Winds of Eden

by Catrin Collier

  ‘But unhelpful?’

  ‘Georgie, you have to understand women have no place in war. It can get brutal out there. People die.’

  ‘After a year spent in surgery there is nothing you can tell me about death that I don’t already know.’

  ‘There is a difference between someone dying peacefully in surgery and being blown apart on a battlefield.’

  ‘Surgery – peaceful!’

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  ‘As a nurse I wouldn’t even be allowed on a battlefield to get “blown apart”. Hospitals are in safe areas behind the lines even in Mesopotamia …’ Georgiana was interrupted mid-flow by a short, immaculately dressed man who stopped at their table to shake hands with General Reid. Turning from her godfather to her he closed his fingers over hers and bowed.

  General Reid rose to his feet. ‘Mr …’

  ‘Smith.’ The man supplied.

  ‘Mr Smith and I work together at the War Office,’ General Reid explained. ‘May I present my goddaughter, Dr Georgiana Downe, Mr Smith.’

  ‘A pleasure, Dr Downe. I didn’t mean to encroach on your privacy, General.’ Mr Smith looked around the crowded restaurant. ‘So this is where you hide yourself at lunchtime? I can’t say I blame you, the food here has a formidable reputation.’

  ‘Please, Mr Smith, join us.’ To Georgiana’s annoyance, her godfather put an end to their argument by signalling to the waiter.

  Another chair, place setting and menu were produced and in less than a minute, Mr Smith was sitting alongside Georgiana sipping sherry.

  ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you after hearing so much about you, Dr Downe.’

  ‘My godfather told you I was a doctor?’

  ‘He’s very proud of you, Dr Downe.’

  ‘Don’t look so shocked, Georgie. I am proud of you and not above boasting about your accomplishments.’ General Reid signalled to the waiter, who hurried to the table to remove his and Georgiana’s soup bowls.

  Mr Smith returned the menu to the waiter unopened. ‘General Reid has a penchant for seeking out the best. Bring me a duplicate of his order.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  The junior wine waiter filled their wine and water glasses and left them.

  ‘My goddaughter is disappointed that I can’t call in enough favours to get her into the QAINC,’ General Reid revealed.

  Mr Smith shook out his napkin and tucked a corner into a napkin holder he clipped to his collar.

  ‘Isn’t nursing a backward step for a qualified doctor, Dr Downe? Bit like a general taking a subaltern’s post.’

  ‘Wouldn’t the general take the post if it was the only way open to him to search for a member of his family declared missing in action?’ Georgiana countered.

  ‘General Reid told me that you’re convinced your brother Lieutenant Colonel Downe is alive somewhere in Mesopotamia.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘I can verify that your godfather has canvassed everyone with influence in the Mesopotamian theatre on your brother’s behalf, Dr Downe, unfortunately to no avail.’

  ‘I failed to glean any more information than your father received, Georgie,’ the general confirmed.

  ‘I also verify that he spoke to the people in charge of the QAINC.’ Mr Smith’s soup arrived. He took a spoonful and blotted his upper lip with his napkin.

  ‘And?’ Georgiana prompted.

  ‘They were horrified at the thought of a woman doctor, let alone one who wanted to masquerade as a nurse,’ the General divulged. ‘So please, Georgie, we’ll have no more talk from you of berths on Mesopotamia-bound ships or the QAINC, if you please. Let’s just enjoy this lunch.’

  The Mission, Basra, Sunday 2nd January 1916

  Charles chose to visit Maud on Sunday morning when he hoped the Reverend Butler and the entire mission household would be attending church services. But not all the mission staff were in the chapel. An Arab maid answered the door and showed him into Maud’s room. He limped in awkwardly on crutches, his movements hampered by the attaché case he carried.

  Maud was sitting in the same upholstered chair he’d seen her sitting in before. The nursemaid was still darning socks in the alcove, with the baby’s cot next to her. Not Maud. He wondered if any of them had moved since the last time he was in the room.

  Maud set her sewing aside when she saw him. ‘Please, sit down, Charles, before you fall down.’

  He accepted her offer of a chair and propped his crutches against the wall.

