by Dilly Court
‘Tilly, for goodness’ sake smile.’ Harriet pinched her arm. ‘Only speak when you’re spoken to and please, please don’t show me up in front of Ronnie and his parents. Oh, my God, there he is and he’s seen us. Isn’t he the most handsome man you’ve ever seen, Tilly?’
A tall, fair-haired young officer was approaching them. Tilly bobbed a curtsey as Harriet introduced them.
‘How do you do, Mrs Palgrave?’ Ronnie said, with a smart bow from the waist and a light pressure on Tilly’s fingers. ‘I’ve heard so much about you from Harriet.’
‘How do you do?’ Tilly repeated, feeling like a parrot, but having been strictly schooled by Harriet not to say pleased to meet you or nicely thank you. Ronnie offered Harriet his arm and she laid a gloved hand on it, looking up into his eyes with such open adoration that it made Tilly feel like a peeping Tom, and she turned away. Francis had gone off to speak to a group of men and she was alone in a sea of people who all seemed to know each other. If only Barney were here, Tilly thought, looking round desperately for a friendly face. And why hadn’t he sent for her before now? It was all very well for Hattie making excuses for him and blaming the army, but Barney was her husband and if he were here now, standing at her side, these toffee-nosed snobs would be all over them, smiling and chatting and treating her like one of themselves. As it was, she might as well have been a fly on the wall for all the notice anyone was taking of her. For a wild moment, Tilly toyed with the idea of breaking into a cockney song from the music halls, picking up her skirts and doing a jig, but much as she would have liked to cause a stir she knew she could not disgrace Harriet and Francis by such bad behaviour.
Holding her head high and making an effort to appear casual, Tilly made her way through the knots of laughing, chatting men and women to sit on one of the gilt chairs placed against the wall. At the far end of the ballroom the orchestra was playing, and gradually couples began to fill the floor. Harriet and Ronnie waltzed past her with eyes for each other only. Several of the younger officers present eyed her speculatively, but as she had not been introduced to anyone it seemed that protocol forbade them to approach her. Tilly didn’t know whether to be relieved or dismayed. Gradually the seats along the wall filled with the older, married ladies and their plain daughters, who waited anxiously for someone to take pity on them and ask them to dance.
After an hour of being ignored, Tilly saw a portly, middle-aged man advancing on her with an unsteady gait that suggested he might have drunk too much.
‘May I have the pleasure of this dance?’
He was standing directly in front of her, breathing brandy fumes into her face and he leaned towards her holding out his hand. To refuse would cause a fuss and Tilly got up slowly. Clamping his arm around her waist, he clasped her to his starched shirtfront and whirled her into the polka. For his age, and considering the fact that he was more than a little drunk, he was surprisingly strong and Tilly’s feet barely touched the ground. It was not a question of remembering the steps but more a case of keeping up with his prancing and avoiding getting their feet tangled.
‘What’s a pretty little thing like you doing sitting all alone?’ he demanded, breathing heavily.
With the breath squeezed out of her body, Tilly couldn’t answer. She gazed anxiously over his shoulder, looking for an escape. Twirling her round until she was dizzy, her partner galloped towards the anteroom. ‘Let’s go somewhere a bit more private, shall we, my dear?’
Despite the difference in social standing, Tilly had the horrible feeling that this was Stanley Blessed all over again. As they neared the doorway, she stuck her foot out, causing him to trip and stumble. He loosened his grasp, and Tilly slipped free and ran. Shoving, pushing and elbowing her way between the couples on the dance floor, she didn’t care about propriety and manners; she wanted to escape. Lifting her skirts, she raced up the steps towards the entrance hall and cannoned into a man wearing the green uniform of the Rifle Brigade.
‘By God, Tilly!’
Winded, shocked and overjoyed, Tilly looked up into Barney’s smiling face. Closing her eyes, she opened them again one at a time thinking that it couldn’t be Barney; her overactive imagination was tricking her. ‘It can’t be you.’
‘If it isn’t me, then I don’t know who it is.’ Lifting her off her feet, Barney kissed her none too gently on the lips. ‘There, does that convince you?’
‘Take me away from here, Barney.’ Tilly slid her arms around his waist, resting her cheek on the coarse material of his jacket. ‘Take me home.’
