‘Oh well, if you were down in Mayapore you probably didn’t know, which isn’t surprising anyway because I had to remind Millie how Mabel refused to give anything. It was very embarrassing for John. After all Mabel was rich in comparison with most of us She got simply loads from her father, the Admiral, and quite a packet from her first husband, the Pankot Rifles chap who gave all that silver to the mess. And she simply wouldn’t give a penny for Dyer.’
‘But that means you’re saying she was mean—’
‘Only about Dyer. At the time we all thought he’d saved the poor old empire and ought to have been given a peerage not the sack. Of course since then people have blamed him for turning Gandhi against us. But the point is, and I was awfully embarrassed because I thought Millie must know if I knew, but it seems John never said a word to her, only to me. He told me in strictest confidence, or rather it slipped out and he asked me not to say anything to anybody, he told me Mabel sent money to the funds the Indians raised for the widows and orphans of the people Dyer shot. She told him she’d done so. I think he said she sent it to that old Muslim, M.A.K.’s father, the man who was on the Governor’s Council down in Ranpur at the same time as John’s father. Sir Ahmed Kasim, wasn’t it? She told John she’d done it but had asked Sir Ahmed, if it was Sir Ahmed, to pay it over anonymously because she didn’t want to harm John’s career. John told me it was a hundred pounds. In Nineteen Twenty that was a hell of a lot of money.’
‘It still is,’ Nicky said. ‘Do you think Sir Ahmed paid it over?’
‘Nicky!’
‘Perhaps he gave it to his son, M.A.K., to swell the Congress Party Funds?’
Fenny said, ‘But Sir Ahmed was pro-British. People said he was awfully upset when his son joined the rebel faction of Congress, as we used to think it.’
‘Rebels run in the Kasim family,’ Nicky said.
‘Oh, I’d hardly say that,’ Fenny objected. ‘M.A.K.’s own son, the young Kasim boy we met in Mirat at the guest house, struck me as rather sweet for an Indian. And you couldn’t call him a rebel, working for an Indian prince. As a matter of fact it was in Mirat I found out Millie didn’t know about Mabel giving money to the Jallianwallah Bagh orphans and widows, because I asked her if I was right thinking she’d sent it via this young Kasim boy’s grandfather and she simply didn’t know what I was talking about. So I thought I’d better shut up. Mabel was still alive then. But she remembered and asked me last week when she was hot on the trail of these other donations.’
‘I wasn’t thinking about the Kasim boy you met in Mirat,’ Nicky said. ‘I was thinking about the other one, the one who got the King’s commission and has been captured fighting against us in the INA.’
‘Really?’ Fenny said. ‘I didn’t know about that.’ She looked doubtful as if Nicky had said something in bad taste. ‘All I know is what everybody else knows, that M.A.K. himself is ill and has been released to go and live with the Nawab on some sort of extended parole.’
‘He’s not ill,’ Nicky said. ‘He’s being cosseted by Government and a fat lot of good it’ll do. The Nawab’s probably anti-government as well and M.A.K.’ll be the first to call his officer son a bloody hero. It’s double standards all the time. It makes me sick. But that makes it easier bidding it all a fond farewell.’
There was silence. Even Fenny seemed prewarned of Nicky’s inevitable announcement and to recognize that the moment for it had arrived.
‘It’s a salutary thought,’ Nicky said after a while, ‘that Bunny may have been killed by a one-time officer of his own regiment. After all why not? I’ve been checking up. A Lieutenant Sayed Kasim was commissioned into the Fifth Ranpurs. He was the first Indian the Ranpurs ever took. There were plenty of others but he was the first. Bunny always took immense pains with his own Indian officers. And I took pains with the wives. God knows it was sometimes a hard grind. And you wondered at the time whether it was worth it. It seems it wasn’t. It’s a bloody bore because you end up distrusting everybody. Sometimes I even look at old Fariqua and try to work out what it would take to make him do the dirty on me even though he’s gone around red-eyed ever since I told him Bunny had bought it. Incidentally, Clara, Fariqua lives in a village outside Ranpur. If you go down to your sister you might help find the old boy a job. He has so many spare wives around there he’ll need the money and have to go on working until he drops.’
‘Are you really going home, Nicky?’ Clara asked when she could manage it.
‘Yes.’
‘Have you decided when and how?’
