Fields of Gold

by Fiona McIntosh

  ‘Badly. They’re close. She’s worried about what this will do to his state of mind. Rupert’s ambitious and his career will stall.’

  ‘It doesn’t have to.’

  ‘Try telling that to him.’

  ‘I will. I’ll tell Iris too.’

  ‘You make it sound so easy, Jack. You always seem to get what you want, so you think everyone else can too.’

  Jack let it go. He feigned a smile. ‘Do you know what I really want? A motorbike.’

  ‘What?’ Ned looked at him as though he had suddenly started speaking in tongues.

  Jack gave a crooked grin. ‘I promised myself that if I got out of that damn hole I was going to treat myself to a motorbike. I’m going to buy a Francis-Barnett 292cc.’

  ‘You’re mad. You can’t even use your arm.’

  ‘I won’t be like this forever.’

  ‘Are you sure you didn’t get rockfall on your head, Jack?’

  His friend’s laughter was reassuring. ‘You’ll love it when I drive you to Bangalore on it.’

  ‘Can I get you anything? Bring you anything from home?’

  ‘Food,’ Jack replied, without hesitation. ‘I need some decent food. It’s like gruel here – all watery lentils. I want spices, I want some meat. Tell Gangai to buy some mutton and have the girl curry it up.’

  ‘You mean Kanakammal?’

  ‘How do you know her – and how on earth do you remember how to say that name?’

  ‘She waited all night at the mine. She was the one who saw you emerge. She raised the alarm.’

  Jack looked astonished. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘She was there all night, I tell you. She didn’t move. She looked like a guardian angel in that silvery-grey sari of hers.’

  Jack gave a soft snort of confusion as a memory nagged on the rim of his mind. ‘Well, she can cook my curry.’

  ‘I’ll go there now. Oh, by the way, I’ve been promoted.’ He laughed as Jack’s face lit. ‘Anything you can do, I can do better.’

  ‘That’s great news, Ned. You deserve it. So, manager of the electricity department, eh? Looks as though we’ll both have to be acting responsibly.’

  ‘Not just that. I can get married now.’

  Ned’s comment brought with it a tension neither man wanted to acknowledge.

  Jack cleared his throat. ‘Really? Have you asked her yet?’

  ‘No, but I’m about to.’

  Jack’s emotions were suddenly so mixed up he was at a loss; he knew he should congratulate Ned but he felt a stab of jealousy. ‘Well, exciting times,’ was all he trusted himself to say. He let his head flop on the pillow as though he were exhausted.

  ‘I’ll see you later, Jack. Heal,’ Ned warned, wagging a finger. ‘Don’t rush it.’

  Jack didn’t know how to feel. Iris was Ned’s girl. There was no two ways about it. But he couldn’t get her face out of his mind and he hadn’t been imagining it; Iris had flirted with him and given him all the signals – inadvertently or deliberately – that she wasn’t fully committed to Ned Sinclair.

  What a messy situation. Perhaps he should just avoid her, ignore her, and the feeling would pass. Once she and Ned were engaged, perhaps he would find it easier to set thoughts of her aside?

  Jack’s lids felt heavy and he drifted into another world somewhere between consciousness and sleep.

  Iris tiptoed into the room where Jack lay. Muslin curtains muted the sharp sunlight so the area around his bed was bathed in a soft golden glow. She had avoided Ned, guiltily watching from the long hospital verandah as he left the premises and sauntered across the beautifully tended gardens towards the main road. Once she was sure Ned had left and none of her family was nearby, she had found Jack’s quiet room at the very end of a corridor.

  Stepping silently across the floorboards, she held her breath, arrested by the sight of Jack’s body, naked to the hips, the sheet carelessly draped across his lower belly.

  Iris drank in the sight of him lying motionless and beautiful, like one of the marble statues she had marvelled at in the museum in London. Part of his torso was bandaged tightly. Her father had mentioned broken ribs. But the sight of his sculpted body, browned from the sun, dark nipples punctuating the rise of his muscles across his broad, hairless chest, the bones of his pelvis starkly contoured, making his belly dip, the space between sheet and skin at that point creating a shadow – it all made her heart race. She pulled her gaze away.

