Fields of Gold

by Fiona McIntosh

  ‘Well, how can I explain it simply? There are so many separations in Indian society that no level crosses over the other. Some castes refuse to speak to each other, others consider it bad to even be in the same area as a caste they consider so low as to be ignored.’

  Ned stared back disbelievingly.

  ‘You think I lie?’

  ‘I think you exaggerate.’

  ‘And I think you have plenty to learn,’ Robbie told him. ‘Being of a caste is one thing. Being half-caste, neither one nor the other, is to live in a desert. My mother’s people are merely servants in British households but they consider me lower than an untouchable – as one might look upon filth.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Robbie —’

  ‘Why do you think I’m here? My father abandoned us. My mother’s people wanted nothing to do with us. My mother died of dysentery when I was around Bella’s age. I know how much your sister is hurting.’

  ‘So what happened to you?’

  ‘Oh, I lived on the streets but I survived. That’s all that matters. I helped visitors to find their way around the city, or I carried their things for them. I tried to earn my money, rather than just ask for it. I promised myself that I would never pickpocket. I don’t like thieves. Anyway, one day I witnessed a theft. The victim was a ruby trader. He was negotiating with me to help him carry some stuff when a pickpocket struck. I couldn’t have that – he was stealing my client’s papers and with them his money and my payment. As the thief ran away I tripped him up and jumped on him.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Well, the trader was very grateful and wanted to help me. I would have preferred money!’ Robbie gave a rueful laugh. ‘But he talked to some people and before I knew it, I found myself here. And then I grew up quickly.’ Robbie continued his work, suddenly awkward and angry.

  ‘I’ve only just managed to get Bell through a day without crying. I don’t want to disrupt her again for the moment. What the locals do doesn’t actually affect us, right?’

  ‘You really think your British friends will keep you safe? They’ve already forgotten about you.’

  ‘Mr Fraser said —’

  ‘I know, but your Fraser is like my ruby trader. He swore he’d come back and help me – but that was five years ago. Your Mr Fraser will soon be on the other side of the world, Ned, and he’s not thinking about the Sinclairs. You have to help yourself.’

  ‘Like you have, you mean?’

  That seemed to hurt Robbie. He turned and glared. ‘I’m planning to leave, Ned. You can come with me if you like – you and Bella. Or you can rot here and watch Bella become Brent’s plaything.’

  Plaything? Ned wasn’t sure he’d heard Robbie correctly.

  ‘Don’t waste your breath asking. I have experience. He’s not choosy, Ned. He just likes his victims young … and preferably white. Bella will be his prize.’

  Ned was filled with confusion and disbelief. ‘Dr Brent used you to …’

  ‘Yes.’

  The hairs on Ned’s neck were standing up. ‘I don’t know what to say … I … Robbie, I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Nothing to say. But don’t let Bella be his new victim. She’s perfect for him, young enough to give him years of pleasure.’

  Ned was still reeling from the story Robbie had just told him but he couldn’t control his fury at this comment. ‘Shut up!’

  ‘He’ll become her friend, act like a father to her, even —’

  Robbie never finished. Ned’s fist connected cleanly with his jaw and in the next instant the lad was slumped on the ground. Ned stared at his unconscious companion, incapable of rational thought while the rage pounded through him. But gradually his breathing slowed, and the powerful emotion slowly subsided.

  And as it did, it changed, coalescing into something hard and implacable as stone. It settled in his heart, heavy and dark, before finally his rage spoke to him.

  Leave, it told Ned. Take Bella and get the hell away from here!

  10

  Ned sat self-consciously beside the bed. Bella was holding Robbie’s hand while Matron Brent looked on disapprovingly in her starched white outfit.

  ‘Haven’t you got some work to be doing?’ she asked.

  ‘I finished the dormitory,’ he offered.

  One of the local workers burst in, apparently in high dudgeon needing her. Ned watched, relieved, as Matron Brent flounced out, glaring at him as she left. He knew he could not stay long.

  One of Robbie’s lids opened slightly. It was obvious from his arch look of intrigue that he’d been pretending he was still sleepy from being knocked out. ‘Has she gone?’

