The Road Back

by Liz Harris

  His eyes moving warily from one to the other, Kalden picked up his bowl of milk, then put it down again, untouched. ‘What are you saying, Peter? I not understand.’ He turned to Mrs Henderson. ‘What is Peter saying? Is he leaving Ladakh?’

  ‘We’re all leaving, Kalden, it’s not just Peter,’ Mrs Henderson said gently. She leaned forward and took his hand. ‘We’re going back to England as soon as we’ve arranged for our things to be shipped. We’re going to contact our headquarters in England to find out where they need us to go next, but wherever it is, it’ll be in England.’

  ‘What about Ladakh? We need you here,’ Kalden stammered. He felt the blood draining from his face.

  ‘No, you don’t, I’m afraid. The Ladakhi people have never needed us here, and they don’t want us here.’ She pulled her chair closer to Kalden. ‘Deep down, you know that’s true, Kalden. After almost ten years, the most we’ve achieved is to have an occasional small class for a week or two at a time. The few families prepared to let their children come to the school do so until they need the children to help on the land, and then we don’t see them again. The majority of families still fear that we want to convert you all. That situation’s not going to change. It’s time for us to give up.’

  ‘But must not give up. Mr Henderson say one child from every family must go school. It is rules. Child not go school if no school near village.’

  She squeezed his hand. ‘And then there’s Peter to think about. He needs a wider education than I can give him. I’ve done my best, but even if I had sufficient knowledge, I wouldn’t be able to teach him the science subjects that he ought to know – or at least have some grounding in – as we just don’t have the equipment. There are things that he has to learn if he’s going to get into university in two years’ time. It’s only fair that he has the same opportunities as everyone else of his age.’

  ‘Into university?’ Kalden echoed questioningly.

  ‘Yes. It’s where you go if you want to get what’s called a degree. If he gets a degree, he’ll be able to choose his career – the job that he’ll do for the rest of his life.’

  ‘So you leave Ladakh, Peter,’ Kalden said, his voice flat.

  ‘I’m really sorry, but yes. And if I’m honest, although I’ve got used to living here and I don’t hate it like I did at first, that’s only because we became friends and we’ve had lots of fun together. You’re the only thing I’ll miss about Ladakh. I want to go back to England and do all the things that Mum used to do before she came here, and I want to go to university. Dad doesn’t want us to go back, though. If he had his way, we’d all die here without me ever having had a life.’

  ‘The Ladakhi people have a life, and they not go university,’ Kalden said bluntly.

  Peter shifted his position. ‘That’s different. They were born here. This is the only life they’ve known and their families are here. But I was born in England. I know I was only six when we left, but I still remember what it was like to fill a glass with water from a tap, to go to the toilet and pull a chain – you’ve no idea how much I hate going upstairs and sitting over a hole in the floor. And what it was like to switch on a light, and go to a shop to buy whatever I needed. Here we have to grow everything we eat and make everything we wear or use. I know I’ll like living in England again. I’m not practical like you, Kalden. There’s no future for me here.’

  Kalden stood up. ‘I go now.’

  Peter jumped up and grabbed him by the arm. ‘You’re my best friend. I’ll never have a better friend than you as long as I live. I know that. But it’s not just me that’ll soon be doing something different – you’ll be moving on, too. You and Dolma, you’ll get married and have children. You won’t have to go into a monastery, so we’ll both have a good life, and we’ll always keep in touch.’

  ‘Maybe I marry Dolma, I not know – we not talk. I have no land.’

  ‘The land won’t matter. She’ll find a way round that, you’ll see. Anyone can see how much she wants you to be her husband – all you have to do is look at her when you’re near her to see that.’

  ‘We’ll be taking away with us the most wonderful memories of our time in Ladakh,’ Mrs Henderson said, standing up. She put an arm around Kalden’s shoulders. ‘Peter’s right, we’ll never forget you, Kalden – you’ll always be in our hearts and in our prayers. We’ve come to love you as part of our family. If we could, we’d leave you the house and the land, but it isn’t ours to give away. We can leave you your favourite books and pictures, though, and anything else that you’d like. You’ll have keepsakes from us, and we’ll have our memories of you. That way, we’ll always be close to each other.’