‘Your carriage awaits, Mrs Palgrave.’ Grinning, Barney tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and led her out through the entrance hall to a waiting gharry. The night was cold and the sky above was spangled with stars. Taking off his uniform jacket, he wrapped it around Tilly’s shoulders.
‘How did you find me?’ she demanded, snuggling into the warmth of his coat and inhaling the tantalising, familiar scent of him, mixed with dust and sweat but still achingly sweet. ‘How did you know I was at the ball?’
‘I went to the bungalow and your maid told me where you’d all gone. It’s as simple as that.’
‘And we’ve left without telling Francis or Hattie. They’ll wonder what’s happened to me.’
‘Don’t worry about them. I’ll send one of the servants back with a note explaining that I’ve kidnapped my beautiful wife and I’m going to make passionate love to her all night.’
‘You’re a wicked man, Captain Palgrave.’
‘And I hope you’re going to be a wicked woman, Mrs Palgrave.’
‘Oh yes,’ Tilly said, raising her face to receive his kiss. ‘Yes, please.’
Next morning, rather late, Tilly and Barney went hand in hand into the dining room.
Francis looked up from his toast and marmalade, frowning. ‘Trust you to make a spectacle of us, Barnaby.’
Holding out a chair for Tilly, Barney went to sit beside her. ‘Nonsense, old boy, I daresay no one noticed a thing.’
Harriet sipped her tea, eyeing them over the rim of the cup. ‘You might have told me that you were leaving, Tilly. And you, Barney, you could have waited up for us.’
‘You can’t blame me for wanting to be with my wife,’ Barney said, flashing a smile at his sister. ‘You’ll understand when you’re a married woman, Hattie.’
Harriet blushed and looked away. ‘Don’t be coarse, Barney.’
‘Yes, that kind of talk may be suitable for the mess room but not for the breakfast table.’ Wiping his lips on his table napkin, Francis got to his feet. ‘I have to be in class, but we’ll talk later, Barney. I want to know what your plans are with regard to your wife.’
‘He’s taking me back to Rawalpindi,’ Tilly said, nudging Barney in the ribs. ‘Aren’t you?’
‘Well, it may not be that easy, darling. I’m not sure if there is a suitable married quarter ready for us.’
‘I don’t care. I’ll sleep in a tent if necessary. I’m coming with you, Barney, and that’s that.’
‘Tilly, you can’t think of leaving me without a chaperone,’ Harriet wailed. ‘I’m counting on you.’
‘I’m going.’ Francis went to the door, paused and cleared his throat. ‘Barnaby, perhaps it might look better if you took the spare room for the present. You understand, single beds and all that. Not really the thing.’ Nodding his head towards Harriet, Francis huffed in an embarrassed way and left the room.
Throwing back his head, Barney roared with laughter. ‘Poor old Frank. Narrow-minded to the last and terrified that the servants might talk. You don’t object to your married brother cuddling up to his wife in a single bed, do you, Hattie?’
Jumping to her feet and blushing furiously, Harriet threw her napkin at Barney. ‘You are a coarse brute and I can’t think why Tilly puts up with you.’ She slammed out of the room.
‘What’s the matter with her?’ Barney demanded.
‘You are so tactless. Hattie is in love but the young man’s parents don’t approv
e. You shouldn’t tease her, especially about – intimate things.’
Seizing Tilly round the waist, Barney pulled her onto his lap, kissing her and fondling her breasts. ‘The sooner she’s married the better. I can recommend it.’
‘Put me down, you barmy idiot. You’ve already upset Francis and Harriet and Meera will be coming in any minute with our breakfast.’
‘I’m not hungry. Let’s go back to bed and really shock them all.’
Laughing and wriggling free, Tilly kissed him on the cheek. ‘No, I’m hungry and I want my breakfast.’
‘All right then,’ Barney said, with a lazy smile. ‘We’ll eat and then we’ll go back to bed.’
Taking a seat on the far side of the table, Tilly threw a napkin at him. ‘Not until you’ve made travel arrangements for me to go with you to Rawalpindi. I meant it, Barney. I’m not staying here without you and that’s final.’
