Читать книгу Daisy's Long Road Home - Merryn Allingham - Страница 11

That evening, she made a decision. She was going to Megaur, she was going to find Amrita. But she knew she would face stiff opposition from both Mike and Grayson. She must keep her plans to herself and, if possible, keep silent too, on her visit to Mrs Forester. She was lucky. Both men assumed that after she’d returned from the bazaar, she’d spent the rest of the day at Tamarind Drive. The talk over dinner turned instead to the papers Mike had unearthed that day, with Daisy a silent listener. She was surprised to hear for the first time an edge creeping into their conversation.

‘I can’t for the life of me see why Mountbatten had to be in such a hurry,’ Mike grumbled. ‘He pushed Partition forwards ten whole months and completely destroyed the government’s own schedule. Why rush such a delicate operation? The more I read, the more I realise how close India came to annihilation. His decision was totally reckless. But then what do you expect from an aristocrat who fought a bit in Burma but knows nothing else of the world.’

‘He won a grand victory in Burma and I don’t think you can blame all the violence on Mountbatten’s decision,’ Grayson said mildly.

‘Don’t you? Well, try reading some of the reports filed by the civil admin teams from around the country.’ He saw Grayson looking quizzical. ‘Copies of their records were sent to every regional administration. And yes, I know, it’s unlikely to lead to any useful information on Javinder, but I have to go through everything.’

‘I’m glad you’re being so thorough,’ Grayson said, but Daisy thought that he didn’t look that glad.

‘Well, I am, and it’s often frightening stuff. Endless disputes over the anomalies caused by carving up the country. If people were lucky, disagreements were settled peacefully but if not …’ He wagged his head dismissively.

‘There were bound to be anomalies, Mike, whenever Partition was done and however long it took.’

Grayson was trying for calm, but his friend hardly heard him. ‘Ludicrous situations, too, which make the so-called Raj a laughing stock. Canal works on one side of the border while the embankments protecting it are on the other. Loads of instances like that. The border even runs down the middle of some villages, would you believe, with a dozen huts left in India and a dozen more in Pakistan. One poor devil had his house bisected—his front door opened to India but his rear window looked into Pakistan. It’s laughable but it’s also terrifying. No wonder there’s been such trouble.’

‘I know. I’ve read some of the accounts. But you could argue that rushing through independence was the best way to prevent even more violence.’

‘There surely couldn’t have been more. And what about the huge refugee problem it’s created. That has to be down to Mountbatten.’

‘Like I said, whenever it was done, Partition was always going to mean chaos.’ There was a forced patience to Grayson’s voice now. ‘India has known centuries of integration. It’s a mass of different cultures and traditions and beliefs. The entire country is a cultural compromise. However you divide it, there will always be people who don’t fit a particular “box”.’

‘Let’s hope they like the boxes they’ve ended up in then.’ Mike laid down his knife and fork and pushed away his half-eaten meal. ‘The only positive I can see is that no matter how bad the current situation, it’s got to be better than the Raj.’

‘Maybe.’

Daisy was surprised to hear Grayson sound uncertain. He had always been a firm believer in Indian independence. Perhaps the dreadful violence had made him reconsider, or perhaps he was simply antagonised by Mike’s truculence.

‘No maybe, my friend. The Raj made Britain wealthy and self-confident but at the expense of millions of Indians.’

‘I’d agree that some people made a lot of money out of the country,’ Grayson conceded, ‘but not the vast majority of those who worked here. The ordinary little people who actually ran India.’

‘That was their job.’

‘True, but they also did it because they loved the country and its people. They built roads, hospitals, looked after forests, joined the Indian Army. People like Colonel Forester and his wife.’

He looked towards Daisy as he said this, but thankfully Mike had the bit between his teeth and she was spared having to respond. She would surely have given herself away.

‘You’re talking like an imperialist, Gray.’ Mike’s lips thinned. ‘I’m surprised and, as an Irishman, I have to say it grates.’

‘I’m just trying to give the other side of the picture.’ Grayson stretched his long legs beneath the table. ‘You could argue that it was Britain who first introduced the idea of liberty, albeit indirectly.’

Mike threw back his head and laughed, but it was a peculiarly joyless laugh. ‘You’re saying that Britain encouraged independence? Someone should have told the poor devils banged up for years for being nationalists. And perhaps I hadn’t heard but did Britain maybe help to set up Congress?’

‘Of course not. But sometimes ideas percolate without there appearing to be any definite agency. The need for progress, for instance. And, in a sense, being against Britain united India. It created the concept of patriotism, of a nation. Indians started to talk of Mother India. That was new, and look where it’s led.’

Mike shook his head. ‘I never thought I’d hear you justify a colonial regime.’

‘I’m not justifying it. Merely playing devil’s advocate.’

‘Be careful you don’t turn into the devil while you’re doing it,’ Mike said sourly.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll take care.’ Grayson got up from the table and pulled back Daisy’s chair for her. ‘You’re very quiet this evening, Miss Driscoll. Have we overwhelmed you by the brilliance of our arguments?’

‘I really don’t know enough to say anything sensible,’ she excused herself. ‘Overall, though, I think I’d be with Mike on this.’