  Now she began to notice the hideous criss-cross of bruises and scabs.

  She looked at Jack’s poor arm, held in a sling and propped up by a pillow. She had to resist the urge to smooth back the lock of hair that had flopped across his eye but she noticed the dark lashes beneath, the slightly frowning eyebrows as though Jack was deep in thought, even as he slept. He made little sound; just the faintest breath escaping his lips, the shallow rise and fall of his chest.

  She couldn’t help her hungry eyes from traversing his body again, even though she knew this was wrong. She felt herself blush as she imagined bending down and touching her lips to his, slightly open and so inviting. Iris coughed softly, almost hoping it would wake him and give her an excuse to kiss him brazenly, covering her real motive with a rush of thanks for saving her brother’s life.

  Iris looked over her shoulder. All was quiet outside and within. She took a breath and risked it, pulling off her glove. Gently, she laid her fingertips on his chest. Slowly, tenderly, she flattened her hand to Jack’s warm skin. The bandages chafed against her palm, reminding her that she was on forbidden territory. Iris kept skin to skin for a few seconds longer, feeling his strong heartbeat in rhythm with her own, then lifted her hand away and imprisoned it again within the safety of her glove.

  Mindful of the traitorous heat gathering at her neck, flushing her cheeks again and shortening her breath, she silently lowered herself into the chair beside the bed, where the man who loved her had sat just a few minutes earlier.

  Iris waited.

  Jack awoke in serious pain, with a raging thirst and a desperate need to urinate.

  He swung his head around searching for a nurse and found instead Iris Walker sitting demurely by his bed, like a fresh spring flower in a buttery-yellow dress, trimmed with white. She looked achingly pretty and the mere sight of her calmed his distress.

  ‘Hello, Jack,’ she murmured coyly, as though she’d been caught peeping.

  He couldn’t speak. He looked towards the beaker of water.

  ‘Oh, let me.’ She leaned over him and carefully lifted his head from the pillow to help him sip.

  The sweet scent of violets enveloped him and his eyes dipped instantly and helplessly to the spectacular glimpse of her satin brassiere cupping the curves of her breasts.

  The effect on him was alarming and immediate. Jack jerked his knees up to cover his embarrassment.

  ‘Oh, I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?’

  ‘Just a spasm.’ He reached for the beaker from her hands. ‘Thank you,’ he groaned.

  She smiled sweetly. ‘Just ask if you need more.’

  He wouldn’t dare. A short, awkward pause stretched before them.

  ‘How long have you been here?’

  ‘Half an hour maybe. I didn’t want to disturb you. But you were restless.’

  ‘I was dreaming.’

  ‘Yes. Even so, it was nice to watch you sleep. I mean, it was nice you were resting after all you’ve been through.’ She sounded nervous. Her eyes kept flashing to his naked chest. ‘Jack, I don’t know how to thank you for what you did for Rupert, for our family.’

  ‘Oh, that’s easy, Iris. Save a dance for me.’

  She laughed. ‘Such puny payment.’

  ‘It would make me feel rich,’ he replied, an inner voice telling him this was dangerous ground.

  ‘Then I’m all yours at the next opportunity for a dance, Jack Bryant. You’ve earned it.’

  She stood, smiling. Jack’s pulse raced at the thought of holding her in his arms again.
She lifted a pot from the floor and pointed to a small tiffin, tied up in a teatowel, secured by its four corners. ‘Mum’s mulligatawny. All-healing,’ she warned with a wink.

  ‘Excellent. Thank you.’

  ‘I’ll visit again,’ she promised and then surprised him by leaning down and placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

  He caught her hand. ‘I want that dance to be in Bangalore, Iris. At the bandstand in Cubbon Park.’

  ‘Bangalore?’

  ‘Promise me,’ he said, not letting go of her gloved hand, even though she looked around self-consciously. ‘I want to dance with you without your family breathing down my neck.’

  She grew more serious. ‘I-I can’t do that,’ she stammered.

  ‘Oh, come on. Surely you owe me that much?’

  Iris nodded. ‘I don’t like owing anyone. One dance.’

  ‘One dance, in Bangalore, no family around.’

  ‘All right,’ she finally said. ‘I promise and then the debt is paid.’