‘The answer to when is as soon as I can. As to how, I’ll do what Fenny says Mildred would have liked to. Scrounge a lift with the Airforce even if it means being stuck in somewhere like Cairo for a bit. I’ll auction everything off and just send a trunk or two of odds and ends by sea. And if the boat’s sunk it won’t matter much. There’s really nothing of value to take back with me.’
Clara said:
‘I’ll miss you dreadfully.’
For an instant Nicky seemed ready to crumple. But the iron will was not to be broken.
‘Oh well, I’ll be back in a year or two I expect. When the boys are off my hands. Do you know, there are loads of things I’ve never done out here? When Bunny was alive he always promised we’d go down to the Coromandel coast one winter, but we never managed it and we never got to Goa either. And then it would be nice to see the Taj again. Bunny thought it terribly overrated but I must say I thought it rather splendid. And of course I’d like to see Gulmarg again, and Ooty, and even dreary old Simla.’
Her friends said nothing. They nodded encouragingly but absent-mindedly. The dispiriting fact had not escaped them. Already Nicky Paynton was talking like a tourist. It was this that drove home to them the terrible bleakness – thinness – that settled upon and somehow defined anyone whose connection had been severed; and then as their glances mercifully fell from her one by one and turned upon the garden Fenny cried out:
‘God, what’s that?’ She jerked out of her chair, startling them. ‘What? (one of them shouted) What is it Fenny?’ Her alarm was infectious. Her plump ringed fingers were crossed at her throat. She had become speechless and was staring, horrified, at a patch of petal-strewn grass, a corridor between long rectangular beds of rose-trees, bush and standard, vagrant-looking with green reversionary shoots pale and erectile, already sucking the life out of the roots. Along this path the creature crawled, slunk, towards them; a black spectre of famine worn to its hooped rib cage and the arched column of its backbone. A thin dribble of saliva hung from its open mouth.
‘Millie!’ Fenny called, and then turned and went into the house still calling her. The others stayed where they were, watching the apparition approach the verandah steps slowly, dragging one leg, pausing every few paces to rest, droop-headed, before struggling on, its eyes upturned and fixed on the objective, showing blood-shot whites.
‘How can she?’ Nicky exclaimed. ‘How can Sarah have let it suffer like this? She ought to be ashamed.’
‘But Nicky, it means it’s getting better,’ Maisie said. ‘It’s looking for her.’ Even Maisie could not manage to say the animal’s name. She went to the head of the steps cautiously and called down to it, ‘Sarah? Where’s Sarah, then? There’s a brave old soldier. There’s a brave old boy.’ And got gingerly down on one knee and extended invitation through an outstretched arm and placating fingers which the animal observed from below, raising the iron weight of its neck a fraction of an inch and then lowering it again and standing there at the bottom of the steps as if unable to work out the complicated problem they presented.
*
Mildred was not on the telephone. Fenny thrust open the door of Mabel’s room which she and her sister were sharing. Neither Mabel’s old bed nor the charpoy she herself slept in was made up yet. Fenny thought this unforgivable of the servants but blamed Mildred for not controlling them better. However she held her tongue.
Mildred was sitting on the edge of Mabel’s bed, toppin
g her glass up from her private bottle.
‘Millie, that dog’s got loose and is crawling about the garden.’
Mildred put the bottle back on the bedside table.
‘What did you say?’
‘The dog. It’s got loose. I can’t bear to see it. It looks as if it’s come out to die.’
The corners of Mildred’s lips twitched and then curved down in the characteristic smile.
‘Lucky dog,’ she said.
‘Oughtn’t we to ring Sarah and get her back here quickly? She can’t let it go on like this, Millie. I know she means well but it’s not fair, it’s not kind.’
‘She’ll be back any moment now.’
Fenny looked at her watch. It was barely twelve.
‘But she never gets back from the daftar before one when she goes in on a Saturday and if the vet isn’t rung before then we probably shan’t get him until this evening.’
‘I said she’ll be back any moment.’
Mildred took a drink then looked at Fenny.
‘Sarah passed out at the daftar. Only we’re not supposed to know. Dicky Beauvais found her in what he calls a fainting condition in the map room. She got him to promise not to tell me. But apparently it’s the second time this week and he thought I ought to know. He decided honour would be satisfied if he rang Kevin and left it to Kevin whether to tell me or not. He’ll be back with her in about ten minutes I should think, with some story about the daftar being slack.’
