by Isobel Chace
“Cheer up,” he said. “It’ll wash off easily enough. Besides, it’s rather fetching!”
“Nonsense!” I said roughly.
He and Camilla exchanged a humorous glance and I wished desperately that I had said nothing at all. Why I should care so much I couldn’t imagine. I had come to work and to fill in two years—nothing more than that.
Sol was stiff and rather wretched when we came to the village. Camilla waved to the children who came rushing out to greet us, but I was too busy looking at the extraordinary buildings and the small shrine around which the women were gathered.
The jeep pulled up outside a fair-sized bungalow. A large verandah went around all four sides of the house.
“This is the central house of the station,” Joseph told me. “Gideon and I sleep here and the laboratory and the records are kept at the back. You and Camilla are going to sleep somewhere else eventually, but come in meanwhile, and we’ll have something to eat.”
We accepted the offer gratefully. Enormous fans in every room moved lazily, keeping the air comparatively cool, and it was bliss just to stand beneath one of them.
“Memsahib,” said a small, soft voice at my elbow. I glanced down to see the most beautiful little creature smiling gently up at me. It was impossible to tell her age, but the liquid brown eyes held an age of wisdom that contrasted vividly with the youthful firmness of her flesh. She was dressed in a vivid orange sari that was edged with shocking pink and silver that somehow didn’t clash but was merely provocative to the eye. With infinite grace she put her palms together and raised them in front of her face in the time-honored Indian greeting. Her eyes lit up with laughter as I clumsily returned the greeting.
“You have driven a long way?” she asked. “You will need a bath and clean clothes. It is so hot at this time of year.”
The idea of a bath was sheer bliss.
“Is it really possible to have a bath?” I asked her
The fragile little woman bowed gracefully.
“It will be my pleasure to serve you while you are here,” she said in her soft voice. “My name is Lakshmi.”
“Lakshmi? The goddess of happiness?” I was proud to be able to show off my meager knowledge of her religion.
She smiled. “She has a little to do with prosperity also,” she added. “If you will follow me I shall prepare your bath.”
We went out of the main room with its formal chairs and beautiful rugs on the polished floor to explore the rest of the house. One or two pictures, faded photographs for the most part, hung on the walls that were decorated with colored pieces of paper.
The plan of the rooms was simple. Somewhere in the center was the kitchen, a small hole where the cook managed superbly with a small brazier and a few unlikely pots. He squatted on the floor and ground his spices on a flat stone amidst a clutter of utensils. Out of the chaos emerged several meals a day all immaculately served. It was a constant source of wonder to us all.
The bedrooms were spartan, each furnished only with a single bed, a small table, a chair and hanging recess hidden by a much-faded curtain. There were three of them, all exactly the same. It was easy to recognize Gideon’s. Immaculately tidy, it nevertheless betrayed his presence by the titles of the few books and the single strange sculpture that hung on the wall.
We passed the second room and went into the third.
“You will be comfortable here?” she asked.
I looked at her in surprise.
“I thought ... I was told that I was sleeping in another house,” I said.
“With the little memsahib,” she agreed. “This is only for your bath. I will bring it to you now.”
With a flash of orange she was gone and I was left alone. Down the corridor I could hear Camilla’s cheerful laughter and enough splashing to make me envious. It seemed that she was already in the bath and I would have to wait until she was finished. But two seconds later Lakshmi was back carrying an enormous tin bath of the type I had seen only in illustrations in old-fashioned books. She laid it on the floor and filled it from buckets of hot water.
“Thank you very much,” I said, expecting her to go, but she did nothing of the sort. Gently, she helped me into the bath and cupping her hands together poured the water over me.
“This is from the Ganges. This is from the Jumna.” And so on, naming the Indian rivers one by one, the holy rivers of India. It was an attractive custom, but one which was dying out, she told me, half-shamefaced. She had been brought up by her grandmother, she told me, and had learned the custom from her.
It was very pleasant soaking in the hot water. In contrast the air seemed quite cool, and by the time I had dried myself and dressed, I felt quite fresh.
Camilla was still soaking in her bath when I went past Gideon’s room so only the two men were on the verandah as I went out. They both stood up to greet me, their cane chairs creaking comfortably.
“Sit down and I’ll get you a drink,” Joe said immediately.
I frowned at him. “I ... I don’t think I will,” I said shyly.
“Okay,” he agreed easily. “On your head be it.”
I sat uneasily on the only vacant chair and watched the two men as they joked with each other, tacitly consenting to let me alone until I should proffer a remark of my own. I hunted through my mind for something interesting to say and came up with precisely nothing.
“The panchayat is coming up later to discuss the water supply,” Joseph told Gideon over his shoulder, helping himself to another drink.
Gideon grinned. “Sheer curiosity!” he laughed. “They want to see the girls!”
Joseph looked straight at me. “This one will keep them in order,” he teased me.