  Bella giggled. Ned felt a fresh gust of relief, not just that Robbie was well enough to joke but that Bella was cheerful. Robbie’s easy likeability had penetrated her sorrow and Ned marvelled at how quickly a child could be won over through laughter, as well as the simple friendship of other children.

  ‘How’s your head? We can’t find any damage,’ Bella said.

  ‘My head?’

  ‘Where you bumped it,’ Ned prompted, urging Robbie to rub his chin, right where Ned remembered clocking it. But before he could answer, Dr Brent breezed in, managing to create a draught within the stillness, such was his size and bulk.

  ‘Ah, Robbie, I’m glad to see you’re back with us.’ He grinned expansively, the flesh of his cheeks folding in on itself in a fascinating manner. Ned noticed his gaze lingering on Bell’s thighs where her frock had ridden up as she perched on the bed.

  Ned reached for his sister and pulled her back. He made it appear natural enough. ‘We should go, Robbie. We’ll come back and see you as soon as —’

  ‘Oh, don’t leave on my account, Edward,’ Brent protested, his wide face sheened with sweat. ‘I need to speak with you, anyway.’ He swung back to Robbie, leaving Ned trapped between the doctor and the exit. Ned glared at Bella. His look forbade her to do anything but stand quietly by his side.

  ‘So what happened to you, young man?’ Brent asked, all jolly roundness, damp still darkening his shirt and voluminous linen trousers.

  ‘I slipped,’ Robbie answered immediately.

  Ned picked up the story smoothly. ‘We were cleaning the dormitory.’

  ‘Oh, yes. You decided to show me how to do a Scottish dance,’ Robbie said, grinning.

  Ned continued. ‘You slipped spectacularly on the wet floor, and rather amazingly missed the pail, but I think you banged your head on the wall.’

  Robbie groaned, rubbing the back of his skull. ‘But I’m ready to get up and go back to my duties now, Dr Brent.’

  Brent nodded. ‘Good. Well, Matron Brent can see you shortly and make a decision,’ he offered bluntly before turning abruptly to Bella. ‘And you, my dear, Arabella. It’s nice to see you smiling again.’ Ned scowled. ‘In fact, I think you’re about ready to start taking some lessons.’

  ‘Lessons?’

  ‘We have to continue some sort of education for you. Can’t have you growing up a savage, now can we?’ He chortled. ‘I’ll take you under my wing and give you a few lessons myself.’

  Robbie threw Ned an urgent glance.

  ‘In fact —’

  ‘I can teach her,’ Ned shot in. ‘Both my parents were teachers. I can read, write, do sums very competently. You don’t have to worry about Bell.’

  Brent straightened. ‘Oh, but I do.’ His voice was light but his tone had an edge. ‘She is my responsibility, you forget.’

  ‘Yours?’

  ‘You’re a minor, Edward. Not yet twenty-one. Surely you don’t think Mr Fraser put you in charge of your sister. I’m afraid that’s impossible.’

  ‘Fraser?’ Ned just stopped himself from yelling. ‘Whatever made you think that Mr Fraser was in charge of myself or my sister, Dr Brent? He is nothing to us but a passing stranger. He wasn’t even on first-name terms with my mother.’

  Brent gave a soft chuckle. ‘But Mr Fraser paid for your upkeep here. He has therefore taken on the position of guardian.�
�

  ‘Guardian? He couldn’t wait to be rid of us! He made it very clear he had no money for our welfare.’

  ‘Precisely. This is an orphanage, Edward, for children without any parent. You and your sister have been formally given into my care by a responsible adult, who took the time and trouble to see that you were in a safe place. And as director of this orphanage, the decisions for your future rest with me. We are not equipped to keep young men of your age. Our cut-off is usually around fifteen. Young Robbie here is almost at the right age to go … but not quite.’

  ‘But Mr Fraser told us to wait until we heard from him,’ Ned murmured, alarm sounding through him.

  ‘I’m sure he did. But until we do, you can’t stay here, young man. I’ve had a word to the headmaster at a boys’ school within the city limits of Rangoon. He’s going to see what he can do to help find you some work, perhaps as an apprentice electrician?’

  ‘I’ve finished my apprenticeship, Dr Brent.’