Fenny sat heavily on the charpoy. ‘There! Perhaps she’ll listen now and stop being so silly. It’s ridiculous her going into the daftar at all.’
‘Is it?’
‘Millie, you can’t let her go on like this. She can’t go round fainting all over the place. If you don’t speak to her I will.’
‘Haven’t you spoken to her already?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘What should I mean?’
‘I don’t know but if you’re not going to do anything I shall have to tackle her myself.’
Mildred got up and stood with her back to Fenny, arms folded but still holding her glass, looking out of the window which gave on to the verandah at the front of the house.
‘Directly Dicky Beauvais has gone,’ Fenny continued, ‘I’ll talk to her then. I suppose we’ll have to deal with the business of the poor dog first, but one of us must talk to her.’
Mildred said nothing.
‘I’ve been thinking, Millie,’ Fenny said. She had always been a bit afraid of her sister. ‘You don’t honestly need me here much longer. And if Sarah doesn’t get a holiday soon she’ll crack up. Why don’t I do what I suggested the other day, take her back with me to Calcutta, in say a couple of weeks’ time? Minnie’s perfectly competent with the baby and I can’t see Susan being allowed home just yet. When she is we could all meet in Darjeeling for a few weeks and be together in Calcutta before Christmas. Even for Christmas. Let’s face it Millie, Pankot’s awfully dull for two young girls like Sarah and Su.’
‘You used to say what a jolly little place it was.’
‘Well it’s not any more.’
‘No,’ Mildred said. ‘And compared with Calcutta it’s got nothing to offer, has it?’
‘Very little.’
‘No madly handsome young officers fresh from the jungle or about to go into it and ready to tear the place apart?’
Fenny laughed, relieved by what looked like Mildred’s change of mood. She said, ‘Oh, we have our share of those!’
‘So I should imagine. Can you wait two weeks?’
‘Oh, Millie. All I ask is for you to give it some serious thought. It would do Sarah the world of good.’
‘You think so?’
Fenny hesitated before speaking her mind. ‘I know it’s been difficult for you without John all these years. Now don’t misunderstand, Millie, but it’s always seemed to me a great deal of the weight of your burden has fallen on Sarah’s shoulders. It’s in her nature, I know, to take on responsibilities, but it’s not right, not for a young girl. And it begins to show and then it’s difficult. I mean – with men. We don’t want Sarah on the shelf, do we? I know she could have married several times, certainly once. There was Teddie wasn’t there, before he switched to Su? But that’s the point. If she isn’t careful, a girl like Sarah begins to look sort of discarded or second-best choice. And she isn’t. You should have seen her just in that very brief time she was with us. She looked stunning. The boys we had in certainly thought so. One in particular—’
Mildred swung round. ‘Don’t tell me any more, Fenny! I don’t want to know. Just get on with it. Take her to Calcutta. The sooner the better, I imagine.’
‘Well you might sound more enthusiastic! Don’t you want Sarah to have a good time?’
Mildred laughed. She picked up the bottle, sat on the bed, filled her glass again. And laughed. Then she clattered the bottle back on the table between the water jug and the table-lamp. She took a hefty swig. But the gin didn’t compose her. Her eyes glittered under lids which were for once wide open.
‘A good time?’ she asked. ‘She’s had the good time, hasn’t she?’
‘Millie, what on earth’s wrong with you?’
‘Oh, stop putting on the act. It’s very good but it’s beginning to irritate me. I don’t want to talk about it and I don’t want to know any of the details. Not any of them. Now or ever. But you can stop treating me like a bloody fool because I know exactly what’s going on.’ She took another drink. ‘I’m even grateful to you for trying to cope with it without my knowing, although it’s the least you can do considering you’re bloody well to blame. If you want Sarah to go on thinking she’s fooled me that’s up to you. But you’re my little sister. You were always silly and it would be bad for my morale to let you imagine you’d fooled me.’
Fenny did not reply at once. She looked at the glass.
She said, ‘You’re drunk, Millie. That’s all I know. So you must be right. If it’s any consolation I’ll admit I’m silly. Dense. I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.’
