The Foundling’s Daughter

by Ann Bennett

  There was a long silence while I tried to digest what he was saying. Finally I said, ‘But why ever didn’t you tell me, Donald? You led me into a trap.’

  ‘I was desperate, Anna. When I met you I genuinely liked you. I had respect for you. I couldn’t believe you might consider me. But your Aunt Nora took me aside and told me all about your difficult situation at home. We struck a sort of bargain.’

  ‘How could she?’ I murmured, anger pulsed through me at the thought of my aunt betraying me like that, and the full extent of how I’d been duped suddenly hit home. No wonder they wanted to get the wedding over and done with so quickly. That way there would be no chance of me finding out the truth about him. All that flattery in Bombay and Matheran! There had certainly been none of that since we got back to Kandaipur.

  ‘You must think me so naïve,’ I said bitterly.

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Don’t you feel bad about what you’ve done to me?’

  ‘Yes, of course. Of course I do. You’re a beautiful, intelligent woman, you don’t deserve any of this and I’m sorry. I have a lot of affection for you, Anna. I can hardly face you each day knowing what I’ve done to you. I’m glad it’s out in the open now. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to leave. In fact if you want to go now, get on the train back to Bombay tomorrow, I’ll pay your passage back to England.’

  I almost jumped at the chance, but then I thought again. What was there left for me in England? I had nowhere to live, no money of my own. I had been driven out of my own community by the hate campaign against Father. India had felt like a new start and I had loved it from the first day. It had certainly got under my skin. I loved the landscapes, the dusty skies, the constant chatter of insects and the cries of the hyenas at night. I loved the chaos of the bazaar and the noisy colourful streets, the smells of incense and spices cooking on the air, the evening fires at sunset. However unsatisfactory my situation, I was in a place I loved, I had a roof over my head, which was more than could be said for back in England.

  ‘No, Donald. I’ll stay,’ I said finally. ‘But you must promise me one thing.’

  ‘Of course, Anna. Whatever you say.’

  ‘Promise me that you’ll try to beat it. Beat the habit. For me.’

  ‘I’ll try, Anna. I can only try.’

  March 1933

  Several months have passed. Life has gone on much as before. Donald and I live more or less separate lives. His confession to me seems to have triggered his drinking habit afresh. Sometimes he doesn’t come back to the bungalow at night and I know he’s been drinking at the club. Once I yelled at him when he stumbled in drunk one night and got up late in the morning.

  ‘Haven’t you remembered your promise?’ I said as he appeared at the breakfast table looking the worse for wear.

  ‘I try, Anna, but I can’t always stick to it. I have a lot to cope with.’

  ‘Why can’t you share it with me, Donald? Why do you shut me out all the time? I could help you.’

  ‘I don’t think so, Anna,’ he said quietly. ‘Not with this.’

  ‘Whatever do you mean?’ I asked in alarm.

  Was there yet more I didn’t know? More secrets he was keeping from me?

  ‘You made me a promise, Donald, and as far as I can see, you’re not trying very hard.’

  ‘Can’t you keep your voice down? The servants will hear.’

  ‘As if they don’t know already!’ I said with a hollow laugh. ‘I try to help you, Donald, but you seem determined to wreck things for yourself.’

  After that I didn’t mention it again if he came home drunk, or if he didn’t come home at all and spent the night at the club or the Officers’ Mess. I realised that nothing can be achieved by arguing. So now we don’t speak of it, but he always looks shamefaced the next day when it happens.

  I try to content myself with my drawing and my trips out in the rickshaw, getting to know the neighbourhood. I sometimes go to the club and chat to Mrs Smethurst, Mrs Napier and the other wives, but although they are kind to me, I still don’t feel I know them or that we have much in common.

  Charles Perry hasn’t been around much lately. In fact, I haven’t seen him since the night he gave me a lift. Someone mentioned that he’s at a conference in Delhi as part of the Viceroy’s delegation. Sometimes his wife comes to the club. When I see her there alone, drinking, I realise what he meant by the words, ‘You and I have a great deal in common, Anna. More than you know.’