  Kalden pulled away from her, spun round and ran to the top of the stairs. ‘Ju-le,’ he shouted at them. ‘Goodbye. I wish you never come here.’ And he ran down the stairs and out of the house as fast as he could.

  ‘Kalden!’ he heard Mr Henderson call as he flung open the front door and ran out of the house. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Mr Henderson coming round the side of the house.

  He kept on running. They were leaving him. His family was leaving him. What kind of life would he have when they’d gone?

  His feet hit the ground hard.

  Peter was going away to have a real life, a life full of different people and interesting things to see and learn. Peter was going to be able to choose what he did in the future. He wouldn’t have to marry a girl he liked a lot, but no more than that, to avoid having to do something that he’d really hate doing. Why hadn’t he, Kalden, been born in England? It wasn’t fair.

  There’d be no more new books for him; no more accordion; no more new tunes for the recorder; no more climbing in the mountains with Peter; no more listening to Mrs Henderson talk about pictures; no more hearing Mr Henderson tell Bible stories; no more working outside with Mr Henderson, knowing that he needed him, relied on him. When they went back to England, they’d take their world with them and he’d be left with nothing.

  He reached the chorten on the outskirts of his village and collapsed in the dust at the foot of the stone pillar, his body shuddering violently. Raising his head from the ground, he stared ahead of him at the distant cluster of white houses and at the monastery that sat high on the rock behind them.

  I hate them all, he whispered.

  Exhausted, he fell back on the ground and let darkness creep around him.

  Chapter Seven

  London, June 1961: Patricia, aged 17

  ‘So what did your dad give you for your birthday – was it something really nice?’ Ruth asked, glancing towards the window as she spoke. The fading light outside sent her reflection back to her. She shifted slightly to face the window and began to tease up the height of her bouffant hairstyle with her fingers. Then she turned back to Patricia. ‘So what did you get, then?’ she repeated.

  ‘A sheepskin jacket,’ Patricia told her, neatly folding the torn sheet of wrapping paper that had been pushed into the middle of the formica-topped table. She put the bottle of eau de cologne that Ruth had given her next to the paper. ‘It’s exactly what I wanted.’

  Ruth laughed. ‘Oh yes, it’s just what you need for the summer. We’re already in June, and winter’s well and truly over. Your father has the maddest ideas.’

  ‘Amazingly, summer will end and then it’ll be autumn. And what comes after autumn? Oh, yes, winter again. Just because my birthday’s in June, it doesn’t mean that he’s got to give me something I can only use in the summer. The jacket’s perfect.’

  ‘If you say so. But I prefer what my parents gave me. They paid for me to have my ears pierced and gave me some fantastic earrings. I can’t wait to get out of these boring studs and start wearing them.’

  Patricia shuddered. ‘You’ll never catch me having my ears pierced. I don’t like needles. I didn’t like watching the nurses give injections, and I certainly could never have given one myself. No, I’ll stick to wearing clip-on earrings for the rest of my life, thank you very much.’<
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  ‘It didn’t hurt, and if it did, it was worth it. You can get much better earrings for pierced ears than you can get clip-ons.’

  ‘Maybe you can, but I’m not bothered either way. Anyway, the jacket wasn’t my only present. I’ll get us another coffee – it’s my turn – and then I’ll tell you about the other present I got.’

  Ruth glanced around the coffee bar. ‘I wish you’d agreed to go into town instead of coming here. We could have found a much livelier place than this, and then you might have met someone dead good-looking and fallen madly in love with them, like I love my Johnny.’

  ‘I’m not in any hurry to meet anyone. I’ll meet lots of new people when I go to teachers’ training college, and I’m quite happy to wait until then.’