Two days later, Tilly and Barney entered the red sandstone station and caught the train for Rawalpindi. They had said their goodbyes to Harriet and Francis back at the bungalow and Tilly couldn’t help feeling that Francis was relieved to have her taken off his hands. Harriet had wept a little, but cheered up instantly when the Cholmondeleys’ carriage drew up outside with Susannah waving frantically and Ronnie ready to leap down almost before the horses had been brought to a halt.
Barney had insisted on travelling first class and they had a carriage to themselves. He seemed amused by Tilly’s bubbling excitement and enthusiasm for the journey and for everything that she saw from the carriage window. For Tilly, the hours flew by unnoticed as she stared out of the window at the ever changing countryside as they left the plains surrounding Delhi and climbed into the more mountainous regions, crossing bridges over deep gorges with tumbling rivers far below. Glancing across at Barney, Tilly saw that he had fallen asleep and her heart swelled with love for him. Sleeping, he looked younger and more vulnerable, his lashes forming dark crescents on his tanned cheeks and his lips slightly parted. A lock of dark hair had fallen across his brow and Tilly longed to brush it back from his forehead, but resisted the temptation in case she awakened him. It would take several more hours to reach Rawalpindi but this railway carriage had become their own private world, as if they were the only two people who existed, and she did not want the magic time to end.
It was dark when they finally arrived and very cold. The air smelled of pine and snow and Tilly was glad of the thick woollen cape that Barney had insisted on purchasing for her in the bazaar. A coolie took their baggage to a waiting tonga and they set off into the dark night. Tilly’s stomach was tight with excitement at the thought of their first home together in the married quarters. As she snuggled up to Barney, she imagined a bungalow similar to the one in Delhi, with a smiling maidservant just like Meera, who might possibly have a son like Ashok who would be able to guide her round the town.
‘Not far now,’ Barney said, kissing the top of her head. ‘You must be exhausted, darling.’
‘I’m too excited to be tired. I can’t wait to see our new home.’
It was too dark to see his face clearly but Tilly felt that his smile had faded into a frown. In the distance she could see flares lighting the entrance to the barracks and it was only minutes before the driver pulled up outside a long row of wooden buildings that looked more like servants’ quarters than officers’ bungalows. Barney leapt down and paid the driver, instructing him where to take their luggage. Holding up his arms to Tilly, he swung her down onto the dusty ground. She looked up at him, anxious and questioning. This was not the sort of home she had imagined.
‘Come along, darling, don’t loiter – it’s too damn cold.’ Taking her by the arm, he hurried her up the wooden steps onto the stoop. Barney hammered on the door with his fist. ‘Wake up in there, Marchant, Ogilvy. We’re bloody freezing out here.’
The door opened, and in the wavering light of a kerosene lamp Tilly saw a short, stocky man in his shirtsleeves, blinking at them like a startled owl.
‘Palgrave? Good God, man, you’re supposed to be on leave.’
Sweeping Tilly off her feet, Barney carried her over the threshold. ‘I’ve a good reason for returning early, Marchant.’ Setting Tilly down, he slipped his arm around her waist, holding her a bit too tight for comfort. ‘Meet the new Mrs Palgrave, my wife, Tilly.’
‘How do you do, ma’am?’ Captain Marchant’s good-natured face creased into a smile as he took Tilly’s hand and kissed it. ‘You’re more than welcome, although as you can see we’re not used to entertaining ladies in our quarters.’
‘Never mind that,’ Barney said, slapping Tilly on the bottom. ‘Tilly’s no lady, and she’s been used to worse than this, haven’t you, old girl?’
Tilly stared at him, horrified by the change in his attitude. ‘Barney!’
Marchant cleared his throat noisily. ‘Steady on, old chap. A joke’s a joke and all that, but really these are bachelors’ quarters.’
‘Don’t be a spoilsport, Harry. I’ll sort something out with the CO tomorrow, but we’re tired and hungry and we’ll be fine in my room, won’t we, darling?’
Tears burned the back of Tilly’s eyes but she wouldn’t let them see she was upset. ‘I am tired, but I’m not hungry. If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go to bed.’
Shooting an angry look at Barney, Harry handed him the lamp. ‘Best show your good lady the way then.’ He gave Tilly a sympathetic smile. ‘I hope you sleep well, ma’am.’
