend needs an operation. The doctor said it was only a small procedure but they have to make sure the wound is clean before they can stitch it. They’ve been a very long time. I think Javinder was badly concussed, so perhaps they’re doing tests for that too.’

  Grayson nodded. ‘He’s young and fit. He’ll recover well, I’m sure.’

  ‘Who is Javinder?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I should have told you, but there was no time. He’s been assisting me in some of my work. He was unlucky enough to get caught in the violence.’

  ‘And you were lucky to escape. I heard shots as we left.’

  ‘The soldiers fired in the air, thank God, and that was enough to scare all but the diehards. They were rounded up shortly afterwards.’

  ‘But what was it all about? One minute we were watching the parade, and the next we were in the middle of a riot.’

  ‘It was the parade that triggered the trouble. It was too much of an opportunity for the protesters, particularly with General Pearson there.’

  ‘The men with the banners—were they followers of Gandhi?’

  ‘In all probability. But he’s been around a long time and he preaches a strict non violence. Today’s agitators were intent on trouble. Gandhi doesn’t explain why the clamour for independence has become so much more strident of late.’

  ‘It’s what’s happening in Europe, isn’t it?’ She was recalling Anish’s certainty that war would bring change to India.

  Grayson looked at her speculatively. ‘Wherever you got that from, I think it’s right. Europe is the key. The danger of war there is growing all the time and these people know it. They hope that Britain will be too busy putting out fires in its own backyard to defend its possessions overseas, even the jewel in its crown.’

  ‘It looked a very dangerous confrontation.’

  ‘It’s getting more dangerous certainly. Agitators are getting arms from somewhere. We were lucky today. Sticks and bottles were the weapons, but it won’t always be like that.’

  He seemed remarkably well-informed for a District Officer and she wondered if it was usual to have such a deep knowledge of a region’s politics. But then Grayson Harte was no ordinary District Officer. People knew his name but not the work he did. No one at the Club had any idea of his role, and she’d noticed that he was careful never to volunteer information. Just now, for instance, he’d given her no clue as to how Javinder was assisting him.

  She was pondering whether or not to ask him outright what he was doing in Jasirapur, when he broke through her thoughts. ‘I haven’t seen you for days. How have you been since our visit to the temple?’

  ‘Well, thank you. I’ve been sleeping soundly, except for when the wind has been particularly fierce. The fruit you sent has helped a lot.’

  He looked gratified. ‘Goji berries don’t always work but I’m delighted they’re doing you good. I’ll be sure and send you some more. Just as soon as I clear this mess up.’

  She didn’t ask what the mess was. Nor did she tell him of her misfortune at the temple. If Anish were to be believed, and why wouldn’t he be, Grayson had been nearby on that day, but he’d made no mention just now of his visit and surely he should have done. If he’d been close, as Anish contended, he must have seen her at the shrine, yet he’d said nothing. They were shadow boxing, she thought, and though she was not as good at it as he, she wouldn’t give herself away. She might be drawn to this attractive man, but that didn’t mean she entirely trusted him.

  ‘Javinder will be fine.’ The doctor appeared through the green-shuttered door. ‘A trifle sore for a few days, and with a monumental headache, but otherwise he’ll be fine. Do you want to see him? Just a few minutes, mind.’

  She got up immediately. ‘I should go now. He’ll want to see you alone.’

  Grayson put out a hand to detain her. ‘You must let my driver take you home. And thank you again for staying.’

  ‘Yes, thank you, Mrs Mortimer.’ The doctor’s gruff endorsement surprised her. ‘You did us a good turn. It’s been a madhouse here without sufficient staff. The orderlies are well enough for the heavy stuff but they’re not too adept at the hand holding.’

  ‘I take it that you’ve not yet had a replacement for Sister Macdonald?’

  ‘No, Mr Harte, we haven’t, despite my fulminations. But we certainly need one.’

  ‘There you are, Daisy,’ Grayson joked. ‘Something to keep you busy.’

  Dr Lane was quick to follow his lead. ‘If you could spare the time, Mrs Mortimer, we’d be grateful of some help.’

  ‘But I’m not a nurse,’ she stammered.

  ‘I’m not suggesting you fill in for Sister, but you could sit with the patients—as you’ve done today. That frees up the one nurse I do have, and it means a lot to people who are sick. And then there are their friends, their colleagues, who come to visit. They all need to be dealt with and it’s the small tasks that take up my nurse’s time.’

  Daisy felt awkward. It seemed the Infirmary might offer her something useful to do at last. Yet Gerald would almost certainly veto the idea and it would become another source of tension between them.

  Grayson was looking at her enquiringly. ‘Didn’t you tell me you were bored with having nothing to fill your days?’

  ‘You could come in the early morning and be home by noon,’ the doctor chimed in hopefully. ‘We might even find the funds to pay for your tonga.’

  ‘I’ll think about it, Dr Lane,’ was all she would promise.

  But on the way home, she was already deciding. While the doctor was so short staffed, shouldn’t she try to help? Gerald wouldn’t like it and if she told him, he’d probably forbid her from setting foot in the place. But her mother had been a nurse and the idea that she would be fo
llowing in Lily’s steps warmed her heart. She would definitely do it, she decided, and somehow make sure that Gerald knew nothing until she was ready to tell him.

  He was at home when she arrived and must have seen the ICS jeep bumping its way along the garden track, because he strode onto the veranda as the vehicle pulled to a halt. Even at a distance, she could see that he didn’t look happy.

  ‘Where have you been?’ was his terse greeting. ‘You should have been back hours ago.’

  She thanked the driver and clambered down from the open car. ‘I’m sorry if you’ve been worried. I’ve been at the Infirmary and couldn’t get word to you. Someone got hurt.’ He stared at her impassively. ‘There was a riot,’ she added, hoping this might work some magic, ‘at least I think you’d call it a riot. But it happened after the cavalry had left the maiden.’

  ‘I know. Some kind of disturbance. The news is all around camp. But I can’t see how that stopped you from getting back. You should have returned as soon as the parade was over. How was I to know what was happening?’

  Daisy found herself apologising again. ‘I would have come straight back, of course, but Mr Harte’s assistant was badly injured in the fighting and Jocelyn drove us to the Infirmary and I stayed—with Javinder.’

  ‘You should have come back here,’ he said doggedly. ‘You shouldn’t be babysitting Harte’s crony. And what is he doing even asking you? It’s a damn cheek.’

  ‘The boy was badly hurt, Gerald. He was only half-conscious and Dr Lane asked if I would sit with him until he was ready to operate.’

  ‘Lane’s an old woman,’ he grumbled, unappeased. ‘And as for Harte, didn’t I tell you to be careful? I don’t care how badly hurt the boy was, it had nothing to do with you. Getting you involved is another ploy by Harte to ingratiate himself. I told you to stay clear of him, didn’t I?’