Fields of Gold

by Fiona McIntosh

  ‘Only she does,’ Chinathambi admitted, apology in his voice. ‘But she needs some practice. No time for school and language for the others. Ah, here it is.’ He returned. ‘Five annas, sir.’

  ‘Well, just in case she doesn’t understand me, will you tell your daughter that she looks as bright as the sunshine today?’

  Chinathambi grinned. He turned to the girl and prattled in Tamil. Her eyes flashed to him momentarily before she looked down again, pulling her veil closer.

  Jack emerged into the morning sun and felt the first promise of what was to come. By mid-morning it would be unbearable. And it was October … the worst was behind them. He plonked his helmet on, hating to wear it but knowing he couldn’t defy the sun. He detested the heat, could never get used to it, even as he watched others acclimatising. Jack was sure the high temperatures of summer profoundly affected his moods.

  His thoughts turned to the picnic for the ladies. Would he go? No. But he would definitely go to the dance as he’d promised. He felt he had to, if only for Ned.

  He looked at the ink he was carrying and decided that it was an omen; today he would write to his parents. He couldn’t remember the last letter he’d sent home; and it was possibly a year or even longer since he’d heard from them either. The last letter said they were both well and business was flourishing. His mother had finally cut her hair shorter and the house was being repainted.

  Today he would begin to build a bridge with more regular correspondence, he promised himself, and that bridge would lead him back to Cornwall one day.

  25

  Ned waited impatiently on the crowded platform at Bowringpet Station, wondering whether he would even be noticed among the throng waiting to board and travel on to Madras. He could barely hear himself think for the noise of people talking, and porters shouting as they prepared goods to be loaded, dragging trolleys in between passengers. As usual the colours of the women’s saris were an assault on his eyes but Ned never tired of their beauty.

  Today was a special day as the town took part in the Karaga Festival that was so important to this region. The Indian women were dressed to the hilt; even the poorest looked superb in their fabulous silks. Ned glanced over at the Walker women and once again was struck by the difference between British and Indian. The Indian women looked elegant and feminine in their floaty gowns. The Anglo-Indian Walkers looked starched and stiff in their creams, whites and khakis that emulated British tropical wear. Why did they copy the English? He would give an arm for such exotic good looks.

  The Walker family had decided to meet at this platform, where most travellers changed trains. Rupert Walker had borrowed a car and planned to drive his parents back into KGF. Everyone else would have to find their own way home by whatever means they could. Ned had no idea how he would return yet but he had the following day off work, so he was not worried. What Ned was worried about was a small stain on the bottom of his fashionable new cuffed trousers. They were all the rage right now in Britain, Jack had assured him. Ned cursed under his breath. He wanted Iris to notice only his positive attributes, not his imperfections.

  He looked at the flowers again, a posy of azaleas, camellias and baby roses.

  ‘Hmm,’ the florist had said at the beautiful arrangement. ‘Deep meaning in these flowers.’

  ‘Really? All good, I hope?’

  ‘If you’re in love, definitely.’

  ‘I had no idea,’ he’d said, feeling the colour rise in his cheeks. ‘I’ve never even met her,’ he added, hoping to deflect her scrutiny. Now that he had learned their significance, he was pleased with his choice and the embedded message they carried in their petals and perfume. But would they touch Iris’s heart? Would she even like him on sight? They were, after all, simply pen friends.

  Rupert strolled over. ‘Nice flowers, Ned.’

  He sighed inwardly. ‘Thanks. They’re wilting.’

  ‘So am I.’ Rupert pulled out his watch from his waistcoat pocket as the telltale whistle of a train shrieked in the near distance. ‘Ah, any moment now. Bang on time, thank goodness. I can’t stay, actually. I have an appointment later.’

  Rupert was older than Iris but was her favourite brother, Ned had learned. It pleased him that he got on well with Rupert, a senior clerk who had recently moved into the assay department at John Taylor & Sons in India. Ned had often wondered how Iris and Rupert hit it off so well, considering her outgoing personality and his far more reserved manner. Rupert did possess a dry wit that Ned appreciated. What’s more, Ned liked him simply because he was short. He barely stood over five foot seven in his shoes. ‘It’s been so long since you’ve seen Iris. Will you even recognise her?’ he asked, just to kill a few more nervous seconds.