Tilly managed to murmur her thanks and she followed Barney through the room that was littered with boots, newspapers and the remains of an evening meal, to his sleeping quarters at the back of the building. Opening the door, Barney held up the lamp. Tilly stood for a moment staring at the sparsely furnished room, little bigger than a ship’s cabin. The wooden walls were unpainted and there was a single charpoy, a nightstand and a wooden chair with a rattan seat.
‘How could you?’ she demanded, rounding on Barney. ‘How could you humiliate me like this?’
Barney’s face froze into a sullen mask. ‘You insisted on coming, old girl. I told you I hadn’t had time to organise proper married quarters.’
‘But you knew what this place was like and you didn’t even warn your friends that I was coming. How do you think that makes me feel?’
‘You’re making a fuss over nothing.’ Barney placed the lamp on the nightstand. ‘Go to bed and get a good night’s sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.’
‘I’m not sleeping with you on that thing,’ Tilly said, kicking the wood and canvas camp bed.
‘If you’re going to act like a fishwife, I’m going to the officers’ club for a nightcap.’ Barney slammed out of the room.
A hysterical bubble of hurt and anger rose in Tilly’s throat and would have exploded into a scream if she had not clamped her hand over her mouth. Wrenching the door open, she went to follow Barney, intent on having it out with him, but she was just in time to see him shrugging on his military topcoat.
‘Had a bit of trouble with the memsahib, Harry. There’s no pleasing some women. Are you coming to the club for a nightcap?’
‘Oughtn’t you to stay, old chap?’ Harry’s voice was full of concern. ‘You’re being a bit hard on the poor little thing.’
‘She’ll have to get used to being an army wife. Best to start off as I mean to continue. Where’s Ogilvy? He’s always ready for a drink and a game of poker.’
Their voices died away as the door closed on them and Tilly leaned against the lintel, her knees buckling as she sank to the ground, beating her fists on the floor.
Chapter Eighteen
The ropes of the charpoy groaned as Tilly turned over in bed, almost toppling onto the planked floor. Opening her eyes, she stared up at the small square of light framed by faded gingham curtains. The hurt and despair of last night had crystallised into a rock inside her chest and she sat up, hugging her arms around her body and shivering. How could Barney have treated her like that on the first
night of their new life together?
She could hear sounds coming from the living area and Tilly scrambled off the rope and canvas bed. As soon as she was properly dressed, she would give Barney a piece of her mind. Picking her crumpled dress off the floor, she slipped it over her head. Last night she had been too tired to undress and had slept in her shift without even bothering to unlace her stays; now she felt stiff, cold and unclean. Fumbling with the tiny buttons at the back of her bodice, Tilly looked round with an exclamation of disgust. There was no washbasin in the room and no commode, which only confirmed her opinion that, left to themselves, men lived like pigs. Brushing her hair, she tied it back with a ribbon and went out into the living area where she found Harry pottering around in his stockinged feet with his shirt open to the waist and his hair standing up in tufts as if he had just got out of bed. He appeared to be searching for something.
‘Oh, Mrs Palgrave.’ Harry flushed a dull red and began hastily to do up the buttons on his shirt. ‘Excuse me, I was looking for my confounded collar stud, begging your pardon, ma’am.’
‘Where is Barney?’ Tilly was in no mood for pleasantries.
‘Er, I’m not sure.’ Lifting a cushion, Harry swooped on the missing stud.
‘Do you mean he stayed out all night?’
Fixing his stud, Harry gave her an apologetic smile. ‘I think he was with Ogilvy.’
Almost as if they had been waiting for his cue, the door opened and Barney strolled in followed by a tall, thin young officer who Tilly assumed must be Ogilvy.
Barney grinned, rubbing the stubble on his chin. ‘Hello, my love. Did you sleep well?’
‘Sleep well?’ Tilly had meant to keep calm and aloof, but something inside her seemed to snap and she flew at him, beating her hands on his chest. ‘You bastard. Where have you been?’
Grabbing his jacket and boots, Harry headed for the door, pushing Ogilvy out onto the stoop. ‘Er, we’ll get breakfast in the mess.’