  ‘I never expected to see you here again after the way you walked out last Friday.’

  ‘I was in shock. Do you really expect me to believe I’m the father of your child?’

  ‘You’ve had a memory lapse, Charles?’

  ‘It was once …’

  ‘Once is all it takes. Forgive me for being crude, but I assure you that you are the only man I fornicated with after I left India. There’s been no one since. But I have no intention of arguing Robin’s paternity with you. It’s a matter of complete indifference to me whether you believe me or not.’

  ‘Then why tell me I’m Robin’s father, Maud?’

  ‘I assumed – it appears wrongly – that you’d like to know you have a child.’

  ‘Were you hoping I’d pay for his keep – and yours?’

  ‘No. Absolutely not. The baby is mine and my responsibility. Emotionally and financially.’

  ‘When it comes to emotions I hope you take more care of his than you did of John’s. As for financially, this should help?’ He took the jewellery case Tom and Michael had found in Harry’s safety deposit box from his case and set it on the table.

  She stared at it.

  ‘It was yours?’

  ‘It was,’ she conceded. ‘I didn’t expect to see it again.’

  ‘Or these?’ he opened the case. ‘I recognised them the moment I saw them.’

  ‘You’ve seen them before?’

  ‘You were wearing them when I called on you in India, the night before we sailed for here.’

  ‘You mean, the night before you dragged me here.’ The blood red rubies in their glittering gold and diamond settings caught the light and sparkled on the bed of oyster velvet. Maud flicked the lid closed. ‘Harry sold them for me. He gave me the money.’

  ‘If Harry had sold them I wouldn’t have them,’ Charles said.

  ‘Where did you get them?’

  ‘Harry’s safety deposit box at Gray Mackenzie & Co.’

  ‘Why would Harry have a safety deposit box?’

  ‘To store his valuables while he was at the front. Michael’s trying to find Harry’s Arab wife. We went to Abdul’s to ask if he knew where she was. He gave us a copy of Harry’s will.’

  ‘Harry gave his will to an Arab?’ Maud was shocked.

  ‘John and I were upstream with most of the force. There wouldn’t have been many people around and Abdul, like Harry’s wife, is Arab.’

  ‘He could have left his will with Reverend Butler or Theo.’

  ‘He left it with Abdul, Maud. He obviously trusted the man. Abdul showed us Harry’s room. We found the key to the security box there. Under the terms of Harry’s will,’ he pointed to the jewellery, ‘these are to be given to you.’

  ‘Harry never sold them?’

  ‘It looks that way.’

  ‘But Harry gave me a great deal of money for them. I couldn’t possibly keep the money and the jewels.’

  ‘It’s what Harry intended.’

  ‘I doubt Harry intended to die,’ Maud retorted.

  ‘None of us intend to die, Maud, but every soldier has to be prepared to do just that. Take the jewels. Harry wouldn’t have mentioned them in his will if he didn’t want you to have them.’

  ‘They’re his. They should go with the rest of his estate.’

  ‘The only other beneficiary Harry named is his wife and so far Michael’s had no luck in tracking her down.’

  ‘Where is Michael looking for her?’

  ‘Here, in Basra. H
e didn’t go up river with Tom. He’s renting a room in Abdul’s as Harry did. He’s been interviewing people in HQ and writing articles on morale and our determination to relieve the Indian Expeditionary Force holed up in Kut.’

  ‘How is the force hoping to accomplish that?’

  ‘That’s classified military information.’

  ‘Angela is beside herself with concern over Peter.’

  ‘We’ll get him – and the others out.’ Thinking of John and Harry and how any attempt to break the siege would come too late for them, he leaned forward and looked into the cot so she couldn’t read the expression in his eyes. ‘You’re determined to bring up this child alone?’

  ‘If you want him, Charles, take him.’

  ‘I’m hardly in a position to care for a baby.’

  She indicated the woman sitting next to the cot. ‘I’ve hired a nursemaid. I’ll continue to pay her wages if you move her into a military bungalow.’

  ‘Why would I move a child that’s not related to me into military quarters?’

  ‘The orphaned son of your best friend shouldn’t raise too many eyebrows.’