  Rupert had to shout over the scream of the approaching train. ‘Iris doesn’t change. She’ll always be the baby, the princess … the spoilt one. I imagine she’s going to look even more lovely with her London frocks and big smoke ways. So no, I’m sure I won’t recognise her until I hear her voice and that lovely laugh and then I’ll realise how much I’ve missed my little sister.’

  People were hauling themselves to their feet, babies were being rearranged in arms, and children were being gathered up by their mothers, as fathers tried to marshal all the luggage, from chickens in cages to bundles of ragged-looking clothes. Ned had never had to travel in anything but first class on Indian trains. He couldn’t imagine the noise and the smells and the cramped conditions in the other carriages. Even now he could see men perched on the train’s roof. Ned smiled to himself, feeling a tremulous bond with the stowaways. He would never forget his escape from Rangoon.

  ‘I haven’t had a letter from her in ages,’ Rupert continued.

  Ned felt a rush of pleasure. He heard from Iris regularly.

  ‘And then, of course, we have to see if she likes my fiancée. Iris can be terribly jealous, you know. But she’s nearly twenty-four now, so she probably has far more interesting things on her mind than who I’ve chosen as a bride. Anyway, here we go,’ he said, nodding down the track.

  Ned’s head whipped around as smoke billowed and the engine whined as it slowed to a stop. People surged and his heart leapt. He was finally to meet her. He smoothed back his hair and straightened his jacket as he craned his neck to see over everyone’s heads. He picked out Harold Walker, who had already spotted his family and was waving.

  And then there she was!

  Iris Walker squeezed past her father, pushed out of the window and began waving enthusiastically to her siblings. Ned jealously watched as her gaze roamed and locked onto her eldest brother. He so wanted her to pick him out but it did give him time to let his own gaze linger on the vision in pale-blue and white. Her beautiful, dimpled smile turned into a beam. And while her bobbed hairstyle was a shock, it had a lustre that made him want to touch it, plus its short length only accentuated her slim neck that led his eyes helplessly, treacherously to the flawless, tawny skin above her breasts.

  The train lurched to its final halt and doors began to swing open. People started to spill from its carriages and Ned lost Iris in the few frantic moments that followed. He had become separated from the rest of the Walkers and found himself pushed aside by a huge family heading for third class with a mountain of baggage that included a goat and four ducks. Ned dropped back and stood on tiptoe. He glimpsed a flash of powder-blue and his pulse surged. If only he were taller. Jack would stand head and shoulders above this crowd, damn him.

  ‘Hey, Ned, over here,’ someone called. He thought it was Rupert and he began to push his way forward again, tripping over a disgruntled rooster and an old woman who was clutching it, scowling at him from her swathe of pale-pink sari.

  When he finally regained his position, Iris was buried beneath a mound of hugs and family arms. Harold Walker held out a hand in the meantime.

  ‘Hello, Ned. My, my, what a crowd. Thanks for coming.’

  ‘Wouldn’t have missed it for quids,’ Ned replied and hugged Flora Walker. ‘Good journe
y?’

  She touched his cheek. ‘You look thin. Come to dinner tonight.’

  He nodded and grinned. And, as if on cue, the siblings parted and there, standing in the middle, was his vision, wearing a daringly cut dress that even showed her knees. He tore his glance from Iris’s irresistible legs and tried to ignore her enticing décolletage to gaze on the face he had so longed to see. It did not disappoint. Iris was stunning and she was smiling brightly at him. She shook back her loose long sleeves, also cuffed in white satin, and drew a few wisps of her hair from her face. It was an action that made his heart pound. Everything about her was so much more elegant and beautiful than he’d imagined.

  ‘And you must be Ned! At last!’ she cried.

  Without any further warning he felt himself gripped in a wild embrace and pulled into a cloud of heady perfume. ‘I can’t believe it!’ she continued and then kissed both his cheeks.

  ‘Hello, Iris,’ he said shyly. ‘You look so lovely.’ The words were falling out before he could censor them.

  ‘Thank you,’ she replied, delighted, with an abashed curtsey. ‘Are those flowers for me?’

