‘Where on earth did you pick up that phrase, the last bit. Anyway it’s nonsense and the earlier stuff is not you in the least.’
‘I feel I won’t be up to it.’
‘But you agreed. You were excited about the project. And I haven’t shown you the best part. Our cottage. There, on the slope down from here. On the spur overlooking the whole valley. Four rooms, a veranda and a garden and you can plan it any which way you like. The garden goes way down to the little stream.’
‘It’s no good. I’ve always lacked the will to see things through. I want to teach, but as part of an organised curriculum and staff; where the onus is not on me.’
‘I’m ignoring all that. Now, the dorm is for twenty-five beds only. Twenty-five is to be the maximum intake, for a start, and boys only.’
‘But it’s not a school. It’s a home. Education or rather schooling will be second to lodging, feeding, clothing, and caring.’
‘We won’t be alone supervising the home bit. There’ll be the two women helpers.’
‘I know. You’ve employed one already, while I’ve been away. I’ve seen the way her eyes follow you with undiluted adoration…’
‘Oh, for God’s sake Kitty! You’re not going to add jealousy to our problems. You know I want to do this as some sort of return for what Sam did for me. Now, just let things run their course. Think about how we can make things better and easier for us. Give me some suggestions. There’s plenty of money for any suggestions you make. And we’re not touching capital. In time, in less than a year, the Kapoors will be ready to take over. If you go to the edge of our back veranda, you can look down into the large bungalow they have moved in.’
‘You mean…’
‘No, they have bought the place, but have not moved in as yet.’
‘Oh, Dusty, I feel so ashamed of myself. I should never have gone home.’
‘I tell you what. Let’s lay down tools. Let’s spend a fortnight at Ooty together. A fortnight of fun and frolic and effing, unlimited. There.’ He took her in his arms. ‘You look even more beautiful when tearful.’ He drew her hard against himself and pressed his lips against her. ‘Oo, you’re all salty.’
She giggled. ‘I’m human. Not a vision; I’m not an angel. Possibly she is.’
He turned. Behind him, in the muddy courtyard outside the veranda, with hands folded in salutation, stood a woman in a blue-bordered white sari. She was very dark, slim, full-breasted. ‘Ah, Aruna. This Madam. When starting next week, Madam will be in charge. Work together, Madam, you, daughter. Now Kitty, the landlord, Swamiji, advised me it is best to employ a family. Aruna’s daughter, Leela there, is sixteen.’
Aruna bowed and smiled sweetly. ‘Madam, most beautiful lady.’
‘Thank you.’ Kitty answered. ‘You are beautiful too. I can’t believe your daughter is sixteen. And Aruna, you don’t look much older yourself.’
Aruna looked a little confused. ‘I come to making tea.’
‘Thank you, you do that. I’m dying for a cup of tea,’ Kitty said, and the women fled barefoot across the courtyard into one of the buildings. Kitty studied Dusty’s face with a mischievous expression. ‘The daughter is pretty like her mother. You’re collecting quite a harem. How long has she been here?’
‘A few days before you arrived. Now Kitty, none of that. She is an ayah. This is India. Masters and servants don’t. Well, I suppose a paymaster could exploit the …not me. Damn it, and I don’t like admitting it, but I’m a snob. Like young Pip in Great Expectations, I am ashamed of my past…No, that too isn’t excuse enough. But, why am I saying any of this…’ He pulled her from the veranda into the cool of a dark room. ‘Who said: “Why go out for a beef burger when you get steak in the home?” You have killed competition, my beautiful Kitty…your straight delicate nose, these red pouting lips, your chin and this slender neck…’ He put his hands round her neck. She stood very still, like a terrified bird, as he gently traced each feature of her face with his forefinger, then kissed each in turn… ‘and those hazel eyes…’
She pushed him away. ‘But you would have preferred them blue.’
He laughed. ‘You’re determined to be contrary. Determined to find me lacking.’
‘How old is Aroo…I can’t say the name, if her daughter is really sixteen?’