  ‘But that’s not for more than a year. You’ll need a boyfriend this summer if you want to have any fun.’

  ‘I’m going to have fun alright, but not the sort you’re thinking of. Dad and I are going hiking in Scotland for a couple of months. We’re going to practise walking long distances.’

  ‘Whatever for?’

  ‘I’ll answer that when I’ve got the coffees. Won’t be a minute.’ She got up, went over to the serving bar, and stood there idly fiddling with her pony tail while she waited to give the order.

  ‘Here you are,’ she told Ruth, returning a few minutes later with a couple of coffees. She sat down.

  ‘You know, Patsy, you really ought to get some trendy things and find a new hairstyle, if you don’t mind me saying so. You had the same hairstyle at primary school. If you had your hair done fashionably and wore a bit of make-up, you could be really pretty.’

  Patricia laughed. ‘Well, thank you very much indeed.’

  Ruth smiled at her across the table. ‘You know what I mean. You don’t make the most of yourself. Max Factor does really good mascara and you could make your eyelashes look twice as long as they are. Come into the shop one day and I’ll help you choose some things.’

  ‘Funnily enough, I’m quite happy with my appearance, thank you.’

  ‘Even if you don’t want a boyfriend now, you will at college. You said so yourself. It’s never too soon to start thinking about what you look like.’

  ‘I give in. Before I go to college, you can tell me what make-up to get and how to put it on. That’s a promise. But at the moment, there’s too much happening that’s really exciting for me to bother about lipstick and the rest.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like a trip.’ Patricia leaned forward, her eyes shining. ‘You know I told you my father’s given me a second present? Well, he’s going to Ladakh in May next year, and he’s going to take me with him! We’re leaving as soon as I finish my ‘A’ levels, and we’ll be back just before college starts. I am so excited.’ She sat back and beamed at Ruth.

  Ruth wrinkled her nose in distaste. ‘From what you’ve said about the place, I’m not sure that I’d want to go there. Now if it was two weeks on the Costa Brava, then you’d be talking.’

  ‘Anyone can do that any time. I’ve typed up almost all of my father’s book so I know masses about Ladakh. What could be better than going and seeing it for myself? And that’s the reason for my new jacket – you have to have a thick jacket as it’s high up in the mountains. So, there’s method in Dad’s madness, as you put it.’

  ‘What about your mum? Is she going, too?’

  ‘No, it would cost too much for the three of us to go. His pension isn’t that large. Also, she’s not been involved with the book so she doesn’t know anything about the country. She’s obviously not interested in it and wouldn’t want to come.’

  ‘There’s no “obviously” about it. Your poor mother doesn’t get a look in, does she? I feel really sorry for her. Your father should be taking her with him, not you. I bet he hasn’t even asked her.’

  ‘I helped him, not my mother.’

  ‘That’s only because he never gave her a chance. I know I don’t see much of your folks, but whenever I do, he virtually ignores her. And you do, too. I bet neither of you ever include her in your conversation. I may not be clever like you, Patsy, but I can see that with you it’s always been about you and your father. You run around after him like a skivvy. What he wants is what you want. I’m amazed you haven’t decided to join the army to please him, or hasn’t he suggested it yet?’

  A stain of angry red spread across Patricia’s face. She glared at Ruth. ‘You haven’t a clue what you’re talking about. You’ve never lost a child. You don’t know what my father went through and how devastated he was. I’m over the moon that we get on so well that he’s going to take me with him, and you’re not going to spoil it for me.’

  ‘Your mother lost her son, too, but she gets left out of everything. How do you think she must feel, losing both you and James? As for your father taking you on the trip, I’d say that you’ve well and truly earned your place, typing that boring old book Sunday after Sunday.’

  Patricia picked up a teaspoon and stirred her coffee furiously. Her lips tightened.

  Ruth glanced at her across the table. ‘Look, I shouldn’t have said all that – it was none of my business. I’m really sorry, Patsy. Don’t be mad at me – we’re meant to be celebrating your birthday, not falling out.’