  He had completely forgotten he was holding them. ‘Oh, yes, they are. Oh, I’m sorry. They look rather forlorn.’

  ‘Well, I think they’re exquisite,’ she said, reaching for them. Her gloved hands touched his and he felt momentarily dizzy.

  ‘Well, come on, everyone. Let’s not wait about here,’ Walker urged.

  They emerged into the main street that was also vibrant with people. The festival was in full swing and a host of bare-chested young men were roaming down the street, brandishing their swords in honour of the heroes of the past.

  Iris gave a theatrical sigh. ‘I’ve missed India.’

  Her father smiled delightedly. ‘I’m glad to hear it, dear,’ he said, and hugged her close. ‘Now, Rupert, what’s the plan?’

  ‘I’m taking a jatka back to work – I’m running late as it is – and Jim will take you, Mum and Iris back to the house. He’s borrowed a car. The others are making their own way. I’ll see you all tonight.’

  Rupert kissed his mother and Iris farewell as the others pressed in to give hugs goodbye. Finally, they’d all dispersed to make their way back to KGF, and from a distance he hadn’t consciously created, Ned watched as Harold Walker clambered into the big black car. James lifted a hand to wave farewell to Ned, then also got into the car.

  Ned sighed. She was gone almost as soon as she’d arrived, and her attention for him had been fleeting. He couldn’t help feeling a fraction forlorn.

  He turned away, wondering now about how to get himself back to KGF.

  He spun around at the tap on his shoulder. ‘Iris,’ he said, surprised.

  ‘We insist that you come home with us.’

  ‘Are you sure? Perhaps you’d like some quiet time with —’

  ‘Oh, Ned! I’ve spent the last five days with Mummy and Daddy. Now I’m looking for company my own age. Unless, of course, you have someone else to answer to?’

  ‘Er … no. I’m very much single.’

  ‘Good!’ she said, linking her arm around his as she led him towards the car. ‘I hear there’s a dance on in a few days. Perhaps you’ll take me to it?’

  Ned felt a surge of warmth rush through his body. It was as though every dream he’d ever had was suddenly coming true in this moment as he stopped still and stared into her beloved face and deep hazel eyes. ‘I wouldn’t allow anyone else to.’

  Iris laughed. ‘That’s a little dramatic, Ned, but I’m all yours.’

  He knew he was grinning like a loon now.

  ‘Come on. The oldies get cranky as they tire. But then you know my parents better than I do right now, I’m sure.’

  ‘Your parents never seem to get tired!’ Ned climbed into the car after Iris, trying once again not to stare at the perfect turn of her ankle or the tiny blue vein at the back of her knee.

  It was a journey Ned would not forget. Those hours squashed next to Iris Walker in the back seat, her left thigh pressing against his right, were some of the best in his life. And while from this position it was difficult to see her face, he used the time to enjoy the sound of her voice washing over him and to study her ever moving hands while she talked excitedly about London and her travels through Europe with the very wealthy Fitzgibbon family who had offered her a full-time position as governess to their daughters.

  Ned worked hard not to stay silent, even though he would have been more than happy simply to listen to Iris. She was so energised and full of laughter.

  ‘I’ve never understood what Karaga actually is,’ Iris remarked as they watched a pack of bare-chested men whoop and jump alongside the car before running ahead.

  ‘I only know a little about it,’ Ned obliged, deciding this was a topic he could at least be vaguely interesting about. ‘It’s one of India’s oldest festivals, but only celebrated in this Karnataka region. The Karaga itself is a vessel, which contains a secret. Something to do with health, I think. The carrier’s arrival is heralded by the young braves.’ He pointed out of the car window. ‘And do you see the blades they carry?’

  ‘Dad would never let us watch that part of the ritual.’

  ‘They do their firewalking at night.’

  Iris’s mouth dropped open.

  ‘I’ve watched it.’ Ned was thrilled to be impressing her. ‘Have you seen it, Harold and Flora?’

  ‘We have, yes,’ Walker replied. ‘It’s all a bit crazy for us.’