‘In India, marriages are arranged early. She could be your age. Maybe a year or two younger. Incidentally her husband is a mason. He works on the premises.’
‘When I said she was beautiful, I meant it. She has a pleasant face. A dark coffee beauty. What race is she?’
‘Tamil. From Madras. Their language sounds like marbles rolling in a tin. You’ll need to pick up some of it. All I’ve learned so far is ingeh wah and angeh poh.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Come here and go there.’
She fell silent, then started to cry again.
‘Now, Kitty, what is it?’
‘Isn’t there something else about me, looks apart, that you love me for?’
‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘That worries and scares me. What of the future, Dusty?’
‘But there has to be something else about you, Kitty!’
‘What? Even if I could think for you, I can’t think what.’
‘I missed you while you were away. I was so lonely, and when you stayed a week longer, that seemed forever. I felt alone and afraid, for the first time.’
‘What, alone and afraid?’
‘Yes. That’s not me. I dread attachments. All my life I’ve fought that.’
She took his hands and rested her head on his chest. He hugged her. ‘Kitty,’ he sighed, ‘I now see why Sandy couldn’t live without Emma… But I’m no Sandy. And that frightens me. I can’t handle that.’
‘Then let’s make life together easier and less of a challenge. I’ll work hard to make the orphanage a success. Just don’t expect too much. You’re such a perfectionist. But I promise, I’ll do my best.’
‘It won’t be easy for either of us. Orphans can be wild and filthy, even ungrateful. At least we won’t have to do the dirty work. It’s why I hired Aruna and Leela, and in India one can afford to do that. Oh, I’ve got a surprise. For our chowkidar we have an old friend. Guess who?’
‘No, don’t. Tell me!’
‘Ransingh.’
‘What! O Dusty, really! Ransingh! Where, where is he?’
‘This afternoon. We’re going to meet his train. We have a long drive after lunch.’
‘Oh my sweet Dusty. Thank you, thank you so much.’
‘I knew that would please you. And that’s not all. Jai his son is joining him next year. Ransingh told me Jai speaks fluent English because he went to a Convent school in Kalimpong, where he both worked and studied. I gather he’s quite a linguist, Hindi and English, beside Tibetan. Did you know about him?’
‘I knew of him, but a lot more about Ransingh from Sona. He would sit quietly, with dreamy eyes, while she’d chat away. It is only until recently that father and son have spent time together. Jai is his son from his first wife, and must now be in his mid-twenties. During the 1962 war with China, his mother, thinking Ransingh was dead, when in truth he was in a Military Hospital, killed herself, leaving baby Jai to be brought up by village neighbours as best they could. But they were poor and glad to let Monica Das take him away with her to Kalimpong.’
‘Das? The name rings a bell.’
‘It should. I worked with her in the Mission School, and resigned when she left.’
‘He’ll be useful to have here. When we give up, I’ll make sure the two can stay on.’
‘So this is what you’ve been doing while I was away? Recruiting. What now?’
‘Come with me to the schoolroom. We’ve discovered some desks and a teacher’s table.’ They p
icked their way across the courtyard. ‘All this will be levelled and turfed for a playground.’
‘What’s happened to the tea?’
‘In the schoolroom. I saw Aruna place it on the table. I’m afraid we have to drink out of earthenware cups. No handles. Smash the cup after you’ve drunk the tea. The tea’ll be very sweet, but you’ll begin to like it.’
She pointed back to the building from which they came. ‘There can’t be enough room for twenty-five beds.’
‘It is being extended. They are good chaps and they work fast. You’ll see them in action tomorrow.’ He looked at his watch. ‘We should be getting back to the hotel, it’s quite late and it gets dark suddenly.’
‘After I’ve had my tea,’ she said with sullen childishness.
He laughed. ‘You’ll be the death of me! I’ll never be able to love you enough.’
While they sipped tea in the school room, Dusty pointed: ‘You see those plans on the wall, I showed this plan to Ransingh. He said we need to repair the perimeter walls and erect a bricked hut outside, at the entrance, for him, so that no one goes in or out without his knowing. He’s so terribly protective of you. He’s also agreed to supervise work while we are away in Ooty.’