‘Oh?’ Mildred drank most of the rest of the gin in her glass but did not top it up. ‘Let’s forget it then. Let’s pretend everything in the garden is lovely and just do what seems best for Sarah. Since you’re so concerned about her why don’t you ring Captain Travers or Colonel Beames and ask one of them to drop in after lunch to give her a check-up?’
‘Well, yes, we could do that. Isn’t it a bit out of proportion though? They’re both busy men and what can either of them say except what I say, that’s she’s been overdoing it and needs a holiday?’
‘But supposing she’s really ill? I’m surprised you haven’t thought of that, Fenny. I tell you what. I’ll ring Travers now myself. I’ll do it right away.’
‘Well. If you think so.’
Mildred finished her drink. ‘I think so,’ she said. She waited for a moment as if challenging Fenny to stop her and then smiled and went into the hall, leaving the door open. Fenny heard the ping of the bell as the receiver was lifted and then several rapid pings as Mildred impatiently jerked the hook up and down to wake the dozy operator. Sighing, Fenny got up and went into the hall too.
Mildred was at the telephone but the receiver was back on the hook. She was not ringing anybody.
‘You were really going to let me!’ she exclaimed.
‘But it was your idea. Why should I stop you?’
‘Haven’t you honestly the least idea what I’m getting at?’
‘No, I haven’t.’
‘Then you’d better come in here.’
Fenny followed Mildred into Sarah’s and Susan’s bedroom. At the wall opposite the foot of one of the beds was a chest of drawers. Placed centrally on its top among neatly ordered lacquered boxes stood a photograph of Sarah’s father. Fenny gazed at it fondly for a moment. Mildred went to the chest and opened the second of three long drawers.
‘Look,’ she said. She turned back piles of neatly laundered underw
ear. Fenny looked. There were two pudgy blue-wrapped packages, both unopened. Mildred covered them up again and shut the drawer. She went out of the room and after a few moments Fenny went too. She found Mildred back in their own room pouring herself another drink.
‘Shut the door, Fenny.’ Fenny did so. ‘Do you want a gin too?’ Fenny shook her head.
‘The one thing I’ve always done for Sarah,’ Mildred began, ‘and perhaps it’s the only thing, is make sure she’s got plenty of sannies when she’s due, because like I used to be she’s as regular as clockwork but has an absolutely ghastly time, worse even than I did before she was born. She was due a week after she came back from her visit to you in Calcutta. I gave her one of those packets then. She was due again last week and that’s when I gave her the other.’
‘Millie, what are you saying?’
‘That according to the evidence in that chest of drawers she’s missed twice and hasn’t told me. I thought perhaps she’d told you. I thought she might have had to. To make you help her get hold of the bloody man you so kindly introduced her to, or get rid of the thing in Calcutta.’
Suddenly Mildred rounded on her.
‘And isn’t that the truth, Fenny? Isn’t that what your cosy little trip to Calcutta is all about? To fix things up with some snide little emergency officer or fix them up in a different way with a shady Calcutta doctor or pop her neatly into an expensive clinic as a Mrs Smith requiring a d and c?’
‘No! No, Millie! Oh, no.’
‘Well, that’s what you’re going to have to do. Get the bloody thing aborted. My God, I could murder you. You have charge of her for just twenty-four stinking hours and she’s in the bloody club.’
Fenny sat down, with her hands at her cheeks, her eyes shut. Mildred sat too, facing her.
‘What are you doing? Working out which one of your and Arthur’s adoring and adorable panting bloody boys it was? Or isn’t there any doubt in your mind? What a stupid woman you are. In Mirat you made that ridiculous fuss about her riding in broad daylight with the young Kasim boy. Was it wise – isn’t that what you asked me? Wise! A pity you didn’t ask yourself if it was wise before you chucked her into the arms of some randy little English officer from God knows where. What was he? All strong white teeth and bloody prick? Did you fancy him yourself? Did you get a kick out of handing him Sarah? Because that’s what you did and I never intend to forget it. Never. Just as I never intend to be told who the little cheapskate was. It hasn’t happened. Look at me, Fenny. It hasn’t happened. You’ll take her to Calcutta and between the two of you deal with it. Get rid of it. I don’t want to know how or where or how much it costs. You can get the money from your husband because he’s equally to blame. But I don’t want to know anything more about it. And if anything goes wrong it’s on your head, not mine. Because I can’t stand any more. I can’t and I won’t.’