In the Far Pashmina Mountains

by Janet MacLeod Trotter

  ‘Stop it, Vernon,’ said Alice. ‘You’re frightening me.’

  ‘You should have thought about that before dragging our child here – you could have been butchered on the way. Good God, you stupid woman! How am I supposed to protect you both?’

  His raised voice woke the baby. Her eyes opened in alarm. Lotty’s mouth began to tremble and then she let out a yell. Alice swiftly picked her up.

  ‘Shush, now. It’s all right,’ she crooned. ‘This is your daddy. He didn’t mean to wake you.’

  But the sight of Vernon made Lotty wail louder.

  ‘Say hello to her,’ she urged her husband.

  He stood shaking with anger – or was it fear? Alice was not sure.

  ‘I can’t bear the noise,’ he cried. He put his hands over his ears and, turning, lurched from the room.

  Alice didn’t see her husband again for the next two days. She had no idea where he’d gone but he appeared again on the third day looking more presentable; his shirt was clean and his face scrubbed and newly shaved. Alice was sure that Sandy had given him a talking to and told him to see to his wife and child.

  Vernon was subdued but rallied at the sight of Lotty trying to pull herself up on the furniture and stand. He bent and picked her up, putting his face close to hers.

  ‘As pretty as your mother.’ He grinned and kissed her on the nose.

  Alice held her breath but Lotty squealed with pleasure and grabbed his nose in return.

  He played with her for a minute or two, then grew bored and abruptly set her down. She protested and tried to grab onto his legs. He stepped away looking irritated.

  ‘I’ve had our things moved into the house at the end of the street,’ Alice told him. ‘Come and see.’

  She thought he would protest but he nodded in agreement. Alice scooped Lotty from the floor and walked out of the Aytons’ house.

  Vernon was at once critical of the modest furnishings and two paintings that Alice had done in Jalalabad.

  ‘I’ll order better chairs, and we must have a bigger dining table – we’ll hardly get more than six round that one. And grander pictures for the walls. They sell or make everything you could possibly want in the Kabul bazaars – it’s the city’s one saving grace.’

  Alice’s heart sank. ‘We won’t need to have lavish dinner parties here; it’s hardly Simla.’

  ‘Of course we will,’ he snapped. ‘It’s the only thing that keeps up morale. At least I’ll be away from the blasted citadel and having to kowtow to that jumped-up amir and his awful family. If he wasn’t so useless we wouldn’t be stuck here for God knows how long.’

  ‘If it’s that unpleasant in the city, then why have you spent so much time there?’ Alice retorted.

  He gave her a mirthless smile. ‘Because I have friends there – people who keep me amused. Now I’ll be able to entertain them here.’

  He walked into the bedroom and saw the cot next to the bed. ‘I’m not sleeping with a baby in the room,’ said Vernon. ‘We’ll get no peace.’

  ‘Lotty’s a good sleeper,’ Alice assured him, ‘and I like to have her close in case she needs me.’

  ‘Are you still feeding her?’

  ‘No,’ she admitted.

  ‘Then the ayah can see to her in the night.’

  ‘She doesn’t have an ayah.’

  Vernon looked shocked. ‘Then she must have one. I’ll not have my wife behaving like a common nursemaid.’

  Alice summoned all her patience; she didn’t want them to argue like this.

  ‘Let’s go to the bazaar together and choose some new things for the house,’ she suggested. ‘We could go tomorrow. I’d like to see the city.’

  ‘Certainly not,’ said Vernon. ‘It’s no place for a white woman.’

  ‘I’ve travelled across India and through tribal lands as a white woman,’ Alice pointed out, ‘without coming to any harm. I’m not frightened of shopping in a bazaar – in fact I like buying in bazaars.’

  He gave her a cold look. ‘Not as my wife, you won’t. You will stay safe in the cantonment – there are shops here too. Anything you want from the city I shall bring you.’

  Alice didn’t argue back. She would bide her time. When they had got to know each other again he would relent. She could see how the time apart – the long campaign, sickness, combat and marching under a scorching sun – must have all taken its toll on her husband’s health. It was obvious to her that he was ill. He had lost his ability to charm or laugh at trivial everyday things. She must help him. She wondered if he was suffering from melancholia as well as an exhausted body and, if so, who she could turn to for help?