I could feel Gideon’s eyes burning into my turned away face.
“The panchayat are the village elders,” he drawled.
I turned to look at him. “H-how many of them are there?”
“A dozen. Someone has to represent each of the many and varied interests in the village.”
I began to suspect he was teasing me. “And they are?”
He considered for a moment. “Caste,” he began, “and sub-castes; the landowners and the land-hungry; those who want to build a dam for irrigation purpose and those who don’t, and so on.”
The very idea of having to deal with such a committee appalled me.
“How—how madly democratic!” I said faintly.
Gideon’s eyes twinkled appreciatively.
“There’s hope for you yet,” he said.
But nothing he had said prepared me for the reality of the meeting. One by one the old men trooped onto the verandah, raised their hands in greeting and sat down with their legs knotted before them on the floor.
“Are we ready?” Gideon asked. He looked very strong and inflexible as he towered above them on his chair. One of the old men smiled at him sheepishly.
“The Swami is not yet come,” he said smoothly.
Gideon frowned. “He does know we are meeting?”
The same old man answered, “Of course.”
Camilla, with her hair done up on top of her head and her neck still wet from her bath, came sailing out of Gideon’s room and came to join us on the verandah. Her eyebrows rose spectacularly when she saw the assembled party, but although she was younger she was more self-possessed that I could ever hope to be.
“Good evening,” she greeted them with a dazzling smile.
The old men rose in a single wave of movement.
“How pleasurable to make your acquaintance,” said their spokesman, and the others nodded emphatically around the circle.
“How lovely to see you all!” Camilla responded cheerfully. She clasped her hands together in inspiration. “Is there any lemonade?” she asked Gideon.
It was Joseph who went to the kitchen and came back with a tray of ice-cold bottles and a bundle of straws. The old men sucked contentedly at their straws and then, suddenly, a young man with wild matted hair and an orange robe that barely c
overed his nakedness walked in. Gideon greeted him with evident pleasure, and I offered him a bright green bottle which he gravely rejected.
“Though it is good to see such progress and to have all these good men taking refreshments together,” he added with a flash in his eyes. “I shall sit here and study the problems we have before us.”
He sat down quickly at my feet and bowed slightly to the other men. With his coming everybody had burst into excited chatter, but at his signal there was complete silence again.
“We have come to talk about the well,” the spokesman said in his careful English. “We have paid much for this benefit and, as yet, we can get no water there.” It was a bare statement of fact, unadorned and uncomplicated.
The Swami sat in silence, apparently not listening at all. The others, more confident now the original point had been made, were positively lyrical about their previous expectations from the new water supply and how badly letdown they felt. Finally, when the last man had spoken, the Swami turned to Gideon.
“Is this true?” he asked quietly.
Gideon nodded.
“As far as it goes. We are waiting for the electricity to be turned on. As it is it has to be manipulated by hand and the women prefer the old tank down by the sugarcane.”
“And the electrician?” the Swami prodded gently.
“Has not been paid,” Gideon supplied wryly.
There was an immediate outburst of indignation as all the old men tried to explain why their particular group in the village was not responsible for this omission. With mounting excitement they told how the electrician had come and had done the work and then had removed the operative fuse until his bill had been paid in full. But how could they pay until they had water to irrigate their crops?
The Swami listened to them all, waiting patiently while the flow of words went over his head and gradually stilled to a whisper.
“Be that as it may,” he said calmly, “it is very annoying to be deprived of your water. What remedy do you suggest?”
The silence became uncomfortable.
“I am afraid the research station has already exceeded the amount that was set aside for the project,” Gideon said. There was a thread of laughter under his words which surprised me. It was not lost on the old men either.
“It is such a simple dilemma,” the Swami went on as if no one had spoken. “I shall place my scarf on the floor here in the corner and after everyone had gone doubtless we shall find enough money on it to pay the electrician. Now, let us drink and be merry.” The old men obediently drank up their fizzy drinks and then one by one, after depositing some money on the scarf, they departed, gossiping happily among themselves. The Swami sat upright, with his back very straight and his neck bent so that he could look at his toes tucked under him. To all appearances he was asleep and completely oblivious to his surroundings. I looked at the saintly lines on his face and wondered at his asceticism. He wore the saffron robes of the oriental monk which I knew betokened celibacy and a laying aside of all the pleasures of this world. Later I was to discover that he was the local holy man with a reputation for charity and that he deserved every word of praise that was constantly sung of him. Now, he merely puzzled me.
“It was kind of you, Swamiji, to come to our assistance,” Gideon said when we were alone.
The young man looked up and smiled.
“I think we have more than enough to pay our way now,” he said with satisfaction. “And it was my pleasure to help.”
Gideon grinned. “Perhaps I should don an orange robe like yours.”
But the Swami shook his head. “You will want to marry, my friend. You are ever a practical man!”
“And you are not?”