  Patricia put her teaspoon down and picked up her cup. She forced a smile to her lips. ‘You’re right, it’s silly to quarrel. I hardly ever see you these days, now that your family’s moved. We shouldn’t be wasting valuable time, arguing about stupid things.’ She sipped her coffee. ‘Tell me about working in DH Evans and then, if you’re really good, I’ll let you tell me about Johnny all over again.’

  Her mouth curved into a smile, and Ruth beamed back at her.

  An hour later, they said goodbye outside the coffee bar.

  Ruth turned to the right and started walking down Fitzjohn’s Avenue to Swiss Cottage, and Patricia took the short cut through Perrin’s Lane into Hampstead High Street. When she reached the high street, she turned right and made her way down the hill towards Belsize Park.

  She thrust her hands deep into the pockets of her yellow lambswool cardigan. That last hour had seemed never-ending. Ruth had obviously been trying to re-capture the friendliness of the first part of the evening, just as she had, but neither of them had succeeded, and really they’d just been waiting until they’d been there long enough to be able to leave.

  She speeded up her steps. It was Ruth’s fault that the evening had turned out as badly as it had. She’d had no right to criticise her father in the way that she’d done. And as for calling her a skivvy! All she was doing was behaving like any normal daughter would – he’d got arthritis, after all.

  And she was completely wrong about her mother. Her mother could have easily got involved with the Ladakh book if she’d wanted. Admittedly her father always made her mother a bit nervous – well, very nervous: he was the sort of person who knew exactly what he wanted and who didn’t suffer fools gladly, as he put it – nevertheless, her mother could have volunteered to help him, but she never did. If she was left out, it was her own fault and no one else’s. Trust Ruth to try and make it into something it wasn’t.

  She had altered over the years that she’d known her. She’d made new friends at her secondary school, who liked different things, and she wasn’t the same Ruth any more. And then when she’d moved to Willesdon and it had become harder for them to meet, they’d drifted apart.

  They’d recently begun seeing each other again a bit more frequently. That had been Ruth’s doing. When she’d left school the summer before and had started working in DH Evans, she’d got in touch again and they’d gone out a few times. It was pretty obvious, though, that their lives were very different, and Ruth had been quite tetchy on occasions. Like that evening.

  She wouldn’t be at all surprised if she hadn’t deliberately said those things about her family to upset her: not consciously – Ruth wasn’t a mean person – but subconsciously. It could be that Ruth envied her, s
tuck as she was in a shop selling cosmetics, while she was going on a trip that summer and on an even more exciting trip in May. It was true that Ruth had Johnny, but Patricia had years ahead of her in which to find someone she felt strongly about, and then she’d have the man as well as many happy memories.

  Her steps slowed. It must be wonderful, though, to love someone in the way that Ruth loved Johnny. She did hope that somewhere in the big wide world there was a man waiting for her to find him.

  A chill breeze swept across her. She shivered, pulled her cardigan tighter around her and walked more quickly down the steep hill. As she hurried along, she glanced at the illuminated shops on either side of the road. Her mother had walked past those very shops just a month after she’d been born, carrying her in her arms, still unaware of what she’d find when they got back to Mary’s flat. Of course, not all of them were the same shops – some of the original shops had been bombed out of existence – but some were.

  Her mother used to tell her that it was almost impossible for people to imagine what the High Street had been like at the time of the bombing. But Patricia could imagine it, down to the smallest detail.

  Whenever they had walked back from her primary school or from a morning playing at Whitestone Pond, her mother would tell her how shop after shop had been reduced to rubble. She’d brought the scene so vividly alive that Patricia had almost been able to taste the brick dust in the air and smell the burning wood and sulphur fumes.

  Now, years later, the shops had been rebuilt and were better than the old shops, and most people had almost forgotten what it had been like before and during the war. But for Patricia, the bright new shops would always remind her of the June in which she’d been born: the June in which James had begun to die.