  A fortnight later, with his shoulder more mobile and feeling much stronger, Jack returned to his home on the hill above Marikuppam. The servants had draped the verandah with fresh, fragrant blooms they’d painstakingly sewn into garlands of welcome. Jack was enveloped in the heady fragrance of the dense, waxy flowers, which would later be placed at small altars to give thanks for his return.

  Gangai had the whole household – the mali, the chokra boy, the new gardener, the new girls and himself – lined up on the stairs to welcome Jack home. They all clapped as he climbed out of Harold Walker’s car, followed by Ned.

  Jack shook hands with each of the staff. Kanakammal looked down as she loosely gripped his hand and then let it go quickly. Her sheer pink sari, worn with a deep crimson choli, did little to hide her superb figure. Jack consciously averted his gaze from the creamy brown skin of her midriff.

  ‘Thank you for your delicious food, Elizabeth,’ he said. ‘Each day it was something to look forward to. I’m sure it’s why I am returned to such good health so quickly.’

  She nodded but would not raise her eyes to him. ‘You are welcome, sir.’

  Soon enough, Jack and Ned found themselves alone on the verandah.

  ‘Back to work tomorrow, Jack?’

  ‘I can’t wait.’

  ‘What about the sling?’

  ‘I’ll manage, even if I just direct my men. Besides, the shoulder’s feeling much better now. I’m even planning to go up to Bangalore at the weekend.’

  ‘Why?’ Ned sipped on the rich, sweet and creamy coffee that Gangai had served.

  Jack reached for one of Elizabeth’s small hot potato and onion savouries. ‘My motorbike,’ he struggled to say, trying to cool the spicy mouthful on his tongue.

  ‘My God, you’re serious! I thought that was delirium talking. That or morphine.’

  Jack laughed. ‘No, I intend to ride everywhere from now on. One day soon I’ll buy a car. But I’ll begin with my bike.’ He wiped his hands on a starched napkin, impressed that his staff had thought of everything. ‘What’s happening with Bella? She’s due any minute, isn’t she?’

  ‘I’m picking her up tomorrow. I can’t wait to see her again. It’s hard to believe she’s finally going to be here and meeting the people I care about.’

  ‘I get the impression you’re hoping to persuade her to stay.’

  ‘I am, Jack. That’s exactly my plan. So I’m calling on everyone’s help. The Grenfells have been so generous, but she’s my sister, my only family. I want her to love Iris and for Iris to love her and hopefully she’ll want to stay with us.’

  ‘And Bella has no idea, of course, of your evil plan.’

  ‘It will be her choice, come what may. She’ll be a fresh breath of air after everyone’s anxiety over Rupert.’

  ‘He’ll be fine.’

  ‘You were very good to him in hospital, visiting him daily, I hear, and keeping his spirits up.’

  ‘I was glad to see him recovering.’ Jack recalled how he’d been careful to avoid being caught in Rupert’s company when Ned and Iris dropped by, and was aware that Harold Walker on his rounds had always found a way to drop into the conversation if Iris was calling in on her brother. Jack realised he was being manipulated by the Walkers to avoid Iris, but that was all right. It suited him.

  ‘How’s it going with Iris?’ Jack asked, looking away.

  ‘Oh, well, Rupert’s recovery has overshadowed everything, but I see her every day.’

  Jack kept his voice even. ‘Have you popped the question?’

  ‘No,’ Ned snorted, as if disgusted with himself. ‘But we’re close and I don’t think it will come as a surprise to her.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Jack said carefully, reaching for his coffee to hide the fact that he was grinding his jaw.

  ‘Oh, you know. I’m not a fast mover like you, Jack, but we’ve certainly become more intimate.’

  ‘I’m pleased for you,’ he replied, feeling his gut twist. ‘So, tell me about this promotion.’

  ‘Everything’s falling into place. Next week I’m going around to each of the mines. I’ll be speaking to the managers about their power supply, what improvements we can make, how we can streamline the service. I know some of the smarter villagers – particularly shopkeepers – are trying to pinch electricity when we’re transporting it from Shivanasamudra Falls, but they’re going to kill themselves if it continues. One fellow is already dead.’

  ‘How ingenious of them.’