The wild, unkempt hair waved in the wind. “I like to think,” the Indian retorted in an affected Oxford accent, “that I can keep my feet on the ground and my head in the clouds!”
We all laughed, and quite suddenly, without a word of farewell, he, too, rose to his feet and sauntered down the steps and was gone without a backward glance. Joe and Camilla fell over each other trying to grab the money and they solemnly began to count it. Gideon watched them with a superior smile.
“I’m glad you managed to restrain your western greed until after the Swami had gone!” he chided them. But they ignored him, their attention entirely engaged by a number of small coins that added together could only have represented a very minute sum.
“Mr. Wait,” I said with a certain firmness, “would it be possible to see where I am going to work?”
His eyes met mine with evident reluctance.
“If you really want to,” he said indifferently. He swallowed the remainder of his drink with a gulp and stood up. “I may as well show you your quarters at the same time.”
We went away from the corridor that led to the bedrooms and through a central courtyard that was full of the servants’ children laughing and talking together.
He pushed open a door and led me into a laboratory. It was cluttered with papers and useless apparatus and it was quite obvious that it was being shared by far too many people already. Gideon frowned at some evil-looking growth on a tray and shoved it out of sight. His own area was the only neat part of the room. His trays were labeled and his paperwork looked to be in some sort of order.
“I was afraid they would have shoved my stuff completely out of sight while I was away,” he muttered. “We haven’t nearly enough room.”
“I can see that.”
“In fact,” he added, “you will be the final straw!”
I blushed and bit my lip. “Perhaps I can work in my bedroom,” I suggested stiffly.
He put his two hands on my shoulders and turned me around to face him.
“Why are you so touchy?” he asked.
The strength of his fingers burned into my flesh.
“I don’t think that I am... particularly.”
“Oh, come now! Let me disillusion you!” He stared straight into my eyes. “Are you still unhappy?” he demanded.
I shrugged myself free. “Of course not!” I denied in a brittle voice. “I know exactly where I’m going. I’m not in need of anyone’s sympathy.”
“No?”
“No, certainly not! All I want is to be left alone!”
The warmth and humor vanished from his eyes.
“In that case you won’t take it amiss if I tell you not to tease Joseph. He doesn’t have your care-free disposition!”
His sarcasm hurt more than I cared to show.
“Why do you think I’d hurt Joseph?” I asked him unhappily. “He’s susceptible. Don’t encourage him.”
I stood up very straight and glared at him. “We’re friends!”
“Rubbish!” he dismissed me sharply. “Joseph is incapable of being just friends with any woman.”
I sucked in my cheeks to stop myself from crying. To give my hands something to do I played with the gas tube that fed one of the burners.
“You’re not very loyal to him, are you?” I muttered, hoping to hurt him as he had hurt me.
“More loyal than you think! Unfortunately I wasn’t considering Joseph’s well-being when I hired you.”
“Too bad!” I stormed at him. “But it doesn’t really matter what you say or think. Joe and I have agreed to be friends, and I daresay I shall be very much better for him than you think.”
Gideon slammed his hand on the table.
“If by that you mean a repetition of that little scene I witnessed last night, I hardly think so.”
I blushed again. I could feel the color creeping up my neck and cheeks. And then, quite suddenly, I was so blazing angry that I had to hold on to the table to give myself support.
“What a splendidly scientific conclusion!” I stormed at him. “Well, as far as I’m concerned you can think exactly what you please!”
“Is that so?” Then I’ll tell you what I think. I think you’re on the rebound, young lady, and that one man’s attention will do just as well as the next.
And, what’s more, I’ll prove it!”
He pulled me toward him and kissed me hard on the lips. The funny thing was that, furious as I was, it wasn’t quite as disagreeable as I expected.
CHAPTER FOUR
Thunder rolled around the skies and was mirrored in my own impotent rage. Gideon let me go and took a step backward. He looked white and a little less sure of himself.
“Shall we go on with our tour?” I asked him in a funny tight voice I scarcely recognized as my own.
“I think we’d better join the others,” he answered.
Deliberately, I lifted my eyebrows. “Really? Afraid, Mr. Wait?”
His fists clenched as he stared at me.
“Dr. Wait, if you don’t mind, when we’re working. And no, I am not in the least afraid of you. I have the advantage, you see. I can always fire you!”
The small bit of confidence that temper had given me slowly evaporated before him. I bit my lip, reflecting that he was taking a base and very unfair advantage of me. The thunder crashed again overhead, and I shivered.
“Is it going to rain?” I asked.
Gideon shook his head. “It’s a dry storm. If I turned out the lights you could see the lightning tearing the sky apart. The rain will come later when the monsoons start.”
He put his hand up to the switch, but I shook my head in sudden fright.
“I ... I think I’d like to go to my room,” I said.
He gave me a quick look and I was bitterly self-conscious about my mussed hair and the quivering sensation of tears at the back of my eyes.