‘How long are we going to be away?’
‘Three weeks? A month?’
She shook her head. ‘A month’s too long to be away. Not at this stage. Less.’
‘We’ll get back whenever you say. Happy? Then…I’ve got sad news to share. I’ve heard from Mohan Singh. It seems the Munshi has vanished without a trace.’
‘Oh, that horrid, horrid man! How can Seth Agarwal live with himself!’
Chapter Eighteen
Within a year the limit of twenty-five places, in the Sam Dustoor Orphanage, were filled. Begging letters from local charities had to be turned down. ‘We should have seen this coming,’ Dusty said. ‘One solution, according to Ransingh, is to create a qualifying category. Suppose we say, orphans whose parents served in the army?’
‘That could mean, in some years, not having a full house,’ Jai said. He was a tall young man, of light tanned skin and deep-set, sharp eyes.
‘That’s all right. Some years it’ll mean less work. We don’t have to kill ourselves. I’m not trying to prove anything. Just making it easier to live with myself.’ Dusty put his pen down, and pushed his chair back with a slight annoyance. Then he stood up, took a walking stick from the corner of the office and went out into the veranda. He stared into the distance. ‘Just a short walk,’ he said sullenly. ‘Back for dinner.’
Jai watched him circle the playground with a brisk walking pace that was meant to discourage the boys from running up to greet him. ‘I don’t understand,’ Jai said, turning to Kitty.
‘Never mind Jai. Dusty’s heart was never in this. His idea was to make use of his money by providing work for others. He’s no missionary. He just happened to fall in love with this place. The buildings, the area, the climate in these hills.’
‘So my salary is only for…this is an insult. I don’t need charity. I can get a job…’
‘Hush! Calm down, Jai. My money’s in it too, and I haven’t lost interest. And don’t be unfair to Dusty. He doesn’t see what he’s done for Ransingh and you, and even for those boys, as charity. He sees it more like a hobby. He likes to know it’s there, but not to the extent of being completely absorbed in it.’
‘So, madam, then if he loses interest, he’ll just up and go; and you with him, huh?’
‘Then Jai, it will be even more important for you to be here.’
‘But, this is an orphanage not school. The boys are not fee-paying. Where’s money coming from? I have skill, but no money. No capital.’
‘But the school has been endowed. You know that. You help to run the accounts. We shan’t touch that money. You’ll just have to be a good all round manager.’
‘Sorry. I’ve been unfair. Mr Dustoor’s manner, just now, put me in a bad mood.’
‘You must not let that happen again. You’re a good teacher, far better than I am, and the boys love and respect you. Be patient. Mr Dustoor hasn’t been his usual self, after that accident. It was a nasty fall. The horse had to be put down. Give it time. He will be my wonderful husband again. Jai, I’m the one who waxes and wanes, not he.’
Then the fateful letter from Kitty’s father arrived. “Dearest Cat, We have had the most dreadful few weeks and a terrible tragedy. Dinesh has been murdered. He was blackmailed, lured into a trap; tortured, beaten and pushed to his death. His mangled body was found on the rocks at the bottom of Beachy Head. Poor dear Alice. I have vowed to pursue this crime and will not rest till the British police and Interpol have caught and punished those responsible. Mohan is very angry too, and has said he will stand by me and do his utmost. Dinesh will be avenged. That is the ugly side. There is a beautiful side to all of this too. Dinesh was indeed lured, but he also knew what he was doing. He sacrificed himself for Alice and his son. But he had hopes of returning home after some settlement had been reached. He went out in the face of all our protests. I enclose a copy of his last letter written in a fine firm hand, as you will see, before he went to meet his end.
“Would it be asking too much for you to come over as soon as you can? Alice is so v.fond of you. Kay feels only you could boost her morale. She too is so v.desolate and angry. I close with all our loves to both, Daddy.”