  Ned grinned. ‘Apparently the warriors can slaughter the vessel bearer, should he drop it. Perhaps in centuries gone they might have done that. These men will walk across burning embers showing no signs of pain or injury, then hit themselves with their blades, often nicking their skin, drawing blood.’

  ‘But they’re all in a trance, aren’t they?’

  ‘Yes. It’s why they don’t feel the pain.’

  The conversation moved on to plans for a special birthday for Florence, one of the sisters, and Rupert’s engagement party.

  Ned was happy to remain silent until they began to see the green hills and mining structures of KGF.

  They drew towards the circular patch of bright garden that was one of the landmarks of the region.

  ‘This is Five Lights, Iris,’ Walker explained. ‘The five great lamps that hang from this lamp post spotlight the individual roads that intersect at this point and lead off to different parts of KGF.’

  ‘It’s a rather romantic spot really, isn’t it?’ She looked at Ned as she said this, perhaps noticing for the first time how quiet he’d become. ‘It’s so pretty. I imagine it’s lovely at night. How far now?’

  ‘Oh, we’re as good as there,’ James piped up. ‘Ten minutes at most.’

  ‘Good. I’m famished and I’m exhausted. I hope the house is cool.’

  ‘It is,’ her mother replied, in a tone suggesting she was being tolerant of Iris’s bleat.

  Ned noticed Iris glance his way; he was sure he’d fallen too quiet again. ‘Actually, Iris, it’s one of the prettiest homes in Oorgaum. I … er, I don’t work too far away from it because the electric department is directly opposite – as the crow flies, anyway. It’s still a cycle ride up to your place, though.’

  Iris smiled sideways at him. ‘I’m glad you plan to visit, Ned.’ She blinked and something in that gesture spoke volumes.

  He felt his heart skip again and turned self-consciously to stare out of the window. He knew he wasn’t mistaken; Iris was definitely flirting with him. They’d been sitting so close for so long that he couldn’t feel where his thigh ended or hers began and he dared not look. Iris was definitely interested in him!

  ‘That’s the school up there,’ Walker said, pointing.

  ‘Have you spoken to them, Dad?’

  ‘Yes, and of course they want to talk to you about a position. They always need good teachers.’

  ‘Why don’t we drive through quickly?’ James suggested. ‘That way you can get a
good overview of KGF. Ned, you’re not running late for anything, are you?’

  ‘No,’ he answered quickly.

  ‘That’s the club and golf course on the right – and behind there is St Michael’s Church, my girl, where we go. Perhaps you’ll get married there,’ her mother said, and tittered as Iris groaned.

  James took up the reins of the guided tour. ‘On the left is the electric department, where Ned works,’ he said, pointing to a large white building. ‘It supplies all the electricity for the mines. Right, Ned?’

  ‘Yes, all very modern here, Iris,’ he said with a soft smile.

  ‘We’re essentially now in Champion Reef. That road leads to Robertsonpet – it’s a nice little town with the civil hospital.’

  ‘I’ll never remember all this,’ Iris said.

  ‘You will,’ Ned murmured. ‘It’s really very small once you get to know the different areas.’

  And so it went, James guiding Iris past all the places Ned had come to know so well. He tried to remember what it was like when he first came through but that felt like a lifetime ago. Bella had opted to remain in Madras, despite being desperate not to hurt his feelings. Ned had understood; he too had changed and his life wouldn’t have suited a teenager and all her needs. The Grenfells had given her a wonderful life and education; Robbie and his plan had blessed them with so much more than just escape.

  ‘You know my friend, Jack, the one I’ve told you about? That mine is where he works. It’s called William’s Shaft, part of Top Reef. I know you’re going to like Jack,’ Ned said.

  ‘Even though he’s a bit of a rogue,’ Walker said.

  ‘Rogue?’ Iris repeated as if unsure what they meant.

  Ned laughed. ‘I think your father’s being polite and really means to say that Jack’s a bit of a rake.’

  ‘Really? Well, I can’t wait to meet him.’

  ‘Oh, you will. I’ve persuaded him to come to the dance next Tuesday night.’

  ‘Well, that’ll be a first,’ her mother murmured.

  As they swung the car into the small circular driveway, Iris squealed with pleasure. ‘Oh, it’s lovely. I love that big tree.’