  April 1933

  Yesterday Donald came home earlier than usual and looking as pleased as punch. We sat down to eat together in the dining room for once.

  ‘You look as though you’ve had some good news,’ I said as I helped myself to chicken curry and rice.

  ‘I have as a matter of fact. Heard today that the Regiment is to be posted to the North West Frontier.

  ‘The North West Frontier? That sounds a very long way away.’

  ‘Oh yes, it is. On the border with Afghanistan. Hell of a way away.’

  ‘So when are we setting off?’

  ‘Ah. I’m afraid wives and families have to stay behind on the station at Kandaipur, Anna.’

  ‘Oh really?’ That was a disappointment. I had already started imagining a journey through a windswept pass into the snow-capped mountains where only yaks and the hardiest sheep can survive.

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid so. Some regiments have wives up there, but there isn’t enough accommodation for wives and children from every regiment. And in any case it’s dangerous. They’re expecting trouble from the Pashtuns imminently so they need extra forces.’

  ‘How long will the posting be?’

  ‘Not sure. Probably several months.’ He helped himself to more rice, heaping chillies on top, the idea of the North West Frontier seemed to have put a spring in his step.

  Once I had digested the news I decided it wasn’t such a bad thing after all. It would be good to be on my own for a few months, to be free from the fear that Donald might come home rolling drunk. It would be good for him too. I could try to put behind me the bitterness I still felt through his betrayal.

  May 1933

  So now Donald is gone; all the men are gone. They went last week by special train from Kandaipur junction. All the wives and families turned out to wave goodbye.

  For days beforehand, I could see in Donald’s face that he was impatient to leave. In the build up to the departure, he had a gleam in his eye and an energy in his manner that was quite new. When it came to saying goodbye, he brushed my cheek with his lips and I felt the prickle of his moustache on my skin.

  ‘Goodbye, my dear. Take good care of yourself. And do write to me often.’

  My days go on much as they did before, but now I ask Rajiv to come to the house to pick me up each afternoon for our trips out to the country. My sketch book is getting quite full and I can see that my technique is improving all the time. If nothing else, it will be a complete record of all the temples and beauty spots around Kandaipur.

  I decided to spend some time whilst Donald was away trying to make the house more comfortable. So I ordered some new furniture and soft furnishings from the Army and Navy stores catalogue. Some of it arrived from Bombay yesterday –a couple of pale blue velvet armchairs and an elegant chaise longue. Once they were in situ in the living room, they did seem to make the place a little more habitable. I’ve also had one of the Indian tailors in to measure up for curtains. I chose a pretty floral print in blues and greens. My ayah, Manju came with me to the tailor’s shop to help me choose and we went through the bolts of fabric together. The tailor will bring them to the house and hang them for me next week.

  I’ve also been making plans for the garden. I asked the gardener to plant some bougainvillea on the veranda, some clematis on the back wall of the house and to find some pots to plant geraniums in. There’s now a line of earthenware pots along the drive filled with crimson geraniums. He’s also planted a bed of roses beside the house so the scent wafts up to th
e veranda. Gradually, the place is becoming homelier and a little less like a bachelor’s establishment.

  I go to the club most evenings now that I’m alone, to chat to the other wives. Once or twice I played tennis with Mrs Napier on the club court, although I’m not very good and I found it impossible to run in the heat. She beat me easily. I’ve become quite good at bridge, though, and am now Mrs Smethurst’s regular partner.

  ‘I do declare you’re becoming one of us at last, Anna dear!’ she exclaimed last night.

  ‘Whatever do you mean?’ I asked laughing.

  ‘Well, I had my doubts that you ever would at first,’ she said. ‘You were so stand-offish when you arrived. So anti everything British it seemed. But I do believe you’ve softened since you’ve been here.’

  ‘Perhaps I have a little,’ I smiled.

  ‘Although, I’m afraid to say I can’t say much has changed regarding Donald,’ she said, in a stage whisper, leaning forward with a meaningful look.