Mike smiled at her with genuine warmth and she realised how much that had been missing during their trip.

‘I’ve clearly lost out,’ Grayson said, ‘and before you two gang up on me any more, I’m off to bed. There’s a lot to do tomorrow and I can’t imagine it will be any cooler to do it in.’

It was the signal for a general breaking up of the party and Daisy was able to slip away to her room with a murmured goodnight. The slightly bad-tempered conversation had ensured that she’d escaped interrogation, not just about how she’d spent today, but how she intended to spend tomorrow. There had been a price to pay for it though. An unaccustomed divide had opened up between the two friends and she hadn’t enjoyed seeing them disagree so starkly.

Once Mike and Grayson had left the house the following morning—together, she noted, and that felt a good deal better—she set off for Megaur. It took an hour’s driving along a road which wound northwards and across a landscape crackling with heat. In this first searing blast of India’s hot season, there was no sign that when the rains came, bushes and trees, fields and ditches would burst into new, green life. For now she looked out on a land shrivelled into crisp parchment. Beneath the sun’s white glare, the bright trees on either side sent sparks flying heavenwards. Clouds of dust mushroomed over the tonga as they drove, covering horse and driver and passenger with a fine red sheen. Yesterday she’d been foolish enough to venture out bareheaded and Grayson had taken her to task. Today she’d been careful to unhook the last remaining topi from the corner stand, but it proved only a flimsy defence. Even beneath the tonga’s fringed canopy, she had continually to adjust the helmet to cover as much of her neck as possible, and it wasn’t long before she was feeling hot and gritty.

In just under the hour, they were driving through Megaur. It was a sizeable village, with several narrow streets of whitewashed houses, a variety of shops and stalls and a large and ornate temple set back from the road. It was cleaner and tidier than most of the smaller villages they’d passed through and she wondered if Anish’s uncle was the main landlord of the district. If so, Megaur did him proud. Mrs Forester had called him a rude man, but Daisy hoped she’d been mistaken. Edith’s relationship with Indians was mediated through long experience of living under the Raj and she was likely to interpret any show of pride as discourtesy.

The tonga drew to a halt outside a pair of elaborately decorated iron gates and the driver said something to her in Hindi. This must be Amrita. She went to alight and then realised with a sinking feeling that the colonel’s wife had not mentioned the name of the man who lived here, and she had no idea how to address him. Not that it mattered, it seemed. She had barely rung the bell, when a white-coated servant emerged from the house and waved at her. It took her a while before she realised that he was waving her away.

She peered through the gate and tried to explain her arrival. But the man wasn’t interested in listening. Either he spoke no English or he’d been sent to frighten her away. The latter it appeared, for he picked up a large wooden stave from the side of the drive and walked purposefully towards her. At the sign of this aggression, the tonga driver took fright and began to back his horse up the lane they had just travelled.

Daisy didn’t blame him but neither did she intend to be intimidated. ‘Tell your master that my name is Driscoll and I have travelled some miles to see him. Be sure to say that I won’t intrude for long but I would be grateful to speak with him for a short while.’

A loudspeaker attached to one of the gateposts crackled into life. She hadn’t noticed it before but evidently it relayed speech back into the house. The voice that emerged from its depths was smooth and urbane.

‘Good morning, Miss Driscoll. Please, do come in.’

And the gates swung open.

Grayson had spent another frustrating morning. For nearly two days he’d questioned members of the administration team, telephoned old contacts and walked the town’s streets, but only the haziest of whispers had been of any interest. It was a most unusual situation and it took him some time to realise that it was a reluctance to speak, rather than ignorance, that was keeping people silent. When yesterday he’d made an abortive visit to the bazaar, he’d thought the stallholders in those narrow, ancient streets might be holding out for more money than he’d so far offered. He knew them to be a canny bunch. But when today he’d cast his net wider, visiting every business, every professional office in the town, and received the same response, he became certain his potential informants were scared. Everywhere he met with the same reception—a warm greeting, a chair pulled out, chai brought, but when the conversation turned to the troubles in the north of Rajasthan, there was a deafening silence followed by an apologetic smile and more chai. It must be precisely what Javinder had faced, and yet the young man had discovered enough to send him hotfoot to—to where? The region was huge and Grayson could be travelling for days and still find himself nowhere near his young colleague. He needed to have some sense of where he should be heading, particularly as it seemed his journey was likely to be every bit as dangerous as he’d feared.

After hours of useless talking, he walked into the office he shared with Mike to find his companion looking equally disheartened. The room was sticky with heat, a ceiling fan stirring the sluggish air to little effect. Mike looked up as he came through the door, a slow trickle of perspiration running down the centre of his forehead and stopping short at the bridge of his nose.

‘Did you have any luck?’ he asked.

Their last evening’s clash seemed to have been forgotten and Grayson could see his colleague was trying hard to look cheerful. That made him feel a little better. He hadn’t enjoyed being at odds with Mike, who was a good friend, an old friend. And he needed the man’s help if his quest was to have any chance of success.

‘Not a scrap. How about you?’