  ‘Now, I’ll brook no further argument on this, Edward. What I say goes. The school in Rangoon is not a permanent accommodation – Mr Jameson is doing this as a favour to me – but we can’t have someone of your age hanging around here. You should be grateful to me for pulling some strings. Jameson is offering gratis food and board for the next three months, until we can sort out your future. Arabella will be very well cared for around children of her own age and I can assure you that I will personally oversee her schooling and welfare. How much more can I offer?’

  Another furious glare from Robbie told Ned to end this conversation. So Ned gave Brent what he knew he wanted, in order to avoid suspicion. He slumped his shoulders and banished all defiance from his eyes.

  ‘You’re probably right. I need some time to come to terms with our situation and hopefully we’ll hear from Mr Fraser soon after his ship arrives in England. I apologise for my poor manners.’

  Brent’s whole posture changed. All trace of the predator vanished, leaving behind only a warm smile and an avuncular air. ‘Well, you impress me. Now you’re thinking like the cool-headed young man I’d taken you for. This decision is wise and is best for Arabella. I’ll make arrangements for you to be driven to Rangoon tomorrow. Why don’t you take the day off and spend some time with your sister? We’ll see you at supper.’

  Ned surprised himself by finding a smile to reinforce the sincerity he was desperately trying to contrive. ‘Thank you,’ were the only words he could trust himself to say.

  ‘Hurry along, then, you two. I’ll just have a quiet word with Robbie here.’

  Ned glanced at his friend, noticing how guarded he became as Brent’s eyes fell upon him. Ned hoped what he saw in Brent’s hungry gaze didn’t mean what he feared it might.

  Robbie found Ned before dawn sitting beneath one of the peepul trees; not even the slightest breath of wind was stirring its blanket of overlapping heart-shaped leaves. It was already claustrophobically hot.

  The boys greeted each other silently, Robbie joining Ned on the ground. ‘Good position, this. You can’t be seen easily.’

  ‘I’m glad you approve,’ Ned said quietly.

  Robbie handed Ned one of the blushing red mangoes he was carrying. It had been split at the top and Ned watched how Robbie peeled back the skin and began sucking on the golden flesh. ‘You know, in the cooler months, when there is a breeze, these leaves sound like gentle rain.’

  ‘What are you, a poet?’ Ned scoffed, but not unkindly for he recognised too much of himself in Robbie. He chewed on the fruit and immediately had to start licking at his wrist as the ripe mango released its juice.

  ‘I just like to escape through my imagination,’ Robbie replied.

  ‘Most English people would never have tasted this fruit,’ Ned remarked.

  ‘Tell me what fruit you eat in Scotland.’

  Ned tipped his head to one side. ‘Oh, apples, pears, gooseberries, rhubarb, blackberries, strawberries in summer, of course, blueberries as well, cherries in spring and plums in autumn.’

  ‘What? No bananas or jackfruit, guavas, melons, pineapples or papayas?’

  Ned laughed. ‘I don’t even know what jackfruit or papaya is.’

  ‘We do come from different worlds, don’t we?’

  That was so true. ‘Have you ever tasted a juicy, fat summer strawberry?’

  Robbie shook his head.

  ‘It’s like heaven. I went strawberry picking with my father once. We were meant to bring home two big bowls. We certainly picked two big bowlfuls but we returned with only two strawberries for Mum.’ He sighed. ‘I loved to do things with Dad. My little man, he used to call me. He taught me how to ride a bike, how to fish, how to climb a tree properly, how to mend a puncture on my wheel, even how to tie my shoelaces.’

  ‘It sounds like you were very close to your father.’

  ‘Not really. I just have impressions and memories of moments together. I haven’t really seen my father for near on five years. I was younger than you when he left for the war …’ Ned’s voice trailed off. He cleared his throat. ‘We were going to start up a gem mining business even though I was qualified as an electrician. That was at my mother’s insistence. She felt having a trade was important.’

  ‘And she was right,’ Robbie said.

  ‘Yes. My father was a dreamer, Robbie, and look where his dreaming got us. I’m not going to be like him. I’m going to be as practical as I can be. When I get married, I’m going to give my wife all of me – my love, my money, my time. I want a family, and I’m not going to achieve that wasting away here.’

  ‘You’re young and handsome. You will have no trouble finding a wife.’

  ‘Thanks. Anyway, more importantly, how are you feeling?’