  ‘People note dates, Maud. Everyone knows the child isn’t John’s. I assume you have candidates for lover, husband, and fatherhood duties hovering around you. There wasn’t a shortage in India.’

  ‘There’s no one.’ She picked up the box from the table and handed it to him. ‘Please take the jewels. I couldn’t manage without the money Harry gave me. If I took them back I’d feel as though I’d accepted charity. Give them to Michael.’

  ‘I doubt he’d find them useful upstream.’

  ‘He could pass them on to Harry’s sister.’

  ‘I know Harry’s sister. She wouldn’t want or wear them.’

  ‘Then tell Michael to sell them and give the money to Harry’s wife when he finds her,’ she suggested in exasperation.

  ‘They’re yours, Maud. You find someone to buy them.’

  ‘I couldn’t find anyone, which is why I gave them to Harry.’

  ‘It appears Harry couldn’t find anyone who wanted them either.’ Charles opened the box again and looked at them. ‘Tom said you told him you were living on the proceeds of a jewellery sale. You never did tell me who gave you these. Was it D’Arbez?’ He referred to the Portuguese plantation owner and trader whose name he’d heard linked with Maud’s.’

  ‘What if it was?’

  ‘Payment for services rendered?’ he taunted.

  ‘Believe what you will.’

  ‘Tainted ill-gotten gains, antique, and in their way quite magnificent. They probably once belonged to an Empress or at the very least a Maharani.’ He snapped the box shut, returned it to the table, and reached for his crutches. ‘Keep them. Wear them when you have a settled life again, Maud. And you will. Scum always rises to the top. They may attract a man looking for a wife who doesn’t know who or what you are.’

  ‘And your son?’

  ‘If I thought for one minute he was really mine, I’d be concerned for his fate. As it is, I couldn’t give a damn. Find some other dupe, Maud. One who’s stupid enough to believe your lies.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Basra Club, Sunday 2nd January 1916

  A steward waylaid Michael when he walked into the Basra Club at twelve forty-five. He eyed his civilian clothes with the disparaging expression Michael had come to expect, not from the military, but the civilians who served them.

  ‘Are you a member of the Basra Club, sir?’

  Michael wished he’d acquired Harry’s aptitude for telling convincing lies. ‘No.’

  ‘I regret to say, sir, affiliated status of the Club has only been extended to officers serving in His Majesty’s Forces.’

  ‘I am here to meet an officer. Colonel …’

  The steward interrupted him. ‘I have a list of expected guests, sir. Your name?’

  ‘Michael Downe.’

  ‘If you’d care to follow me, sir.’

  Michael glanced into the dining room and lounge as they passed the open doors but failed to spot the political officer’s lean figure.

  ‘This way, sir.’ The steward prompted. He led Michael down a corridor, up a staircase and through a passageway into the back of the building. He opened a door.

  Sir Percival Cox and two majors were standing in front of a desk blanketed with layers of maps.

  Cox checked his pocket watch. ‘Mr Downe, I wasn’t expecting you for another ten minutes.’

  ‘I could wait downstairs, sir.’

  ‘Not necessary.’ Cox addressed the officers. ‘I believe we’ve finished here, gentlemen.’

  ‘If you have no further orders for us, sir.’

  ‘Not at present. Report to my office six hundred hours tomorrow.’

  ‘Understood, sir.’ One of the officers gathered the maps, and proceeded to roll them into a leather tube.

  ‘Take a seat, Mr Downe.’ Cox pointed to rattan chairs grouped around a cane table. After the officers left, he picked up two glasses and set them next to a samovar on the table.

  ‘Have you made a decision, Mr Downe?’

  ‘If you really believe I can be of service to you, and my country, I accept.’

  ‘Good man.’ The political officer filled the glasses with tea. He pushed one and a bowl of sugar cubes in front of Michael.

  ‘Should I prove a disappointment …’

  ‘If you’re one-tenth of the man your brother was, Mr Downe, you won’t. Given your cover as a journalist you’ll be excused uniform, although as I’ve already said, you’ll be commissioned and paid as a captain. You’ll report to me directly.’