  That night, they dined with the Aytons. Vernon drank a lot of wine and port. Alice was distracted by the thought that they would soon be going to bed together for the first time since Vernon had left Simla. Alice found it hard to believe he was the same person as the handsome, eager officer who had kissed her goodbye with affection and set off on his adventure. It had been longer still since they had been intimate; her pregnancy had put a stop to that. What would sex be like for her after having given birth to Lotty? She dreaded the return to the old combative sex of their early marriage. Perhaps if she kept Vernon from drinking too heavily, he would not be rough with her.

  ‘Shall we leave these good people and go home?’ Alice suggested, with a hand on Vernon’s arm. ‘It’s late and I’m tired.’

  He drew away from her and poured himself another glass of port. ‘You can go if you like. Ayton and I are going to finish the bottle – and maybe have another, eh, Sandy?’

  Alice saw anxious looks pass between the Aytons.

  ‘Drink up, Buckley,’ said Sandy, ‘and get away to your bed. You must be looking forward to your first night back with your family. And I have to be up early for a briefing with MacNaughten.’

  With a belligerent look, Vernon drained his glass, pushed his chair back and got unsteadily to his feet. Alice thanked them and followed him to the door, taking his arm to stop him staggering.

  ‘Can manage,’ he said in irritation, throwing off her hold.

  ‘Just say if you need anything,’ Sandy said with a knowing look at Alice.

  Her stomach clenched. Did the Aytons fear Vernon might be violent? She had no idea how her husband was going to behave once she got him home. He was like a stranger to her. She nodded and put on a brave smile.

  Back in their house, Vernon went straight to the wall cupboard and pulled out a bottle of brandy. He opened it and swigged straight from the bottle. Bracing herself for his anger, Alice took the bottle from him.

  ‘That’s enough for one night. Keep it for when we entertain.’ She put it back in the cupboard.

  To her amazement he didn’t protest, just stood there with a look of confusion, swaying. She guided him into the bedroom. Lotty’s cot had been removed to the small second bedroom that was to double as a dressing room. She helped him undress. Alice tried to hide her shock at his emaciated body; his ribs stuck out and his once broad chest looked sunken. His skin in the lamplight had a yellowish hue. His face glistened with sweat.

  He lay down on the bed, shivering even though the night was balmy. Alice wrapped a blanket around him and stroked his forehead. It was clammy and her touch made him flinch although her fingers were warm. By the time she had undressed, put on her nightgown and climbed into bed beside him, Vernon was asleep.

  As the days passed, Alice could do nothing to please Vernon. He criticised the menus she prepared, the clothes she wore, the style of her hair, the servants she employed. The latter came and went, unwilling to put up with his sudden angry outbursts and having plates and knives hurled at them.

  Luckily the ayah that she had employed seemed able to handle his rudeness with a calmness that Alice envied. Gita was the wife of one of the Hindu syces at the cantonment; Gita and Ravi had travelled all the way from Ludhiana with the Army of the Indus and their two young sons, Adeep and Bali, and had been put to work as grass cutters bringing in fodder for
the horses.

  Alice gave in to Vernon over his wish for lavish entertainment and encouraged him to invite his friends for dinner. He behaved better when others were around, managing to be full of bonhomie towards his fellow officers and their wives. But afterwards, when she was alone with him, he shouted obscenities and slammed doors.

  His behaviour in the bedroom was even more baffling. She had expected his sexual appetite to be undiminished. She knew he desperately wanted a son – when drunk he repeated his demand for one and castigated her for only producing a girl – but the drink seemed to diminish his ardour.

  Vernon appeared impotent. As the hot weather arrived, they lay naked under muslin drapes to keep out the flies and mosquitoes but the sight or touch of Alice’s body no longer aroused him. While he slept fitfully, she lay wondering if she would ever make love again, feeling a mixture of loneliness and relief.

  Despite Vernon’s complaints about boredom and having to dance attendance on the amir, he spent most of his time in Kabul. While he disappeared off on vague duties, Alice turned her energies to creating a garden.