  I felt the colour rise in my cheeks and looked away. There were other people within earshot and I didn’t want to discuss Donald and his drink problem in public. But when I got home I began to fret about her words. I had the same feeling I’d had with Donald when he’d hinted that his problem might involve more than simply drink. I lay in bed listening to the chat-chat of the sand lizards outside my window and wondered what it could be. I vowed that next time I’m in the club, I’ll take Mrs Smethurst aside and ask her to be frank with me.

  July 1933

  Here I am, lying on my bed in the bungalow, thinking over what Mrs Smethurst said to me at the club. It is getting dark outside, but I asked Manju to close the shutters as soon as I got home; I couldn’t bear the sunlight in my aching eyes.

  My cheeks are wet with tears and I’m finding it difficult to process what Mrs Smethurst told me. Although it was shocking to hear, it does have the horrible ring of truth about it. When she made her revelation I almost collapsed with shock. She had to get the bearer to bring brandy to revive me and they took me to lie down in an ante-room.

  When I was feeling a little better, Mrs Smethurst said, ‘Our driver is waiting at the front entrance to take you home,’ and she took me by the arm and walked me through the whole length of the club to the front door. I could feel the eyes of every member on me as I walked through the bar to reach the front door.

  ‘Chin up, girl,’ said Mrs Smethurst in my ear. Did they all know? Did they all know the facts that she had just revealed to me? If they did, it would perhaps explain the pitying looks I got every time I entered the club, and the way everyone tries to subtly avoid getting close to me. No wonder I have failed to make any true friends amongst the Army wives.

  As Mrs Smethurst helped me down the steps and into her car, another car drew up on the drive; one that I recognised, and Charles Perry and his wife Isobel got out. I had never seen them together before and I could tell straight away that they were arguing. She walked ahead of him with her head held high, and swept up the steps and past me and into the club without a backward glance. He followed more slowly and I felt his eyes on me as he passed. He raised his solar topee and looked at me with concern. I know I must have looked a sight, with blotchy skin and red eyes from crying, but at that moment my appearance was the last thing on my mind.

  I keep going over and over Mrs Smethurst’s words. It was my own fault. I had pressed her and pressed her until she told me.

  We’d been playing bridge and when the game was over and the other players had drifted over to the bar, I plucked up my courage and said to her, ‘You mentioned something about Donald not having changed his ways the other day. There seems to be something about him that people are hiding from me. Now we’re alone, perhaps you’d tell me what you meant.’

  She looked flustered. Her leathery cheeks went pink and she began fussing with the cards.

  ‘Oh, I’m really not sure I should tell you, my dear. Not if Donald hasn’t told you himself.’

  ‘Well he has told me about his drinking. I’ve tried to help him with that, but I haven’t been very successful these past few months as you know. But I get the sense there is something else. That he hasn’t told me the whole truth.’

  She cleared her throat and took a sip of her gin fizz.

  ‘Only a very few people on the station, including Toby and myself, know about the other matter. I was sworn to secrecy by Toby.’

  ‘But I’m his wife, Mrs Smethurst. Surely I have a right to know something that serious.’

  She pursed her lips and looked coyly into her glass.

  ‘You know he tricked me into marrying him, don’t you?’ I said. ‘That he and my aunt had a sort of agreement over it? He told me nothing of his drink problem until a few weeks ago.’

  She put her glass down carefully on the table.

  ‘I’m so dreadfully sorry, Anna. It must have been so hard for you.’

  ‘I felt betrayed. But I’ve accepted it and made the most of it. I could have left Donald there and then, gone back to England, but I decided not to. So… I’ve already made sacrifices.’

  She put her hand on mine. ‘My poor dear girl,’ she said.

  ‘So are you going to tell me?’

  ‘All right. I agree, you have a right to know. But I don’t need to tell you twice that what I’m about to tell you must remain a secret. That Donald’s whole career, his place in the regiment, his reputation amongst the men depends upon your silence and discretion.’