The copy of Dinesh’s letter had fallen on the floor. Kitty picked it up and read: “Dear Alice, I write while waiting here to be contacted by those who have taken me away from you, and I’ve asked my friend in the garage to post this letter exactly a week from now. If I should get home before it reaches you, we’ll read it together and laugh. If I don’t, then it makes good sense to have written it, because if this letter gets to you before I do, it would mean I may never return to you. In which event, please do not grieve. No good Hindu believes life has an end. I’ll be somewhere on earth growing up again into manhood, but alas with no memory of you and Davy, Kay, Ted and all the past I hold dear. I know this idea of mine is not true to the Hindu theology of reincarnation, but there’s no certainty on earth. Even the gods, if they are part of our lives, cannot know all the right answers. You said the creator of the universe would. But creation involves the three great gods, Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva, who are not in single agreement. I suppose a Creator has to be outside and apart from his creation—like the Judeo-Christian Jehovah. Maybe, an answer lies there. But not consolation. For much as I’ve grown to respect Christianity, comfort can only to be found in Hinduism, because we cheat ourselves. There’s nothing right or wrong about that. Farewell, with all my love, Dinesh.
For Kitty’s thirty-sixth birthday present, Dusty had ordered a set of cane furniture for the veranda. The pair of two large chairs, a coffee table, and two stools arrived within a week and he was particularly pleased that the table had a lower shelf for magazines. But Kitty was not there to see it. He poured himself a whisky and came out into the veranda, moved one of the chairs nearer the table and picked up V S Naipaul’s book on India, which Jai had given him before the young man set out with twenty boys on a two-day trek in the hills. Ransingh managed to coax Aruna’s husband to go on the trip with them. Dusty had planned to go, but changed his mind before they set out on the long march down the valley. Three adults were enough for twenty boys, besides, the old wound on his right foot was troubling him again. That was not the only reason. He was overwhelmed with sadness and wanted pause to think. He glanced at the book before putting it down; a just published, first hard cover edition, and he wondered how Jai got hold of it. Picking up the glass of whisky, he walked up to the far end of the veranda and stared across the valley. The trekkers had set out early in the mists of the morning and would by now have reached the teak woods of Kalum, their destination. He scanned the distance in the fading light and picked out a flickering glow no b
igger than a pin-head. That would be their camp- fire. The gathering pre-monsoon haze cast a rare florescent mauve light, silhouetting the trees and hills in front into the stylised shapes of a Japanese painting. He touched the meshed trellis that kept insects from flying into the house, when the lamps were lit, and felt the cool, moist air. Thinking of lamps reminded him of the next thing he had to do, install an electric generator. Good old Ransingh knew how to work and maintain one. Had he not done that for Sandy and Emma at Fern Cottage? The wind rose with a low whistle and a distinct rustle, but he knew the boys would be sheltered, for it would move up to the higher altitudes.
He returned to his chair and put the glass of whisky down, and was about to pick up the book, when he heard a shuffle of bare feet and heavy breathing. It was Aruna. ‘I put bucket of water in gussalkhana,’ she said. He nodded, went into the bathroom, stripped, took a bath using a brass lota, dried himself with a large towel and wore his favourite dark blue dressing-gown. He studied himself in the mirror and thought that he looked rather young and handsome for his forty-seven years. In the bedroom he put his slippers on and entered the dining-room. He was surprised to see Aruna by the table. ‘Thank you Aruna-bai, but I’m not hungry. Not now.’
‘Master must eat.’
‘Later. Fruit and a glass of milk.’
She looked at the glass in his hand and snatched it. ‘Is too much drinking I say, master. I bringing milk.’ She left the room and returned a moment later with the milk and fruit in a bowl. Then she went out again and was back with a lighted oil lamp. She held it low so that it lit her face and full bosom. Does master want book?’
‘No, thank you, I will get it, later.’
‘Five months now, madam gone away. Coming soon, master? When coming?’
Dusty did not answer. He brushed his hair back and picked up the glass of milk.
‘Is master needing anything more? I do anything for master.’
In the Shadow of a Dream Page 24