‘Much the same. I’ve been trying since early this morning to get these files into some kind of order.’ He waved a damp hand towards the tottering piles of paper which all but covered the surface of both desks. ‘I’m sure Javinder Joshi was an excellent worker. I can see he kept his paperwork more or less up to date, but he’s been gone several months, and since then the filing has turned into a paper Everest. I reckon every person in the building has slung something in here over that time. Probably anything they didn’t know what to do with.’

Grayson slumped down in his chair, putting his feet up on the desk and dislodging several files. He surveyed the mass of paper glumly. ‘It certainly looks that way. But you shouldn’t have the bother of going through every document in detail. For now, just stack the stuff as tidily as you can and someone else can decide later where it all belongs.’

Mike shook his head, then fished around on the floor for an errant pair of reading glasses that had somehow jumped from the desk. ‘I’ve been reading everything closely in the hope that amid this mound of frustration, I might come across something that would help you. But I haven’t.’

He straightened up and looked across at Grayson. ‘You won’t want to hear this, but I’ve got to say it.’ His voice was cautious but determined. ‘My advice is seriously to consider calling off the search. I know I’ve urged it before and you decided not to listen. But the problem is pressing now. We’ve found nothing and you haven’t a clue where Javinder’s gone or where you’d be going.’

‘You’re right, I haven’t.’ Grayson yawned, dazed by the soporific atmosphere. ‘Not an actual clue, at least. But I’ve been thinking about the conversations I’ve had these last few days. Nothing very specific, but I’m getting a feel for where I might start.’

His colleague looked decidedly sceptical. ‘A feel? You mean you’ll point your compass and feel where the needle leads you?’

‘Not quite so haphazard. It’s just that certain comments, certain ideas have stuck in my mind. Almost as though they’ve been blown towards me in the breeze and then lodged deep in my consciousness.’

‘Very poetic, but pure fantasy, Gray, and hardly likely to get you very far. What comments by the way?’

‘I can’t be certain and I shouldn’t say too much for the moment. But the idea of a princely state is beginning to ring bells.’

‘But surely they don’t exist any longer? I thought they’d been incorporated into India.’

‘Most of them. Mountbatten managed to persuade nearly all of them to sign the Act of Accession but some held out. Some are still holding out—the larger states particularly.’

‘But not Rajasthan?’

‘Rajasthan has always been a collection of princely states. Some large, some very small. Most have signed up, but a few haven’t, and they’re the ones I should be looking at, I think. It’s the smaller ones to the north where there’s trouble. And one or two of the ICS officers are convinced that Javinder travelled northwards.’

Mike’s expression made it clear that he wasn’t equally convinced. ‘Have you thought that the problems you’re talking about might have nothing to do with Javinder’s journey? They might be nothing more than the usual disputes.’

‘How is that?’

‘From what I gather, tension between the different communities is long standing. If there is aggression, it could be the same old trouble rearing its head. Why should it be anything new?’

‘Because disaffected people cause trouble. And that’s what we’ve got. There are rulers who refuse to accept the new dispensation. For them the fifteenth of August last year was a day of mourning. That was when they lost their privileges, lost the world of pomp and splendour they’d expected to inhabit for the rest of their lives.’

‘You’re saying these chaps might be responsible for the violence? That they’re deliberately organising it? That seems pretty far-fetched to me. What on earth would they gain? In any case, there must still be pockets of unrest around the country. The odd disturbance is still happening elsewhere in India, isn’t it, so why not in the north of Rajasthan?’

‘It is happening,’ Grayson conceded wearily. ‘And you could well be right. I don’t honestly know what to make of the reports. At the moment I’m just going on a hunch.’ He swung his legs off the desk and got to his feet. ‘I think I’ll miss the tea break. I’ve had enough chai today to float me to the Indian Ocean. I’d feel better if I went back to the bungalow and stood under a shower.’

Mike walked with him to the door. He laid his hands on either side of Grayson’s shoulders and shook him gently. ‘You can’t plunge through Rajasthan on a hunch. You have to have more to go on than that. The country isn’t properly stabilised yet and God knows what kind of mishap you could meet with. That’s if you’re lucky and it’s not outright danger that you face.’

‘I appreciate your concern, Mike, but I’ve been asking questions for two whole days and I’m still none the wiser. A hunch, I fear, is all I’m going to get.’

‘So the answer is don’t go.’

Grayson’s expression was mulish. It said quite plainly that Mike was making needless difficulties and he wished that he wouldn’t.

‘Your place is in the town,’ his companion ploughed on, undeterred. ‘Send scouts to wherever you think best, but stay in Jasirapur and manage the search from here. Think man, you’ve brought Daisy with us. I’m not saying she’s a problem, at least not at the moment. And I like her well enough. But she’s here against my advice, I’d remind you. And you need to keep a closer watch on her.’

Grayson’s eyes opened wide in astonishment. ‘Whatever do you mean?’

‘Let me ask you this. Do you know what she’s doing right now?’

He felt mystified. Of course, he didn’t know exactly. And did it matter that he didn’t?

Mike looked satisfied at having startled him. ‘I thought not. You have no idea what she’s up to and neither have I. But I’d bet a pound to a penny, it’s something you wouldn’t approve of.’