  ‘Of course,’ I whispered, looking down, dreading what her words would reveal. She took a deep breath.

  ‘Well, my dear, it started some years ago, when Donald was a Major and the Rifles were stationed near Simla. Donald took to frequenting the native bazaar in the evenings. Toby knew about these trips, he mentioned it to me, and he thought it strange, but said nothing. Then after a few weeks, Toby got his servant to follow Donald. He was worried that Donald might be gambling, getting into debt. But it wasn’t gambling that was the problem, Anna.’

  She took another swig of gin and I could see her hands were shaking.

  ‘What was it?’

  ‘It was young men.’

  My hand flew to my mouth.

  ‘Extremely young men as it turned out. Young men from the brothels hanging round the bazaar. Donald had been picking them up, going home with them and paying them for… well, shall I say, for their services.

  ‘Toby read the riot act at him. Said that by rights he should be court marshalled and discharged from the army, but Donald pleaded with him to give him another chance. Soon after that the Regiment came back to Kandaipur. Donald seemed to have put it behind him and a few months went by. Then the drinking started and that became a problem too. It went on like that for years. It got worse and worse. He got into a fight in the club once.’

  ‘Yes he told me about that.’

  ‘After that Toby told him he must get off the drink. He said he was drinking to forget what he was and who he was. A few months after that, he was in trouble again. He came to Toby because some young man had been trying to blackmail him. He said he would reveal everything to the Kandaipur Gazette if Donald didn’t pay him a thousand rupees. Toby had the man arrested, but it was then that he got the General up here and he laid down an ultimatum to Donald. He said he must stop drinking and he must stop this life. Otherwise he would be out of the army. The army was his first love, you know that Anna. The General told him to go to Bombay and find someone to marry. People were beginning to gossip about him because he was still a bachelor, and the gossip was beginning to take root and spread. It could damage the reputation of the whole regiment. So that’s why Donald came down to Bombay when he did.’

  ‘And met me.’

  ‘Yes. And met you,’ she held out a leathery hand and clasped mine. Tears sprang to my eyes and I felt the shock of her words begin to hit me. My mouth flooded with nausea and my vision began to blur. Mrs Smethurst was leaning towards me, peering into my eyes.

  ‘Oh, my dear, you’re
not going to faint, are you? Bearer? Brandy please. Quickly. The Memsahib isn’t feeling well.’

  Twenty-Six

  Connie

  Connie shuts the diary and rubs her eyes. Peering at the fading handwriting for hours on end is tiring her out. She locks the clasp with the key on her chain and slips the diary into her bedside drawer. She doesn’t want Matron’s or Erica’s prying eyes spotting it.

  It’s dark outside now, and from the clatter of crockery and pots and pans, Connie knows it must be nearly supper time.

  There’s a knock at the door. She hesitates. Should she take supper in the dining room with the others this evening, now there is a reason to go there, or would it be better to eat it on a tray in her room? She is tired, the emotion of the meeting with Tommy earlier has left her feeling drained. She doesn’t know if she’s up to seeing him again today. He will be there tomorrow after all. She decides to tell them to bring her dinner to her room on a tray and she will have an early night.

  There’s another knock and Matron puts her head round the door. She isn’t wearing her usual smile. In fact she looks positively flustered. There are high spots of colour on her cheeks, and anxiety in her eyes.

  ‘Connie. There are some people here to see you,’ she says. Connie starts in surprise.

  ‘People?’ she asks.

  She has never had visitors in the plural. Could Peter and Sarah, her only regulars, have possibly arrived at the same time? What a coincidence if so. It might be a touch awkward, she muses, given the business over the sale of Cedar Lodge.

  ‘Yes. I’m afraid so.’ Matron comes into the room, closes the door firmly, and stands in front of it.

  ‘Matron. Whatever is wrong?’

  ‘Connie. I don’t quite know how to tell you this. There’s no easy way, I’m afraid. The fact is, there are three police officers in reception. I’ve shown them into the waiting room so other guests don’t start asking questions.’