  With advice from Florentia and Dinah, who were equally keen on their gardens, Alice planted many vegetables and flowers for colour. Lotty would crawl around and eat soil while Alexander helped Alice water the plants. Both children usually ended up giggling, soaked and muddy.

  The women shared news. Emily hated talking politics but Alice found ready listeners in Florentia and Dinah. They discussed the trouble unfolding in the west of the country; the chief in Kandahar was once again in league with the Persians, plotting against Shah Shuja.

  ‘And I bet the Kandahari chief is still taking our bribes at the same time,’ said Florentia indignantly.

  ‘According to Sandy, yes,’ said Alice. ‘MacNaughten wants to send a force to deal with the troublemaker but Auckland says just give him more money. The Governor General refuses to send extra troops.’

  ‘I hear it’s not safe to travel between Kandahar and Kabul now,’ said Florentia.

  ‘That’s what I heard too,’ said Alice. ‘There’s unrest among the Ghilzais.’

  ‘I thought they were being paid to keep the highways open?’ said Dinah.

  ‘They are,’ said Alice, ‘but some of them so hate being told what to do by foreigners that no amount of money is going to satisfy them.’

  ‘Is that what your husband says?’ asked Dinah.

  Alice reddened. ‘No, Vernon’s not interested in what the Afghans do. It’s what Sandy Ayton says – and Sir William. Emily and I sometimes take tea over at the MacNaughtens’ house. I keep my ears cocked for news.’

  ‘And how is Lady MacNaughten?’ asked Florentia. ‘Enjoying her exalted position?’

  ‘Don’t be unkind, Mama,’ said Dinah.

  ‘I’m simply asking,’ said her mother with a wink.

  As Alice was on the point of rounding up the children she said, ‘Do your menfolk find it difficult having so much time on their hands?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Florentia.

  Alice felt a sudden urge to unburden her worries over her husband. ‘Vernon is going mad with boredom and says his duties at the Balla Hissar are tedious. He disappears for hours roaming the city. And he’s spending lots of money – even that doesn’t seem to bring him pleasure. And when he’s at home he’s so listless he won’t do anything. Never shows the slightest interest in Lotty.’

  The women exchanged glances. ‘Johnny and his engineers are always busy,’ said Dinah. ‘There’s been so much to do getting the cantonment built. And Papa has his hands full seeing to the needs of his men, doesn’t he, Mama?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Florentia.

  ‘Perhaps the cavalrymen have less to do,’ said Dinah with a sympathetic look.

  Florentia decided to be blunt. ‘Listen, it doesn’t do to let them hang about the city being idle. Burnes leads them astray – he lives like a pasha in the old citadel, getting our men a bad name with his womanising. The Afghans don’t like it – especially not with their women.’

  Alice flushed. ‘Are you saying that’s where Vernon is going?’

  ‘I don’t know for certain, my dear,’ said Florentia. ‘But one does hear rumours.’

  ‘What rumours?’ Alice’s heart began to thud. When Florentia looked reluctant to say more, Alice pressed her. ‘Please say. If my friends can’t be honest with me then I have no one to turn to.’

  ‘We hear that he keeps a house in the old citadel close to Burnes and spends a lot of time with that man and his, shall we say, household.’

  ‘You mean other women?’ Alice asked, her stomach knotting.

  ‘Some men,’ said Florentia, ‘seem to think that sort of thing is acceptable when they are on campaign and their wives are far away. Your husband may have fallen into that habit.’

  ‘And the cavalry had a hard time of it on the expedition,’ said Dinah, trying to find excuses. ‘Johnny says that they had some bloody clashes – hand-to-hand combat with tribesmen who take no quarter. Johnny says that’s why some of them smoke opium, to try to forget.’

  ‘Opium?’ Alice gasped.

  The women looked at her pityingly.

  Florentia said, ‘Surely it’s obvious to you that Captain Buckley smokes it?’

  Alice was stunned. ‘I – I didn’t know. I suppose I should have . . . ?’