  ‘Fine,’ came the flat reply.

  ‘I’m sorry, about hitting —’

  ‘Don’t worry about it. Where’s Bella?’

  ‘Dozing in the girls’ dorm. She’s exhausted. She’ll be up shortly. She’s keen to learn how to weave a basket. Far more keen than learning to spell.’

  ‘No one will teach her much of that here anyway, despite what Brent promised. Did she understand the conversation?’

  ‘Parts of it. I think she only listens to what she wants to these days, poor thing. Who can blame her?’

  Robbie nodded, said nothing for a moment or two. He tossed away the well-sucked stone of the mango. ‘Ned, you can’t leave her here with him.’

  ‘So I gather. Tell me everything. Stop talking around it.’

  There was a long silence, long enough that Ned wondered whether Robbie had taken offence, but then he finally opened up and by the end of it Ned deeply wished he had not insisted on knowing.

  ‘Most weeks he’d find me. Since I’ve grown up I’m less attractive to him, I suppose, but still he likes to remind me that he has all the power,’ Robbie concluded.

  Ned couldn’t swallow. He wiped his sticky hands against his trousers that had seen better days. ‘He still does it?’

  Robbie nodded. ‘These days, though, his interest is only aroused very occasionally … like it was an hour or so ago.’

  ‘What?’ Ned rolled away and stood up, loathing and anger mingling with his disgust. ‘It makes me feel sick!’

  ‘Don’t blame me, Ned. I was a little boy when he began.’

  ‘You have to tell someone!’

  ‘Like who? Wake up, Ned. We have no power here.’

  ‘What can I do?’ Ned growled beneath his breath. ‘I feel so helpless without any money.’

  ‘No, you don’t. You just need courage.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘I’m talking about escape.’

  Ned glared at him. ‘So you’ve said.’

  Robbie stood up. ‘I can see I’m wasting my breath.’

  Ned stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. ‘Look, Robbie. I know I sound ungrateful but I think you’re forgetting we only arrived off the ship a matter of weeks ago.’

  ‘Yes, and in that time both
your parents have been killed. You have a baby sister, no money, and you’re in a strange country so far away —’

  ‘Are you mocking me?’ Ned asked, incredulous.

  ‘I wouldn’t dare. You’ve already knocked me unconscious once today. No, Ned, listen to me. No one cares! That’s hard to hear but I’ve learned it the hard way, too. The only person who will help you … is you. And now me.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I’m angry like you. I’m angry at the world that made me the son of an Englishman who didn’t lay claim to me and at my Bengalese mother who died on me. I’m angry at being alone in a world that doesn’t care, that mocks me for my skin colour. But my real fury is at the man who has had power over me. And today he used that power for the last time.’

  Ned stopped pacing. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I’m going to escape. I’m leaving today.’

  Ned’s face dropped. ‘Why now?’

  ‘I’ve been planning it for months. But I’m not going to wait another day.’

  ‘So, back to the streets for you?’

  ‘No. He’ll hunt me down. I know too much about him.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘India.’

  ‘Calcutta?’

  Robbie gave a snort of disdain. ‘No. I’m going south, to a place called Bangalore.’

  ‘What’s in Bangalore?’

  ‘Not what. Who. In that fair city is an English doctor. Dr Walker. I met him here in Rangoon and he and his wife took … how do you say? They took a shine to me. Mrs Walker is half Indian, originally from Bombay. They told me their address.’ He tapped his head. ‘I keep it here. They told me there would always be an open door for me at their house.’

  Ned’s expression had disintegrated into one of complete bemusement. ‘Robbie, it’s hundreds of miles away. How do you plan to make that journey with no money and on foot?’

  ‘I’m desperate enough to walk it but with Bella that could be difficult. I think I’ll have to find a way to take a ship.’

  ‘Wait! Don’t drag Bell into this … or me.’

  Robbie stared at him. ‘All right. You go off to the school in Rangoon, Ned. And if you’re content to leave Bella in the hands of that – that devil,’ Robbie spat, ‘then that’s your choice. He doesn’t care about how much he damages a child. He doesn’t care that it makes you hate the world and yourself. He’ll have her pregnant and sent away somewhere by the time she’s my age. You’ll lose track of her. You’ll never —’