  ‘Everyone knows electricity is the future, Jack. It will make many men rich. Anyway, next week I won’t be around much.’

  Jack nodded, storing this information away. ‘What about Bella? You’re not going to just leave her, are you?’

  Ned looked offended. ‘She’ll be fine. I’ll leave her with the Walkers.’

  ‘Well, why don’t I take her out for a day?’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. Why not? I don’t mind taking her into Bangalore. I can rearrange my shifts. I’ll take her to the soda fountain, perhaps the movies at the BRV. I might even organise a guided tour for her.’

  ‘Excellent, Jack, thanks. She’d love that.’

  ‘It’s a deal, then. When do you leave?’

  ‘Monday morning.’

  ‘All right. Tell her to be ready early on Monday and I’ll pick her up. Clear it with the Walkers, though, will you?’

  ‘Why don’t you tell her yourself? Presumably we’ll all meet up before then?’

  ‘You’re right. Why don’t you bring her over tomorrow evening? I’ve got a cook now and can entertain fine company.’

  Walker had lent Ned his car so he could collect Bella from Bangalore in comfort. Nothing was going to prevent Iris coming along too, and as they drove down the bumpy, potholed ‘highway’, Ned held her hand in a haze of bliss.

  ‘Are you happy, Iris?’ he said, breaking the comfortable silence between them after Iris had told him a long story about visiting the Redhill Street Mills in England’s north and seeing all the beautiful textiles her employer’s family sold. He continued to wonder why Iris had ever come back, given the starry-eyed way she spoke about her time in England.

  ‘You know I am.’

  ‘I mean with me. Are you happy with me?’

  ‘Of course. What’s brought this on?’

  Now seemed as good a time as any. He took a deep breath. ‘Well, I want you to be my wife,’ he blurted.

  ‘Ned! This is hardly the place to propose!’

  ‘Why not? We’re alone, we’re holding hands, I feel happy. I’ve never been happier, to tell the truth … and I’m in love, Iris. In love with you.’ Ned braked harshly, stopping the car with a skid that kicked up a pile of dust on the road and startled a bullock that had been ponderously pulling its load towards them. He leapt out of the car, held his hand up in apology to the bullock drover, and ran around to the passenger side. He yanked open the door and dropped to one knee.

  Iris began to laugh. ‘Ned, don’t be a —�
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  It was as though he had wings and he was soaring high above the clouds, such was the lightness in his heart. ‘I love you, Iris,’ he began, grinning helplessly. ‘There’ll never be anyone else for me. I could never feel about anyone the way I feel about you right here, right now, so there’s never been a more perfect place for me to say this.’ Ned took her hand and kissed it before he looked into her dark eyes. ‘Marry me, Iris. Say you will and make me the happiest man alive.’

  They stared at each other for a few long moments before she touched his cheek and he covered her hand with his.

  ‘Please, Iris.’

  Her expression clouded. ‘I need some time, Ned.’

  ‘How long? An hour? An afternoon?’

  She laughed. ‘Ned …’

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘By the next dance.’

  He did a quick calculation. ‘Nine days?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He felt crestfallen at first, but at least she hadn’t refused him – and he had sprung it on her without warning. She was going to think about it, which meant she was probably going to talk it over with her parents and he knew they were already on his side. He felt confident as he returned to the car that Iris would accept him.

  In fact, he was positively chirpy by the time they parked at the Bowring Institute. He and Jack had both taken out memberships there and at the Bangalore Club, so they always had somewhere to stay when they came up to town. It didn’t matter to him that Iris had turned more pensive and their conversation was all but non-existent by the time he had eased her father’s car into the manicured grounds of the club. Ned refused to believe that Iris wouldn’t soon share his elation; he convinced himself that she was just being sensible and waiting for her family’s official approval.

  As he helped her from the car, Ned couldn’t resist pushing his cause a little further. ‘Iris, I’ve talked with your father about this.’ At her sharp glance, he hesitated, then pressed on. ‘It felt like the right thing to do … I mean, to get his permission.’

  ‘Ah. And what did Dad say?’

  Ned gave a wry shrug. ‘Well, he said it was your decision, not his, but he and your mother would be very happy for us to be engaged.’