  ‘Will my commission be generally known, sir?’

  ‘No, and your fellow political officers will only be told on a need-to-know basis. Commissions in the Political service aren't like those in the army. They're more of a …’ Cox chose his words with circumspection, ‘an honorary title. Useful when you meet the occasional regimental blockhead who might be tempted to try to pull seniority on you. You're attached only to the Political Service and we work in the shadows, Mr Downe. The less the regular army knows about us the better. All our senior officers, myself included, are Lieutenant Colonels in name and pay grade. Ranking with the Political Service is very much dependent on the respect a man earns.’ He changed the subject abruptly. ‘You’ll receive a visitor at Abdul’s this afternoon. An Arab Syce, Daoud. He’s made an appointment for you to visit a native horse trader at sixteen hundred hours.’

  ‘You were certain I’d accept your offer?’

  ‘You were turned down by the military yet you persisted until you discovered a way to serve. It was obvious you’d accept my proposal, Mr Downe. Daoud will help you select your horses. Most officers have at least four. The country upriver is hard on them, especially with the rainy season about to start. I can vouch for Daoud’s honesty. He’s been working for the Political Office for some time. When do you leave to join the forces upriver?’

  ‘Tomorrow morning.’

  ‘When you reach the camp and begin interviewing, pay particular attention to the Arab irregulars. Find out which tribe they’re from. Daoud will interpret.’

  ‘Wouldn’t he be better off going in alone?’

  ‘To talk to the Arab tribesmen, yes. But I’d like you to talk to their leaders.’

  ‘They don’t know me.’

  ‘When they recognise your resemblance to your brother they’ll want to sympathise with you on your loss.’

  Michael was taken aback. ‘You want me to use Harry’s death as an introduction?’

  ‘To influential sheikhs, yes, Mr Downe. We’re at war. I’m prepared to use every weapon at my disposal to fight it, including the friendships forged by our fallen heroes. It’s essential the Arabs your brother courted and won to our cause remain on our side.’ Cox’s eyes were grey, cold, the colour of tempered steel. ‘As well as speaking to the natives, I’d appreciate you gauging the attitude of the Relief Force officers towards those in comman
d.’

  ‘Any names in particular you want me to look out for, sir?’

  ‘Best you go upstream with no pre-conceived ideas, Downe. Do you know any men stationed there?’

  ‘My cousin Tom Mason is a captain seconded to the Indian Medical Service. We travelled here together. He went upriver on Friday evening.’

  ‘No one else?’

  ‘The officers on the transport that brought me here. There may be people I was in school or university with, but none I’m aware of.’

  ‘Have arrangements been made for you to telegraph your reports to your editor?’

  ‘I’ll be allowed to use the wireless when it is not needed for military communications, sir.’

  Cox smiled. ‘Be prepared to telegraph in the early hours of the morning, Mr Downe.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be the first time, sir. I reported from …’

  ‘The Western Front, I’m aware of your last posting, Mr Downe.’

  ‘Do I send my reports to you by wireless, sir?’

  ‘Good Lord, no! I have a network of couriers. Daoud knows them all. Should you be separated from Daoud for any reason you can send non-sensitive reports downstream in the mailbag for HQ. Anything sensitive you keep to yourself until you can be certain that it will reach me personally. All communiqués forwarded in the general mail must be marked “personal” to me with my name, rank, and number.’

  ‘I’ll be certain to do that, sir.’

  ‘It’s common knowledge that a show upstream is imminent. Townshend will be out of supplies by the end of the month. The sooner we extricate him and his command the sooner we can begin the campaign to take Baghdad. I hope to be in Ali Gharbi myself shortly. Should you have any queries before my arrival, ask Daoud. He’s acquainted with the precious few natives on our side, also the untrustworthy open to bribery, and those who’d slit our throats given half a chance. Did your brother write to you?’

  ‘Not often and rarely about military matters.’

  ‘That’s no reflection on you, or your relationship with him, Mr Downe. As your brother well knew, nothing contentious or military would get past the censor. The problem is, we’re not only fighting the Turks who are desperately trying to cling on to their empire, but almost the entire population of this country The Arabs are baying for independence.’