  Why had she not known? She thought of his emaciated state, his restlessness and mood swings. All the signs were there. She had seen opium addicts in Simla – some of the children she had taught had been left fatherless because of the drug. Perhaps she had even smoked opium herself at the all-night parties that Vernon had thrown in Simla? Alice felt nauseated.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Dinah. ‘We thought you must have guessed.’

  Florentia grew brisk. ‘He’s not to blame. Captain Buckley needs to be doing something healthy. He’s a horseman. Get him out riding. Remind him of what he enjoys doing best.’

  The women departed, leaving Alice shaken by their frank words. No wonder he didn’t want her going anywhere near the city – he hadn’t wanted her to come to Afghanistan at all. Vernon had blamed her for endangering Lotty’s life by bringing her to Kabul, but he had not wanted either of them there for quite a different reason. Vernon had been indulging his base passions and didn’t want to stop.

  How long had it been going on? Was it just since the army had arrived in Kabul and he had been driven to it by the rigours of the campaign and being lonely without his wife? Or had Vernon started being unfaithful to her as soon as he left Simla? Doubts about him turned her insides leaden. Perhaps he had always slept with other women even when they had first been married.

  A vague memory resurfaced of seeing Vernon kissing one of the nautch girls that Charlie Nairn had brought to their dinner party. Alice had passed out soon after, and later had dismissed the memory as a bad dream. She had refused to believe him capable of seducing another woman in front of her.

  Then she thought of the fortune he was spending; it wasn’t just on their army quarters. He had a house in the city. Who else lived there with him? Did he have a mistress? Perhaps, like Burnes, he kept a whole harem? Alice tried to stem the nausea that was rising inside. He disgusted her. She picked up Lotty and hugged her close. But what was she to do? She was stuck in Afghanistan; this was her home. She was Vernon’s wife. For Lotty’s sake, she was going to have to make the best of it. Alice kissed the girl’s soft pink cheek. She would put up with almost anything as long as she had her daughter.

  Alice smothered her resentment and distaste for her husband’s behaviour and resolved to try to help him. For a time, Florentia’s suggestion worked. Alice cajoled Vernon out riding in the cool of the early morning, leaving Lotty in the care of Gita.

  His colour and appetite improved. Vernon began to put on weight again. Alice revelled in the dawn rides; the stark mountains looked at their most beautiful as the rose-coloured light struck their peaks and the valley was flooded with golden rays.

  Sh
e liked to see the villages and their orchards emerging out of the dark – green clumps on the pale, dusty plain – and hear the calls to prayer and the creak of buckets being hoisted from wells.

  One morning as they rode back she said, ‘I think this place has a wild beauty, don’t you?’

  He grunted. ‘No, I don’t.’ Then he briefly touched her hand. ‘You are the only wild beauty as far as I can see.’

  Alice laughed. The remark was so unexpected. It was the first compliment he had paid her since she’d arrived; a flash of the old Vernon. Then she thought of how he still spent half his time absent in the old city and felt her distaste return. The suspicion of what he was doing was poisoning their marriage. She couldn’t trust him. Yet she didn’t have the courage to confront him about the rumours. Only by not knowing for sure could she contemplate keeping up this charade of a marriage. Alice moved away from him.

  ‘Race you to the river!’ she challenged. She kicked her pony into a gallop.

  She heard him laugh behind her and make chase.

  As the summer peaked, disturbing rumours began to circulate that Dost Mohammed was amassing a huge force in the Hindu Kush, backed by Uzbeks. The mood in Kabul grew feverish and panic spread to the cantonment as the news was confirmed.

  A British force was hastily assembled of Gurkhas, native infantry, horse artillery and cavalry. Vernon was among them.

  Alice watched the preparations with anxiety but, once the decision had been made to go, her husband seemed almost relieved. Perhaps action was preferable to the destructive life he was leading. She could not deny the relief she felt at the thought of him going.

  To her annoyance he stopped their early morning rides. When she protested, he grew angry.

  ‘It’s not safe you being out there with only me to guard you. I don’t trust any of these Afghans – even the ones who pretend to be our friends. And I forbid you to ride outside the cantonment once I’ve gone. They might attack you just as a way of getting back at me.’